Gojo SMAU - The Art Of Falling Fake

Nanami SMAU - A Verdict of Us

Chapter 13 - Objection Overruled

Summary: Kento Nanami was perfect—disciplined, untouchable, and entirely focused on his future. Emotions didn’t fit into his plans. You were everything he avoided—bold, warm, and impossible to ignore. You told yourself he didn’t matter, but you couldn’t stop watching him.

He never looked your way. Not until the day his perfectly controlled world unraveled, and you were at the center of it.

an: Phew…. How we feeling? SMOOCHES 💋💋💋

{chapter 12} ; {next}

taglist: @giasssslife @getovibesonly @inthedarkshadows000 @burpzz @sleepykittyenergy @fuzzycollectiondeersblog

࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚

The dining room of the Nanami estate was a picture of refinement—high ceilings, a crystal chandelier casting soft golden light, the long mahogany table set with fine china and gleaming silverware. The quiet hum of classical music played in the background, nearly drowned out by the voices of the two families engaged in discussion.

Nanami sat at the far end of the table, his posture rigid but practiced. His father, seated at the head, was deep in conversation with Mr. Takahashi about upcoming business mergers and legal strategies. It was a familiar setting, one he had been raised in, where every conversation had a purpose, every alliance a calculated move.

“The key to a successful firm,” Mr. Takahashi was saying, “is knowing which cases to take and which to leave alone. Not every battle is worth fighting.”

Nanami’s father nodded approvingly. “Exactly. Some lawyers waste their careers chasing ideals instead of securing real power. At the end of the day, reputation is everything.”

Nanami’s mother took a delicate sip of her wine. “It’s like that upcoming case involving the [Your Last Name] family. They always involve themselves in causes that are… questionable, don’t you think?”

Mrs. Takahashi smirked. “Oh, absolutely. I heard they’re throwing yet another charity event soon. Always parading themselves around as if that’s the same as real influence. Honestly, I wonder what they even gain from it.”

Nanami remained silent, his fingers tightening around his fork. He forced himself to keep his expression neutral, even as irritation twisted in his chest. They spoke about you and your family so casually, as if you were nothing more than a misguided idealist playing at generosity.

He wanted to correct them. Wanted to tell them they were wrong about you. But he knew better.

His father was already displeased about his association with you. Speaking up now would only draw more scrutiny—scrutiny he couldn’t afford.

So, he stayed quiet.

Across from him, Ayaka Takahashi, their daughter, turned to him with a charming smile. “You’re awfully quiet tonight, Nanami. Is dinner not to your liking?”

He met her gaze, giving a polite nod. “The food is fine.”

“You always seem so serious,” she mused, resting her chin on her palm. “Maybe you just need the right company to loosen up.”

Nanami didn’t react, but his father did.

“Ayaka is an exceptional young woman,” his father said smoothly, cutting into his steak. “She comes from a family with strong values, and she’s already making a name for herself in the legal world. Kento, you should take the time to get to know her better.”

Nanami kept his expression unreadable. “I spoke with her at the conference. She’s impressive.”

Ayaka smiled. “You think so? That’s nice to hear. Maybe we should have dinner sometime—just the two of us.”

Before he could reply, Mrs. Takahashi chuckled. “Oh, I agree. They would make such a perfect match.”

Nanami’s mother hummed in approval. “We’ve always wanted Kento to be with someone who understands our world. Someone with the same drive, the same ambitions.”

His father nodded, his gaze sharp. “Ayaka is a smart choice, Kento. A relationship should be built on more than just fleeting emotions. It should be built on stability, power, and strategy. You would do well to remember that.”

Nanami didn’t respond immediately. He was used to this—his life planned out in careful steps, his future mapped by decisions he was barely given a say in. He was used to expectations.

But for the first time in a long time, he felt like resisting.

And he knew exactly why.

The dinner at the Nanami estate was perfect, by every standard that mattered to his parents. The company was prestigious, the conversation strategic, and the atmosphere calculated.

But for Nanami, it had never felt more suffocating.

As he listened to Ayaka laugh beside him, as his father spoke of futures he was expected to walk into, all he could think about was you.

And the truth he hadn’t wanted to admit.

That no matter how much he tried to convince himself otherwise, he didn’t want the life his parents had planned for him.

And he didn’t want her.

He wanted you.

But he wasn’t sure if it even mattered anymore.

The campus cafeteria was a buzzing mess of students chatting between classes, the smell of coffee and fried food lingering in the air. You sat with Shoko and Toji’s reader, idly stirring your drink as you waited for Gojo’s reader to arrive. The day had been dragging, and for once, you weren’t sure you were looking forward to this meetup.

Shoko exhaled a lazy puff of smoke before putting out her cigarette. “Saw Nanami last night, by the way.”

Your interest piqued immediately. “Oh?”

She leaned back in her chair, looking entirely unbothered. “Yeah. Looked like he was on a date.”

Your stomach dropped. “What?”

Toji’s reader raised a brow. “With who?”

“Some rich girl,” Shoko said, waving a hand dismissively. “Ayaka Takahashi. You know, her family’s loaded. I saw them at this fancy restaurant—real expensive place. They looked cozy.”

Your fingers tightened around your cup. Nanami on a date. With another girl.

You felt something you didn’t want to name twist in your chest. He had been pushing you away for days, ignoring your texts, acting cold and distant. And now you were hearing that he had been out with someone else?

You weren’t sure what hurt more—the fact that he had gone on a date, or the fact that he hadn’t even bothered to tell you.

You opened your mouth, but before you could react, a voice interrupted.

“Hey, sorry I’m late!”

