nerdjo’s high maintenance gf is his prettiest distraction !
I. DISTRACTION #1: NO KISSING IN THE LECTURE HALLS !
time: 8:46 am location: Curtis Lecture Hall I (CLH-I)
gojo satoru is typing one handed because his other hand is pressed between your thighs.
not that he minds. 8AM thursday means excel sheets & a cup of hot coffee to keep his bleary eyes open. gojo satoru is trying—trying to focus, but his pretty girl is talking a mile a minute and he’ll be damned if he didn’t reply to your every word.
“it was so hard getting out of bed today, toru,” you pout up at him, chin on his shoulder & gloss sticky on his sleeve. “i told kento to stop by and wake me up on his way to class. can you believe he didn’t?”
“i’m very proud of you for getting out of bed regardless.”
“thank you. it was very hard.”
you sigh against his shoulder. “he’s probably still mad i cussed him out,” you huff, reaching up to twirl the hairs on his nape. “all because i put him on cherry crush and he tried to act like he discovered it first.”
satoru’s eyes are still on his screen, so you squeeze his palm between your thighs to bring him back to you. “he’s so petty, toru.”
“very petty, baby.”
you frown. it’s been exactly thirteen minutes and forty-two seconds since satoru looked at you last. he’s been on this stupid spreadsheet since class started, and it’s really starting to piss you off.
so you block his view.
“look at my fingers, toru,” you breathe, lifting your hand in front of his face. “i was in such a rush i forgot my rings. my hand looks so ugly.”
he lifts his head—just slightly, just enough that he can focus on the screen & not your hand in front of him—& replies without a beat. “looks pretty, baby,” he murmurs, kissing the back of your hand. “so gorgeous.”
oh, that’s enough.
“toru.”
“hm, baby?”
“kiss me.”
gojo satoru chokes on his tongue. he freezes, blue eyes leaving the screen only to dart around the crowded lecture hall in alarm. he lets his eyes drop to you, and perhaps he shouldn’t have, because you’re looking up at him with glossy lips & too-big eyes & lashes that flutter in that way that means trouble. gojo gulps.
“we can’t do that right now, sweetheart,” his voice catches. you’re pouting up at him but satoru only cups your cheek and tries to reason with you. “we’re in public. can you wait for me, angel?”
your brows furrow, lips wobbling into that pout that only spells out gojo’s demise.
“are you ashamed to kiss me in public?” you croak, fake sniffling. “am i that ugly?”
you’re not ugly. you’re the most beautiful girl in the world, you know it, satoru knows it, & he also knows you’re doing this on purpose. but your eyes are so glossy. your breathing’s all hitched. your shoulders shake like you’re about to sob—
gojo satoru folds under zero pressure.
he cups your face, thumb brushing faux tears off your lashes as he presses his lips to yours. you taste like strawberry candy & something too sweet to have a name. gojo sighs into your mouth. cocks his head. pulls back just to lean in again when your lashes flutter up at him all pretty. he lets his thumb tug your lip and tongue lick your teeth and—
“ahem.”
you both freeze.
in the row in front of you the nanami kento is there, frown on his face & completely unamused. there are pens littered on his desk & his laptop is wide open—is he reading semantic error?
he eyes you both, lips curled in disgust.
“this is not a love nest.”
you & satoru are blinking in disbelief when nanami turns back to his laptop. he slams it shut in embarrassment when he’s met with an inappropriate panel onscreen.
II. DISTRACTION #2: NETWORKING ❌ NOT WORKING ✅
time: 7:14 pm. location: Bergeron Center for Engineering Excellence
⎚-⎚
gojo satoru has five minutes until the most important meeting of his life.
an opportunity to pitch one of his latest projects to some high-class engineering recruiters—lucky him! he’s in a private office with his speech in his hands, and his beautiful girlfriend kicking her feet on the office table.
you’re supposed to be his supportive plus-one. and gojo does feel supported—how could he not when the love of his life is here for him, dressed up like a midsummer dream? but gojo thinks he’d feel even more supported if you weren’t bracketing his thighs & tugging on his tie every time he tries to speak.
“thank you all for coming. i’m honored to have this opportunity—“
“satoruu,” you coo. “i miss you.”
gojo satoru knows better than to sigh. he does it anyway, collapsing into your neck in resignation as he squeezes your hips. you’re pressing a glossy kiss to his jaw. “i’m right here, sweetheart,” he mumbles, closing his eyes. “will you let me focus?”
you nod sweetly, patting his cheek dismissively when he presses a kiss to your neck in thanks.
“thank you all for coming. i’m honored to have this opportunity to present—“
“satoruu,”
thirteen words this time. fairs.
“yes, sweetheart.”
“my feet hurt,” you state, kicking your feet up to show him. for once, you’re not being totally dramatic. even with your heels on satoru can see the sides of your feet reddening, flushed & slightly swollen against the material. his brows furrow. “how’d this happen, angel…?”
he kneels down to slip your heels off. you pout: “i got new heels so i’d look pretty for your presentation. now my feet hurt and i’ve ruined everything.”
satoru frowns, but you’re still spiraling. dramatic as always, talking like it’s the end of the world with your eyes glossy & nose wrinkled in lament. but gojo’s heart only goes sticky in his chest. how could you possibly ruin everything when you are everything?
he reaches up to wipe a tear off your cheek. “look at me, baby,” he murmurs, other hand rubbing circles on your ankles. he looks devastating like this—hair messy, tie loose from all your tugging & knees on the floor for you even though he’s in his finest dress pants. “you didn’t ruin anything, okay baby? look.”
he slips off your heels, then his own leather shoes, & laces them onto your bare feet. “wear these.”
you blink as he lifts you off the table, kneeling back down to adjust the shoes better. you wiggle your toes. your feet don’t even reach the middle, and you almost fall trying to walk two steps, but the gesture alone has you beaming. you turn to him with your lips bent in a clumsy smile.
“they’re huge, toru,” you tease, twirling around for him to watch. satoru only smiles. his heart goes sticky in his throat. he pulls you into a soft kiss because trying to speak might make his chest hurt.
knock knock.
one of satoru’s classmates—nerd #1—peeks his head in, expression slightly terrified. “uh, gojo? they’re ready for you in the boardroom,” he gulps. “you’re up.”
satoru nods, gathers his speech papers. you’re practicing walking around in his shoes now, arms stretched out to help you balance as you strut around with a grin on your face. gojo satoru looks down at his feet. they’re in nothing but a pair of socks.
right.
he sucks in a breath, then turns to kiss your forehead. “stay here where it’s warm, okay?”
you’re still admiring yourself in his shoes, but you chirp out an okay! regardless. satoru bites his lip. it’s showtime.
