Chapter 19 - Heat of the Moment
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: Do you guys want full on smut or should I just keep it like this??? SMOOCHES 💋💋💋
{chapter 18} ; {next}
taglist: @jinxiewritings @actuallyvalerie @clp-84 @stickystay @reneinii
࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚
The party was in full swing by the time you arrived with your friends, the bass from the music vibrating through the floor as costumed students filled every corner of Gojo’s massive penthouse. Halloween decorations covered the place, from fake cobwebs to eerie glowing lights, and the air smelled of alcohol, perfume, and the faintest hint of weed. You adjusted the ears on your head, smoothing down the tight and form fitting top of your Lola Bunny costume as you scanned the crowd.
It didn’t take long to spot him.
Toji stood near the drinks table, pouring himself a whiskey into a red Solo cup, the black and white Ghostface mask lazily pushed up onto his head. His bare chest was fully on display—his excuse for a “costume” being nothing more than black sweatpants and the mask. The defined muscles of his torso flexed as he moved, tattoos standing out against his tan skin, and you could already see girls eyeing him from across the room.
A smirk pulled at your lips as an idea formed in your head.
You weaved through the crowd and crept up behind him, waiting for the perfect moment before leaning in close. “Boo.”
Toji tensed, his hand twitching around his cup as he turned sharply, his usual scowl in place—until his eyes landed on you.
His expression froze, mouth slightly parted as he took in your costume. His green eyes darkened, gaze trailing over your body, from the fluffy ears on your head to the dangerously short shorts that barely covered anything. His tongue swiped over his lips as he blatantly checked you out, and for a second, you swore he forgot how to speak.
Then, just as quickly, his expression twisted into something irritated. “The fuck are you wearin’?”
You blinked, taken aback. “A costume?”
He scoffed, his eyes flickering to the guys around you, lingering on the ones that had been stealing glances your way. His jaw tensed, and before you knew it, he was yanking his hoodie from where it was tied around his waist and tossing it at you. “Put that shit on.”
You caught it, brows furrowing. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” He crossed his arms over his chest, biceps flexing. “Walkin’ around damn near naked—everyone’s starin’.”
“Oh, so what, you’re allowed to be shirtless, but I have to cover up?” You put a hand on your hip. “That’s rich.”
“That’s different.”
“How?”
He scowled. “It just is.”
You grinned. “You’re jealous.”
“Jealous?” He let out a dry laugh. “Of what?”
“Of all the guys looking at me right now,” you teased, stepping closer. “Bet you wanna fight every single one of them, huh?”
Toji’s eye twitched. “I swear to god, Y/N—”
“Relax, big guy.” You threw his hoodie back at him with a wink.
Toji opened his mouth to retort, but before he could, a familiar figure brushed past the two of you.
Gojo.
You both immediately turned your attention to him, watching as he strolled by, one arm lazily slung over the shoulders of a girl. She was dressed in a police officer costume, tight-fitting but understated, a stark contrast to Gojo’s usual flashy preferences. His criminal costume complemented hers, a lazy attempt at “matching,” but what caught your attention was the way she clung to him—not in an attention-seeking way, but in a way that made it clear she was anxious and had her guard up.
Toji let out a low whistle. “So he really got a girl, huh?”
You crossed your arms. “Guess so.”
“She don’t look like his type.”
“She’s not.”
Toji glanced at you. “You met her?”
“Yeah, yesterday.” You sighed, shifting on your feet. “I might’ve been kinda mean to her.”
At that, Toji’s expression shifted. His brows furrowed slightly, lips pulling into a pout that he’d never admit was a pout. “Why?”
You shrugged. “I dunno. I guess…I was just surprised. I thought he’d go for someone different.”
“You mean someone like you?”
Your eyes flickered to his, and you could see the irritation swimming beneath them. He didn’t like the idea that you might still care.
You smirked. “Maybe.”
Toji scoffed. “You’re full of shit.”
You only laughed before turning on your heel and disappearing back into the crowd.
As the night went on, you could feel Toji’s gaze on you, your eyes meeting across the room every so often, a silent tension building between you. The occasional glances, the way his lips quirked up whenever he saw you laughing, the way you’d purposely sway your hips just a little more when you knew he was watching—it was a game, a dangerous one, but neither of you wanted to stop playing.
By the time 2 AM rolled around, you were tipsy, the alcohol buzzing through your system as you stepped out onto the balcony to get some air. You leaned against the railing, enjoying the crisp night breeze, when a familiar voice rumbled behind you.