Gojo’s reader slid into the seat beside you, completely unaware of the storm brewing inside you.

You forced a smile, pushing everything down. “No worries. We were just catching up.”

But even as you tried to focus on the conversation, your mind was elsewhere.

On him. On the way he had shut you out.

And on the realization that maybe you had been foolish to think you were ever different to him.

Please don’t be afraid to leave feedback! I want to improve for you guys!!!!

Gojo SMAU - The Art of Falling Fake

Chapter 5 - Tricks, Treats and Terrible Ideas

Summary: The campus buzzes with life, but you feel like a shadow slipping through the cracks—unnoticed, unimportant. At home, it’s no better. Your parents dote on your step-sister, the star tennis player, while you’re the afterthought they barely acknowledge. She’s here too, her perfect reputation casting an even bigger shadow over your existence. College was supposed to be your escape, but living at home and walking the same halls as her makes it impossible. Then he shows up—Satoru Gojo, the rich, arrogant engineering major everyone seems to worship. His smug grin and effortless charm are the kind of things you can’t stand, but when a ridiculous twist of fate forces your lives together, you find yourself fake dating the most insufferable man you’ve ever met. It’s just a deal, temporary and harmless—or so you try to convince yourself.

an: hehe… SMOOCHES 💋💋💋

{chapter 4} ; {next}

taglist: @hanakotateyama @sleepykittyenergy @inthedarkshadows000 @codeseven @byakuya61085 @minzxec @ivydoesit23 @naughteehee @mysteriaqueen @not-aya @bochichi @emlient

࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚

The eyeliner refused to cooperate.

You leaned in closer to the mirror, biting your lip as you dragged the pen across your lid, only for it to smudge—again. Frustration curled in your chest as you reached for a makeup wipe, erasing the mess for what felt like the hundredth time.

“This is ridiculous,” you muttered under your breath, resisting the urge to chuck the whole eyeliner across the room.

You had spent the last hour trying to recreate a Halloween makeup tutorial, and for some reason, it just wasn’t working. Maybe it was your shaky hands, maybe it was the universe conspiring against you—but at this point, you were ready to give up.

And after the day you’d had? This was the last thing you needed to go wrong.

It had started with spilled coffee on your clothes before class, followed by nearly failing a pop quiz. Then, after spending hours at the library, you walked outside to find it pouring rain—without an umbrella. The final insult? Coming home to Brielle gloating about her latest tennis win while your parents showered her with praise.

Now, as you sat in front of your mirror, determined to at least look good for this stupid party, your patience was razor-thin.

You exhaled deeply, steadied your hand, and tried again. This time, miraculously, it turned out perfect. Maybe even great.

Just as you exhaled in relief, your door swung open without warning.

“Wow,” came Brielle’s smug voice. “Didn’t know cops were supposed to look desperate.”

You clenched your jaw and turned in your seat. She was already dressed for the party in—what else—a tennis outfit.

“Can you knock?” you asked flatly.

“Can you not embarrass yourself?” she shot back, arms crossed as she leaned against your doorframe. “Honestly, you’re really going through all this effort? For what? You do know no one’s going to believe that Gojo’s actually into you, right?”

You rolled your eyes. “Leave, Brielle.”

“But I’m curious,” she continued, tilting her head with a fake-sweet smile. “How exactly did you get him to date you? Did you beg him? Threaten to expose some deep, dark secret? Oh! Maybe you paid him.”

You turned back to the mirror, adjusting your police cap. “Shut up.”

Brielle smirked. “You didn’t deny it.”

Before you could fire back, the doorbell rang. Your heart skipped.

Brielle noticed, her smirk widening. “Oh my god, is that him?”

Ignoring her, you pushed past and hurried down the stairs, heart pounding a little too fast. When you swung the door open, you were immediately met with Satoru, looking unfairly attractive.

His inmate jumpsuit was slightly unzipped, revealing a white tank top underneath. Silver handcuffs dangled from one wrist, and his white hair was effortlessly tousled like he’d just rolled out of bed looking perfect.

He grinned. “Well, well. If it isn’t my favorite officer. Are you here to arrest me? Because I’d gladly surrender.”

Behind you, Brielle and your parents watched the exchange with varying levels of curiosity. Brielle, in particular, was staring like she’d just seen a unicorn.

“Oh my god,” she practically purred, stepping forward. “You look so good. You know, if you wanted a matching costume, you could’ve told me. I would’ve made such a good cop.”

He didn’t even glance her way. Instead, he ignored everyone and stepped forward, grabbing your waist and pulling you into a tight hug.

“You look amazing, sweetheart,” he murmured close to your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. Then, before you could process anything, he pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead.

Your brain completely short-circuited.

Brielle looked like she might combust.

Before you could even recover, he pulled back and flashed you a grin. “Ready to go?”

You barely managed a nod before he tugged you toward the door, not sparing your family a second glance.

“You ready for our big debut?” he grinned once you were inside his car.

You exhaled sharply, still recovering. “I hate you.”

He laughed, throwing an arm over your shoulders as he pulled out of the driveway.

The house was packed, the music was loud, and Satoru was making sure everyone saw you two together.

It had started with subtle things—his arm lingering around your waist, leaning in closer than necessary whenever someone looked your way, the occasional forehead kiss that left your skin burning.

Then he turned it up a notch.

He pulled you into conversations with people you didn’t know, introduced you as his girlfriend, and sent pointed smirks at the gossip-prone girls who clearly didn’t believe it.

You barely had time to process any of it before he was dragging you toward another group of people, where an enthusiastic voice called out, “Seven Minutes in Heaven, let’s go!”