——
the faculty is looking at satoru like he’s grown two heads.
have they never seen a shoeless man before? how rude. he’s standing on the boardroom’s stage now, clipboard in hand, projector lighting up the board behind him. some of the recruiters are nodding. the others are trying not to look at his feet so they can’t be accused of classism. gojo satoru is not even poor. a glance at his suit should tell you that.
but gojo doesn’t care. he presents without issue—even though the entire time, his mind is on you.
the boardroom door has a center made of glass. through the pane, satoru can see you back in the office—you’ve somehow found music controls for the office’s boombox, and you’re dancing—oh god, you’re dancing—twirling around with a clumsy smile & laughing when you stumble in his much larger shoes.
satoru’s heart swells. his lip twitches.
gojo turns his focus back to his presentation. he’ll work hard to keep you smiling for the rest of your life.
III. DISTRACTION #3 : WHY IS MY GIRLFRIEND IMMUNE TO TUTORING…
time: 6:14 PM location: The Quad, Satoru’s Apartment.
⎚-⎚
“who discovered the americas ?”
“Martin Luther King.”
You are going to fail this exam.
“that’s enough general history today,” gojo mutters, voice croaking in alarm when you give your answer. you’re tucked in his lap, fingers curled in his collar, nose in his neck & completely unbothered. your perfume is sticky in his lungs. “let’s try math. you like math, baby?”
“mhm,” you kiss his jaw. “love it.”
no you don’t. gojo flips open a book with one hand, the other rubbing circles on your thigh. “let’s practice some integration…” he scans the page for questions while you twirl the hairs on his nape. “okay, this one. can you try this for me, princess?”
your lips tug into a bored frown. “okay,” you lean up to glance at the page, “done.”
he blinks, “done?”
“yes,” you flop back against him, soft & pretty & tired & his. “i solved it in my head.”
satoru bites his lip, brows knit in concern. “baby, you can’t solve integrals in your head.”
“i have a very strong brain.”
satoru prays for some strength of his own. okay—okay. he purses his lip. “so strong, baby. do you want to walk me through your process?”
you frown in his neck.
“first of all,” you tug his collar, lashes fluttering, “i looked at the numbers.”
“good job.”
“then,” you tug his earlobe, “i got bored.”
“oh.”
satoru sighs—of course you did. he purses his lip, blue eyes flitting across the page as his spoiled pretty angel hugs his neck; dreary and tired and ‘bored’ in his lap. finals are coming up and things are not looking good for you. he prays for strength (again).
you seem to have found some strength of your own. gojo’s not sure when you pick up your phone (which he had confiscated from you earlier), but while he stares into the distance and laments your guaranteed failure, you scroll through your phone with a grin on your lips.
“toru, look at this bag,” you coo, pushing the bright screen to his face. “it’s so pink and pretty, just like me.”
“just like you,” he repeats, still staring into the distance.
“wow, nine-hundred-and-fifty dollars,” you kick your feet in his lap. “baby, can i buy it?” you coo, voice sweet.
satoru blinks out of his daze. he glances at the phone screen—then at you, suddenly sweet & bright & brimming with energy. his thumb brushes your inner thigh. “baby, you’re supposed to be studying.”
“i am studying,” you frown, and gojo wants to kiss it off again. “i’m studying consumer behavior. can i have your card?”
there are three reasons gojo satoru should not give you his card.
you are going to fail your exams.
you haven’t double-checked if the price is in CAD or USD.
you are going to fail your exams.
gojo lets you have his card.
you squeal, hopping off his lap to retrieve his wallet in the other room. satoru leans back against his desk chair. in front of him, his desk is a mess of opened books & littered pencils, a ‘get good grades!’ subliminal playing on your mini speaker because you insisted the whispered affirmations would guarantee your success. gojo sighs.
“thank you, toru!” you sing as you pad back into the room, a skip in your step. you lean down to kiss his cheek & flop onto his bed to open his laptop. you have his wallet in your hands, and gojo satoru already knows you will not double check the currency.
gojo closes your textbook with a sigh. better luck next time.
ac: (see alt text!) @ to00fu
DISTRACTIONS, end.
HEARTKAJI. do not steal, copy, edit, translate or reupload.
SHERRIFF NANAMI 😫😫 sitting with his legs crossed over his table in those cowboy boots… wheat in his mouth… stressed as fuck running the wild west with his deadbeat coworkers…
I NAME DROPPED U ON HERE TWIN 🙏🙏 https://vm.tiktok.com/ZNRcVVEBS/
ur fics r too delish i cant gatekeep
wtf i’m so honored WHAT. literally gasped seeing my name im so glad you guys like my stuff enough to mention me n rec it to others you guys are the coolest 🙆♀️💞
bro i’m getting acc so ragebaited by this fatass thay rhymes with burrito getting reqs so much like how about we focus on more important matters like if sukunas gonna try and quit his porn addiction for his girl in the next sigma chi fic 🙏🏾🙏🏾
in which nerdjo is down bad for you, so the frat!jjk men teach him how to pull you using ‘alpha male’ techniques ! will he succeed in acting like a playboy to win your heart ?
cast: nerdjo (‘toru’ gojo) + frat! jjk men (‘sigma-chi’) : fratjo (‘sato’ gojo) ◞ geto ◞ toji ◞ sukuna ◞ nanami 𓏲 art gallery here !
PLAYBOY TACTICS #1: GET YOUR MONEY UP !
taught by: toji zenin
“trying to win y/n over with only a hundred bucks to your name? yeah try again friend.”
⎚-⎚
toji zenin is black coffee breath, borrowed birkenstocks & a bank account filled with student loan refunds. but when he opens toru’s scotiabank account & finds it filled with less than a thousand dollars, his lips contort in disgust.
“no funds, no game, no bitches,” toji clicks his tongue. “you just a bum.”
“don’t you have a baby mama and kid you can barely support?”
“silence.”
toru gojo has messy blanche hair & candy pink nose & acid pooling in the jugular. tonight he’s got a date with the girl he swears is the love of his life & the pressure pokes at him like a cracked rib.
toji leans heavy on toru’s sheets. “i’m gonna ignore that comment. let’s focus on how you’re a gojo and have only a hundred bucks in your chequing account.”
toru’s cheeks flush. “i keep my money in my savings…they’re for textbooks.”
he doesn’t mention how every penny that’s not in his savings ends up in sato’s betting app. damn yumeko jabami wannabe-ass twin.
but toji doesn’t question it, so he doesn’t tell. instead he tosses the cell back at toru, arms crossed behind his head as he makes himself comfortable on his bed,
“textbooks don’t get you laid, friend. listen,” toji licks his canines. “i’m gonna give you three simple rules. follow ‘em or get dumped.”