“Coulda sworn I told you to cover up.” His voice was rough, low, edged with something that sent a shiver down your spine.
You turned, crossing your arms as you met his gaze. “You’re still on that?”
He smirked, stepping closer, his presence impossibly heavy. “Nah. Just figured I should remind you.”
“You’re annoying.”
“You love it.”
“Do I?”
“Mhm.”
You stared at each other, the air between you charged, thick with something unspoken. The tension had been simmering all night, bubbling under the surface of every lingering glance, every brush of your fingers when you passed each other.
And now, it was spilling over.
Your heart pounded as you tilted your head, voice softer now. “What are we doing, Toji?”
He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he let his gaze drop, slowly trailing down the curve of your neck, past your collarbone, over the fitted top hugging your chest. His tongue flicked out to wet his lips before he met your eyes again, darker this time, the green nearly swallowed by black.
“You tell me,” he murmured.
Your breath caught.
Something shifted.
Before you could second-guess yourself, you closed the space between you, your hands hesitating for only a second before grasping the waistband of his sweatpants, tugging him just a little closer. His chest brushed against yours, and the heat radiating from his skin was almost overwhelming.
His fingers brushed along your waist, barely there, a teasing touch that made you tremble.
You tilted your chin up, while he lowered his head to lean in closer, lips just inches from his. “I think you wanna kiss me.”
Toji huffed a quiet laugh, but it was strained. His fingers flexed against your waist, gripping you tighter, as if to steady himself.
“Yeah?” His voice was husky, a challenge laced beneath it.
You nodded, your nose brushing against his.
“You gonna do something about it?”
Toji’s patience snapped.
His mouth crashed onto yours, rough and hungry, like he’d been waiting all night for this moment. His hands found your hips, pulling you flush against him, and the heat of his bare chest burned through the thin fabric of your top. His lips were soft but demanding, his teeth nipping at your lower lip before he soothed the bite with his tongue, tasting the faint trace of alcohol on you.
You whimpered against his mouth, fisting the fabric of his sweatpants as his hands roamed your body, fingers digging into your thighs, your waist, anywhere he could touch. He kissed you like he was starving, like he needed to memorize the shape of your lips, the way your breath hitched when he tilted your head back to deepen the kiss.
His hands moved up, fingers slipping into your hair as he tilted your face, pressing deeper, devouring you. You felt the rough scrape of his stubble against your skin, the sharp contrast between his firm grip and the lazy drag of his lips against yours. He was overwhelming, intoxicating, and you couldn’t get enough.
You tugged at his waistband, making him groan against your mouth, his hands squeezing your hips in response. He pulled away just enough to mutter, “Keep doin’ shit like that, and I ain’t stoppin’.”
Your lips were swollen, breath shaky as you stared at him, both of you panting, drunk on each other.
You licked your lips. “Maybe I don’t want you to.”
Toji grinned against your skin, his teeth grazing your jaw before he kissed you again, slower this time, savoring every second. His hands slid under your hoodie—his hoodie now draped over your shoulders—fingertips tracing the bare skin beneath it.
“Fuck,” he muttered against your mouth. “You’re dangerous.”
“You like it.”
“Damn right, I do.”
And then, with a heated pull, he had you back against him, pressing his lips to yours with a force that left you breathless.
It was the last thing you remembered clearly.
The next morning, you woke up in unfamiliar sheets.
Your heart pounded as you blinked against the morning light, the events of last night hazy in your mind. Your head was killing you, and your limbs felt heavy as you slowly turned your head—only to see a very shirtless Toji sleeping beside you.
Your stomach dropped.
Oh, shit.
Panicked, you sat up, heart racing as you looked down at yourself—no clothes. No fucking clothes.
Your hands trembled as you quickly got out of bed, scrambling for your outfit. Your thoughts were jumbled, memories a blur, and you couldn’t even piece together how you’d ended up here. The only thing you knew was that you had to get out.
Toji stirred slightly, his brows furrowing in his sleep, but he didn’t wake up.
Holding your breath, you grabbed your heels and tiptoed to the door, slipping out as quietly as you could.
You didn’t stop moving until you were outside, the morning air biting against your bare skin.
And then, finally, you let out a shaky breath.
What the hell did I do?
Chapter 2 - Bait and Burn
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.
{chapter 1} ; {next}
warnings: cursing, sexual language
AN: shoko might be ooc in this. don’t really care. she’s my burnt out med student queeeeen.