Satoru’s eyes lit up. “Oh, we have to play.”

You groaned. “Do we?”

“Obviously. What kind of couple doesn’t?” he teased, giving you a look like he was daring you to say no.

You sighed, letting yourself be pulled into the circle forming in the living room. A few people had already gone, disappearing into the closet or a nearby bedroom to the loud whistles and teasing of the crowd.

And then it was Satoru’s turn.

He grabbed the bottle and spun it with an exaggerated flourish, watching it twirl with that signature shit-eating grin.

It slowed, making a few more rotations before finally landing on—

You.

The room erupted into cheers.

Satoru immediately turned to you, his smirk widening. “Looks like we’re up, babe.”

Your eye twitched at the pet name, but before you could react, he was already tugging you to your feet.

As he led you toward the hall, you caught sight of Toji and his girlfriend standing nearby.

Toji regarded Satoru with a displeased stare, as if his mere existence was an offense to him. But it was his girlfriend who caught your attention—she wasn’t smiling, wasn’t laughing, just watching with an unreadable expression.

For some reason, it made your stomach twist.

Without thinking, you hugged Satoru’s arm a little tighter.

He noticed.

And instead of questioning it, he just smirked and gave your hand a reassuring squeeze.

Then, as you passed, he made sure to dramatically pull you into his room, slamming the door shut behind you.

The second the door clicked shut behind you, Satoru spun around, hands in his pockets, smirking like he had already won something.

“So,” he drawled, tilting his head, “what’s the plan, babe?”

You crossed your arms. “Don’t call me that.”

“Babe. Sweetheart. My beloved.” His grin widened at the way your nose scrunched in irritation.

“You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re avoiding the question.” He flopped onto the bed, propping himself up on his elbows. “We need to make it look real.”

You groaned, running a hand down your face. “We could just sit here and talk. Let time run out.”

“Lame.”

“Realistic.”

Satoru scoffed. “You think my friends wanna open this door and find us having a casual conversation about our majors?” He gave you a look like he was daring you to be smarter than that.

You bit your lip. He wasn’t wrong.

“Okay… then what do you suggest?”

A slow smirk crept onto his lips.

“I have a couple ideas.”

“Absolutely not.”

Your bickering went on for a few more minutes, the occasional knock interrupting your conversation. As Time went on the voices behind the door grew louder and more animated.

Another knock on the door made you both freeze.

“Times almost up, lovebirds!”

Panic flickered in Satoru’s eyes, but then his face shifted into something more determined.

You barely had a second to react before he grabbed you, threw you onto the bed, and buried his face into the crook of your neck.

Your breath caught. “Satoru—”

“Shh, relax. Just making it convincing.”

Then you felt it—his lips on your skin.

Your whole body stiffened. The first press of his mouth was warm, but then—a sharp pull. Teeth. A slow, deliberate drag of his lips.

Your fingers dug into the sheets, eyes going wide.

“Satoru—”

He hummed against your skin, the vibration sending a shiver down your spine.

“Mm, you’re reacting a lot for someone who hates me,” he mused, voice low, teasing.

You wanted to throw him off of you, but you couldn’t move. His lips were still there, sucking, biting, soothing over the mark with his tongue. It was too much, too good, too embarrassing.

A sound slipped out of you before you could stop it—soft, breathy, needy.

Satoru stilled.

Then he grinned against your skin.

“Oh?” His voice dripped with amusement. He pulled back just slightly, lips brushing over your ear. “Did you just moan?”

Your entire face burned.

“I—shut up!”

His laughter was low and smug. “Nah, don’t get shy on me now, sweetheart.” He pressed another slow, taunting kiss over the mark. “Was that your first time getting a hickey?”

You shoved at his chest, hard.

“Get off, asshole!”

Before he could tease you more, the door swung open.

Satoru didn’t even flinch. He just shifted slightly so that he was still half on top of you, turning just right so that the mark on your neck would be visible.

“Yo, Gojo, time’s up—”

Satoru sighed dramatically, rolling his eyes.

“Guys. Seriously?” He let out an exaggerated groan. “I wanna spend some time with my girlfriend if you get what I mean.”

A chorus of whoops and knowing laughter followed.

“Alright, alright, we see you.”

“We’ll leave you two alone.”

Satoru smirked.

They shut the door.

Silence.

You shoved him off of you immediately.

“I hate you.”

“You love me.” He stretched out on the bed like he hadn’t just completely ruined your life. “No need to be shy, princess. You were totally into it.”

Your face felt like it was on fire.

“I was NOT!”

He just grinned. “Sure you weren’t.”

You turned away, flustered, only for your eyes to catch your reflection in his mirror.

The deep, dark mark on your neck stood out way too much.

Your stomach dropped.

“Oh my god.” You grabbed at your neck like it would somehow disappear. “You gave me an actual hickey, you psycho!”

Satoru propped his chin up with one hand, looking very pleased with himself.

“Oops.”

“Oops?!”

He chuckled. “Hey, it’s good. Now people will really believe it.”

You stared at him in horror. “I’m going to murder you in your sleep.”

He grinned. “Joke’s on you, I’m a very light sleeper.”

“I hate you.”

“You said that already.”

“I’ll say it again!”

Satoru just smiled, looking entirely too entertained. “You’re cute when you’re mad.”

You hurled a pillow at his head.

Nanami SMAU - A Verdict of Us

Chapter 7 - Beyond First Impressions

Summary: Kento Nanami was perfect—disciplined, untouchable, and entirely focused on his future. Emotions didn’t fit into his plans. You were everything he avoided—bold, warm, and impossible to ignore. You told yourself he didn’t matter, but you couldn’t stop watching him.