RULE #1 : NONCHALANCE. ALWAYS.
toru gojo doesn’t make it past rule number one.
he fails because he doesn’t know how to not bite his cheek & choke on the blood when you stroll in with four inch heels & glossy lips & nails that toru prays will gouge his eyes out. he can’t fucking think. his throat’s all achey & you smell like sugar & his tongue dries so hard he swallows blood to keep it wet.
he tries to say you look beautiful. the words dribble off his tongue & plunk into his drink.
“—earth to toru? it’s really rude to stare.”
how shameful of him! he should dig his knees into the tile. grovel & beg till your pout dissolves & you decide you can forgive him for making you even the slightest bit uncomfortable.
but instead he shifts his arm over the booth seat. clenches his throat. reminds himself of the training toji worked oh-so hard to give him & pinches his thigh so his foot stops tapping so hard,
“s’not much to stare at.”
what ?
in front of him you’re fawn freckled & doe eyed, lashes fluttering like—heaven forbid—you hadn’t even heard him.
so he says it again. “uhm, there’s nothing much to stare at—“
“i heard you the first time.”
your tone cuts him like a knife. toru’s not sure when you start packing, but suddenly your purse is half full & your fork’s on the table & say her name—say her name—”
he calls your name & screams an apology. you leave as the words plunk into his drink.
TOJI’S REMARK : SON, I AIN’T TEACH YOU ALL THAT.
PLAYBOY TACTICS #2: GOOD GIRLS LIKE BAD BOYS
taught by: sato gojo
“girls don’t care about that ralph lauren shit. take off that polo and get in this tech, man.”
⎚-⎚
toru gojo’s room reeks of fratboy & paint thinner.
there’s two pizza boxes & a beer can rotting; sugar in sato’s molars & suguru’s piercings glimmering in the heat. & sukuna is here; lately he always is, laid up in toru’s bed with his phone raised over his head & palm inching dangerously towards his waistband. toru gojo knows better than to comment.
“you’ve got no game, twin. how are we even related?”
sato speaks with a mouthful of popcorn. beside him suguru’s snacking too, shoving things in his backpack & parting lips so sato can feed him the occasional kernel.
suguru scoffs, teeth sticky. “it’s a miracle she even lets herself be seen with you. poindexter looking ass.”
“i know, right? mr. bean ass closet. he won’t spend money on clothes and wears the same shirt in different colors everyday.”
“that’s not true—“toru grips his neckline. “—i’m not even wearing the shirt right now!”
he gestures to the material but geto only wrinkles his nose.
“can you please stop moving? i can hear the polyester in your hoodie..”
sato snorts. sukuna grunts & it’s not due to the joke.
suguru’s done packing now. he kisses sato’s cheek. ruffles toru’s hair. turns to dap up ryomen sukuna before deciding he probably shouldn’t. he takes his exit with a palm waving goodbye.
sato turns to his twin. “you know what you really need, man?”
“the ability to set boundaries? i don’t know why ryomen thinks it’s okay to fap in my sheets.”
“that,” sato nods, ignoring the wet sounds that leave toru’s bedside, “and a new fucking wardrobe.”
ⵌ SHOW TIME ! tw: satirical references to suicide.
toru gojo looks like a fucking idiot.
glasses half-foggy. nose cherry pink. dark jeans with too many rips & chains dangling everywhere. sato’s jacket has zippers that don’t actually zip anything, and the nicest thing about the outfit are the ugly birkenstocks that show his flushed pink toes.
toru greets you with a smile. eyes bright, just happy to look a mess.
“hey, y/n!”
“Hello. Are you mad?”
your tone is clipped & makes toru flinch. he swallows, blood sticky in his jugular. your nose is wrinkled & lashes fluttering & your gaze flits to the library exit like you might run away.
he won’t let that happen. not again.
so he clears his throat. pinches his wrist. pretends his brother’s jacket doesn’t fit too loose & itch at his chin: “nope, just trying something new! shall we get started on the project ?”
his smile stretches like plastic. there’s sweat on his chin & you think he has too many teeth.
—-
toru gojo keeps tap tap tapping.
birge-carnegie library is oakwood old & glimmering with glory. the air is heavy with heat & coffee shells & the bitter realization that toru gojo is never getting the girl.
at least, not at this rate.
it’s been twenty minutes & yet all toru can do is stare. god, you’re so pretty. swollen cheeks, pretty gaze, cherry coke lips pressed into a pout & clicky nails that stab toru in the gut as you tap at your keyboard. you’re so pretty & it’s fucking killing him because you’re pouting & toru swears you don’t even want to be here.
toru can only bite his lip. mind racing, heart aching.
you’re shivering now.
and it’s not quite obvious, & if toru wasn’t staring at you like you were girl turned god he probably wouldn’t have noticed. but he sees it. the way your lip quivers. the way you tug your sleeve over your wrist & pout when it flicks back into place. the way your shoulders squeeze like they’re clinging to the heat.
you don’t even know how you make toru’s chest hurt.
& before he can think it through he’s leaning over to place his—well, sato’s—jacket over your shoulders. he can only pray it doesn’t still smell like suguru.
“this smells like suguru.”
oh, well.
but you’re softening now; settling into your seat. lashes fluttering as you push your arms into the holes & turn back to him with gentle gaze & eyes star-achingly bright.
“thank you,”
your voice is too soft. his heart is too sticky.
sato’s jacket swallows you whole.
toru thinks it’s cute. you think it’s annoying. it’s been five minutes & you’re still shifting it over your skin, pulling & tugging & pouting when you discover yet another zipper.
you frown. “i feel like a jingle bell.”
“merry christmas.” “it’s a tuesday in may..”
it is. toru doesn’t know why he said that. he’ll likely hang himself when he gets home.
but the embarrassment doesn’t end there. you stand up—just to tug the jacket over your thighs, just to straighten it out—but toru gojo doesn’t know any better so he fucking lunges—
“toru!” you gasp, startled.
toru freezes; glasses tilting off his face, mouth part open. & he looks at you, eyes wide & cheeks flushed & so fucking startled, & he thinks he’ll definitely be seeing that noose when he gets home.
“sorry—i’m sorry—i didn’t mean to—“
“you scared me.”
you’re gripping the hem of your jacket now—his jacket, sato’s, whatever—and god, he’s such an idiot. so fucking stupid & can never do anything right & will likely die knowing he was born into this world just to leave as his brother’s shadow. and worst of all, that he will never, ever, get the girl.
