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thefemmefatalexo · 1 month ago

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Sukuna SMAU - A Study in Breaking

Chapter 1 - Cornered

Summary: You dated him once. Six months before it ended in a single message. Sukuna changed after that—cold turned cruel, distant turned violent. Now, three years later, you share a campus. He fights. You keep quiet. You don’t speak, but you see each other. Then his brother disappears. And everything you’ve tried to keep buried begins to shift. Because you know things. And he’s willing to tear through anyone to get them. Even you.

cw: emotional and psychological abuse, abusive family dynamics, drug-related content, violence and threats, kidnapping, stalking, depression, toxic relationships, underage drinking

an: I won’t say much. Please tell me your opinions in the comments and if you’re feeling generous reblog my work to support me! Thank you and enjoy reading this chapter! SMOOCHES 💋 💋💋

{introduction} ; {next}

taglist: @idontwannatalkrn1 @heartwoundd @linny-bloggs @tqd4455 @el-lise @loveyislost @kyo-kyo1 @wiserebelpartypie @prisvvner @love-me-satoru @food8me @j311yf1shk1tty @mxchiii @gojocumslut @maomimii @mirk0-maniac

You don’t remember when the fear started.

You just remember that by ten, you knew how to tell which version of your mother was walking through the door — by the sound her keys made against the counter.

Heavy meant tired. Light meant angry.

The crash of glass? That was for you.

She never needed a reason.

You could breathe wrong, and she’d call you disgusting.

You could speak too softly and get slapped for mumbling — speak too clearly and get told you were being a smartass.

Her love came in quick flashes, guilty hugs after bruises, hot food dropped in your lap with a bitter “there, are you happy now?”

Your father was worse in the way that made it hard to explain.

He never touched you. Never raised his voice.

But you’ve never felt smaller than when he looked at you like you weren’t worth the calories it took to keep you alive.

Like your existence was something he regretted but wouldn’t say out loud.

He never asked about the bruises.

Never stopped your mother from dragging you by the hair when she thought you were lying — about homework, about boys, about your tone.

He just watched the TV louder.

By high school, you’d mastered the art of silence.

You smiled when they needed you to. Kept your room clean. Got perfect grades.

You sat at dinner and counted how many times you could chew without being told to stop grinding your teeth.

And even then, it wasn’t enough.

Because nothing was ever enough.

Because when someone needs to feel in control, you become the easiest thing to break.

Then came Sukuna.

Not kind. Not safe.

But he never lied. Never pretended to love you one day and hate you the next.

His cruelty was clean. Predictable. Honest.

He was the first person who looked at you like you weren’t fragile — like you were already ruined, and he didn’t mind.

And for a while, that felt like freedom.

You gave him six months.

He gave you a text.

And that should’ve been the end of it.

But somehow, he still lives in the part of you that flinches — not because you miss him, but because you remember how it felt to not be invisible.

So now you run drugs.

Not because it makes you feel alive.

Not because you want to spiral.

But because it’s easy, and it pays in cash. Because it keeps your parents out of your bank account. Because no one asks questions if you don’t give answers.

You don’t care what’s in the bag.

You don’t care who you’re delivering it to.

You just care about saving enough to get out — out of the house, out of the city, out of everything that’s tried to keep you small.

You don’t tell anyone. You don’t brag. You don’t slip up.

There’s no thrill in it. No rush. Just a job.

And that’s all you need.

Because feeling something?

You gave up on that a long time ago.

You see him sometimes.

Not often enough to call it routine, but just enough to remind you he’s still here — that he didn’t disappear when he left you behind.

Campus is big, but not that big. Frat parties are even smaller, especially when Gojo throws them — which he does too often and too loud, like he thinks he’s doing the world a favor. You don’t go because you want to. You go because you need your friends to keep thinking you’re still a person.

They drink. They dance. They flirt. You stand in the corner nursing warm beer and trying not to look like you’re counting the exits.

That’s usually when you see him.

Sukuna.

He doesn’t look at you. Never does. Not really. But you know he sees you.

You feel it in the way his eyes slow when he scans the room, in the way his jaw flexes when someone leans too close to you, even though he keeps his back turned.

He makes it look effortless — the indifference, the distance.

But you know him. You knew him. Long enough to recognize when he’s pretending not to notice.

And maybe it’s pathetic, the way your stomach tightens anyway.

The way some part of you still waits for him to look at you and say something — anything.

But he never does.

He just leans into some new girl’s neck, hands on her waist, grin like a weapon.

They always look the same. Loud laughs, short skirts, arms thrown around his shoulders like they’ve won something.

Maybe they have. Maybe you’re the idiot for ever thinking he could be anything else.

Most people either want him or stay the hell out of his way.

He’s known on campus for the fights, the reputation, the rumors no one can ever confirm.

Even his silence feels dangerous.

You don’t talk about him. Not to your friends. Not to yourself.

But when you leave those parties, you always walk home alone.

And you never look back.

Flashback — April 2021

You had noticed him earlier, but you didn’t think he’d noticed you.

That changed when Uraume leaned close and said, almost offhand:

“He’s been staring. Might as well let him talk to you.”

“Who?” you asked, already knowing.

“Sukuna. Don’t act clueless. Come on.”

They didn’t wait for your answer.

You followed them through the crowd, careful not to spill the drink in your hand, careful not to look too eager. Your heart beat a little faster, but your face stayed even. You were good at that — keeping things where no one could see them.

Sukuna was leaning against the wall at the far end of the hallway, lit only by the dim glow spilling from the kitchen. He didn’t look like he was waiting for anyone — but his eyes tracked you as you stepped closer, like he was already figuring you out.

“This is her,” Uraume said, then turned and disappeared into the party.

You looked at him, met his eyes without flinching, and gave him a simple, calm smile.

“Hi.”

He stared for a second like he was deciding whether or not to answer.

“You look different up close.”

“That’s either a compliment or an insult.”

He smirked slightly.

“Haven’t decided yet.”

You took a small sip of your drink and glanced past him, down the hallway.

“I thought you’d be louder.”

“Louder?”

“Yeah. You have a reputation. The kind of guy who starts fights, skips class, doesn’t shut up.”

“I haven’t hit anyone tonight.”

“Congratulations,” you said softly. “Growth.”

That earned a quiet laugh from him, short and real.

He looked you over again, not in a gross way, but like he was trying to figure out what exactly he was seeing. You didn’t give him much. You didn’t need to.

“You always come to parties like this?” he asked.

“Not really.”

“But here you are.”

“Uraume insisted.”

“And you listen to them?”

“They’re… interesting company.”

“So are you.”

You raised your brows just slightly.

“You don’t know me.”

“Not yet.”

There was something easy about the way he said it, even with the edge in his voice. He wasn’t pushing, just observing. And he seemed surprised you weren’t fawning over him — not trying to impress, not giving him anything but honest, even-toned conversation.

“You’re not what I expected,” he said after a moment.

“What were you expecting?”

“Someone louder. Or someone who’d already be asking for my number.”

“Not my style,” you said.

“You don’t want it?”

“Didn’t say that.”

He grinned at that — not cocky, just quietly entertained.

The silence between you settled in, not awkward, just steady. You could still hear the music from the other room, voices spilling from the kitchen, but it felt distant. He looked at you like he wanted to say something else — but didn’t.

“I should get back,” you said, tipping your head slightly toward the noise.

“To what? Standing in the corner?”

You smiled.

“Exactly.”

He didn’t ask you to stay. But as you turned, he said your name like he wanted to remember it.

You glanced back once before disappearing into the crowd. And even after the hallway faded behind you, you could still feel the weight of his stare.

The night thinned out like it always did — bodies pressed too close, drinks half-spilled on floors, basslines making people forget where they were.

You stayed. Not because you liked it, but because watching people unravel gave you something to focus on.

Everyone was either drunk, high, or both — laughing too loudly, dancing like they’d already forgotten who they came with. You recognized most of the faces, even if none of them ever really saw you.

That’s when you noticed Yuji.

You didn’t know him well — just that he was Sukuna’s younger brother. A freshman, a little loud, too nice for this kind of crowd. He trained in Taido, always smiling, the kind of person who made everyone else relax without trying.

You’d seen him floating around earlier — talking to people, trying not to look like he was keeping an eye on his brother.

But now he was headed toward the back door, walking too fast behind someone you did recognize.

A dealer. One of the ones who worked off-campus. The type that stuck around too long at parties and offered things that came in ziplocks with no label. You’d done enough runs to know the type.

Your stomach turned.

You watched Yuji follow him out into the dark. No hesitation. No one else noticed.

You looked toward Sukuna.

He was on the couch with some girl half in his lap, nursing a drink he probably didn’t even like. His head was tilted back, laughing at something Toji said — sharp, mean laughter that didn’t reach his eyes. The two of them were bickering like always, throwing insults that could’ve been jokes or threats. Hard to tell with them.

He didn’t notice Yuji was gone.

Of course he didn’t.

Your eyes lingered for a moment too long.

That’s when Uraume stepped beside him.

They didn’t say anything. Just stood close enough that it was clear — this was territory. Their gaze met yours across the room.

Blank. Cold.

You weren’t supposed to be watching.

So you set your cup down, quietly, and turned away.

You didn’t tell anyone. Not about Yuji. Not about the dealer.

It wasn’t your place.

But you left that party knowing something most people there didn’t.

Not all the damage comes from the people screaming. Some of it comes from the ones who look away.

#jjk #jjk fanfic #jjk smau #smau #idk how to tag this #college au #jjk x y/n #sukuna x y/n #itadori sukuna #exes to lovers #toxic relationship #morally grey characters #tw drugs #tw kidnapping #dark romance

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thefemmefatalexo · 1 month ago

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Gojo SMAU - The Art of Falling Fake

Chapter 9 - The Art of Wanting More

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

an: Love is in the air 🥹 SMOOCHES 💋💋💋

{chapter 8} ; {next}

taglist: @hanakotateyama @sleepykittyenergy @inthedarkshadows000 @byakuya61085 @minzxec @ivydoesit23 @naughteehee @not-aya @bochichi @emlient @gojoprincess @havingnonamesucks @n1vi @linny-bloggs @surethingmoto

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

Satoru adjusted the cuffs of his shirt for the third time.

It didn’t need adjusting.

