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
Don’t mean this in a weird way but ur totally from Toronto right? I am too and as I was reading the staru frat fic I immediately caught the young and Dundas reference🥹✌️
synopsis. satoru is a bonafide genius. he’s got the perfect transcript and ten-year plan to prove it. he knows how to keep his head down and avoid the chaos his twin thrives in. so when the unofficial frat princess sets her sights on him, he knows there’s a catch. he just doesn’t figure out what it is until he’s already fallen for her
pairing. nerd! satoru gojo x popular! fem! reader. ✶ contents. sfw! college + gojo twins au ⇢ fratjo’s called souta. cw. alcohol consumption , i mean it’s a frat party. mentions of ex bf! toji + reader’s colorful dating history + therapy. charas may be a little ooc. sexual entitlement as college guys suck ˖ ࣪ . ࿐
you’ve never been in love. you’re thoroughly aware of the concept – how it makes people feel, how it shapes the universe in its hands and weaves strings of fate together – but you’ve never experienced it. not really.
not in the way people describe it in rom coms, ballads, and new york times best sellers. you’ve felt affection, certainly, in friendships and the bond that ties you to your parents despite their many flaws, in fleeting attraction that makes your heart beat a little faster. but true love ? the notion of it has never crossed your path. rather, it seems to hesitate, look both ways and dejectedly retreat to toeing the sidewalk.
you’ve watched your friends fall in love time and time again. you’ve dated people – your high school prom date, who tasted like spearmint and entitlement and tried to feel you up in the back of his dad’s bentley, summer flings that fizzled out and faded into nothing – but you’ve never been in love.
you keep people at arm’s length. you gravitate towards guys like toji who are just as emotionally unavailable as you are. who don’t actually care about you. who only see you when it’s convenient for them, when they think their persistence might finally tear your walls down.
they always, eventually, give up. they grow tired of playing the cat and mouse game, and toji is no exception. he was the most patient – you’ll give him that – he’s lasted longer than the others. but even his patience has its expiry date.
you tell yourself it’s because men are shallow and they only want one thing – a notion you’re positive has been scientifically proven – but a quieter, insidious part of you wonders if there’s something wrong with you. if there’s something missing that prevents you from connecting with people in that way. if you’re so scared of being used that you’ve forgotten how to let yourself be wanted.
tonight, the little voice in the back of your mind is not-so-little. not-so-quiet. you can hear it over the music blaring from the speakers – despite it being loud enough to rattle the oak floorboards and absorb the laughter erupting from every corner of the frat house.
souta’s fraternity throws the best parties on campus. that isn’t even up for debate, psi bau’s been famous for its ragers since the beginning of time. or at least that’s what the super seniors swear by.
if a party’s happening on a friday night, it’s here.
where bodies press together beneath flashing lights. the scents of cologne, fruit punch, and beer linger in the air. and red solo cups litter every flat surface. a psi bau party ™ is exactly what you need after toji fushiguro dumped you, very publicly, for a sorority girl.
the aftermath of your split tastes like cheap vodka and dregs of regret. sour and acrid on your tongue.
psi bau has enough alcohol to numb the prickle in your spine from the people staring at you. but it doesn’t have enough liquor to dull the subtle ache in your chest.
it’s an ache that persists despite the fact that you’re not even remotely heartbroken. you’re never invested enough for that. you weren’t in love with toji. not even close. what you’re feeling is something else entirely.
irritation. you’re irritated. irritated at the way eyes follow you with morbid curiosity, waiting for you to shatter. irritated by the whispers trailing after you from the kitchen to the living room. irritated, because your time’s been wasted. again.
“did you hear ? he already took someone else upstairs. poor thing”
‘poor thing ??’ please. you lean against the beer pong table and stare the girl down. she quickly pretends to be very interested in the contents of her solo cup.
you adjust the hem of your top and let your face settle into something more indifferent. across the room, toji emerges with the brunette in greek letters tucked under his arm like an accessory. she giggles, looking extremely pleased with herself. how cute.
“ignore them” shoko says, brows furrowing as she follows your line of sight, “he’s not worth it, and she certainly isn’t either”
you turn away, the sight of toji and his new plaything is less painful than the concern etched across shoko’s features. you don’t want her concern, you want another drink.