“i’m so sorry,” he trembles. he doesn’t look at you, he can’t & he doesn’t deserve to, so it’s fine. “i wasn’t thinking. i just saw you standing up and i thought—i thought—“
he swallows. looks away.
but you don’t let him off that easy.
“you thought what ?”
he doesn’t answer. god, he looks ridiculous. curled into himself, palms on his knees all stupid & polite. cheeks flushed, glasses foggy. lips half-bitten & a flushed gaze that never meets yours.
giving you his jacket left him in a wife beater two sizes too big. he looks small & scrawny & you think you want to kiss him.
“toru.”
he exhales, long & slow. he still doesn’t look at you. you wish he would.
“i thought you were gonna leave again.”
“what ?”
he continues, “like at the restaurant. when you—when you stood up. walked out,” he swallows. “i didn’t want you to leave again. i didn’t want to watch you go.”
god. your throat is far too tight. your nails itch at your wrist like you’re not quite sure what to do with yourself.
“i’m not gonna leave,”
your voice is too sweet, too gentle. it sounds like honey & it spoils in the heat.
“you promise?”
you only sigh, walk over and slip into the seat beside him. you don’t say you promise but toru thinks he’ll be fine for now.
SATO’S REMARK : KINDA PITIFUL, BUT HEY, IT’S SOMETHING !
PLAYBOY TACTICS #3: NEG NEG NEG
taught by: geto suguru
“it’s all about the mystery, man. you gotta lower her value to make her see yours.”
⎚-⎚
“so how do you neg?”
“well personally, i’d start with calling her a monkey,” geto has his tongue in his cheek, desk chair groaning with a creaaak as sato spins him playfully. “unless she’s black. you shouldn’t say that if she’s black.”
“i don’t think i should say that either way..”
sato rests his chin on the chair head, cheeks peach-tinged & grin clumsy.
“probably shouldn’t!”
geto shrugs, tapping at toru’s keyboard. it’s 12 PM monday & the gang’s all here: suguru’s playing the sims 4 on toru’s new PC. sukuna is asleep with his dick in his hands. sato is whining because suguru doesn’t want to have a gay love story with him in the sims. and toji’s not here—12 PM monday means a new shift at his new job. toru hopes skai jackson will take it easy on him—working as her personal AI prompt writer must certainly be exhausting.
“the logic is simple—” suguru smacks sato’s hand away from the keyboard, “if you subtly insult her, she’ll feel the urge to prove herself. and her trying to prove herself—” another smack to sato’s stubborn hands, “tricks her brain into thinking you’re worth impressing.”
“and eventually, that she likes you!” sato cheers. “woah, sugu—when did you install wicked whims?”
“huh—? what the hell? why does my sim keep trying to fuck bob pancakes!”
“make him fuck mine instead.” / “please slit your throat.”
toru breathes, drags a palm over his face. his brother & best friend are fighting now—god knows about what—but he’s more concerned about the fact that he’s got a movie date with you in two hours and today’s game plan is far from complete.
“suguru’s right. and for a feisty bitch like y/n ? negging is even more crucial.”
sukuna’s voice is close to guttural & has all eyes snapping towards him. he’s awake now, cheeks flushed & bleary gazed & eyes half-lidded. his cock is sticky on his stomach & his palm strokes it lovingly.
toru frowns. “don’t call her a bitch. i’m serious.”
“and don’t talk with your dick in your hands. i’m disgusted.” suguru snarks.
sukuna shrugs, still lazily palming himself for the world to see. suguru wrinkles his nose in disgust & turns his head back to the game. he rage quits when he turns to find his sim palming himself too.
“neg her as much as possible,” sukuna breathes, toes curling. “humble her, make her second guess—shit.” he’s pumping faster now, gasps short & breath heavy. “make her—fuck! m’gonna cum—!”
sukuna blows his load. suguru & sato have long left the room, & toru is still searching for that noose.
ⵌ SHOW TIME !
cineplex at yonge-dundas is too-bright screens & overpriced popcorn. even now, toru’s got caramel sticky in his teeth & palms crossed in a silent prayer. there’s blood in his throat & an ache in his ribs & he’s got a tie on his neck for no fucking reason.
you walk in looking like a midsummer dream.
toru really does think you’re girl turned god. after all, most girls his age aren’t honey-mouthed or starry-eyed or flush-cheeked like you are. you walk in in tight top & short skirt, lashes fluttering as you glance around the room in quiet search of him. your eyes are all big & your lips all pouty & toru bets you don’t even notice. bets you don’t even know how you leave him sweat-soaked & feverish.
“toru!”
you’ve sauntered up to him now, purse in your hands & grin on your lips. your smile is clumsy & satoru’s heart must be too because it swells over & bursts like overripe fruit. his vocal chords slosh against his throat like blood.
“hi,” he blurts. “you look pretty.”
you tilt your head & look up at him all warm-cheeked & doe-eyed. “thank you.”
it’s silent for a beat; toru’s eyes boring into yours with two cracked teeth & a kernel in his mouth. you’re so pretty & you look so sweet & he wants to kiss you so fucking bad.
you break the silence. “you like my outfit?” you step back, voice soft. “i went shopping yesterday.”
toru wants to ask if you did that just for him—just for today’s date with him—but he doesn’t. he knows better so he doesn’t.
instead he drinks you in. he looks like a butterfly trapped in a hazy addiction: pupils blown & bleary eyed, jam smeared cheeks & a quickly reddening nose. his lips are half-parted / his mouth is half-dry.
your outfit’s simple but oh-so effective: denim skirt too short on your thighs, black off-shoulder with ruffles on the sleeves, kitten heels to match your top. god, you’re so fucking cute.
and because you’re so cute, toru can’t fuck this up. so he decides it’s time to implement suguru’s lesson from earlier in the day.
“you look incredible,” he swallows, knuckles shaky. “did you—uhm. did you pick black to hide your stomach rolls?”
toru gojo shouldn’t have said that.
he knows because your lips part immediately. cheeks flushed, eyes wide. you’re frozen in front of him, lips quivering with something toru recognizes as embarrassment.
oh jesus—oh god—great universe—what has he done?
before toru’s joints can unfreeze you’re already turning away, & toru swears there are tears in your eyes. he’s sworn he’ll never let you leave again without a fight so even though his vocal chords slosh against his throat like blood, he manages to speak.
“y/n, wait!” he gasps, already moving. “i didn’t mean that—! your body is tea! your body is tea!”
GETO’S REMARK : MAN, CALL YOUR FUCKIN’ UBER.
PLAYBOY TACTICS #4 : GET YOUR GAME FACE ON !
taught by: ryomen sukuna
“you know your problem, man ? you’re not taking this seriously, not locked in at all. let me put you on, friend.”