Chapter 10 - Law, Legacy and a Dinner Deal
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 noticed that the engament on my posts is getting lower and lower each time I post.. ARE Y’ALL GETTING BORED??? AHHHHHHHHH!!!! SMOOCHES 💋💋💋
{chapter 9} ; {next}
taglist: @gigiiiiislife @getovibesonly @inthedarkshadows000 @burpzz @sleepykittyenergy @fuzzycollectiondeersblog
࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚
I’m really sorry to say this but the MHA “fans” who’ve been losing their minds over izuku and ochako possibly being canon are incredibly embarrassing. I understand that you want queer representation and I personally believe that it’s very important but you won’t get it in every single show that’s popular. You guys are only embarrassing yourself and the fandom with your behavior.
Please watch this tiktok and come to your senses. It’s really not that deep 🩷
Chapter 3 - Fake It Till You Make It
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: JEEZ LOUISEEEE! SMOOCHEEEES 💋💋💋
{chapter 2} ; {next}
taglist: @hanakotateyama @sleepykittyenergy @inthedarkshadows000 @codeseven @byakuya61085 @minzxec @ivydoesit23
࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚
You already knew today was going to be bad, but you hadn’t expected it to be this bad.
It started when you woke up late. Your phone was dead—your stepsister had “accidentally” unplugged your charger overnight, and your alarm never went off. You had exactly ten minutes to get ready, which meant skipping breakfast and throwing on whatever clothes you could grab. In your rush, you stubbed your toe against the corner of your desk so hard that you nearly collapsed.
You tried to shake it off, but things only got worse from there.
By the time you got to campus, the café was out of everything except black coffee, which tasted like burnt disappointment. You tried to force it down anyway, only to spill half of it on your sweater before your first lecture.
Then, your professor—who never acknowledged your existence before—suddenly decided today was the perfect day to call on you. It had to be on the one topic you hadn’t reviewed properly, and when you failed to answer, he sighed and moved on. That one sigh was enough to make the students around you turn and look, some of them exchanging glances, some holding back laughter.
You spent the rest of the class staring at your notebook, trying to disappear.
By the time you reached the library, you were exhausted, but just as you sat down and opened your book, a chair scraped loudly across from you.
Before you even looked up, you already knew who it was.
“Why do you look like someone just ran over your dog?”
Satoru Gojo.
You sighed. “Go away, Satoru.”
“No can do,” he said cheerfully, leaning back in his chair. “Saw you sitting here all alone and thought, ‘Wow, that’s kind of depressing.’ So, here I am. Your knight in shining armor.”
You shot him a flat look. “More like my court jester.”
He gasped, clutching his chest like you’d mortally wounded him. “Ouch. Right in my fragile heart.”
Ignoring him, you turned back to your book.
He didn’t do silence.
“You didn’t answer my question,” he said, tapping his fingers on the table in an annoying rhythm.
“What question?” you muttered, already regretting engaging.
“Why you look like someone just ran over your dog.”
You debated whether answering would make him leave faster. “…Because I had a long day.”
Satoru hummed, tilting his head. “Long day or bad day?”
“Both.”
To your surprise, he didn’t joke. He just nodded, like he actually understood.
For a second, you almost thought you’d get some peace. But then, his smirk returned.
“And here I was thinking you were deep in thought about me.”
Your face deadpanned. “You’re delusional.”
“Maybe.” He leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. “But you still haven’t denied it.”
You shut your book. “Gojo.”
“Yes, my dear?”
“I will kill you.”
His grin widened. “That would require effort. And let’s be honest, you don’t strike me as the type.”
He wasn’t wrong, but you weren’t going to tell him that.
Gojo sat there for another ten minutes, occasionally tapping his fingers on the table just to annoy you, before finally stretching and standing up. “Alright, I’ll leave you to your brooding,” he said, adjusting his sunglasses. “But don’t miss me too much.”
You didn’t dignify him with a response.
A Lie That Shouldn’t Have Happened
When you finally got home, all you wanted was a shower and sleep.
But the second you stepped inside, your mother’s voice cut through the air.
“Come to the living room.”
Your stomach sank.
Your stepsister was sitting on the couch, legs crossed, a smug, knowing smile on her lips. Your stepfather sat beside her, looking like he’d just won the lottery.
“We have something to celebrate,” he announced.
You didn’t react.
Your stepsister, on the other hand, was practically glowing. “I got invited to the National Collegiate Tennis Championship,” she said, tilting her head like she wanted to see your reaction.
Your mother sighed, so proud. “She’s worked so hard. It’s an amazing opportunity.”