“sugu can you make me another dirty shirley ?” you sigh, fingers brushing against his as you hand him your empty solo cup, “please. and make it strong , i can’t deal with this sober”
“anything for our ‘unofficial frat princess’” he grins, disappearing off into the kitchen before you can throw anything at him
utahime shifts closer to you, her shoulder bumping yours “so what exactly happened with toji earlier ?”
you swallow. you could tell them about the argument you had in his car. about him calling you a prick tease because you still wouldn’t have sex with him – in your defense, you didn’t have to, and you certainly wouldn’t be getting it on in psi bau’s parking lot – or you could avoid another pity party. you choose the latter, “it’s really nothing, he wanted me to rush his sister sorority”
shoko lets out a snort, “you ? join a sorority ?”
“exactly” you scoff, “he wanted me to fully commit to being his plus-one at all the boring philanthropy events. he wasn’t very thrilled when i told him i’d rather shit in my hands and clap”
“that’s not grounds for a break up. . what are we ?twelve ?” shoko sneers, “i knew his ego was fragile but holy shit that’s pathetic”
“it wasn’t just about frats and sororities though” you add, weaving a half-truth into the lie “the fight started because he has some bizarre issue with my friendship with suguru”
“what a hypocrite” utahime says dryly, “he hangs out with his exes too and he was hooking up with half the girls in that stupid sorority every time you two were ‘on a break’”
you nod, “he was, but i couldn’t care less, it was never that deep”
shoko watches you over the rim of her solo cup “it’s never ‘that deep’ with you”
you frown slightly. “that’s not true”
“for someone who’s got history with like half the guys in this frat—”
“it was all casual” you interject sharply
“—suguru, souta, toji, and what was it . .? like three athletes ?”
“it was two actually” you correct, your jaw tight
she waves her hand dismissively, “have you ever been in healthy, fully-committed relationship ? ”
you open your mouth, a protest ready on your lips, and close it just as quickly. you have nothing tangible to say.
utahime presses, her voice softer “have you ever allowed anyone to be in love with you ?”
the music seems to recede, the thumping bass replaced by the erratic thudding of your heart. suguru hands you your dirty shirley. you thank him absentmindedly.
“well ?” shoko prompts, arms crossed over her chest
“well, stop interrogating me” you retort, taking a drawn out sip from your crimson solo cup. rum and sickly sweet grenadine seep over your tongue. “i could make anyone at this party fall in love with me if i actually wanted them to”
utahime nearly chokes on her drink “righttt. . . ”
“wanna bet?” you grit your teeth, “i could have anyone wrapped around my finger in like . . ten days”
silence falls around your little circle. shoko and utahime exchange a look that’s a mix of disbelief and intrigue.
“aren’t we too old for stupid bets ?” suguru splutters
“i’m not too old for anything” you scowl, “because i’m quite sick of you guys acting like i’m hard to love”
“are you serious. . .” shoko says, it’s more of statement than a question
“oh, i’m dead serious” you reply, a smile playing on your lips “ten days. . or less. i’ll have someone head-over-heels in love with me before you can say six-seven”
“you’ll get bored by day three and start looking for an out that doesn’t involve hurting their feelings, which will obviously hurt their feelings even more” utahime murmurs
“i’m not the one who gets bored” you scoff
“regardless, it’s a terrible idea” suguru groans, dragging a hand through his dark hair, “it might be your worst one yet, and that’s saying something.”
“if i win” you continue, eyes gleaming as you look at each of them in turn, “i get to use suguru’s car for a month. and you” you point at suguru, “are going to campaign for me. i want to be psi bau’s princess”
suguru looks physically ill. “my car ?! you drive like you have nine lives. . and you hate greek life ! isn’t that the reason why you and toji–”
“semantics” you cut him off, “imagine the look on toji’s face when he has to attend a meeting about me”
“i thought you didn’t care about toji” shoko raises a brow
“i don’t, but i love being petty” you say, “if i don’t get someone to fall in love with me then i’ll just stay away from guys for a bit. happy ? ”
shoko shakes her head, “you’re gonna stay away from guys for the rest of the year”
you groan, dragging a hand down your face, “that’s insane i’m only using the car for a month”
“three months then” suguru counters, “no dating and absolutely no stupid situationships”
“fine” you agree, perhaps a little too quickly, “but if i have to be a chud, i want your car for three months too, not just one and i’m not paying for your gas”
“fine” he groans, “but for the love of everything holy don’t crash my baby”
“oh, and no flirting with anyone if you lose” shoko adds, “if you’re looking at a guy for more than ten seconds, it counts”
you sigh, glancing back across the room. toji’s disappeared with the brunette again. “fine”
“okay” shoko says, leaning against the sticky beer pong table. her expression is solemn, like this is a board meeting rather than a frat party, “glad we’re all on the same page. pick your next victim”
you roll your eyes but you let your gaze sweep across the room. your vision swims throughout the sea of jocks, frat boys, and stoners.