He never looked your way. Not until the day his perfectly controlled world unraveled, and you were at the center of it.

an: i love them. SMOOCHES 💋💋💋

{chapter 6} ; {next}

taglist: @gigiiiiislife @getovibesonly @inthedarkshadows000 @burpzz @sleepykittyenergy @fuzzycollectiondeersblog @meganbaby

࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚

Nanami adjusted the cuffs of his sleeves as he glanced at the clock on his desk. It was 9:15 AM, just enough time to leave and make it to the community center by 9:45. Punctuality wasn’t just a habit for him; it was an expectation. He hated being late. Still, a part of him wondered why he had agreed to this at all. Volunteer work was not something he typically did, but when you had asked—so insistent, so sure he’d secretly enjoy it—he found himself unable to say no.

He made his way to the hallway, pulling on his shoes with practiced efficiency. The soft hum of conversation from the kitchen grew louder as his parents noticed him preparing to leave.

“Nanami,” his father’s voice came first, sharp and questioning. “Where are you going?”

“To a food drive,” he replied evenly, not looking up as he tied his laces.

“A food drive?” His mother appeared in the doorway, her arms crossed as she surveyed him. “Why? You’re a law student, not a volunteer coordinator. What purpose does this serve?”

Nanami rose to his full height, meeting her gaze with calm detachment. “Not everything has to serve a purpose.”

His father let out a disapproving scoff. “Time is a resource, Nanami. You’ve always been disciplined about how you use it. Why waste it on something like this?”

“Time spent helping others isn’t wasted,” he replied curtly. His parents were intelligent people, but their view of the world often felt limited, measured in tangible gains rather than intangible impacts.

His mother’s expression softened slightly, though the tension in her tone remained. “It’s just… unexpected. You’ve always been focused on your goals. This seems unnecessary.”

Nanami met her words with silence. There was no point in arguing further. Grabbing his bag, he moved toward the door. “I’ll see you later.”

He left before either of them could respond, his steps steady and purposeful as he made his way to the community center.

The moment he stepped inside, the atmosphere shifted. It was a flurry of motion—tables lined with donations, volunteers chatting as they sorted and packed food into neat bags. The noise was different from the usual silence of his library job or the precise discourse of a lecture hall.

And then he saw you. You stood near one of the tables, your face lit with excitement as you waved to him. The smile you wore was bright enough to compete with the sunlight streaming in through the windows.

“You made it!” you said as you walked over, your voice bubbling with enthusiasm. “And on time, too. I’m impressed.”

“I said I’d come,” he replied, his tone steady, though he couldn’t quite ignore the slight warmth in your expression.

“Fair enough,” you said, hands on your hips as you gestured toward the tables. “Come on, we’ve got work to do. Ready to roll up your sleeves?”

He followed you without comment, and soon the two of you were stationed at a table sorting canned goods. It was simple, methodical work—exactly the kind of thing Nanami excelled at. His movements were efficient, his rows of cans stacked neatly.

“You’re pretty fast at this,” you said after a while, glancing at his organized piles compared to your slightly messier one.

“It’s straightforward work,” he replied, his tone dry as he eyed your less-than-perfect stacks. “Unlike yours.”

You gasped in mock offense, placing a hand over your heart. “Are you criticizing my organizational skills?”

“I’m observing,” he said, his smirk barely visible but unmistakably there.

“Careful, Nanami,” you teased, narrowing your eyes playfully. “That almost sounded like a joke.”

“Almost,” he admitted, his voice calm but lighter than usual.

As the minutes turned into hours, Nanami found himself surprisingly at ease. The work, though repetitive, was oddly satisfying. And then there was you—chatty and energetic, your humor keeping the atmosphere light. It wasn’t something he was used to, but he didn’t mind it.

A child approached then, holding a box of cereal. The boy looked up at Nanami with wide, curious eyes, then glanced between the two of you.

“Are you two dating?” the boy asked innocently, his voice cutting through the hum of activity around you.

Nanami froze, his composure momentarily slipping as the question hung in the air.

You, on the other hand, burst out laughing, quickly covering your mouth as you tried to stifle the sound. “No, no, we’re not. But that’s a very sweet question,” you said, your tone warm as you crouched down to meet the boy’s gaze.

The boy shrugged, apparently satisfied, and wandered off, leaving Nanami still standing stiffly.

You straightened up, turning to him with a grin. “Relax,” you said, nudging his arm lightly. “He’s just a kid. You look like you’ve been accused of a crime.”

He exhaled slowly, the tension easing from his shoulders. “He caught me off guard, that’s all.”

“Noted,” you replied, your grin softening into something gentler.

By the time the food drive ended, the sun was low in the sky, casting a warm glow over the street outside. You wiped your hands on a towel and turned to him with a satisfied smile.

“It’s getting late,” he said, his voice steady but quieter than usual. “I’ll walk you home.”

You blinked in surprise, then smiled. “Really? Thanks, Nanami.”

The two of you walked in comfortable silence for a while, the quiet of the evening settling around you. As you passed a small ice cream stand, you stopped abruptly.

“Wait. We need ice cream.”

“Do we?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes,” you said, already stepping toward the stand. You didn’t wait for his answer, quickly ordering two cones. Handing one to him, you grinned. “My treat. Consider it a thank-you for volunteering.”

He took the cone with a small nod. “It’s good,” he said after a bite.

“Of course it is,” you said confidently, as though there was never any doubt.