He’d already done his hair—slightly messy but still styled, that effortless chaos girls loved. He wore a plain black t-shirt under a crisp jacket, jeans that looked expensive because they were, and his silver watch, not for the time but for the subtle flash when he gestured.

Perfect. Easy. Like he hadn’t thought about this date for two days straight.

He stepped back from the mirror, smirked at his reflection, and then immediately cursed under his breath and tugged his jacket off. Too stiff. Too try-hard. You liked him relaxed. You rolled your eyes when he wore anything that screamed rich kid. That annoyed glint in your gaze? He liked that way too much.

He tossed the jacket onto his bed and reached for a hoodie instead.

“Better,” he muttered.

He didn’t want tonight to feel like a show. He wanted you to laugh. He wanted to see that guarded smile that only came out when you weren’t thinking too hard. And yeah, maybe he wanted you to stare a little. Just a little. Maybe notice that he wore cologne this time. That he’d checked your texts ten times just to make sure he wasn’t late.

His phone buzzed on the dresser.

He glanced at the screen. Father – Incoming Video Call.

Shit.

Satoru hesitated, then answered it with a forced grin. “Wow, so you guys do remember you have a child. That’s crazy.”

His mother’s polished face appeared first, seated in what looked like an airport lounge. Perfect hair, pearl earrings, and that tight smile she wore when she was trying to look maternal for the camera.

His father’s face joined a second later, already frowning. “Is that sarcasm?”

Satoru dropped onto the edge of his bed. “Consider it an emotional check-in.”

“We saw the photos, Satoru,” his mother cut in. “On that student gossip page. And your account. And her account. Care to explain?”

Satoru leaned his head back and sighed. “You’ll need to be more specific. I post a lot of pretty things.”

His father’s voice was sharp. “Don’t be clever. You know what we’re talking about. The girl.”

“Ah.” He grinned, lazy and smug. “Y/N.”

“The one you were kissing in front of her house.”

“Yeah. That’s her.”

There was a pause. His mother’s eyes narrowed. “She’s… not from any of the families we know.”

“She’s not from a family,” his father corrected. “At least not one connected. Not that we’ve seen.”

Satoru sat up straighter, jaw tightening. “She’s a person. Not a LinkedIn resume.”

“Don’t be dramatic,” his mother snapped. “We’re just trying to understand who she is.”

“She’s my girlfriend. That’s who she is.”

His father adjusted his tie like the video call was an interview. “We’d like to meet her. Soon. We’re flying back next weekend. Book something formal.”

“No,” Satoru said flatly.

His mother blinked. “Excuse me?”

“No,” he repeated. “You don’t get to make this one a project. Not this time.”

His father’s voice dropped. “Satoru—”

“I’m not introducing her to you two just so you can scare her off before I even figure out what this is,” he snapped. “You always do this. You turn everything I like into something that has to meet your standards.”

“Because we have expectations,” his mother said coldly.

“Exactly.” His smile was humorless. “And I’m sick of trying to meet them.”

They stared at him through the screen. For a second, the perfect image of his parents didn’t speak.

Then his mother said, “You’re being irrational.”

“I’m being twenty-one,” Satoru said. “Which means I get to date someone without needing your approval stamped in triplicate.”

His father exhaled sharply, like he was trying to stay calm. “What are you hiding?”

“I’m not hiding anything,” he said. “I’m protecting something.”

They didn’t like that.

Good.

He ended the call before they could say anything else.

The room fell quiet. His reflection was still there in the mirror—hoodie now half unzipped, hair slightly messier from the stress. He looked… less together. More real.

Satoru stared at himself for a long second.

Then he grabbed his keys, checked the time, and texted you.

Satoru:

on my way.

hope u like my outfit, princess.

He left the room still annoyed—but a little lighter. You had a way of doing that. Making things feel real and ridiculous all at once.

Tonight was supposed to be casual.

He was already in over his head.

You’d changed your outfit three times already.

The first was too casual. The second felt like trying too hard. The third—your current choice—was a compromise: a soft sweater tucked into a skirt, paired with boots that gave you just enough height to look confident, not uncomfortable. Your makeup was light, just enough to even things out, with your lips tinted the softest shade of pink.

You told yourself it wasn’t for him.

Not really.

It was for the performance. The part you had to play. The version of yourself your family didn’t believe existed. The girl they refused to see as someone who could be liked, let alone loved. The girl they were dying to expose as a liar.

You were halfway through brushing your hair when your bedroom door creaked open.

Brielle didn’t knock. She never did.

“Wow,” she said, leaning against the frame like she owned the place. “You actually look… decent.”

You kept brushing. “Thanks.”

She walked in, slow, like a predator circling prey. Her perfume was too strong, her tennis skirt too white, like she had just come back from practice and had stopped by to ruin your mood out of habit.

“He’s taking you out again?” she asked. “What is this, two fake dates in a row? Really trying to sell it, huh?”

You stiffened. “It’s not fake.”

“Right.” She rolled her eyes. “Because Satoru Gojo—campus golden boy, likes-every-post-in-under-a-minute Gojo—is dying to date you.”

You set the brush down, gripping the edge of your vanity. “Why are you even here?”

“Because I’m curious.” She tilted her head. “I mean, you’ve never had a boyfriend. You’ve never even kissed anyone before, right?”

You froze.

She grinned. “Oh my god. You haven’t. You’re a virgin, aren’t you?”

Your throat tightened. “That’s none of your business.”

“No, it’s not,” she agreed, examining her nails. “But it makes so much sense now. You’re doing all this, parading some guy around, trying to prove something you’re not. You’re scared of being seen for what you actually are.”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t.

Because she had said it with such calm, effortless cruelty. And it was working.

You’d never had a boyfriend. You’d never been kissed before Gojo. Everything about this “relationship” was new—touch, attention, someone looking at you like you mattered. You hadn’t built up the walls yet. Hadn’t learned to deflect like he had.

You were still soft. Still you.

And Brielle knew exactly where to poke.

She stepped closer. “He’s not going to stick around, Y/N. Guys like him don’t date girls like you. Not for real. You’re just a placeholder until someone better comes along.”

You swallowed hard, blinking fast. “He’s picking me up in ten minutes.”

“Of course he is,” she said sweetly. “Gotta keep the lie going.”

Then she turned on her heel and walked out, not bothering to close the door behind her.

You sat there in silence.

Your reflection stared back at you—eyes rimmed with emotion, lips trembling. For a second, you thought about canceling. Saying you were sick. Making up some excuse to stay home and avoid the weight of trying to prove yourself again.

But then your phone buzzed.

Gojo (dni):

on my way.

hope u like my outfit, princess.

You stared at the message for a long moment.

Then you picked up your lipstick, reapplied carefully, and stood. You might’ve been faking it—but if you were going to lie, you were going to lie beautifully.

Let them watch.

Let them wonder.

And let them believe it—because tonight, for a little while, you’d be the kind of girl Satoru Gojo kissed like it meant something.

Even if it didn’t.

You heard the engine before you saw the headlights.

He didn’t honk. Gojo never honked.

Instead, you caught the soft vibration of your phone on your vanity and picked it up to see a simple text.

Gojo (dni):

outside. looking extremely hot btw.

You rolled your eyes, grabbed your jacket, and made your way downstairs—trying not to think about Brielle’s words echoing in your head. About being a placeholder. About not being good enough.

When you opened the door, he was already leaning against the passenger side of his car, arms crossed, face lit faintly by the interior lights. His hoodie was loose, his silver hair messy in the way that looked accidental but definitely wasn’t. He looked effortlessly good.

And when he saw you, he grinned like nothing was wrong. Like nothing ever could be wrong.

“Hey, pretty girl,” he said, holding the door open for you.

You stepped into the car, grateful for the warmth. “Hey.”

He didn’t ask if you were okay.

You didn’t ask if something was bothering him.

It was a silent agreement—you’d both carry your own weight tonight. No questions. No cracks.

The drive was quiet, the kind of quiet that wasn’t exactly awkward but still thick enough to notice. You watched the streetlights blur past through the window. Satoru tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, humming low under his breath to whatever was playing on the radio. You couldn’t bring yourself to speak, and he didn’t push.

Until he pulled into a small, tucked-away restaurant near the edge of campus—a place with dim lighting, old wooden beams across the ceiling, and a wide front window you’d always thought looked like it belonged in a bookshop.

When he parked, he finally turned to you.

“You hungry or just here for my devastating company?”

You snorted before you could stop yourself. “That depends. Are you going to behave?”

“I literally never have,” he said, hopping out and jogging around the car to open your door. “But for you? I’ll pretend.”

Inside, the restaurant was warm and half-full, buzzing softly with conversations and clinking glasses. The hostess led you to a table near the back, right next to a small fireplace and a row of potted plants you were 90% sure were fake.

The moment you sat down, a man at the table beside you stood up to adjust his coat—and as he did, his toupee slid clean off his head and flopped onto the floor like a pancake.

You slapped a hand over your mouth.

Gojo made a strangled sound, eyes wide. “No. No. I’m going to lose it. Don’t laugh. Don’t you dare laugh.”

You were already laughing—softly at first, then harder when the man bent down, picked it up without shame, and patted it back into place like it was the most normal thing in the world.

You doubled over in your chair, covering your mouth with your sleeve. Gojo was biting his knuckle, wheezing.

“Oh my god,” you whispered. “He did it like he’s done that every day for twenty years.”

“He probably has,” Gojo whispered back. “That thing had momentum.”

You looked at each other through watery eyes and burst into fresh laughter.

And just like that, the tension cracked.

He leaned back in his chair, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. “God, I needed that.”

“Me too,” you admitted, cheeks still aching.

The waiter arrived and took your orders, and by the time he left, the air between you felt lighter—warmer. Like the silence from earlier had never happened.

Gojo leaned forward, grinning. “Okay, real talk. Most embarrassing moment in your life. Go.”

“Oh no,” you said immediately. “Absolutely not.”

“You’re literally obligated to answer. We laughed at a toupee together. That’s a legally binding friendship contract.”

You rolled your eyes, thinking. “Fine. I once fell face-first into my school’s choir display. Knocked over three music stands. One of them hit the vice principal.”

Gojo blinked. “Okay that’s kind of iconic.”

“It was on video. My mom sent it to like four aunts.”

“I need that footage.”

“Absolutely not.”

He was smiling again—relaxed, eyes bright.

“What about you?” you asked.