“shiu ?” utahime suggests, “he’s not that bad”
“toji’s best friend ? absolutely fucking not.” shoko shoots that down immediately, “they’re practically the same person”
“not nanami” you murmur, spotting the tall blond man near the staircase, “we’ve got too many mutual friends,”
“ryomen ?” utahime offers, nodding towards the left side of the living room
sukuna is leaning against the wall, looking like he’s allergic to joy. you wrinkle your nose, “hard pass. he’s literally unc and he hates everything and everyone,”
“choso ?”
“absolutely not” you laugh, “yuki would never speak to me again”
“higuruma ?”
you shake your head, “he’s pre-law, he’d figure it out almost immediately, and we have so many classes together. it’s not worth it”
“been there, also been there. plus souta hates me”
“see ?” utahime says, gesturing vaguely at the collegiate crowd “everyone here knows you and your track record. you’ve already lost the bet”
your lips part, ready to argue but then you see him. and the words die on your tongue
across the room souta weaves through the crowd like he owns the place. his toned arm is slung over someone who looks like a carbon-copy of him. same snow-white hair. same bright blue eyes. same looming height. but where souta is all loose shoulders, cocky smiles, and chaos, this guy is . . . the exact opposite. his jaw is clenched and he looks like he’d rather be anywhere else. cute
“toru c’mon” souta’s laughter carries over the music, “just one shot ! you’ve been doomscrolling that stupid interview script for hours”
“it’s not stupid” his twin snaps, adjusting his glasses with an irritated flick as they slide down his nose. “i have to prepare, the first round is tomorrow and i don’t want to smell like tequila during the selection process”
“you’re basically already dead inside, what’s a little liver damage ? ” souta groans, “live a little !”
“i’d rather live responsibly. unlike you”
“i’m plenty responsible” souta mumbles, but he finally gives up, throwing his hands in the air before slinking off to the kitchen. his twin retreats to the wall right across the beer pong table, completely out of place. he pulls out his phone, the screen’s blue glare reflects off his lenses.
“i didn’t know souta had a twin” you muse, setting your solo cup down on the edge of the beer pong table. a drop of your dirty shirley trickles down your knuckle. you absentmindedly lick it away. your friends follow your gaze across the room.
“uhh you had a thing with souta freshman year” shoko sighs, “how the hell don’t you know ?”
“souta and i never did much talking” you shrug, unable to tear your eyes away from the wallflower “so what’s the deal with his brother ?”
“that’s satoru” utahime quips, “the ‘other’ gojo. the one who actually uses his brain. he’s here on a full-ride even though their family’s filthy rich. perfect gpa, founder of the campus coding club and head of the debate team. your typical overachiever”
you study him as he frowns at whatever is on his screen. “he’s kind of cute” you admit, biting back a genuine smile.
“no” suguru says immediately, cadence firm and rigid “absolutely not, don’t even think about”
“please” shoko snorts into her drink, “you’ll have him questioning every single one of his life choices in seconds ”
“what ?” you whirl around to face them, arching a brow defensively “why the hell are you guys acting like i’m some evil man-eater ?”
“because” suguru says slowly, gesturing to where satoru stands, “that is souta’s identical twin brother”
“i’m aware of the concept of twins, suguru” you scoff, narrowing your eyes at him, “i’m not that stupid”
“and you” he continues, undeterred “are you.”
“what the hell is that supposed to mean ?”
“it means” utahime says, soft brown eyes pouring into yours, “you suck at relationships. you always end up really hurting people. and we know you don’t mean to–”
“i don’t suck at relationships” you huff defensively, folding your arms over your chest, “and i haven’t actually hurt anyone”
“you went out with souta for three weeks” suguru points out, “and then he spent the rest of the semester listening to juice wrld and xxxtentacion”
“we wanted different things !” you insist, though the memory of souta’s wounded puppy-dog eyes after you ghosted him flashes in your mind
“he wanted a girlfriend” utahime deadpans. “you wanted someone to go to parties with”
“and toji ?” shoko presses, “let’s not even get started on the last couple of months”
“toji doesn’t count.” you retort, “he’s a walking red flag ! he’s the one who’s avoidant. not me”
“i don’t think your therapist would agree with that statement” suguru snickers, “speaking of, when last did you see her because i think you should have a session as soon as possible”
( frankly, your therapist wouldn’t agree with any of this. she’d never approved of your love life anyway )
“okay, that’s enough” you look away before the irritation crawling up your spine can show on your face. you can’t believe this. your own friends, painting you as some heartless siren. it’s beyond insulting
( heaven forbid a girl isn’t the best at romance )
“look” suguru says, his tone softening as he follows your gaze back to satoru, “satoru isn’t like the guys you usually go for”
“and that’s the understatement of the century” shoko adds, “unlike the rest of these meatheads, he doesn’t care about popularity, or parties. hell, he barely cares about anyone who isn’t in the honors college.”