You forced yourself to nod. You weren’t bitter about your stepsister’s success. It wasn’t her fault she was their favorite. But the way your parents used her as a golden standard—while treating you like you weren’t even worth noticing—never failed to sting.
Your stepfather leaned back in his chair, his expression turning more mocking. “And you,” he said, looking at you expectantly, “what exactly have you been doing?”
“College,” you said, keeping your voice neutral. “Like everyone else.”
“Right,” he scoffed. “But you don’t do anything else, do you? No sports, no clubs. You don’t go out, you don’t socialize.” He smirked. “Do you even have a boyfriend, or are you just wasting your time being forgettable?”
Your stepsister covered her mouth, laughing under her breath. “Dad, that’s mean,” she said sweetly. “She’s just… not really the type to have a boyfriend.”
Your mother sighed like this was the greatest disappointment of all. “She’s always been a bit… invisible.”
That was it. That was the moment.
The exhaustion, the stress, the endless belittling—it all crashed over you at once. Before you could stop yourself, you blurted out, “I do have a boyfriend, actually.”
The room went silent.
Then, they laughed.
Not a chuckle. Not a scoff. A full-blown, gut-wrenching laugh.
“You?” Your stepfather shook his head, smiling. “Oh, that’s rich.”
Your stepsister raised an eyebrow. “Wait, you’re serious?” Her smile widened. “Who is he?”
Your brain short-circuited.
Shit.
“Someone from school,” you muttered.
“Well, obviously,” she said, laughing. “But what’s his name?”
Your heart pounded. “You don’t know him.”
Your stepfather shook his head, amused. “Sure, kid. Whatever you say.”
Your mother didn’t say anything, but the look she gave you said it all—like she didn’t believe you for a second.
Your face burned.
Before they could ask anything else, you turned on your heel and stormed upstairs.
By the time you slammed your bedroom door, reality had settled in.
You had lied.
You had actually lied.
And worse? You had no way of getting out of it without making yourself look even more pathetic.
For the next week, you racked your brain for solutions. You considered telling them you broke up with this mystery boyfriend before they could meet him, but you knew that’d just open the door for more insults, more mockery. You thought about faking a long-distance relationship, but that seemed way too complicated.
Meanwhile, Satoru Gojo was everywhere.
You didn’t know why you kept seeing him—maybe the universe was punishing you—but he popped up in the library, at the campus café, even outside one of your lectures. And every single time, he made sure to annoy you.
“You always look so serious,” he teased one day, leaning against the table you were studying at. “Are you plotting world domination or just thinking about me?”
“Neither,” you muttered, turning the page in your book.
“Sounds fake, but okay.”
He was relentless.
And today, after another long, exhausting day, you just wanted to be alone.
Your safe place was a hidden bench near the lake, tucked away behind the trees where no one ever bothered you. It was quiet, peaceful—exactly what you needed.
But as you sat there, staring at the water, a loud rustling noise came from the bushes.
You tensed.
Then, Satoru Gojo stumbled out.
“Are you serious?” you groaned.
“Oh, hey,” he grinned, “didn’t know you’d be here.”
“This is my spot.”
“I don’t see your name on it.”
You shot him a glare. He sat down anyway.
You considered getting up and leaving, but you were too tired to fight.
For a while, neither of you spoke. The only sounds were the rustling leaves and the soft ripples of the lake.
Then, Gojo broke the silence.
“Alright, spill. What’s wrong?”
You scoffed. “None of your business.”
“Oh, so it’s extra bad.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “C’mon, you’ll feel better if you talk about it.”
You tried to ignore him. But he kept poking, prodding, teasing until finally, you snapped, “Fine! I lied to my family about having a boyfriend, okay?”
He blinked. Then, a slow, mischievous grin spread across his face.
“Oh, this is fantastic.”
“What?”
“I’ll be your boyfriend.”
You stared at him like he’d grown a second head. “Are you insane?”
“Probably,” he admitted cheerfully. “But listen—this works out perfectly. You need a fake boyfriend, and I need a serious girlfriend for my family thing. Boom. Problem solved.”
You gaped at him. “You can’t be serious.”
“Dead serious.” He placed his hands on your shoulders, grinning like a lunatic.
Your brain struggled to keep up. Gojo? Pretending to be your boyfriend? This had to be a joke.
“This is ridiculous,” you muttered.
“Ridiculously genius,” he corrected.
He must have seen the doubt on your face because his expression softened slightly. “Hey. It’s just a deal. No strings attached, no weird expectations. Just two people faking a relationship to make their lives easier.”