“Me?” He paused dramatically. “Okay. So when I was twelve, I tried to impress this girl at a family dinner by doing a backflip off the pool ladder.”

“Oh no.”

“Oh yes,” he said. “I ended up kicking my uncle in the face mid-flip and landed in the pool. The girl laughed so hard she fell off the lounge chair. And I cried. Not because I was hurt. But because I thought I’d ruined my shot.”

You burst out laughing again. “That’s so tragic.��

“It was cinematic,” he said proudly.

The food came, and you kept talking—about embarrassing stories, favorite shows, weird habits. You discovered you both loved the same chaotic detective drama. That you both hated sparkling water. That you both slept with one leg out of the blanket.

The conversation flowed so easily, so naturally, that somewhere between the second round of drinks and stealing fries off his plate, you forgot about the performance.

It didn’t feel like acting anymore.

It just felt like… you and Satoru.

When the bill came, he waved the waiter off before you could even reach for your wallet.

“Put it on my tab,” he said. “She’s too pretty to pay for anything tonight.”

You gave him a flat look as you both stood. “That line has never worked for anyone.”

“It’s working right now,” he said with a wink.

You didn’t argue.

You couldn’t—not when the corners of your mouth kept lifting without permission.

Outside, the air was colder, but you didn’t mind it. You walked beside him down the street, the sounds of the restaurant fading behind you. He didn’t try to hold your hand, and you didn’t lean into his side. But your shoulders bumped every few steps. And neither of you moved away.

He looked over at you under the glow of a streetlamp, silver hair tousled by the wind.

“You’re not so bad when you’re not threatening to kill me,” he said lightly.

You looked up at him. “You’re not so bad when you’re not trying to seduce everyone in a 30-foot radius.”

His grin returned, smug and warm. “So we’re admitting you’re into me now?”

You opened your mouth to respond.

But you didn’t say anything.

You just laughed.

And he laughed with you.

After dinner, you thought he’d take you straight home.

He didn’t.

Instead, he turned left instead of right at the light near campus, and you gave him a suspicious side-eye.

“Where are we going?”

He just smirked, eyes on the road. “You’ll see.”

“That’s never comforting.”

“And yet you’re still in the car with me. Interesting.”

You didn’t push it. You leaned back in your seat, arms crossed, eyes narrowing with pretend suspicion as he drove further away from the familiar streets, toward the quieter edge of town.

Ten minutes later, he pulled into a small lot that bordered a local fairground.

Your eyebrows lifted. “A carnival?”

It wasn’t a big production—just a pop-up weekend fair with a few flickering rides, game booths, and food trucks. But it lit up the chilly evening with a warm glow, laughter rising into the air from kids and teenagers running past with sticky cotton candy and half-deflated balloons.

Gojo parked and looked at you. “You said you’d never been to one.”

You blinked. “I did?”

“Yeah. Like, three days ago. You were complaining about never getting to do cheesy date stuff.”

You stared at him, thrown off. “You… remembered that?”

He shrugged like it was nothing, but the grin he was trying to suppress betrayed him. “You say stuff. I listen.”

He got out of the car and jogged around to open your door before you could answer. You stepped out slowly, still surprised, your voice softer now.

“This is actually… kind of nice.”

He offered you his arm. “Come on, Officer. Let’s go win you a goldfish or something.”

You took it.

The next hour passed in a blur of color and noise and Gojo’s ridiculous energy. He was loud, dramatic, competitive—and impossible not to have fun with.

At the ring toss booth, he dramatically missed all three attempts, claimed the rings were “rigged by capitalism,” and then bought you the cheapest stuffed animal they had anyway. It was a crooked, one-eyed frog you named Gerald.

At the food truck, he insisted you both try deep-fried Oreos even though you were skeptical, then dropped powdered sugar all over his hoodie and tried to blame it on you.

“Honestly, this is your fault,” he said, brushing white powder off his sleeves. “You distracted me with your devastating beauty.”

You snorted. “You tripped over your own ego.”

He pointed a powdered finger at you. “You’re the meanest fake girlfriend I’ve ever had.”

You rolled your eyes and stuffed another Oreo in your mouth to avoid answering.

And then he pulled you toward the Ferris wheel.

It wasn’t huge—maybe twenty feet up at its highest—but it was lit with twinkling bulbs and groaned slightly when you climbed into the rickety little metal seat.

You didn’t say much at first. Just watched the fair from above as the wheel slowly turned, the cold air brushing your face, making you tuck your chin into your scarf.

Gojo shifted beside you, one arm draped casually over the back of the seat behind you.

You should’ve leaned away.

You didn’t.

“See anything cool?” he asked, glancing down at the crowd below.

You shrugged. “It’s different up here. Everything feels… quiet.”

He was quiet too, for a second. Then:

“You looked happy tonight.”

You turned to him, startled. “What?”

“Earlier. At dinner. When we were laughing.” He shrugged. “It was a good look on you.”

You didn’t know what to say to that.

So you said nothing. Just smiled a little and turned your head to look back at the glowing lights beneath you.

Then he moved.

Gently—without forcing anything—he shifted closer, and his hand brushed yours where it rested on the metal bar between you.

His fingers didn’t grab.

They just stayed there, close enough to feel.

You looked at him, eyes meeting under the soft flicker of the overhead bulbs.

“What?” you whispered.

His grin returned, softer now. “Just thinking.”

“About?”

He leaned in, lowering his voice like it was a secret.

“How lucky I am that your parents are watching us and I have to keep up the boyfriend act.”

You gave a short laugh. “You think they installed spy cams at the carnival?”

“Honestly wouldn’t put it past your sister.”

You paused.

Then slowly, you turned your hand over beneath his.

Let his fingers slip between yours.

He blinked—just once—then smiled wider and gave your hand a light squeeze.

The wheel turned.

The lights below blurred softly.

And for the first time that night, you let yourself stop wondering where the act ended.

The Ferris wheel ride ended too soon.

You weren’t ready to go. And neither was he.

But Satoru didn’t complain. He only gave your hand another gentle squeeze as the cart came to a stop and helped you down like you were made of glass.

The walk back to the car was quiet. No teasing, no quick-witted back and forth. Just the steady rhythm of your footsteps on the gravel, the fading carnival noise behind you, and the strange, unfamiliar calm that had settled between you.

He opened the passenger door for you again.

You slid in without a word.

The drive home felt… different this time. Not like the last one. Not like silence holding back tension. This one was warm. Full. Like something had been spoken even though no words had left your mouth.

He glanced at you a few times when he thought you weren’t looking.

You noticed anyway.

It made your stomach twist in a way that felt nothing like nerves.

He parked a few houses down from yours, in the spot he always did. He didn’t turn off the engine, but he left the radio off. The heater hummed quietly between you.

You looked out the window at the soft glow of your porch light.

Then you said, softly, “Thanks for tonight.”

Satoru turned his body toward you. “For the date or the illegal amount of powdered sugar I ingested?”

You gave him a look.

He grinned. “Yeah, okay. You’re welcome.”

You glanced down at your lap, fingers toying with the edge of your sleeve. “It was… really fun. I didn’t think I’d laugh that much.”

“That was the point.”

You looked up at him again, eyes meeting. He wasn’t smiling now. His gaze was softer. Steadier.

“I wanted to remind you,” he said, “that you’re allowed to laugh.”

The words knocked the breath out of your chest more than they should’ve.

You swallowed. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Do what?”

“Be… like this. All sweet and thoughtful. We’re just—” You stopped. Couldn’t finish that sentence. Not with the way he was looking at you.

“Y/N,” he said, voice low. “I’m like this when I want to be.”

You didn’t know what to say.

You didn’t need to.

Because the moment was broken by the sound of your front door creaking open.

Satoru’s eyes flicked past you, over your shoulder—and instantly, the softness in his face vanished.

You turned and saw him.

Your stepdad.

Standing in the doorway, arms crossed, mouth drawn tight, his expression cold. He didn’t say anything—just cleared his throat, sharp and pointed, like a warning shot.

Satoru tensed beside you.

Your hand moved to unbuckle your seatbelt, ready to get out.

But before you could, his fingers gently curled around your jaw, turning your face toward him.

Your heart stuttered.

“Satoru—”

He kissed you.

Not soft. Not sweet.

This one was deep—slow and deliberate and very public. His hand cupped the side of your face, thumb brushing your cheek. His lips moved with purpose, like he wanted to make a statement.

Like he knew your stepfather was watching.

And he didn’t care.

You felt the heat rush from your spine straight to your knees.

By the time he pulled back, your head was spinning.

He kept his voice low. “Let him choke on that one.”

You were still breathless as you opened the door and stepped out, your legs feeling unsteady beneath you.

You didn’t look back as you climbed the steps. But you felt the heat of your stepdad’s glare as you passed him. Felt the tension in his posture. The judgment. The disbelief.

He didn’t speak. He just stared you down.

But before he could turn and go back inside, something made him pause.

You heard Satoru’s car door open.

Then footsteps.

Then silence.

You glanced over your shoulder.

Satoru stood at the bottom of the steps now, hands in his pockets, eyes locked on your stepfather.

There were no words exchanged.

Just a standoff.

Two men sizing each other up.

Your stepfather’s jaw flexed.

Satoru tilted his head slightly, smiling—but it wasn’t the warm, playful one you knew. It was cold. Sharp. Calculated.

He didn’t blink.

Your stepfather looked away first.

Without another word, he turned and walked into the house, letting the door shut behind him.

You watched as Satoru’s expression shifted again—back to something softer, something only for you.

“Night, sweetheart,” he said.

You nodded, voice gone, heart hammering. “Goodnight.”

He waited until you were fully inside.

Then he got in his car.

And drove away.