As you walked, you began to talk about your volunteer work in other countries—building schools in rural villages, helping at medical camps, organizing clean water initiatives. Your voice grew animated as you described the people you’d met, the lessons you’d learned, and the challenges you’d faced.

Nanami listened intently, his ice cream forgotten as he took in your words. He’d always assumed you were a privileged socialite, someone who flitted from one frivolous event to another. But now, he saw a depth to you he hadn’t expected.

“You’ve done a lot,” he said finally, his tone thoughtful.

You shrugged, glancing at him. “It’s important to me. I’m lucky to have the resources, so why not use them to help others?”

He nodded slowly, his respect for you growing in a way he hadn’t anticipated.

When you finally reached your building, you hesitated for a moment before turning to him. “There’s a charity event next week. My parents are hosting, but it’s for a good cause. You should come.”

“Another one?” he asked, his tone wry but not dismissive.

“Yes. Consider it practice for networking,” you said with a teasing smile.

He thought for a moment, then gave a small nod. “I’ll be there.”

Your smile widened, radiant in the soft light of the evening. “Great. See you then, Nanami.”

He watched as you disappeared inside, then turned and began the walk home, the faint taste of ice cream still lingering on his tongue and your laughter echoing faintly in his mind.

Toji SMAU - When love was always there

Chapter 17 - Sideline Tension

Summary: You see him again on your first day of college. Fuck. Toji Zenin has been the bane of your existence since your first day of kindergarten. Over the 15 years you’ve had the “pleasure” of knowing him, he’s made it his personal mission to make your life a living hell. From chopping off your hair in kindergarten to pushing you into a pond on your first day of high school, Toji has done it all. You’d always thought he would choose a college far away from you, but as it has always been, fate came to kick your ass. Hard.

warnings: cursing, sexual language, mentions of bullying

an: We’re getting there! SMOOCHES 💋💋💋

{chapter 16} ; {next}

taglist: @jinxiewritings @actuallyvalerie @clp-84 @stickystay @reneinii

࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚

The sound of cleats against pavement, the distant echo of whistles, and the low hum of chatter filled the air as you walked toward the football field beside Toji. The late afternoon sun bathed everything in a golden hue, casting long shadows across the ground.

And now, here you were, strolling side by side, the atmosphere somewhere between comfortable and charged with unspoken tension.

Toji, dressed in his fitted football gear—black compression shirt snug against his torso, emphasizing every sculpted muscle, and his practice shorts hanging loose around his powerful thighs—looked ridiculously good. It pissed you off how effortlessly attractive he was.

“You sure you ain’t gon’ get bored out here?” His voice was lazy, teasing.

You scoffed. “I think I’ll manage.”

He glanced at you, smirking. “Doubt it. I don’t exactly see you as the ‘football fan’ type.”

“I’m not. But you invited me, so…” You trailed off, keeping your expression neutral.

Toji clicked his tongue. “Oh, so if I tell you to do somethin’, you just do it?”

You turned your head to glare at him. “No, dumbass. I just figured I’d come see what the hype is about. Since you act like you’re some football god.”

He chuckled, amused. “Tch. You act like I ain’t.”

“Wow. Humble much?”

He grinned, running a hand through his hair. “Why the fuck would I be humble? I’m good as hell at this shit.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you muttered, rolling your eyes.

As you reached the field, you noticed a few people glancing your way—mostly girls. Their eyes flickered between you and Toji, some whispering, others just straight-up staring. You pretended not to notice.

“Don’t get shy on me now,” Toji murmured, low enough that only you could hear.

You shot him a look. “Why would I be shy?”

He smirked. “You tell me.”

Before you could reply, one of his teammates called out to him from the field.

“Aye, Zen’in, quit flirting and get your ass over here!”

Toji clicked his tongue in annoyance but turned to you, walking backward as he smirked. “Sit tight, sweetheart. Try not to fall in love watchin’ me.”

You flipped him off as he jogged away, and he just laughed.

Now alone, you made your way up to the bleachers, settling in with a perfect view of the field.

And goddamn.

Watching Toji play was something else.

The raw athleticism, the power in his movements, the way his muscles flexed and tensed with every sharp pivot and sprint—he made everything look effortless. His control over his body, the precision in his throws, the speed with which he dodged and weaved past defenders, it was undeniable. Even someone like you, who barely gave a shit about football, could see why people hyped him up.

You weren’t the only one staring.

Toji!”

His ex.

She sauntered up to him in her cheer uniform, a full face of makeup despite having no reason to be dressed up at practice. She rested a hand on her hip, tilting her head.

“So, is Coach lettin’ you play again or what?”

Toji barely glanced at her. “Yeah.”

She pouted. “That’s all I get? Not even a hi?”

Toji sighed. “Hi. Bye.”

She huffed, stepping closer. “You been ignoring my texts.”

He shrugged. “Yeah.”

“Toji, c’mon,” she whined, reaching out to touch his arm. “You know I didn’t mean to piss you off.”

He took a step back. “Don’t touch me.”

She narrowed her eyes, and then—

Her gaze landed on you.

Her face twisted. “You brought a girl to your practice?”

Toji exhaled sharply, running a hand down his face. “I swear to God—”

“You never let me come to your practices,” she cut him off, glaring. “But now you’re bringing some random bitch?”

At that, Toji turned fully toward her, his expression dark. “Man, fuck off.”

Then, without another glance, he walked off toward the locker room.

But his ex?

She was pissed.

And she was coming straight for you.

“You must feel real special, huh?” she sneered, stopping in front of you.

You raised a brow. “Excuse me?”

“You think you’re hot shit ‘cause Toji brought you here?” She crossed her arms. “Let me guess. You let him fuck, and now you think y’all together?”