You hesitated.
You wanted to say no. But… he wasn’t wrong.
“Fine,” you muttered. “But if you make this weird, I swear—”
“No promises,” he sang.
With an annoyed sigh, you pulled out your phone. “We need proof.”
The first selfie was awkward. You sat stiffly on the bench, trying to keep as much space between you and Satoru as possible. He, of course, leaned in way too close, grinning like an idiot as he snapped the first photo.
Click.
You glanced at it. It was bad. You looked uncomfortable, your lips pressed into a tight line, while Satoru, on the other hand, looked effortlessly photogenic—like he wasn’t taking a fake couple’s picture but rather doing a promotional shoot for some high-end brand.
“This is terrible,” you muttered.
Satoru let out a dramatic sigh. “That’s because you look like I’m holding you hostage.”
“You are holding me hostage.”
“Emotionally,” he agreed, scrolling through the photos. “Alright, let’s try again. This time, look at me like you actually like me. Pretend I just said something funny.”
“You’re not funny.”
“Blatant lies.” He placed a hand over his chest, feigning offense. “I’m hilarious. Try to keep up.”
Click.
The second was worse. You tried forcing a small smile, but it came out looking like you were in pain.
Satoru examined it and snorted. “You look like you just swallowed a lemon.”
“I hate this.”
“No, you just suck at it,” he corrected. “Here, let’s make it natural.”
Before you could react, he suddenly threw an arm around your shoulder and pulled you in.
“Hey—!”
Click.
“Much better,” he said, showing you the photo.
It was… convincing. His arm around you, the effortless smirk, the way your faces were close enough to suggest something more. You still looked hesitant, but at least you weren’t grimacing anymore.
“This could work,” he said, sounding pleased.
You shifted uncomfortably. “You’re way too comfortable with this.”
He wiggled his eyebrows. “Natural talent.”
You rolled your eyes. “Whatever. We got the pictures. We’re done here.”
“Not quite,” he corrected. “We need a convincing story. How long have we been dating? How did we meet? What’s your favorite thing about me?”
“Nothing,” you deadpanned.
“Ouch. Okay, my favorite thing about you is—” he tapped his chin thoughtfully before grinning— “how easy you are to mess with.”
You groaned. “This was a mistake.”
“Too late now, babe,” he teased, stretching out the last word obnoxiously. “We’re in this together.”
You sighed, rubbing your temple. “Fine. How did we meet?”
“Obviously, you fell madly in love with me the first time you saw me.”
“Try again.”
“We met in class,” he said, thinking. “I was struggling with my engineering assignments, and you offered to help. We bonded over late-night study sessions, and boom, love blossomed.”
You squinted. “You don’t struggle with engineering.”
“They don’t know that,” he pointed out. “Besides, it makes me sound relatable.”
You sighed. “Whatever. And how long have we been together?”
He grinned. “Long enough to make it believable, short enough that you don’t have to explain why I wasn’t around before. Let’s say… a month?”
You shrugged. “Fine.”
“And my favorite thing about you?” he pressed.
“That you shut up when I tell you to.”
He laughed. “We both know that’s not true.”
You shook your head, stuffing your phone into your pocket. “I’m leaving.”
“Not before you post those pictures,” he reminded you.
You hesitated.
Posting them meant committing to this ridiculous lie. It meant opening yourself up to questions, speculation, and attention—all things you had avoided for so long.
Satoru watched you, head tilted. “Cold feet?”
You exhaled slowly. “No.”
With one last look at the photos, you posted them to your Instagram. Satoru did the same, tagging you with a caption that read:
“Finally got her to admit she’s obsessed with me. Took long enough. ❤️”
Your phone immediately started vibrating.
By the time you got home, the notifications were nonstop.
Messages. Comments. Likes.
And by morning, one thing was clear:
You and Satoru Gojo were now the hottest gossip on campus.