#jjk #jjk fanfic #jjk smau #smau #idk how to tag this #college au #jjk x y/n #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #satoru gojo x reader #fake dating au #fake dating #gojo fluff #gojo smut

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thefemmefatalexo · 1 month ago

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Nanami SMAU - A Verdict of Us

Chapter 18 - Contempt of Courtship

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

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

an: Y/N is such a rizzler y’all. I wish I had her skills. SMOOCHES 💋💋💋

{chapter 17} ; {next}

taglist: @giasssslife @getovibesonly @inthedarkshadows000 @burpzz @sleepykittyenergy @fuzzycollectiondeersblog @hana-patata @sosole @watasinekoru @linny-bloggs

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

#jjk #jjk fanfic #jjk smau #smau #idk how to tag this #college au #jjk x y/n #nanami kento #kento nanami #nanami smau #nanami x y/n #lawyer romance #nanami fluff

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thefemmefatalexo · 1 month ago

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Toji SMAU - When love was always there

Chapter 23 - Don’t Make This Weird

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

warnings: cursing, sexual language, mentions of bullying

an: didn’t feel like giving y’all sum to smile about 😒 I’d appreciate some sort of feedback on my chapters cause I really want to know if you guys like this story! Feel free to comment any wishes or speculations for the story! I love you guys. SMOOCHES 💋💋💋

{chapter 22} ; {next}

taglist: @jinxiewritings @actuallyvalerie @clp-84 @reneinii @magalimachete @mysteriaqueen @linny-bloggs @loveislost @amybarnes21 @1ennj4 @shycreatorreview

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

Toji wasn’t used to being ignored.

He could handle fights. He could handle yelling. He could even handle someone pretending not to care — but you? You were different. You weren’t cold. You weren’t angry. You were just… slipping away.

At first, it was subtle.

You still replied to his texts.

You still laughed at his dumb jokes.

You still kissed him — once, behind the gym when no one was around.

But then came the silence.

The distance.

The avoidance.

The first time he reached for your hand in the hallway, you pulled away.

Not roughly. Not like you were disgusted.

You just… stepped out of reach. Said something about needing to get to class. Didn’t look him in the eye.

The second time, he draped his arm over your shoulders after gym, sweaty and smug. You smiled, barely, but ducked out from under it the second you saw a group of girls staring.

The third time, he brushed your hair behind your ear at lunch — a small, stupid thing he liked doing just to see you flinch and roll your eyes — but you tensed. Pulled back. Pretended to check your phone.

And all the while, you still texted him at night. Still let him drive you home sometimes. Still kissed him when no one could see.

It was driving him insane.

You noticed it too.

How quiet he’d gotten during the day. How he stopped teasing you in the hallways. How he stopped waiting for you after class.

But you didn’t ask. Because deep down, you were scared of the answer.

Shoko gave you a look as you slid into the seat beside her in the library. “Are you avoiding your situationship again or are we pretending it doesn’t exist today?”

You sighed. “I’m not avoiding him.”

She stared.

“I’m just… trying not to make it a thing.”

“It is a thing.”

“It was supposed to be nothing.”

“Yeah, well.” Shoko sipped her iced coffee. “It sure looks like something.”

Toji noticed how you smiled at other people now — easier than you smiled at him.

He noticed how you talked to your guy friends like nothing was off, like you weren’t sleeping in his hoodie and laying in his bed and letting him kiss you like you belonged to him.

And maybe you weren’t his.

But you were also not not his.

So when he dropped you off at home after school one afternoon and you barely mumbled a “thanks,” he finally snapped.

You didn’t hear him follow you.

You were too busy trying to breathe, to pretend the ride home hadn’t been drenched in silence so thick it was nearly unbearable. You didn’t glance back when you got out of the car, didn’t wave, didn’t say goodbye. You just walked into your house and shut the door behind you like that might shut him out too.

But it didn’t.

You dropped your bag by the front door, headed for the kitchen, and turned to see him — standing there, in your hallway like a shadow you couldn’t outrun.

Your breath caught. “What are you—”

“Door was unlocked,” Toji said, stepping inside. “Not like you were gonna answer it if I knocked.”

You froze. “You can’t just walk in.”

He ignored that. “I’m not here to play games with you anymore.”

“I don’t want to fight.”

“That’s funny,” he said, crossing the room. “You’ve been fighting me every day for weeks. Just quiet about it.”

You felt heat rise to your cheeks. “That’s not fair.”

“No?” He laughed, cold and sharp. “You won’t talk to me at school. You won’t let me near you when people are around. You act like you’re embarrassed to be seen with me—”

“I’m not embarrassed of you.”

“You flinched when I touched your hand. You moved away like I burned you.”

You looked down. “I didn’t mean to.”

“You never mean to,” he snapped. “But you keep doing it. You keep pulling away and I keep letting you.”

“Toji, please—”

He ran a hand over his face, his frustration boiling over. “What are we even doing, huh? Because I’m out here walking around like I’m yours, defending you, dropping every other girl, thinking we’re building something. But you? You’re acting like I’m a mistake you regret.”

You felt that hit like a gut punch. “You’re not—”

“Then what the fuck am I to you?”

You blinked, stunned.

“I can’t be one thing behind closed doors and another in public,” he said, voice cracking slightly under the weight of his words. “I’m not built for that shit.”

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” you whispered.

“But you did.”

Silence stretched between you.

“I’m scared,” you admitted.

Toji stared at you, disbelief flickering in his eyes. “You think that’s an excuse?”

“It’s not an excuse, it’s the truth!” You stepped forward. “You weren’t supposed to mean this much. We weren’t even friends six months ago, and now you’re in my head all the time. I don’t know what to do with that.”

Toji’s hands balled into fists at his sides. “So you just… pretended I wasn’t there? Made me look like a fucking idiot in front of everyone?”

“I didn’t—”

“You did.” His voice cracked now, and that shook you more than anything else. “Every time you smiled at someone else and looked through me like I was nothing — you did.”

“I was trying to protect it,” you said, desperate now. “I thought if I kept it quiet, if I didn’t label it, it wouldn’t get messed up.”

“You already messed it up.”

Your breath hitched. “Toji…”

He looked at you like he didn’t recognize you. Like you were someone entirely different than the girl he kissed in the dark, who curled against his chest in silence and fell asleep with his hoodie wrapped around her like armor.

“Why didn’t you just say something?” you asked, voice barely audible.

“Because I wanted to believe you’d come around,” he said, deadpan. “I thought maybe you just needed time. I was willing to give you that.”

He stepped back toward the door, jaw clenched. “But I’m not giving you the chance to make me feel small again.”

“I never wanted to make you feel like that.”

“But you did,” he said, fire burning under every word. “You don’t get to tell me what you meant anymore. All I have is what you did.”

You stood there, feeling yourself unravel.

He turned to leave, his back to you.

And you did the only thing your heart would allow.

You said, brokenly, “I care about you.”

He paused. Slowly turned.

“Then why the fuck does it feel like I’m the only one who does?”

You blinked, stunned. “That’s not true.”

“Isn’t it?” he asked. “I cared. I showed up. I didn’t hide. I didn’t run when it got messy.”

“You think I didn’t care just because I was scared?!”

He looked at you for a long moment — and for the first time, he didn’t look angry. He looked tired.

“You want me to wait around until you’re ready to admit this is real?” he asked. “I’m not doing that. I’m not your backup plan. I’m not your secret.”

You tried to hold his gaze. Tried not to cry. “So that’s it?”

His voice was quiet now. “That’s it.”

He walked out without another word.

The silence that followed was suffocating.

You stood frozen in place until the front door shut, the sound final like a slammed casket.

And then you sank down to the floor, hands over your mouth, and cried like your heart had cracked in half.

You didn’t move from the floor for a long time.

Every second after that door closed felt like a landslide — pieces of yourself tumbling out of control. All the things you hadn’t said echoed louder than anything that actually left your mouth.

The quiet was unbearable.

You didn’t even notice when your phone buzzed. Twice. Then a third time.

You reached for it eventually, hoping—stupidly, hopelessly—that it was him.

It wasn’t.

Shoko:

Where’d you go after school? You okay?

Shoko:

Toji looked like he was about to put his fist through someone’s locker.

Shoko:

Y/n?

You couldn’t respond. You just stared at the screen, willing it to light up with his name.

It didn’t.

You locked your phone and curled up tighter.

That night, your brain wouldn’t shut off.

You kept replaying it. Every word. Every look. Every time you saw something break behind his eyes and did nothing.

You’d pushed him away, and now that he was actually gone, the fear you were trying to avoid—losing him—was staring you in the face. Real. Final.

You stared at the ceiling in the dark, whispering things you should’ve said out loud.

I didn’t mean to make you feel like that.

I care about you more than I know how to handle.

Please don’t hate me.

But Toji couldn’t hear any of it now.

Meanwhile, across town, Toji sat alone in his room, scrolling aimlessly through his phone.

He had a message typed out. A short one. Just your name.

He deleted it.

He opened your last text. The one you sent two days ago about picking up your hoodie from his place. You’d put a heart at the end. A pink one.

He stared at it for a while.

Then tossed his phone across the room.

He could still see the look on your face. That flicker of guilt. The way your voice cracked when you said you cared — like it hurt you to admit it.

And the worst part?

He believed you.

But it wasn’t enough anymore.

He laid back on his bed and stared at the ceiling, jaw clenched so tight it hurt. You’d hollowed out a space in his life, and now all that was left was the silence.

The next day at school, you avoided the halls he was in. Your eyes searched for him anyway.

When you did see him — just once, from across the quad — he didn’t look at you. Didn’t even glance your way.

He had his headphones in. Hood up. Eyes on the ground. The same expressionless mask he used to wear back when you hated each other.

It felt worse now. Because this time, you knew what was underneath.

And now you weren’t allowed to touch any of it.

You expected it to hurt — but not like this.

Not in the way it crept into everything. Not in how your mornings started heavier, like gravity pulled a little harder now that Toji wasn’t in them. The minute you woke up, you checked your phone without thinking. And every time, the screen was blank. No new messages. No late-night texts. No “u up?” followed by something flirty or inappropriate or stupidly him.

You’d lie in bed a little too long each morning, hoping some part of the day might feel normal again.

It never did.

School was worse.

You felt like a ghost in your own body — laughing when your friends laughed, raising your hand in class, answering questions, going through the motions. But your head wasn’t there. Not really. It was stuck in a memory loop you couldn’t escape.

Toji brushing against you in the hallway.

Toji walking with you after school.

Toji pulling your hoodie strings and saying, “come here” like it was the easiest thing in the world to want you.

Now, he walked past you like a stranger.

And somehow that was worse than him being cruel. Because you knew how deliberate it was. He didn’t look through you — he looked around you.

At lunch, you sat with people who didn’t ask questions. Shoko was the only one who looked at you like she knew better. But she didn’t press. Not yet.

Still, you knew the others noticed. The way you used to look toward the football tables. The way you suddenly didn’t.

You started skipping the halls where he’d linger. Changed your locker route. Walked the long way to class. You told yourself it was easier this way — that if you didn’t see him, you wouldn’t think about him.