Your jaw tightened. “First of all—fuck you. Second—what I do with Toji ain’t your business.”

She scoffed. “Oh, please. He’s mine.”

You laughed. “Clearly not.”

Her face reddened. “Listen here, you little sl—”

“Get the fuck outta her face.”

Toji’s voice cut through the tension like a knife.

His ex turned, startled.

Toji stood there, gaze cold, expression unreadable. “What the fuck you doin’?”

She hesitated, then quickly masked it with anger. “Why the fuck did you bring her here?”

“Why the fuck do you care?” he shot back, unimpressed. “Ain’t you got somebody else to bother?”

Her jaw clenched. “You—”

“Nobody gives a fuck.” He grabbed your wrist, pulling you away. “Let’s go.”

You let him pull you along, not even looking back.

Once you were both inside his car, the tension snapped.

You exhaled a laugh. “Bro, what the fuck was that?”

Toji leaned back in his seat, rubbing his jaw. “That bitch is insane.”

You grinned. “‘Toji, baby—why’d you bring her—’”

Toji groaned. “Yo, shut the fuck up.”

You laughed harder, and after a beat, he chuckled too.

The rest of the drive was smoother. You talked about the upcoming tournament, football, and the game schedule before arriving at his place.

His house was empty, his parents at work, his brother nowhere to be found.

“Make yourself at home,” Toji muttered, heading for the shower.

Toji’s room wasn’t what you expected.

You thought it’d be messy—chaotic, even—but it wasn’t. It was simple, kind of bare, but still very him. The walls were a muted shade of gray, a few framed football posters hanging up alongside an old, slightly torn banner of his favorite team. His desk had a couple of notebooks scattered on it, some loose pens, and a few protein bar wrappers shoved into the corner. A pair of weights sat abandoned near the door.

His bed was unmade, but not in a disgusting way—just a little disheveled, like he didn’t bother fixing it in the mornings. His pillows were slightly flattened, and his dark gray sheets were bunched up near the foot of the bed.

And then there was your scarf.

Neatly folded under his pillows, like it belonged there.

You stared at it for a long moment, your heart doing something weird in your chest.

The sound of the bathroom door opening snapped you out of your thoughts.

When you turned, you almost choked on your own spit.

Toji stood in the doorway, hair damp and messy, wearing nothing but a pair of low-hanging gray sweatpants. His abs—toned, glistening with residual water droplets—were on full display, and for a second, you could only stare.

His lips quirked. “Damn. I ain’t even say nothin’, and you already droolin’?”

Your brain took a second to reboot.

“Shut up,” you muttered, crossing your arms.

Toji chuckled, rubbing the towel over his hair. “Nah, you shut up.”

You rolled your eyes, turning back toward his bed. “So what are we watching?”

A brief argument ensued over Netflix choices, ending with Outer Banks playing on his small TV. You both got comfortable—him lying lazily against the pillows, you sitting with your legs crossed beside him. The occasional banter, the random commentary on the show—it felt normal, in a way you hadn’t expected.

And at some point, Toji knocked out.

You didn’t even realize he had fallen asleep until you felt his weight shift, his arm draping over your waist.

Your breath caught.

He was warm. Heavy. Relaxed.

His face, usually set in a cocky smirk or a lazy glare, looked softer like this. His long lashes rested against his cheekbones, lips slightly parted. He looked peaceful.

You let him sleep, settling deeper into the pillows as the episode continued playing in the background.

And when you eventually dozed off, it was to the feeling of his steady breathing against your skin.

When you woke up, it was still dark outside. The TV was still on, the glow of the screen casting flickering light across the room.

And Toji—Toji was still holding you.

Your heart did that stupid thing again, and you slowly shifted, trying to untangle yourself from him without waking him up.

It didn’t work.

He stirred, blinking groggily, his grip loosening as he groaned. “The fuck…” His voice was raspy with sleep.

You sat up, stretching. “You knocked out on me.”

Toji blinked a few more times, slowly realizing the position you’d been in. His jaw tightened slightly, and he cleared his throat, sitting up as well.

For the first time, he looked shy.

“You didn’t have to let me sleep on you,” he muttered, running a hand through his messy hair.

You smirked. “Didn’t have much of a choice, big guy. You latched onto me like a damn leech.”

He scowled. “Shut the fuck up.”

You laughed, nudging him with your elbow. “I should probably head home.”

Toji rubbed the back of his neck, still looking slightly embarrassed. “Yeah. Aight.”

The drive to your house was mostly quiet.

Not awkward—just quiet.

You both seemed lost in thought, the air between you still buzzing with whatever had just happened.

When he pulled up in front of your place, you turned to him with a small smile. “I had fun today.”

Toji snorted, his usual cockiness returning. “Yeah, yeah.”

You rolled your eyes. “Just say you had fun too.”

He smirked. “Aight. I had fun.”

You scoffed. “That was the most insincere shit I’ve ever heard.”

His grin widened. “Take it or leave it.”

You rolled your eyes again, reaching for the door handle. “Whatever. Good night, Toji.”

“Night.”

You stepped out of the car, giving him a small, shy wave before heading inside.

And Toji…

Toji watched you go, his fingers subconsciously tightening around the steering wheel.

Who’s Next 2

Nanami SMAU - A Verdict of Us

Summary: Kento Nanami was perfect—disciplined, untouchable, and entirely focused on his future. Emotions didn’t fit into his plans.

You were everything he avoided—bold, warm, and impossible to ignore. You told yourself he didn’t matter, but you couldn’t stop watching him.