I FUCKING LOVE YOUR WRITING ASDKJFHASJKDFH
i love how your fics are all in the same universe and also I love how you understand the characters so well its so great and amazing and awesome and you write really well and it's just so cool man anyways ima stfu now bye
Thank you so much LMAOOO 😭 I appreciate you pookiekins 😝
Chapter 6 - Muhammad Ali
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: he’s nice in his own way, right? right??? (losing my mind.) satoru’s making a move! (yay or nay?) things are starting to get interesting! don’t you guys think?? lololol. smooches for y’all 💋💋💋
{chapter 5} ; {next}
taglist: @jinxiewritings
just read the nanami smau fic and GOD it's so good, thank you for writing such a gut-wrenching fic 🫶🏼
it’s my pleasure 😁
Added my newest fic! :3
Toji Fushiguro/Zenin
•Toji SMAU - When love was always there
Kento Nanami
•Nanami SMAU - A Verdict of Us
Satoru Gojo
Suguru Geto
Ryomen Sukuna
Choso Kamo
Chapter 3 - Case Study: Nanami
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: Are you guys excited for the charity ball? I know I am… hehe.. not saying anything but chapter 5 is going to be interesting! As always: please let me know about your thoughts and opinions. Your comments are what keep me going! Smooches 💋💋💋
{chapter 2} ; {next}
taglist: @gigiiiiislife @getovibesonly @inthedarkshadows000 @burpzz @sleepykittyenergy @fuzzycollectiondeersblog
࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚
The café was quiet, with only a handful of patrons scattered across its small, dimly lit space. Soft music hummed in the background, mixing with the faint clink of cups and saucers. You were already seated at a corner table when Nanami arrived, right on time.
“Hey! You made it,” you greeted, your smile bright as you gestured to the seat across from you.
He gave a polite nod and sat down, setting his watch on the table where he could see it. “Thirty minutes,” he reminded you, his tone even but firm.
You waved a hand dismissively. “Yes, yes, Mr. Efficient. Thirty minutes. Let’s just enjoy the tea.”
A server appeared, and you quickly ordered a chai latte, while Nanami requested plain green tea.
“So,” you began once the server left, leaning forward slightly. “What do you think of the place? Cozy, right?”
“It’s quiet,” he said, his eyes scanning the room briefly before landing back on you.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” you said with a grin. “Honestly, I wasn’t sure you’d even come. You don’t really seem like the tea-and-chat type.”
“I’m not,” he replied plainly, lifting his cup to his lips.
You laughed softly, not surprised. “Then what made you say yes? Just felt bad for me pestering you?”
“No. I thought this would settle your persistence,” he said, glancing briefly at his watch.
You tilted your head, studying him. “Oh, so you think one cup of tea is going to stop me? Bold assumption.”
He didn’t respond, taking another deliberate sip of his tea.
“Well,” you said, undeterred, “I hope I’m not making you regret it. This is a lot better than sitting in a library staring at spreadsheets, don’t you think?”
“The spreadsheets would be more productive,” he replied without missing a beat.
You gasped, clutching your chest dramatically. “Ouch. I’m hurt.”
He arched an eyebrow but didn’t bite, his face neutral.
“Alright, new topic,” you pressed, refusing to let the conversation die. “What’s your favorite thing to learn about? Like, if you could study anything without worrying about time or money, what would it be?”
He paused, setting his cup down. “Something practical. Likely economics.”
“Of course,” you said with a soft laugh. “All logic, no fun. But I’ll give you credit—at least you answered.”
He gave a slight nod, his way of acknowledging your point.
“Okay, follow-up question,” you said, leaning forward. “Is there anything you’ve always wanted to learn just for you? Like, something completely unrelated to work?”
“I don’t have hobbies,” he replied bluntly.
“Nothing at all?” you asked, genuinely curious.
“No,” he said, his tone as clipped as ever.
You sighed dramatically, leaning back in your chair. “You’re impossible, you know that?”
“So I’ve been told,” he said, completely unfazed.
You huffed lightly but smiled to yourself. He was frustratingly closed off, but at least he showed up. That counted for something.
The server returned to clear your empty cups, and you realized with a pang that he was already glancing at his watch.
“Alright,” you said, leaning forward. “Before you escape, just one last question. Promise it’s harmless.”
He raised an eyebrow but didn’t stop you.
“If you could travel anywhere in the world, where would it be?”
He hesitated for a moment, then said, “Somewhere quiet.”
“Of course,” you said, laughing softly. “You’re consistent, I’ll give you that.”
“Consistency is important,” he replied, standing and adjusting his watch.
You watched him push in his chair, already preparing to leave. “You know, you’re allowed to say this wasn’t so bad,” you teased, folding your arms.
“It served its purpose,” he said, nodding politely. “Thank you for the tea.”
You blinked at him, surprised by how abruptly he ended the conversation. “Oh, sure. Anytime!”
With a polite nod, he turned and walked out of the café, leaving you sitting alone at the table. Despite his walls and his detachment, you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of satisfaction. He’d shown up, and for now, that was enough progress to keep you smiling.
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.