⎚-⎚
sukuna sighs, flops out of toru’s bed with his dick hanging out of his boxers. he has his elbows on his knees & a palm on his chin & precum sticky on his abdomen.
“i think it’s time i stepped in and gave you some advice.”
“you have a porn addiction. i think i’m good.”
PLAYBOY TACTICS #5: OR MAYBE…BE YOURSELF ?
taught by: nanami kento
“you’ve been taking advice from those idiots all this time? oh…”
⎚-⎚
in the men’s bathroom of birge-carnegie library, toru gojo has his pulse in his teeth & his heart in the sink.
4PM today toru gojo walked into the library with too many books in his hands & glasses begging to tilt off. you sat at a table near the center, & when toru walked past he saw it: your gaze meeting his before burying itself between a thick book. the bite of your lips & the way your nose crinkled with disgust.
did you pick black to hide your stomach rolls?
how embarassing! toru gojo should hang himself now—or at least after returning his library books. the overdue fees were no joke. his life was one however, & the heavy realization has his knuckles rousing white on the bathroom sink as he sheds his nerves by the pint.
his eyes are red tinged. cheeks bloody. nose too red & throat too sticky so when he tries to breathe it comes out as a hiccup. toru gojo is truly pathetic. he’s known it his whole life but now the fact has chewed him up & won’t spit him back out.
“hello. what is your problem.”
kento nanami has a tone too clipped. he’s standing at the bathroom door & his mere presence has toru gojo startled. toru jumps back, face contorting in alarm, tears still sticky on his lashes. “kento!”
“in the flesh,” nanami pushes up his glasses. he’s in pressed suit as always, looking years older than toru & his age mates. “why are you loitering in the bathroom? this is very unsanitary.”
toru sniffles, wipes his eyes. “i’m sorry—” he tries for a swallow but it comes out as a hiccup & his eyes are burning all over again because he can’t even fucking breathe right. “—i’m sorry, i’m sorry for everything. i fucked up like i always do and i should’ve used that noose ages ago and i, and i—“
nanami’s brows knit in alarm. toru’s sobbing now, and kento joins him at his side.
“toru,” his voice is soft. “tell me what’s going on.”
if you told nanami kento that going to the carnegie library today would mean comforting one of the gojo twins in the men’s bathroom instead of picking up the new BL manhwa he’d requested the library to stock, he would’ve looked you in the face & laughed.
but here he is, awkwardly patting toru’s back & not reading the latest volume of nerd project.
in his shaky distress, toru recounts everything—the lessons with the sigma-chi boys. sukuna’s refusal to stop jerking off in his bed. him pointing out your stomach rolls—& kento can only shake his head. how ridiculous. he should be reading about andrew young & luke davis right now!
but kento gently wipes toru’s tears. he’s always been rather fond of the younger twin anyways. “have you tried being normal? as in, being yourself?”
toru’s eyes swell, big. he looks stunned—why didn’t he think of that?
but he quickly deflates. he had thought of it. but he’s much too uncool—scrawny & weak & only good for reading textbooks & mediating fights between geto & his dumb brother. he had no choice but to lean into the larp.™
“i can’t—“ he gasps. “—she wouldn’t like me. i’m not cool—“
“and you think the others are cool?” kento raises a brow. “toji, whose a deadbeat dad while in college and sells himself to earn money—“
“he doesn’t do that anymore,” toru gulps. “he works for skai jackson now.”
nanami nods. “and sato, who has a gambling addiction and loses thousands to hakari every week,” toru flinches.
“suguru, who’s addicted to the sims and is in a homoerotic friendship with your brother.”
another flinch.
“sukuna, who is—“
“i didn’t take any advice from sukuna.”
kento nods, “well done. but you know he has a porn addiction and an exhibitionist kink.”
toru gulps, “yes.”
“so no more listening,” kento claps his back. “you apologize. explain to her what you’ve been doing all this while, but also take accountability. you’re smarter than this. you should’ve known better.”
“i’m sorry. she makes me stupid.”
“i know,” kento sighs, softening. toru’s wiping his eyes now. “but you shouldn’t be apologizing to me. go out there and make things right. and wash your hands first.”
toru nods eagerly. he doesn’t even remember to wipe his hands dry, and nanami can only shake his head half-fondly as he watches the younger twin go.
—————
when toru finds you, there’s a pen in your teeth & you won’t meet his eyes.
toru knows you see him standing there beside you. but you don’t flinch. your lashes flutter & you blink slow like you’re totally engrossed in whatever you’re reading. is that percy jackson?
toru shakes his head. then wishes he didn’t, because he must’ve looked really stupid physically shaking his thoughts away. “y/n.”
you don’t respond. his throat folds.
but he keeps going anyways. “y/n, i owe you an apology,” he clears his throat, & he thanks god because he doesn’t hiccup this time. “i’m sorry. i’m really truly sorry. especially for yesterday,” he gulps. “—and your body is tea.”
irritation rises in your features & quickly dissolves.
“uhm,” he’s still standing there, arms behind his back, feet shuffling. “i didn’t—i don’t actually think you have stomach rolls.”
you shut your book with a bam! “can you please stop talking about my stomach?”
“i’m sorry! oh my god i’m so sorry, i’ve been taking advice from my brother and the others on how to be cool and make you like me back but i just ended up being a total idiot! and it’s stupid! it’s so stupid and i should know better but i like you so much that i can’t fucking think and i’m so sorry for hurting you and i’ll spend the rest of my life making up for it if you’d let me and—“
“toru. you’re rambling.”
“i’m sorry!” he panics. “please forgive me!”
“oh my god,” you sigh, palm dragging over your face. “can you please sit down first?”
he sits across from you; hands digging into his knees, back too straight to be healthy.
“so you’ve been taking advice from sato and the others all this time?”
“uh, yes.”
“in what universe is that wise?”
he deflates. “i don’t know how to be wise when it comes to you.”
your tongue’s in your cheek. right now, toru gojo is something akin to a kicked puppy. he’s got a gaze that won’t meet yours & his neck is rash red & you think he might explode.
you click your tongue. “i had my suspicions.”
his head snaps up. “you knew?”
“no, i suspected it,” you tuck a book into your bag, then another, and another. “i first thought so when you showed up at the library looking like ken carson. sato set you up, by the way. even he left his opium era back in 2023.”
“he said girls like guys who dress like that..”
“he lied,” you hum, “i prefer your usual button ups anyway. you look all smart and sexy.”
“thank you. wait—what?”
“mhm,” toru’s not sure when you get up, but now you’re sitting beside him; and god, you’re in a skirt again, and toru wishes you wouldn’t wear skirts. his brain acts all funny when you wear them. he gulps.