He never looked your way. Not until the day his perfectly controlled world unraveled, and you were at the center of it.

tropes: she fell first, he fell harder, academic rivalry (kinda onesided)

an: I hereby welcome you to my second smau fic lol. hope you guys like it as much as I do. In case of any confusion: Nanami’s reader and Toji’s reader are close friends. I hope the first chapter will answer some of your questions. 💋💋💋

{next}

Main Cast:

Toji SMAU - When love was always there

Chapter 18 - Dressed to Kill (Literally)

Summary: You see him again on your first day of college. Fuck. Toji Zenin has been the bane of your existence since your first day of kindergarten. Over the 15 years you’ve had the “pleasure” of knowing him, he’s made it his personal mission to make your life a living hell. From chopping off your hair in kindergarten to pushing you into a pond on your first day of high school, Toji has done it all. You’d always thought he would choose a college far away from you, but as it has always been, fate came to kick your ass. Hard.

warnings: cursing, sexual language, mentions of bullying

an: lmaooo publishing a halloween chapter even though we‘re in february is crazy. SMOOCHES 💋💋💋

{chapter 17} ; {next}

taglist: @jinxiewritings @actuallyvalerie @clp-84 @stickystay @reneinii

 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚  𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚  𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚  𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚  𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚  𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚  𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚  𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 

Toji SMAU - When love was always there

Chapter 11 - Dinner and Disdain

Summary: You see him again on your first day of college. Fuck. Toji Zenin has been the bane of your existence since your first day of kindergarten. Over the 15 years you’ve had the “pleasure” of knowing him, he’s made it his personal mission to make your life a living hell. From chopping off your hair in kindergarten to pushing you into a pond on your first day of high school, Toji has done it all. You’d always thought he would choose a college far away from you, but as it has always been, fate came to kick your ass. Hard.

warnings: cursing, sexual language, mentions of bullying

an: how we doing…? SMOOCHES 💋💋💋

{chapter 10} ; {next}

taglist: @jinxiewritings @actuallyvalerie

࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚

The dining room was tense, the air thick with unsaid words and resentments. Toji sat across the table from you, his head tilted slightly, eyes cast downward, focusing intently on the food on his plate. The clinking of silverware was the only noise cutting through the silence between you both. Your parents and his adoptive parents chatted away like old friends, their laughter and warm tones only emphasizing the heavy wall between you and him.

“Y/N, you barely touched your food,” your mom said, her voice cutting through your quiet frustration.

“I’m fine, Mom,” you said quickly, stabbing at a piece of broccoli just to stop her from asking again.

Toji’s mother, a kind woman with a perpetual smile, glanced at him. “And Toji, you’ve barely said two words all evening.”

Toji grunted, his usual noncommittal response, shoving another forkful of food into his mouth.

The parents exchanged looks but didn’t push. Soon enough, they excused themselves to enjoy the garden, leaving you and Toji to clean up the aftermath.

You immediately got up, stacking plates in silence. Toji did the same, moving with the kind of deliberate awkwardness that came when two people who desperately didn’t want to be near each other had no choice.

The sound of water running in the sink filled the void as you scrubbed at the dishes, refusing to look at him. Toji stood a few feet away, drying off a plate. He kept glancing at you, opening his mouth once, then shutting it again.

Finally, he sighed. “Look, I…”

You stiffened but didn’t turn around. “What?”

“I, uh…” He shifted uncomfortably, gripping the towel tighter. “I just wanted to say… I shouldn’t have said some of the stuff I said. At my place. It came out wrong.”

You froze for a moment before finally turning to face him. “Came out wrong?”

“Yeah,” he said, his tone defensive already. “Like, I didn’t mean all of it. Just some of it.”

“Just some of it?” you repeated, your voice rising as anger bubbled to the surface. You put the plate down, turning fully toward him. “Do you even hear yourself, Toji? Do you even care about what you said or did? Or is this just you trying to get rid of your guilt?”

His jaw clenched. “I ain’t tryin’ to get rid of nothin’. I just—”

“You just what?” you interrupted, your voice cracking. “You think you can say sorry, and it magically undoes all the years of hurt? All the shit you put me through? You think I’m just going to forget the way you humiliated me, ignored me, and treated me like I was nothing?”

Toji’s face hardened, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of guilt. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Didn’t mean to what, Toji? Didn’t mean to make me feel like I was less than human? Because congratulations, you did that perfectly.”

His fists clenched at his sides. “I wasn’t tryna make you feel like that. I just—look, I didn’t ask for you to be in my business when we were kids, okay? You were always actin’ like you could fix me or somethin’, like I was some damn charity case. That shit got under my skin!”

Your chest tightened as tears welled up in your eyes. “You think I was treating you like a charity case?” you asked quietly. “I just wanted to be your friend, Toji. I just wanted to help.”

“Well, I didn’t need it,” he snapped, his voice harsher than intended.

You let out a shaky breath, the tears falling freely now. “You know what? You’re right. You didn’t need it. And I didn’t need to spend years of my life caring about someone who couldn’t care less about me.”

Toji’s mouth opened as if to say something, but no words came out. He stood there, frozen, as you wiped at your face.

“I’m sorry for being pushy and overbearing back then,” you said, your voice trembling. “I’ll keep my distance from now on. You can have your space. Just stay out of mine, and maybe we can finally move past this.”

With that, you turned back to the sink, your hands trembling as you finished washing the last dish. Toji stood there, silent and motionless, as if struggling to find something—anything—to say.

But nothing came.

You placed the clean dishes on the rack, brushed past him without looking, and walked out into the garden to join your parents. Toji stayed in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, the weight of your words settling heavily on his shoulders.