“he’ll be impossible to wrap around your finger” utahime agrees, “you didn’t even know he existed five minutes ago. plus, you’re literally polar opposites. you like partying. he likes engineering. it would never work”
across the room, satoru shifts against the wall. his discomfort is blatant even from a distance. someone tries to hand him a red solo cup and he declines with a barely perceptible shake of his head, his blue eyes never leaving his phone. he’s completely unimpressed by everything around him
you watch him a beat too long before murmuring, “exactly” you lower your cup slowly, glossy lips curving into a smile
shoko narrows her eyes suspiciously, “exactly what ?”
“exactly why it has to be him” you say, “the whole point of the bet isn’t to prove i can make some jock or frat boy fall for me. it’s to prove that i can make anyone fall in love with me. what’s the point of an easy win ?”
suguru lets out a long, pained groan “oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me”
“you said he’d be impossible” you continue, your gaze drifting back to satoru. your target is typing out something with an admirable degree of focus, thumbs flying across his sceen. his brows are slightly furrowed and his lips are pressed into a thin line. he exhales slowly, as if he’s counting down the seconds until he can leave.
“well, i think i’ll have him hooked in ten days” you grin
suguru pinches the bridge of his nose, “i’d rather call the bet off and let you drive my car for free”
“why ?” you ask, completely perplexed, “what’s the big deal ?”
“the big deal” suguru says, lowering his voice to a whisper, “is that satoru is actually a really good guy. and if you make him fall for you because of this stupid bet and whatever issues you still haven’t resolved in therapy and souta finds out. . . he won’t just be mad at you. he’ll murder me.”
“relax sugu” you murmur, “it’s pretty harmless. if he doesn’t fall for me, you guys are right and i’ll take a break from guys. if he does fall for me i’ll be with a good guy for once – which nitta will love! it sounds like a win-win to me”
utahime squints at you, “you’re not actually going to date him”
“why not ?” you counter, “he’s smart, he’s cute, and – no offence sugu – he’s definitely an upgrade from all my exes”
“because by all accounts satoru gojo is the most nerdy, boring person on this campus” shoko insists bluntly, “and you get bored very easily”
“i don’t get bored easily” you frown, “and i don’t appreciate this mischaracterization from my so-called best friends”
“that’s beside the point” utahime interjects, “a relationship built on deceit is good for nothing . .”
“i’m begging you” suguru pleads, digging his fingers into his temple, “just pick someone else”
you’re not sure if this impulsive decision stems from the liquor thrumming beneath your skin, or your infinite insecurities. but your mind is completely made up.
your gaze drifts back to satoru again. his eyes lift from his phone for a moment – sweeping across the room, passing over you like you’re just another person getting drunk by the beer pong table – before returning to the illuminated screen in his hand. you don’t even exist to him
“see ?” utahime says pointedly beside you, “he didn’t even notice you !”
you smile thoughtfully, you’ve never had to chase anyone before. you’ve never wanted to try, you’ve never had to but . . “now, i want this even more”
“that is the worst possible thing you could’ve said” suguru inhales sharply, “i’m a dead man, souta’s going to kill me . . .”
“he’s going to kill all of us” utahime sighs, “shoko, why the hell would you entertain this ?”
“i just asked a simple question, don’t throw me under the bus” shoko says, holding her hands up defensively, “ we, yes we, are all responsible for this”
satoru gojo stands by the wall, blissfully unaware that he’s just become the center of your very bad idea. he’s the only person who hasn’t looked at you twice tonight. and you are very determined to change that.
masterlist day zero ⇆ day one
── .✦ mimi’s notes: first chapter everybody twerk! going on the record to say that this series is nothing like the movie but i don’t wanna spill too much ( wink wink )
andulkaphoto
jbbartram-illu
yousharknotpass
annaxmalina
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vaporwave