“for a smart guy, you’re awfully slow,” your thighs are touching his & your perfume’s in his lungs & fuck, his heart is doing that funny thing again! “do you think i would’ve asked you to dinner that first night if i didn’t like you?”
“the night i said you weren’t much to look at and you left?”
you grit your teeth. “yes, toru. that night.”
he swallows, pupils shifting because he can’t handle your pretty eyes glaring at him. “i thought you did it for a dare.”
you poke his temple & he winces. “i would never do that. you idiot, i’ve liked you since you bumped into me at the library and accidentally said ‘pretty’ instead of apologizing!”
“oh.”
“‘oh’ is right,” you sigh, falling into his shoulder. you don’t miss the way he freezes under your skin. “you’re such an idiot…”
“i really like you.” toru blurts, cheeks pink. “and uhm, i’m happy you like me back. and i think you’re beautiful. so beautiful. you’re probably the most beautiful girl in the world.” he swallows. “and i’m happy you like me back. did i say that already?”
you tilt your head to look up at him from his shoulder. his gaze is trained on his knees, neck flushed, ears pink. & you’re a devil of a girl so you stroke his arm when you purr:
“look at me when you confess. please?”
toru squeaks. because you sound so pretty when you say that in his arm. because the heat of your touch sends shockwaves to his spine & his sleeve is likely sticky from your gloss but he doesn’t care. he doesn’t fucking care.
he turns to you, slow. and you’re already gazing up at him, cheeks flushed, lashes low, sun-soaked & bleary eyed. your lips are so pretty. you’re so pretty. he can’t believe he almost wanted to kill himself. what an idiot.
he clears his throat. “i like you. i wanna kiss you so bad.”
toru’s eyes widen. he didn’t mean the last part—well he did, but he didn’t mean to say it & oh god he’s fucked up again & he felt you tense against him & he’s made you so uncomfortable & you’re gonna leave him again and—
“kiss me,” you breathe. “please, toru?”
his heart hammers. you sound so pretty when you say that. why do you sound so pretty when you say that?
& more importantly, who is he not to obey? so he does as you ask—cups your cheeks oh-so softly with rouge knuckles & gentle hands. and your lashes flutter shut, & oh my god he’s really doing this.
he presses his lips to your own. you sigh into his mouth.
——-
oh, but the story doesn’t end there.
four bookshelves behind & a corner to the right, the gang’s all there. sato & suguru are leaning over the corner, stacked over each other like this is some sort of cartoon. sukuna has a granola bar in his hand instead of his dick. toji’s still not here, still slaving away typing AI prompts for skai jackson’s snapchat stories. nanami kento is here though, standing just enough to the side so no one can mistake him as friends with these idiots.
“what the hell,” sato whispers. “did he just kiss y/n?”
“no way. i think he actually did.”
“why are you guys whispering? you look fucking stupid.”
“says the guy who talks with his dick in his hands.”
“i’ll put it in your mouth next, bastard. or you only like sato’s cock in it?”
“ayoooo. you right but not too much, not too much.”
“who the hell said he was right?!”
nanami takes his leave. that’s enough stupidity for one day.
cw : concubine!reader ◞ tension ◞ unprotected piv ◞ pool sëx ◞ semi-public sëx ◞ fingëríng ◞ tït sücking ◞ creampie ◞ p with plot ◞ fem!reader ◞ wc: 2.8k
the many times you try to stand out among the other concubines & the one time it finally gets you fucked !
WEEK ONE : PICK ME, CHOOSE ME !
fire lord zuko has three weeks to get married.
a commitment compelled too soon. two weeks ago you were hair tied up & tits pushed out under padded bra cups. three women to your left, three more to your right. all half-dressed in a line in front of the throne & ready to claim the fire lord’s heart for their own.
or his dick, perhaps.
and the right to bear the next heir, of course. it’s a cool summer evening with pansies in your hair & cicadas creaking in the midsummer heat. your skirt slit is too high & your top’s far too tight. you’re biting your lip to suppress your giggles as you pad towards lord zuko’s chambers.
the other concubines might as well give up now. lord zuko won’t even know what hit him.
❥ WAIT—WHO’S THIS WHORE ?!
the woman in zuko’s lap has boobs bigger than your head.
perhaps you’re exaggerating, or perhaps you’re just pissed. 6PM at the fire estate means children in the garden & tea in zuko’s lap—not a dumb bitch with a bad BBL. at least, you think it’s a BBL. her hips are shaped like your molars!
lord zuko has his pulse in his teeth, palms on the floor to keep him steady as he leans too far back. little miss boobs-for-brains can’t take a hint—she’s got a grape pressing against zuko’s teeth & his face is clenched like he might let out a whine.
this is your kairos moment.
“ah—! am i interrupting, my lord?”
zuko & the concubine’s eyes snap towards your voice. even now she’s still leaned against him, tits spilled out & smushed against his chest. your lip ticks. there’s a crevice in your palm from the bite of your nail. stay. calm.
zuko catches his breath. “no—not at all. please state your business.”
beside him, tits-for-brains is pouting, still too close for both you & zuko’s comfort. you clear your throat & bat your lashes all sweet:
“actually, my lord, i’m here for her,” you turn to the woman. “an advisor asked me to fetch you. said it was important. something about ‘plastic hips not being good for birth giving’, i believe?”
she frowns, easing off zuko’s lap, palm still digging into his thigh. “huh? that can’t be right, i—“
“i think it’s best you discuss that with the advisor,” your smile is sugary sweet. “as soon as possible, too. you wouldn’t want to keep him waiting.”
zuko breathes as she stands up from his side. and for a moment his eyes flicker to yours—amber eyes glistening with something you can’t quite see in the light. his gaze dips as fast as it came, and with a deep frown & plastic hips, tits-for-brains takes her exit.
❥ COMPETITION : ANNIHILATED.
WEEK TWO : WHOOPS—THERE GOES MY ROBE !
you have an inside man.
connie. connie springer. bald head & big eyes & extremely weak against bribes. concubine pairin bribed him with a bag of silver. concubine meimei did so with a bag of gold. you’re standing before him now, arms crossed over your chest as he takes a bite from your batch of cookies.
“mmph—“ his cheeks are chubby & smeared with chocolate chip. he gulps, “you’ve got yourself a deal.”
—-
connie springer easily proves he’s much more than his appetite. you’re in his quarters now, feet kicking as you lean back on his desk. he’s digging through a chest, clothes flying through the air. you don’t ask why a thong flies out. you don’t ask why it’s a size XXXL.