When you reached the garden, you plastered on a smile, though your cheeks were still damp. Your parents took the cue to wrap things up quickly, and soon enough, you were leaving.

Toji didn’t come out to say goodbye.

Gojo SMAU - The Art of Falling Fake

Chapter 1 - Invisible in the Spotlight

Summary: The campus buzzes with life, but you feel like a shadow slipping through the cracks—unnoticed, unimportant. At home, it’s no better. Your parents dote on your step-sister, the star tennis player, while you’re the afterthought they barely acknowledge. She’s here too, her perfect reputation casting an even bigger shadow over your existence. College was supposed to be your escape, but living at home and walking the same halls as her makes it impossible. Then he shows up—Satoru Gojo, the rich, arrogant engineering major everyone seems to worship. His smug grin and effortless charm are the kind of things you can’t stand, but when a ridiculous twist of fate forces your lives together, you find yourself fake dating the most insufferable man you’ve ever met. It’s just a deal, temporary and harmless—or so you try to convince yourself.

an: Welcome to chapter one guys! Feedback is appreciated as always hehe. Also, the taglists for all of my stories are still OPEN, so make sure to get tagged so you don’t miss out on any new chapters! SMOOCHES 💋💋💋

{introduction} ; {next}

taglist: @hanakotateyama @sleepykittyenergy

࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚

Campus is chaos, as always. The sidewalks are packed with students rushing to their next class or chatting in tight little groups like they’ve known each other forever. It’s the first month of the semester, but it feels like everyone’s already found their place—everyone but you. You walk with your head down, weaving through the crowd as quietly and invisibly as possible. That’s been your strategy for years now. It works. Mostly.

You didn’t think living at home while attending college would feel so… stifling. At first, it seemed like the logical choice: save money, stay close to the familiar, and avoid the pressure of navigating both a new school and a new city. But now you’re not so sure. Sharing a roof with your parents and your step-sister, Mia, is starting to feel like you’re suffocating.

The comparisons never stop. Mia, the perfect daughter with her flawless tennis career and her endless achievements. She’s a campus celebrity in her own right—everyone knows her name, her face, her victories. And then there’s you. The one people glance at for a second before looking past you. The one who never quite measures up.

You pull your hoodie tighter around you as you pass a group of students standing by the fountain. One of them mentions Mia’s name, and you feel your stomach twist. Something about her latest tournament win, how she’s heading to the finals soon. It’s not surprising, but it still stings. She’s everywhere. Even here.

You shake the thoughts away and head toward the coffee shop near the engineering building. It’s your usual escape—a place to grab a moment of quiet before your next class. The line is long when you step in, but the familiar smell of coffee and the soft hum of indie music make it worth the wait. You tug your phone out of your pocket, scrolling mindlessly through messages you’re too tired to respond to.

That’s when it happens.

The force of someone slamming into you from behind nearly sends you tumbling forward. Your bag slips off your shoulder, and your coffee almost flies out of your hands.

“Whoa, careful there,” a smooth voice says, almost lazily, as though you were the one at fault.

You turn around, already annoyed, and find yourself face-to-face with him.

Satoru Gojo.

Of course, it’s him. Because who else would nearly knock you over and then smile at you like you owe him an apology? His snowy white hair practically glows under the fluorescent lights, and his blue eyes—hidden behind those ridiculous round sunglasses—glint with amusement. He’s tall, too tall, and he carries himself with the kind of confidence that only someone who’s never been told “no” can manage.

You’ve seen him around. Everyone has. Satoru Gojo is one of those people you can’t ignore even if you try. He’s an engineering major with top grades, an influential family name, and a reputation that precedes him. Girls throw themselves at him. Guys want to be him. He’s the king of campus—loud, obnoxious, and completely full of himself.

And now, unfortunately, he’s staring right at you.

“I think you dropped something,” he says, gesturing to your bag on the floor.

“No, really? Thanks for pointing that out,” you deadpan, bending down to pick it up.

When you straighten, his grin is still plastered on his face. It’s infuriatingly smug, like he’s thoroughly enjoying this interaction.

“You’re new,” he states, as if it’s a fact.

You glance around the room, hoping the line will move faster. “Why does it matter?”

“Because I know everyone here, and I definitely don’t know you,” he says, leaning casually against the counter like this is the most fascinating conversation he’s had all day.

“Congratulations. You’ve solved the mystery. I’m new.”

There’s a pause, and you can feel his eyes studying you, probably trying to figure out why you’re not falling all over yourself like the others do. “You don’t seem very impressed by me,” he finally says, and there’s a mock pout in his tone.

You can’t help but snort. “Why would I be?”

His grin widens, and for a split second, you see something flash in his eyes. Amusement? Curiosity? You don’t care enough to figure it out.

You step forward as the line moves, eager to order and leave before he decides to keep talking. But, of course, he follows.

“New girl, huh? So, what’s your name?”

“None of your business,” you reply, still not looking at him.

“Ouch,” he says, clutching his chest dramatically. “Cold and mysterious. I like it.”

You roll your eyes and finally make it to the counter, ordering the cheapest coffee on the menu. As you fumble with your wallet, you hear him behind you, ordering something unnecessarily complicated and way too expensive.

When you turn to leave, you catch his gaze one last time. His grin hasn’t wavered. “See you around, mystery girl,” he calls after you.

You don’t bother responding, walking out the door as quickly as you can.

But as you step back into the crowd, you can’t shake the feeling that he’s right.

Because as much as you want to stay invisible, something tells you Satoru Gojo isn’t about to let that happen.