It didn’t work.

He was everywhere. In every hoodie you wore. Every playlist you avoided. Every part of your skin that still remembered the way he touched it.

And he was nowhere.

Not in your texts. Not in your orbit. Not in your life.

Toji went quiet.

Not just externally — not just in how he stopped making snide comments in class or flirting with the girl who sat behind him — but internally too. He’d always had a lot going on in his head, but now it was white noise.

Everything blurred. Everything burned.

He didn’t talk much at practice, even when Shiu tried to get something out of him.

“You alright?”

“Fine.”

“You sure?”

“Drop it.”

He trained harder than usual. Lifted more. Ran until his legs went numb. It helped — the ache in his muscles was something he could handle. Something he could control. Unlike the ache in his chest every time he saw you walking with someone else, talking like your world hadn’t just collapsed at his feet.

You didn’t even look at him. Not once.

And that’s when it hit him: this was your choice.

You hadn’t been scared. Not really.

You’d just chosen the version of life that didn’t include him.

He told himself that. Repeated it every night like gospel.

Still, he didn’t delete the photo of you on his phone — the one where you were laughing at something he’d said, hand over your mouth, cheeks flushed.

Still, he slept in the hoodie you left at his place.

Still, he caught himself looking at your empty seat in class.

And every time he did, something inside him cracked a little more.

It was Sunday.

You hadn’t replied to a text in two days. Hadn’t posted anything. You didn’t even want to talk to Shoko — which she took personally, because it was Shoko.

You sat on your bed in yesterday’s clothes, hair unwashed, eyes red from crying again even though you promised yourself this morning you wouldn’t.

When the doorbell rang, you didn’t move.

You assumed it was a delivery or your mom’s friend. But then you heard the quiet thud of boots on the stairs — familiar, heavy. A knock on your bedroom door.

You stood slowly. Cracked it open.

Shoko stood there, arms crossed, sunglasses perched in her hair, her face unreadable.

And beside her, leaning gently against the doorframe, was Nanami’s Reader — calm, soft, holding a bag of snacks and tea, offering you the kind of understanding look that made your eyes sting instantly.

“We’re here,” Nanami’s Reader said.

“For what?” your voice cracked.

“An emotional rescue mission,” Shoko said dryly. “You’re welcome.”

You let them in without another word.

The three of you ended up in your room — you sitting on your bed, knees drawn to your chest, Shoko sprawled across the end like she owned the place, and Nanami’s Reader unpacking the snacks she brought like she was settling in for a storm.

No one spoke for a moment.

Then Shoko said, “You look like hell.”

You snorted weakly. “Thanks.”

“Not a compliment. You smell like despair and fruit loops.”

“I haven’t really… done much.”

“Clearly.”

Nanami’s Reader sat down next to you. “Do you want to tell us what happened?”

You stared at your blanket for a long moment.

And then you did.

You told them everything. The texts. The hiding. The kissing. The sex. The night he left. The silence after. Your fears. His anger. Your regrets.

By the time you finished, your voice was hoarse, and the room felt too full.

Nanami’s Reader placed a hand on yours. “Thank you for sharing that. Really.”

You nodded, swallowing hard. “I think I ruined it.”

“You didn’t ruin it,” she said softly. “You hurt him. And you’re hurting. But that’s not the same thing as destroying it.”

Shoko sat up straighter. “You didn’t ruin it. But you did stomp on it, spit on it, and light it on fire.”

You winced.

“But,” she added, “that doesn’t mean it can’t be salvaged. You’re just gonna have to stop hiding behind the whole ‘I’m scared’ defense.”

“I am scared.”

“Yeah,” Shoko said, “and? So’s he. Difference is, he still showed up for you. Even when you didn��t ask him to.”

Your throat tightened.

Nanami’s Reader spoke up gently. “It’s okay to be scared. But if you care about him — and you clearly do — you have to show him now. Even if it’s messy.”

“What if it’s too late?”

Shoko gave you a look. “Then he’ll tell you. But right now, he probably thinks you gave up.”

You looked down at your hands. “I didn’t want to lose him.”

“Then don’t,” Nanami’s Reader said. “But you can’t just want him in secret. You have to want him out loud.”

The silence that followed was heavy.

Then Shoko tossed a granola bar at your face. “Eat. Then shower. Then text him. Or don’t. But if you mope another day, I’m slapping you.”

You laughed. Barely. But it was something.

#jjk #jjk fanfic #jjk smau #smau #idk how to tag this #college au #jjk x y/n #toji fushiguro #toji x you #toji angst #enemies to friends to lovers

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thefemmefatalexo · 1 month ago

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Sukuna SMAU - A Study in Breaking

Masterlist!

Taglist: OPEN!

Introduction

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thefemmefatalexo · 1 month ago

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Sukuna SMAU - A Study in Breaking

tropes: Exes to Lovers, Slow Burn Romance, Morally Gray Characters, Dark Romance, Crime Involvement

an: this is my darkest project yet y‘all. if you expected a fluffy cutesy story with SUKUNA as the main character you’re at the wrong address my love. i am NOT a drug user/dealer nor am I part of a gang or any type of criminal organization so there will be some inaccuracies since my knowledge comes from tv shows lmaoooo. As always comments and your opinions are highly appreciated and I hope you enjoy this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. SMOOCHES 💋💋💋

{masterlist} ; {next}

Main Cast:

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thefemmefatalexo · 1 month ago

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Gojo SMAU - The Art of Falling Fake

Chapter 8 - The Art of Stealing the Spotlight

an: what do y‘all think about this whole gossip page thing? SMOOCHES 💋💋💋

{chapter 7} ; {next}

taglist: @hanakotateyama @sleepykittyenergy @inthedarkshadows000 @codeseven @byakuya61085 @minzxec @ivydoesit23 @naughteehee @not-aya @bochichi @emlient @gojoprincess @havingnonamesucks @n1vi @linny-bloggs @surethingmoto

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thefemmefatalexo · 2 months ago

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Nanami SMAU - A Verdict of Us

Chapter 17 - Cross-Examination of the heart

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

an: lovey dovey chapter cause I‘m feeling slightly better and i don’t hate the world (especially men) rn. SMOOCHES 💋💋💋

{chapter 16} ; {next}

taglist: @giasssslife @getovibesonly @inthedarkshadows000 @burpzz @sleepykittyenergy @fuzzycollectiondeersblog @hana-patata @sosole @mysteriaqueen @watasinekoru @linny-bloggs

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

You almost don’t believe it when Nanami texts you.

Let’s talk. Tonight. Please.

Just that. No punctuation, no explanation. But you’ve waited so long to hear anything, to get even a glimpse of the version of him that seemed to vanish after the charity event, that it doesn’t matter.

You agree without hesitation.

Ten-thirty. The quiet courtyard near the philosophy building, lit only by old lampposts and the silver glow of the moon.

When you arrive, he’s already there, leaning against a bench in his long coat, eyes fixed on the pavement. The night air is cool, crisp enough that it bites the skin, but he’s not wearing gloves. His hair is slightly disheveled, the first two buttons of his shirt undone. He looks exhausted, but still so unmistakably him.

You clear your throat to announce your presence. He lifts his head. For a moment, neither of you speak.

“I had to sneak out,” he finally mutters. “My parents are… not thrilled with me right now.”

You take slow steps forward, sitting down at the other end of the bench. “Because of Ayaka?”

Nanami nods stiffly. “They think I embarrassed her. They don’t know what she said about you. Or maybe they wouldn’t care.” He exhales sharply. “It doesn’t matter.”

You glance at him, then away. “It kind of does.”

He’s quiet.

“Why did you stop talking to me?” you ask. It’s not an accusation. Just the question that’s been gnawing at you, hollowing out your chest with every day that passed.

“I panicked,” he admits. “That night… the kiss. It felt like I’d crossed a line I didn’t even know I was afraid of. You were everything I told myself I didn’t want. Or couldn’t want. Not with who I’m supposed to be.”

You swallow. “That doesn’t explain why you acted like I didn’t exist.”

He flinches. “I know. I was cruel. I told myself I was protecting you. That pushing you away would be better than dragging you into everything else. But that’s a lie. I wasn’t protecting you. I was protecting myself.”

You don’t answer. The silence is heavy, a weight between you both.

“I saw you with Ren,” he says after a while. “A few times.”

“Are you asking me about him?”

“I’m…” He hesitates, clearly struggling. “Curious. Maybe more than I should be.”

You lean back slightly, your shoulder brushing his. “You don’t have to pretend not to be jealous. You’re really bad at it.”

Nanami sighs and rests his face in his hands. “I’m not used to this. The feeling. Or you.”

You smile, just a little. “It was only a few dates. We didn’t click. He’s not… you.”

That gets his attention. He turns to look at you, eyes narrowing like he’s trying to decipher whether you mean it. “Really?”

“Really. I tried. You were shutting me out. I needed something else to focus on.” You pause. “But no one ever felt right.”

Nanami’s eyes fall shut for a moment. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I mean it. I should’ve said that the second you answered my text.”

“You hurt me.” The words come out softer than you expect. “I wanted to believe you were different.”

“I am.” His voice is firm now. “But I’m also… a coward sometimes. I let fear speak for me, and I let my parents’ voices in my head drown out my own. And I regret it. Every minute of it.”

You look at him, really look. His shoulders are tense, but there’s vulnerability in his posture—something raw and rare. “This is your last chance,” you say gently. “I can’t keep getting pulled in and pushed away. You don’t get to do that anymore.”

Nanami nods, swallowing hard. “I won’t. I promise. I’ll prove it.”

You believe him.

Slowly, carefully, you lean your head against his shoulder. He freezes for a second, then relaxes, shifting closer. His arm lifts and settles around you, anchoring you there. The cold night fades a little.

Neither of you speak for a while. The silence now is different. Comfortable. Earned.

Then, cautiously, he clears his throat. “So… are you gonna go on any more dates with him?”

You lift your head just enough to look at him. “Jealousy doesn’t look good on you.”

He groans. “I knew I shouldn’t have asked.”

“You really shouldn’t have,” you tease, then soften. “But no. I told you, I’m not interested in Ren.”

He exhales in relief, quiet but unmistakable. “Good.”

You smile, heart warmer now than it’s been in weeks. “Your turn. What was Ayaka like?”

