ⵌ. 𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐃𝐕𝐀 ⵑ
can sigma-chi teach nerdjo how to steal your heart ?
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 you 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—ya allah—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.
SIGMA-CHI’S REMARK: HEY, HOW’S HE DONE THAT ?!
𐦂𖨆𐀪𖠋𖨆𐀪𖠋.
CASANERDVA, end.
© HEARTKAJI. do not steal, copy, edit, translate or reupload.
guys please read this holy shit its quite literally the best thing ive ever read