“aha!”
connie pulls out a velvet robe. it’s silky & fur rimmed, material light so it flutters in the breeze. connie beams at you proudly. your lips twist in disgust.
“why do you have so many women’s clothes?”
“please respect my privacy…”
you eye him before taking the robe off his hands. & it’s pretty—too pretty—rich in silk & red as ribfruit. connie cocks his head: “got any hot nightgowns you plan to wear under it ?”
you blink. “i have nightgowns…i don’t know about hot.”
connie shakes his head as if disappointed. back to the chest of inappropriate women’s clothing he goes.
——
in west corridor five, the torches are too low & the shadows are too long.
and the robe is far too itchy. connie stands in his post at a corner on the side. you have the nightgown snug underneath the robe, black & lacy & so skimpy that even connie whistled. ‘fire lord’s gonna lose his mind.’
zuko rounds the corner.
and he’s pretty, you think. brown hair tumbling from his scalp. bottom lip swollen from the heat of his afternoon tea, burn mark giving his delicate features a rugged detail. your heart hammers. he’s getting closer, closer—
“good evening, lord zuko!”
you bow with a chirp. the robe slips clean off your figure.
and for a moment—just a moment—zuko looks.
neck rash-red, throat itchy. his eyes glaze over you—waist, plush thighs, breasts glazed over & supple in the evening light. the fabric is too sheer so he can see your nipples pebbled & aching through the fabric. your nightgown dips between your thighs & zuko can see the soft print of your pussy in your panties. your cheeks are blood drenched. something hot blooms in zuko’s stomach.
there’s a heat in his crotch but he whips around immediately, palms clenched, jaw tight. he can’t find his breath & his eyes are too wide. his half-burned one opens even wider.
“guard—!”
“lord zuko!” you clutch at your chest, thighs tingling in the evening breeze. “my sincerest apologies—! my—“
“guard!”
connie rushes to his side, eyes flitting to your flushed figure before shifting back to his lord. zuko has his palms tucked tight. “this girl—escort her to her chambers immediately.”
zuko is still turned around, eyes squeezed shut. you’re still half-naked, bones shivering & cheeks blood drenched.
connie salutes, teeth gritting before he turns to glare at you. “how dare you!”
“connie—“
“how dare you! to present yourself half-dressed in front of the lord—how utterly classless!”
he grabs your arm. “your robes—where are your robes!”
you flinch in his grip, “they—they’re on the floor!”
“on the floor! in front of the fire lord! have you no respect for the crown?!”
zuko is still turned away behind connie. his voice is quiet: “take her to her chambers.”
“at once!”
you wriggle in connie’s grip as he drags you off, his nails digging into your skin. when you’re far enough from zuko you kick him in the shins. he doesn’t stop moving. “connie! what the hell are you doing?!”
his eyes flit to yours & back straight ahead.
“girl, i don’t fucking know you.”
WEEK THREE : SEX & SWIMMING POOLS
lord zuko has been avoiding you.
and you’d be a fool not to notice. there’s a heat in his neck when it’s your turn to pour him tea. his eyes never seem to meet yours in the halls. there are two more guards in every corridor. you swear it’s getting excessive.
and confusing, because you don’t miss it.
you don’t miss how his gaze flits to you when you walk by, fleeting & half-ashamed, stopping at your collarbones before he decides to pry away. the soft glance at your covered shoulders like he remembers their shape underneath your robe. the bob of his jugular when you’re dressed down in the heat, gaze sticky with something you can’t quite name. it’s infuriating.
and because you’ve had enough of it, you decide to take matters into your own hands.
—-
connie sells the fire lord out for a plate of lazy cake & cookies on a platter.
12AM / behind the stone pillars / steam clinging to the breeze & zuko’s back turned in the pool. your underwear’s too skimpy & your thighs clench in the cold. fire lord zuko doesn’t hear you coming.
you dip into the bath beside him.
“y/n—?“
zuko freezes, jaw slack, hair drenched & chlorine sticky. he shifts back against the wall on instinct, steam stinging at his pinkened ears.
“don’t tell me to put my robes on. i’m already in the water.”
zuko was not about to tell you that. he’s not sure he could, really—there’s an itch in his rib & his vocal chords slosh against his throat like blood. the water laps at your chest & dips into your bra top. fire lord zuko averts his eyes.
you won’t let him run. not this time.
so you shift closer. “why are you avoiding me?”
his eyes don’t meet yours. “i’m not—“
“you are,” you spit. “you won’t look at me during teatime. won’t even greet me in the hallways like you used to,” you croak. “is it my fault? do you hate me now because i’ve been trying too hard?”
zuko doesn’t respond. there’s an ache in your voice box.
“i just wanted you to notice me—“
“i noticed.”
his voice is quiet, rough. you think the words might’ve cost him something.
“i noticed,” he repeats, jaw tight.
you blink. there are blisters on your neck from the heat & something else. “then why won’t you—“
“because you’re a concubine candidate and i’m the fire lord.” his lips are half-bitten. “because i’m supposed to be better than this. impartial. not supposed to want—“
“want what?”
he doesn’t answer, and only stifles a breath. his head is hung low and his arms are on the bath’s ledge.
you swim closer, lift his head to look up at you with a palm on his cheek.
“zuko,” you breathe. “do you want to touch me?”
his breath catches & his cheeks smush in your palms. “what—?”
you guide his hands off the stone edge and onto your body. a palm on each hip. his fingers dig hard.
“like this,” you coo, & your voice spoils in the heat. you guide his right palm to your breast—heavy & aching—and zuko’s breath catches.
“it’s okay,” your lashes flutter. “you can touch me.”
and zuko—with a lump in his throat & an ache in his ribs—is only a man so who is he to refuse? he guides your left boob out of your bikini top, your nipple flushed & perky & glistening in the wet.
zuko moans. “oh.”
you press yourself against him as he fondles, thumb brushing over the pebbled peak. zuko is entranced. you can tell by his short breaths & his hips arching forward so you can rut against him more easily. his jaw ticks whenever your clothed pussy frots against his hard cock.
“f-fuck…”
you peer up at him, cheeks pink, lips glossy with steam & bath-house heat. “do you like this?”
you roll your hips into his cock, hard. “hnngg—yeah.”
lord zuko is cute. cheeks flushed, lips sticky. you slide your panties away in the pool & the warm water shocks your pussy. zuko tugs your bikini top away & pops a tit into his mouth. “ah—zuko!”
he sucks on your nipple, tongue swirling over the bud, mouth warm & sticky with want. you gasp into his neck as your hands find his hair, tugging as your hips jerk into him. fuck.
you’re grinding against him now, hips rolling, because this is all you’ve ever wanted served on a silver platter. his palm dips to cup your wet pussy. “zuko!”