Nanami makes a face. “Artificial. And condescending. And mean. And—” He stops himself, then glances at you. “She said horrible things about you. About your family. About the work you do. And I let it go too long. But I finally said something. Walked out.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Really?”

“I couldn’t listen to it.” His jaw tightens. “It made me sick. I should’ve said something earlier. I should’ve defended you the way you deserved to be defended from the start.”

“Better late than never,” you say, voice soft. “But you have to mean it.”

“I do.” He shifts, turning to face you more fully. “I want to fix everything. Not just what I did wrong. I want to be better for you. Not perfect, just… honest. Brave. Present.”

You watch him for a beat. His eyes don’t waver.

Then he leans in a little, hesitation in every motion. “Can I kiss you?”

You nod once. “Yes.”

And he does.

His lips meet yours slowly, with an intensity that says I’m sorry, and I missed you, and please let this mean something. You kiss him back with all the ache and hope and confusion that’s lived in your chest since the very beginning.

It’s passionate, but not rushed. Like something important, finally being spoken in a language only the two of you understand.

When you part, he rests his forehead against yours.

“I’ll mean it,” he whispers. “Every day from now on.”

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thefemmefatalexo · 2 months ago

Text

Toji SMAU - When love was always there

Chapter 22 - Your Place or Mine?

warnings: cursing, sexual language, mentions of bullying

an: lol guys i‘m still not feeling great. sorry for the wait. SMOOCHES 💋💋💋

{chapter 21} ; {next}

taglist: @jinxiewritings @actuallyvalerie @clp-84 @stickystay @reneinii @magalimachete @mysteriaqueen @linny-bloggs @loveyislost @amybarnes21

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

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thefemmefatalexo · 2 months ago

Text

Who’s Next 2

#tumblr polls #jjk polls #jjk #jjk sukuna #jujutsu geto #choso kamo

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thefemmefatalexo · 2 months ago

Text

Gojo SMAU - The Art of Falling Fake

Chapter 7 - The Art of Faking it Too Well

an: rizzler lmao. SMOOCHES 💋💋💋

{chapter 6} ; {next}

taglist: @hanakotateyama @sleepykittyenergy @inthedarkshadows000 @codeseven @byakuya61085 @minzxec @ivydoesit23 @naughteehee @not-aya @bochichi @emlient @gojoprincesss @havingnonamesucks @n1vi @linny-bloggs @sastreclau

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

You didn’t expect him to actually be on time.

Satoru’s car pulled into your driveway right at 7, headlights off, like he was trying to make a quiet escape from the awkward suburban hell you called home. You opened the door, heart already racing, not from nerves—but from the knowledge that your family was going to witness all of this. Every second of it.

The second you stepped outside, you heard your sister’s voice float out from the living room.

“Oh? Is that Gojo?” Her heels clicked against the hardwood as she all but slithered toward the door. “You sure you didn’t pay him to show up?”

Satoru stood leaning against the car, all long legs and confidence, dressed in black slacks and a soft blue button-up that brought out his eyes way too well for your comfort. He looked up at your sister’s voice, smile tight.

“Hi,” she purred, stepping beside you like she was the one he was here for. “You look—wow.”

Satoru didn’t even blink. “Thanks. So does your sister.”

You blinked, startled, as he offered you his arm and leaned in like it was the most natural thing in the world. “Ready to go, babe?”

You didn’t say anything—just nodded, letting him lead you down the steps, his hand resting lightly on your back.

Your mom and stepdad stood near the window, watching with forced smiles that barely masked their suspicion. You saw your stepfather open his mouth, but before he could say anything, Satoru glanced up and gave them a polite, “Evening. We won’t be late.”

His tone was calm but cool—formal enough to be respectful, but just detached enough to make it clear he wasn’t here to kiss up to anyone.

As soon as you slid into the passenger seat and shut the door, you sighed. “You didn’t have to say all that.”

“I did,” he said, shifting into reverse. “You looked like you were five seconds away from swinging on your sister.”

“She said I paid you to date me.”

“I know.” He smirked as he turned onto the main road. “But then I remembered I’m expensive. She’s not wrong.”

You groaned and elbowed him lightly. “You’re actually the worst.”

“Maybe. But I look really good next to you.”

You tried not to smile. Failed.

The car ride was warm with music low in the background. He talked too much, teased you too often, and made a point to tell you that the highlighter on your cheeks looked “criminally good.”

When you arrived at the restaurant, you realized it wasn’t the flashy kind of upscale—it was intimate. Dim lighting, candlelit tables, soft jazz playing over the speakers. You felt… out of place. But he looked completely at ease, holding the door open for you with a wink.

“You really committed to the fake boyfriend role, huh?”

“I don’t half-ass,” he said simply. “Plus, I like watching you blush.”

You were seated near the window. He pulled out your chair before sitting down himself.

“So,” he said, glancing over the menu. “What do loners usually eat on fake dates with campus heartthrobs?”

You gave him a look. “Anything that shuts you up for at least ten minutes.”

He grinned. “Spicy. I like that.”

You both ordered, and the conversation veered off into something lighter—music, classes, how he once almost electrocuted himself in a lab and had to bribe a TA to cover it up.

But eventually, the laughter softened, and the pauses between words started to stretch a little longer.

You looked down at the table. “It’s weird. I didn’t think I’d enjoy tonight.”

He tilted his head. “Is that your way of saying you’re having fun with me?”

“No,” you said quickly, and then—after a beat—“…Maybe.”

He leaned forward, elbows on the table. “You really don’t think very highly of yourself, do you?”

The question caught you off guard. You shrugged. “It’s just… easier when you don’t expect much. From people. From family.”

Satoru went quiet. Not uncomfortable, just… thoughtful.

“My parents are always gone,” he said after a moment. “They throw money at me like it’s supposed to feel like love. It doesn’t. So, I pretend it’s all good. I play the part.”

Your eyes met his. For a second, he looked tired. Like the role of Satoru Gojo—Golden Boy, Campus Royalty—was just that. A role.

“We’re more alike than I thought,” you said quietly.

He smiled, a little softer this time. “Told you I’m not just a pretty face.”

Later, after dinner, he suggested a walk.

“Trust me,” he said, grabbing your hand. “You’ll like this.”

You ended up near the beach—quiet, the kind of spot not many students knew about. The moon was full, the water calm, and he stood beside you with his hands in his pockets, looking at you like you were something he couldn’t figure out.

You looked up at the stars, hair dancing in the breeze.

He watched you. “You look pretty when you’re not yelling at me.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t fight the smile tugging at your lips.

You didn’t talk much on the way back. The car was filled with a silence that felt… full.

And then—he parked outside your house. Leaned across the seat. You thought he was going to kiss your cheek, maybe say goodnight.

Instead, his voice dropped low as he whispered in your ear, “Don’t freak out… but we’re being watched.”

Your heart jumped. “What?”

“Someone’s in that car down the street. Been holding their phone up since we got here. Probably sending pics to that gossip page.”

Before you could even process it, he leaned in and pressed you back against the car door. One hand cupped your jaw. The other slid around your waist.

And then—he kissed you.

It wasn’t playful. It wasn’t teasing.

It was full, slow, and hungry.

Your fingers curled into his shirt. You barely had time to react before the kiss deepened, his mouth moving against yours like he’d been waiting to do it all night.

When he finally pulled back, breathless, he didn’t move far.

“Sorry,” he whispered, lips brushing your cheek. “Had to sell it.”

But his eyes said something else entirely.

He walked you to your door, fingers laced with yours until the last second. Your parents were watching again. So was your sister.

So Satoru kissed your forehead and said, “Sleep well, baby.”

Then, with a little smirk just for you, he walked away.

You closed the door slowly behind you, heart pounding. And in your chest—buried under confusion and nerves—was something warm. Something dangerous.

Something that felt a lot like the beginning of something real.

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thefemmefatalexo · 2 months ago

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Nanami SMAU - A Verdict of Us

Chapter 16 - Under The Influence

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

cw: mentions of excessive drinking

an: don’t get your hopes up y’all. SMOOCHES 💋💋💋

}chapter 15} ; {next}

taglist: @giasssslife @getovibesonly @inthedarkshadows000 @burpzz @sleepykittyenergy @fuzzycollectiondeersblog @hana-patata @sosole @mysteriaqueen @watasinekoru @linny-bloggs

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

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thefemmefatalexo · 2 months ago

Text

Toji SMAU - When love was always there

Chapter 21 - Say Something

18+ ONLY

warnings: cursing, sexual language, mentions of bullying

an: i’m really sorry for the long wait my loves. i got my heart broken and i just wasn’t able to continue writing. but i’m better now! hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. keep in mind that this is my first time writing smut so it’s probably horrible lmao. SMOOCHES 💋💋💋

{chapter 20} ; {next}

taglist: @jinxiewritings @actuallyvalerie @clp-84 @stickystay @reneinii @magalimachete @mysteriaqueen @linny-bloggs @loveyislost @amybarnes21

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

Toji didn’t chase people.

He never had, and he sure as hell wasn’t about to start now.

But three weeks had passed, and you were still avoiding him like the plague—ignoring his texts, pretending he didn’t exist at school, slipping away the second he got too close. It wasn’t just pissing him off. It was driving him insane.

He wasn’t the type to overthink things, but after weeks of silence, of replaying that night over and over again, he was starting to lose his patience.

So, when he found himself standing on your doorstep, fists shoved into his hoodie pockets, he barely hesitated before ringing the doorbell.

Your mom answered within seconds, raising an eyebrow when she saw him.

“Toji?”

“Hey.” He leaned against the doorframe, tilting his head slightly. “She home?”

“She’s out with her friends.”

Toji exhaled sharply, jaw tensing. He should’ve known. You were a damn escape artist at this point.

Your mom hummed, studying him. Then, with a knowing look, she stepped aside. “You can wait in her room if you want.”

He didn’t need to be told twice.

Walking up the stairs, he found your door slightly ajar and pushed it open, stepping inside for the first time.

It was exactly what he expected.

Your scent clung to the air—something warm and familiar, like vanilla and something softer, something that reminded him of you. Blankets were thrown haphazardly over your bed, little trinkets and books scattered across your desk. A framed picture of you and your friends sat by your nightstand, along with a small polaroid of you at your birthday party last year.

Toji ran his fingers over the polaroid before shoving it into his pocket, then sat on the edge of your bed, shoulders tense.