“hrmm?”
his voice is strangled against your chest. his hand is moving now, thumb brushing your clit as he cups your pussy in his palm. your thighs are flushed & aching, trembling in the heat. your hips buck into his warm hand.
his pops his mouth off your tit to rest his chin on your chest. his eyes are bleary & lust glazed beneath his lashes. his finger curls into your cunt. “hah—feels good—“ he rasps, lips wet “—like this?”
“yes—!” he pumps into your throbbing folds. “mhm—! feels good!”
his head falls heavy between your breasts. he’s panting but his fingers are still going, knuckles deep & pumping into your folds. your pussy clenches around him. he licks a stripe up your flushed tit.
but zuko is hard, ridiculously hard, & you can’t pretend you don’t see him in the water—tip flushed, precum leaking into the bath. oh fuck.
“zuko,” your voice is a strangled as you cup your palm around his dick. “want you—“
zuko flinches. your thumb is already on the slit of his cockhead, rubbing his slick precum over the flushed tip. his body twitches. “ah, wait—“
it’s too late for the fire lord. you’re already guiding his cock to your pussy lips, smearing him all over your clit. your hips shiver as he groans, palm digging into your ass as his head lolls back before falling into your neck. his face is entirely flushed, lips swollen from sucking on your nipples, but his left hand still crawls up to grope your breast as you guide yourself onto his cock.
“ohhh—”
you groan as he pushes inside you. it’s obscene, really. your fleshy walls squelching as it sucks in his cock. your hips roll gently & zuko responds with a grunt before cupping your hips & easing himself even deeper.
“so—tight,” he grits his teeth. “why are you so—tight?”
it’s hard to answer when he’s balls deep, cock thrusting in & out, so you make a strangled noise instead. and zuko looks too pretty like this—sweat-soaked & feverish & fucking you like it’s all he’s ever wanted. you’re half-devil / half-girl so you cup his jaw. before he can blink you’re cocking your head to press your lips to his own.
his cock twitches inside you, hard. he bucks into you again before he groans & shivers and moans into your mouth. you swallow his tongue, sloppy & messy against yours.
“y/n—m’gonna—“
“inside,” you gasp between his lips. “want you inside!”
his cock spurts into your folds, cum white & hot & sticky. your walls shiver & squelch with each gush of his seed, & your hips buck as your pussy clenches to swallow his cum. your cunt sputters & aches, pleasure fanning over you as you come. your body falls limp against his chest.
the bath house air is a mess of heat & breathless gasps.
you’re still pressed against him, tits smushed into his chest, nipples somehow still pebbled & aching.
zuko dips his head into your shoulder. then he turns so his lashes flutter open & his eyes peer up at yours. his cheeks are flushed. his breath is ragged & his shoulders are shuddering.
“i…i’m sorry, i—“
“you were so good, lord zuko,” you rasp, still breathless, fingers threading through his hair. “hah—felt so good.”
zuko only grips your hips tighter, head rolling back into your neck. you leave a kiss in his hair & pray he doesn’t notice.
WEEK FOUR : #WEDDING BELLS !
“your husband’s been pacing for like, an hour. thinks you’ll change your mind.”
you’re seated at your vanity with a veil in your hair & cheeks red-tinged. behind you, connie springer is on your bed with a cookie in his teeth & a bra in his hands. you don’t ask him where he got it from. you just pray it isn’t yours.
you turn your head to meet his eyes. there are crumbs sticky on his cheek. “why would i do that?”
connie shrugs, tosses the bra into a corner. “beats me.” he looks you up & down—your wedding dress frilly & white around your hips, pearls braided into your hair. he takes another bite of his cookie. “damn. you clean up nice.”
“thank you, constance.”
“sis. don’t try me.”
connie stretches before hopping off your bed, then pats your hair. you’re looking at each other through the mirror now, and connie smiles.
“he’s nervous—i would be too, y’know,” his grin is toothy. “you’re a stunner.”
“connie springer. are you flirting with me on my wedding day? as the fire lord’s wife i could have your head.”
connie sticks his tongue out in the mirror. “girl, fuck you and your man.”
you gasp as connie chuckles, patting your head affectionately. “come on, it’s about time you get married.” he holds out his arm, elbow bent towards you.
“shall we?”
——
the venue is gorgeous.
there are more roses hung in the air than you can count. the birds are chirping, the sun is bright, and the bouquet in your arms is heavy & beautiful.
zuko is even more beautiful.
or pretty—or handsome—it doesn’t matter. his hair is tied low on his back & his palms curl so hard you’re scared he might bleed. his neck is flushed but his eyes are warm & you already want to kiss him breathless.
“um, i’m not good at speeches,” zuko breathes. you cock your head at him, lashes fluterring, lips glossy & so pretty he thinks it actually hurts.
zuko swallows. “i remember these last three weeks,” he clears his throat. “—paying attention to you a lot.” you bite your cheek to hide your giggle. “you were always around. doing strange things like dropping your robe,” his cheeks flush. “you were very pretty.”
your heart aches.
“and,” he continues, swallowing. “i think i wanted you since the first time i saw you lined up with the other women.” his palm curls in a soft fist. “i remember thinking, why should a woman like you be reduced to competing for my affections?”
he blinks, as if catching himself. “uh—no disrespect to the other ladies. all very talented and lovely women. i don’t agree with concubine culture at all, really.”
you laugh, and the sound melts his chest. the audience laughs along, fond.
zuko’s cheeks flush, embarassed. he can barely keep his gaze on you now, not when your lashes are fluttering & you’re smiling up at him so sweetly. he sucks air into his chest. “i’m happy you want me.”
you don’t wait for the officiant. you kiss him senseless.
the audience roars. children are singing. the elders are laughing. the concubines are cheering your name. connie has left his guard post to yell “fuck yeah!” among the crowd. your heart swells in your chest.
zuko pulls away, voice soft, lips brushing against yours.
“i think today is the happiest day of my life.”
you can hardly let your smile stretch before kissing him again.
marsyarsyarsy what do you consider requests vs suggestions? cuzzz i have a couple fic stuff i’d love to share but i don’t wanna cross any boundaries🙂↕️
heyhey thank you babe that’s so sweet of you !! 💆♀️ anything that doesn’t sound like you’re straight up asking or telling me to write it is usually fine. i prefer people share thirsts, thoughts abt a character or ideas, & if they inspire me, they’ll get written 👯♀️
asking abt writing a specific character is always fine tho. i acc appreciate when ppl do this or else it’d be the same 4 jjk men on my blog LMFAOOO
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