Now, he just had to wait.

You don’t expect to find anyone in your room when you get home, let alone Toji.

He’s sitting on your bed, one leg lazily propped up, scrolling through his phone like he has every right to be there. But when you step inside, his gaze snaps to yours, sharp and unreadable.

Your stomach twists.

You haven’t spoken to him in three weeks—not a single text, not even a glance at school. And now he’s here. Waiting.

“Toji—”

“Oh, look who finally decided to show up,” he cuts in, his tone dangerously casual. He tosses his phone onto your nightstand and leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Was startin’ to think you died or somethin’.”

You force a shaky breath. “What are you doing here?”

His jaw ticks. “What am I doing here?” he repeats, voice low, like he can’t believe you just asked that. “Nah, what the hell have you been doing? Three weeks, and you couldn’t be bothered to text me back?”

Your mouth opens, but nothing comes out.

He scoffs. “Right. ‘Cause that’s all you do now, huh? Run away when shit gets real?”

“That’s not—”

“Bullshit,” he snaps, standing up abruptly. The sheer size of him, the intensity in his eyes, makes your pulse jump. “You didn’t even have the decency to say anything. Just dipped, like I meant nothing to you.”

His words hit harder than you expect. “That’s not true.”

“No?” He lets out a bitter laugh. “Then what? You wake up and suddenly decide I ain’t worth your time?”

“I was scared,” you admit, voice barely above a whisper.

Toji doesn’t react at first. He just stares, expression unreadable, before tilting his head. “Scared of what?”

You swallow hard. “I don’t remember anything after we left the party.”

His entire body goes rigid.

“I woke up, and I—” You wrap your arms around yourself. “I didn’t know what happened. I didn’t know if I did something I’d regret, if we did something that—”

Toji’s expression darkens. “You think I’d let something happen to you that you didn’t want?”

“No! That’s not what I—” You run a hand through your hair, exhaling sharply. “I just panicked, okay? I didn’t know how to face you after that. I thought maybe I’d ruined things between us, so I just—”

“Ghosted me?” he finishes flatly.

You wince. “I know it was shitty.”

“Shitty?” His eyes narrow. “Nah. Shitty is forgetting to text back once or twice. This?” He gestures between you two. “This was a fuckin’ choice.”

Your throat tightens. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“Yeah? Well, congrats, blondie,” he says coldly. “You did.”

Silence stretches between you, thick and suffocating.

Toji shakes his head, pulling something from his pocket. When he grabs your wrist and presses it into your palm, you look down, recognizing your missing earrings.

Your heart clenches.

“There,” he mutters. “Now you got all your shit back. No reason to ever see me again.”

Panic flares inside you. “Toji, wait—”

“Nah.” He steps around you, heading for the door. “I’m done. You don’t want me around? Message received.”

He’s almost gone.

He’s actually leaving.

You don’t think. You just grab his wrist, yanking him back with every ounce of desperation in your body. “Please,” you whisper. “Don’t go.”

His body tenses under your grip, but he doesn’t turn.

Tears prick your eyes. “I’m sorry,” you breathe. “I am so, so sorry. I handled this horribly. I was selfish and scared, but I never wanted to hurt you.”

Toji’s silent, his shoulders stiff.

You clutch him tighter. “I missed you,” you say, voice breaking. “Every single day, I missed you. I just didn’t know how to fix it.”

His jaw clenches. “You don’t get to do that,” he mutters. “You don’t get to disappear and then act like I’m supposed to forgive you just ‘cause you feel bad now.”

You step closer, heart pounding. “Then tell me how to fix it.”

He finally turns, and the look in his eyes nearly knocks the air from your lungs.

Frustration. Hurt. Longing.

You reach for his hand. He doesn’t pull away.

“I swear,” you whisper, “I won’t run again.”

Toji watches you, expression unreadable. Then, with a rough sigh, he tugs you against him, wrapping his arms around you like he’s been waiting weeks to do it.

“You’re a real pain in the ass, y’know that?” he mutters into your hair.

You let out a wet laugh. “Yeah. I know.”

His grip tightens. “Don’t pull that shit again.”

“I won’t.”

He exhales, pulling back just enough to look at you. His gaze flickers to your lips.

“You gonna run if I kiss you?” he murmurs.

Your breath hitches. “No.”

That’s all he needs. His lips crash against yours, and it’s not soft—it’s desperate, frustrated, full of everything left unsaid. You clutch at his hoodie, pulling him closer, and he groans into your mouth, deepening the kiss.

His hands grip your waist, guiding you back until your legs hit the edge of the bed. He pushes you down with ease, his weight pressing against you, and heat floods your body.

Your fingers tangle in his dark hair as he kisses you harder, dragging his lips along your jaw, down to your throat. His breath is hot, his touch even hotter, and every inch of you feels like it’s burning.

“Toji—”

He silences you with another kiss, smirking against your lips.

“Bet you won’t forget this time,” he murmurs.

And then his hands start to wander.

You squeal against his lips as he roughly cups your plump ass cheeks and pulls you even closer.

He pulls away, heavily breathing and staring into your eyes for what feels like an eternity.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he mutters, his voice rough as he gently cradles your face and kisses you hard.

Your lips move against his, the world outside this moment fading into irrelevance. His hands find your waist, pulling you closer, bodies pressed together as if the space between you was unbearable. The heat of his breath, the way his fingers grip your waist—it’s dizzying.

Somewhere between the push and pull of your embrace, your steps falter. A gasp slips past your lips as you lose your balance, your fingers clutching at his shirt for stability. But he’s just as lost in you, and together, you tumble onto the bed, the mattress dipping beneath your weight.

A breathless laugh bubbles from your throat, but it’s quickly swallowed by another kiss, his lips capturing yours again before you can say anything. The sheets crumple beneath you as he shifts, one hand braced beside your head, the other trailing down your arm. Everything about him is overwhelming—the way he tastes, the way he feels, the way he looks at you like he isn’t quite sure how to stop.

Your heart pounds, anticipation thick in the air. The moment stretched between you, heavy with the unspoken, waiting for whatever came next.

Toji starts pressing wet kisses on your jaw, slowly making his way down your neck, leaving you gasping and whimpering.

A cocky smirk finds his lips as he lets his hands wander under your shirt, gently caressing your soft skin.

A shiver runs down your spine as you gently push him away, your hands trembling slightly as you sit up. Your fingers curl around the hem of his shirt, and for a moment, you hesitate. The weight of his gaze burns into you, intense and unreadable, making your pulse race.

Swallowing hard, you finally tug his shirt up, your knuckles brushing against the firm planes of his stomach as you lift the fabric over his head. He helps you, yanking it off the rest of the way and tossing it carelessly to the floor. The sight of him—his toned chest rising and falling with each measured breath—leaves you momentarily breathless.

Toji watches you with dark amusement, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Damn, you gonna stare all night, or…?”

Heat rushes to your face, but you refuse to back down. Instead, you roll your eyes and place your hands on his bare shoulders, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your palms. “Shut up,” you mumble, trying to sound annoyed, but the way your voice wavers betrays you.

His smirk deepens as he leans in, his nose brushing against yours. “Make me.”

Before you can respond, his lips find yours again, more insistent this time, his hands skimming down your sides. His fingers ghost over the hem of your top, a silent question. You nod—just barely—and he takes that as permission, peeling it off you with agonizing slowness.

The air feels cooler against your exposed skin, but Toji is warm—burning, almost. His hands settle on your waist, pulling you closer until you’re practically straddling him. Your fingers explore the contours of his shoulders, his biceps, the hard lines of his chest.

His lips trail down the side of your neck, lingering just below your ear before he murmurs, “You good?”

You exhale shakily, nodding. “Yeah.”

His hands travel lower, tracing the waistband of your jeans before he effortlessly undoes the button. A nervous thrill shoots through you, anticipation tightening in your stomach as he tugs them down, his touch both careful and firm.

Your own hands fumble with the drawstring of his sweatpants, your heart hammering as you push them down his hips. He helps you, kicking them off until they join the mess of discarded clothes on the floor.

Now, only a thin layer of fabric separates you both, and the realization makes your breath hitch. The air between you shifts—charged, expectant.

Toji cups your face, tilting your chin up so your eyes meet his. “You ready?” His voice is softer now, the teasing edge gone.

You nod again, more certain this time. “Yeah,” you whisper.

His lips curve into something almost gentle before he pulls you back in, pressing you into the mattress as his hands begin to roam once more.

With an unusual gentleness he spreads your legs and slowly pulls your lacy panties off. His breath hitches in his throat and for the first time in his life Toji feels speechless.

It’s not like he’s a virgin and has never seen a naked woman before but you’re on another level. He finds himself staring at all of your naked glory only to be interrupted by you closing your legs.

“The fuck you doin’?” he asks, his voice gruff.

“You’re staring!” You whine in embarrassment causing him to grin in amusement.

“So? I’m enjoying the view. Now spread your legs f’me, blondie.“

You do as he says and smack his biceps when you notice him smirk again. Your mouth opens to form a response but all you can do is let out a soft gasp as you feel Toji’s warm tongue part your lips and slip inside your warm pussy.

He holds onto your trembling legs while he eats you out as if it were his last meal. You try to close them to get away from the foreign overstimulation but he merely fixes you with a sharp glare before continuing.

Breathless moans leave your flushed lips as Toji lets his wet tongue drag an agonizingly slow lick directly to your swollen clit. You arch your back, burying your fingers in his unruly hair as you come undone.

You think this is it and are about to sit up but Toji only grumbles in displeasure and laps up your juices with his tongue, making sure to revel in your taste. A soft whimper leaves your plump lips as he starts sucking on your aching clit and you can’t help but to pull on his hair. “Toji… s’too much,” You mumble bleary eyed.

“I’ll get’cha next time,” He replies with a smirk, which only widens when you tug on the hem of his boxers shyly. “Use your words, princess.”

You mumble something inaudible causing him to frown at you. He tilts your chin up, caressing your lower lip with his thumb before grabbing your hand and pressing it against his huge bulge.

“Use your words.”

“Please,” your voice sounds breathless but he just clicks his tongue sharply and shakes his head.

“Please what? You’re a big girl. Spit it out,” he quips, slowly guiding your hand into his boxers.

“Please fuck me,” you choke out, feeling slightly overwhelmed by the feeling of his hard cock in your hand.

“Finally.”

With that Toji quickly rips his boxers off, revealing himself in all his glory.

All of the embarrassment suddenly seems to disappear as you’re met with the entirety of his length.

“What. The. Fuck.”

“The fuck you mean?”

“It’s too big. I’m not even trying to stroke your ego but that… thing, is going to split me in half.”

“No it’s not,” he snorts and guides your hand back towards his length, encouraging you to wrap your hands around him again.

You do so with some hesitation but relax slightly as you slowly start moving your hands up and down. A low groan leaves Toji’s lips and you can’t help hut smirk at the sight of his features contorted with pure bliss.

„Fuck princess… You gotta chill or i‘m gonna cum,“ He groans as he pries your hands off of his hard cock.

You feel your face heat up and look up at him as he gently pushes you back onto your bed and gets settled between your legs.

“You ready?” he growls — not really asking. Then he slams in, slow but deep, dragging it out just to feel you take every inch. The stretch burns, your walls clenching around him, helpless to the way he fills you. You let out a broken moan, back arching, fingers digging into the sheets like they could ground you through it.

Instead of moving like you expect him to Toji just stays there, buried deep inside you, letting your pussy pulse around him.

“Fuck,” He mutters, hips flexing. “You’re so fucking tight.”

He doesn’t wait for a reply and starts moving.

He drags out of you slow, just enough to make you whimper, before slamming back in hard. Deeper. Your mouth falls open, but no sound comes out—just a breathless gasp.

“That the spot?” he murmurs against your neck, his voice thick with heat.

His hips roll again, slow and exact, hitting it perfectly. You nod, dazed, gripping whatever you can reach as your body arches up into him.

You nod, unable to speak and bite your lip to stifle your embarrassingly loud moans.

Toji looks at you in displeasure and leans in closer, softly panting into your ear.

“Cmon princess. Wanna hear those pretty sounds again,” He whispers as he picks up his pace.

You wrap your arms around his strong neck and bury your face into the crook of his neck, moaning as you feel him hit that spot.

“Fuck yeah,” He growls, his head moving downwards to press heated kiss all over your neck.

“Keep on making those pretty sounds for me baby,” He groans against your flushed and slightly sweaty skin.

You were losing your mind. You were getting closer to the edge with each thrust, each rub, and each low growl in your ear.

“Toji… Fuck! M’close..”

“Yeah? Me too- Fuck. Cmon princess… fuck..! Cum f’me.”

You break. Your body shakes beneath him as you clench around him so tightly that he lets out a broken moan. Your scream comes out of your throat, loud, broken, and genuine.

“Ohhh fuck,” he gasps and pulls out just in time to stroke himself twice, thick ropes of cum painting your stomach.

You find yourself lying together, breathless and tangled in the aftermath of everything. Your mind was still a whirlwind, but it was no longer filled with panic or fear. Instead, you were left with a strange sense of clarity.

You and Toji had crossed a line, and now you would have to deal with the consequences. But for now, all that mattered was that you had each other.

You quickly got dressed, the awkwardness now settling between the two of you. You tried to ignore the weight of the situation, but when you both walked down the stairs, you were hit with the reality of what had just happened.

Your mom sat at the kitchen table, her eyes wide and a knowing smile on her face.

“Good evening, you two,” she said with a raised eyebrow, clearly enjoying the discomfort on both of your faces. “I hope you’re both feeling alright.”

You stare at your mom in shock, your mouth wide open as you try to process the embarrassment of the situation. Your mother heard you have sex. Great.

“Toji, you’re welcome to spend the night. I just want you guys to be careful and use protection. Maybe try to keep it down. Your father and I would like to sleep once he gets home,” she says and winks at the both of you.

“Thanks, Mrs. [Y/L/N],” Toji says smoothly, his tone casual. “We’ll keep it down.”

Your mom just smirked, obviously finding this entire situation far too amusing. “Alright then. Just be mindful of the noise,” she added, her voice filled with an almost teasing lilt. “Wouldn’t want to hear anything I’m not supposed to, now, would we?”

Toji’s eyes flickered toward you, and you could see a faint smirk tug at the corners of his lips, but you didn’t want to look. You couldn’t look. You were mortified.

“Well,” your mom said, her tone light. “I’ll let you two get on with it. Good night.”

You and Toji stood there, frozen for a second. Then, with a shared awkward glance, you both slowly made your way to the fridge.

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thefemmefatalexo · 3 months ago

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Gojo SMAU - The Art of Falling Fake

Chapter 6 - Terms and Conditions (Mostly Ignored)

an: I’m doing horrible mentally so here’s another chapter for you guys! I’m probably gonna post Toji today as well hehe. SMOOCHES 💋💋💋

{chapter 5} ; {next}

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

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thefemmefatalexo · 3 months ago

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Nanami SMAU - A Verdict of Us

Chapter 15 - Misdirection

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

an: Been feeling in a silly angsty mood lol. SMOOCHES 💋💋💋

{chapter 14} ; {next}

taglist: @giasssslife @getovibesonly @inthedarkshadows000 @burpzz @sleepykittyenergy @fuzzycollectiondeersblog @hana-patata @sosole @mysteriaqueen @watasinekoru @linny-bloggs

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

For four weeks, Nanami had managed to avoid you. Not out of malice, not even intentionally at first, but because it was easier than dealing with the chaos you had stirred in him.

But no matter how much he tried to focus on his studies, his part-time job, and the ever-growing expectations from his parents, there was one thing he couldn’t control—seeing you.

It happened too often to be coincidence.

The first time, it was in the library. He had been reviewing case law when a soft laugh pulled his attention. There you were, sitting with him. Ren Tanaka. The man whose name had become an irritant in his mind.

You looked comfortable, leaning in slightly as you listened to whatever Tanaka was saying. And when you laughed, something bitter settled in Nanami’s throat.

The second time, it was at the café near campus. Tanaka was paying for your drink, and you playfully nudged his shoulder in thanks. Nanami told himself it wasn’t his business. That it didn’t matter.

The third time, Tanaka had his hand on the small of your back. It was a brief touch, barely lasting a second as he guided you through a crowded hallway. But Nanami clenched his jaw so hard he thought his teeth might crack.

He didn’t act on these emotions. That wasn’t who he was. He didn’t let irrational feelings dictate his behavior. But it didn’t mean they weren’t there.

Jealousy was an emotion he had no right to feel.

And yet, it followed him.

Unfortunately, while you spent your time with Tanaka, Nanami was stuck with her.

Ayaka Takahashi.

The woman his parents had practically handpicked for him. She was polished, elegant, and everything a proper socialite should be. She had wealth, status, and the kind of family name that turned heads in high society.

And Nanami couldn’t stand her.

She wasn’t awful, exactly. But she was everything he despised—shallow, judgmental, and utterly consumed by appearances.

That Friday night, he found himself sitting across from her at yet another dinner his parents had arranged.

“I don’t know why you insist on taking me to these places, Kento.” Ayaka sighed, looking around the dimly lit restaurant with barely veiled disdain. “The service is passable, but there’s nothing exclusive about it.”

Nanami barely spared her a glance. “I didn’t choose it.”

She pouted slightly. “Of course. Your parents did. They’re always looking out for you.”

Nanami resisted the urge to check his watch. He already knew how long this dinner had been dragging on—too long.

Ayaka continued talking about something he had no interest in, but he barely listened, nodding at the right moments, offering short responses when necessary.

It was a routine at this point.

But then—

“Oh,” she said suddenly, her tone shifting into something sharper. “I completely forgot to tell you. My mother was at some charity event recently. You’ll never guess whose family was parading themselves around.”

Nanami didn’t have to guess.

Ayaka smirked. “The [Your Last Name]s.”

Nanami set his fork down, his movements controlled. “And?”

“And,” she drawled, tilting her head, “they were shameless as always. Acting like they’re so generous, as if they actually care about the causes they support. It’s laughable, really.”

Nanami’s jaw tensed.

“I mean, come on,” Ayaka continued, swirling her wine glass lazily. “We both know the only reason their daughter is involved in charity work is because she’s desperate for attention. It’s embarrassing, really.”

His grip on his napkin tightened.

“She’s always acting so sweet and innocent, but let’s be real—she’s just like the rest of them. Always looking for the next rich guy to wrap around her finger.” Ayaka laughed lightly. “It’s honestly pathetic how many men fall for that act.”

Nanami’s stomach turned.

“She probably thinks she’s being so charitable, but all she’s doing is flaunting her privilege. What does she actually do? Hand out food for a few hours and call herself a saint? It’s disgusting.”

His patience snapped.

“That’s enough.”

Ayaka blinked at him, her smirk faltering. “What?”

Nanami’s voice was cold, measured. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She scoffed. “Oh, please, Kento. Don’t tell me you actually believe she’s—”

“I don’t believe, Ayaka.” His eyes locked onto hers, sharp and unforgiving. “I know.”

Her lips parted slightly in shock.

“Unlike you, she actually does something with her time. She puts in the effort, helps people who need it, and doesn’t spend her nights gossiping about people she doesn’t understand.” His voice was laced with quiet disdain. “But I wouldn’t expect you to comprehend that.”

Ayaka’s expression darkened. “Excuse me?”

Nanami pushed his chair back, standing smoothly. “I’ve lost my appetite.” He pulled out his wallet and tossed several bills onto the table. “Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

And with that, he walked out, leaving her fuming in his wake.

The night air was cool against his heated skin, but it did little to ease his frustration. He shouldn’t have lost his temper, but he couldn’t stand hearing her name dragged through the mud by someone so utterly empty.

He walked aimlessly through the city, trying to clear his mind.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw it.

A restaurant. A familiar figure inside.

You.

Sitting at a table with him.

Ren Tanaka.

Nanami’s breath caught in his throat.

You were smiling, tilting your head as you listened to whatever Ren was saying. Your hands moved slightly as you spoke, your eyes bright and animated.

You looked… happy.

Nanami couldn’t move.

Then, as if sensing him, you turned.

Your eyes met his through the window.

Your expression shifted—surprise, hesitation, something else he couldn’t quite place.

For a moment, neither of you looked away.

And then, Nanami did what he always did when something unsettled him.

He turned and walked away.

His chest felt heavy, his thoughts a mess.

But one thing was clear.

Avoiding you hadn’t made a difference.

Because no matter how hard he tried to bury it, the truth was painfully obvious.