Chapter 7 - Hit First, Ask Later
Summary: You see him again on your first day of college. Fuck. Toji Zenin has been the bane of your existence since your first day of kindergarten. Over the 15 years you’ve had the “pleasure” of knowing him, he’s made it his personal mission to make your life a living hell. From chopping off your hair in kindergarten to pushing you into a pond on your first day of high school, Toji has done it all. You’d always thought he would choose a college far away from you, but as it has always been, fate came to kick your ass. Hard.
warnings: cursing, sexual language, mentions of bullying
an: do we love it? things certainly are getting interesting….
{chapter 6} ; {next}
taglist: @jinxiewritings
The gym is practically empty when you step inside, save for one familiar figure leaning against the mats. Toji’s already there, gym bag at his feet, wrapped hands resting lazily over his broad chest. He looks up when you walk in, and the flat expression on his face makes it very clear he’s unimpressed.
“You’re late,” he says, his voice dry.
You glance at the clock. “I’m two minutes late.”
“Two minutes too long,” he shoots back, pushing off the mats. “What, couldn’t decide which outfit screams I’m useless the loudest?”
Your jaw drops. “Excuse me?”
Toji grins—a sharp, taunting curve of his lips. “What? I’m just making sure you’re ready for this. Doubt anyone’ll care what you look like when they’re tryna drag you into a van.”
“You are insufferable,” you mutter, dropping your bag onto the floor with a loud thud.
“And you’re two minutes into wasting my time,” he counters, motioning toward the center mat. “Start stretching, princess. I don’t wanna hear you whining when you pull something.”
Gritting your teeth, you sit down to stretch. Toji’s pacing in front of you, all broad strides and sharp glares, like he’s waiting for you to screw up already. “You’re hovering,” you say, annoyed.
“Making sure you don’t keel over mid-warmup.”
You shoot him a glare, but he just smirks and crouches down, watching you. Watching—as if he’s analyzing every movement. It’s both infuriating and unsettling.
“You done pretending you know what you’re doing?” he asks.
You straighten up, brushing your hair from your face. “I’m ready, coach.”
“Good,” Toji says, rising to his full height. “We’ll start with the basics—what to do if someone grabs you.” He steps forward, extending a hand. “I’ll grab your wrist. You try to get free.”
You eye him warily. “And if I can’t?”
“Then congratulations. You’d be kidnapped in five seconds flat.”
“Wow. Very motivating,” you deadpan.
He smirks. “Motivation’s for people who need hand-holding. You’re just here to survive.”
Before you can snap back, Toji grabs your wrist—firm, unyielding, but not enough to hurt. It’s a shock how easily his hand wraps around yours, like your bones could snap with just a flick of his fingers.
“Pull toward the thumb,” he instructs, voice curt. “Not the fingers. Thumb’s the weakest point.”
You yank experimentally, but his grip doesn’t budge. Toji doesn’t look the least bit phased. “You trying or just giving up already?”
“Give me a second!” you snap, tugging harder. You shift your weight and pull back the way he showed you, and to your surprise, his grip gives way.
Toji lets go, tilting his head with something that might be faint approval. “Huh. You’re not completely useless.”
“Oh my god, is that a compliment?”
“Don’t get used to it,” he says flatly, stepping back. “Again.”
You repeat the motion a few more times, each time smoother than the last. Toji keeps his commentary short, but it’s still sharp enough to grate on you.
“Quit overthinking. Your brain’s holding you back more than I am.”
“Don’t pull like you’re scared. You either get free or you don’t.”
“You call that fast? You’d be gone already.”
By the fifth time, you’re sweating and glaring daggers at him. “Do you have to be such a dick about this?”
Toji raises a brow, completely unfazed. “You want me to lie? Pat your head and tell you you’re doing great?”
“You could try not insulting me every five seconds,” you mutter under your breath.
“Where’s the fun in that?” he replies casually, and for the first time, you think you catch something almost playful in his voice.
He doesn’t give you a chance to respond before stepping behind you. “All right. New scenario. Someone grabs you from behind.”
You freeze. “Wait—from behind?”
“Yeah. Like this.”
Before you can react, his arm hooks loosely around your shoulders from behind. It’s not tight—he’s clearly not trying to hurt you—but the closeness throws you off balance. You stiffen, hyper-aware of how warm he feels and how close his voice is when he speaks.
“Relax,” he mutters. “You’re supposed to be learning, not freezing up.”
“Maybe I wouldn’t freeze if you warned me first,” you snap, trying to mask the nervous flutter in your stomach.
Toji huffs a low laugh. “Yeah, I’m sure kidnappers’ll give you a heads-up. Focus. Drop your weight, twist your hips, get out of my grip.”
You try to do what he says, but it’s clumsy—your weight’s off, and you can feel Toji roll his eyes behind you. “You’re not a statue. Move, dammit.”
“I’m trying!”
“Try harder.”
Frustrated, you shift your weight again, twist, and finally pull free, stumbling forward slightly. Toji watches you, arms crossed, expression unreadable. “Took you long enough,” he says, though his tone lacks real bite.
“That’s because you’re built like a damn brick wall,” you mutter, brushing yourself off.
Toji smirks faintly. “And whose fault is that? Yours for being weak, or mine for being me?”
You stare at him, incredulous. “You’re impossible.”
“And you’re predictable,” he fires back, turning to grab his water bottle. “Same time next week?”
You blink, surprised that he’s suggesting another session. “You want me to come back?”
Toji looks over his shoulder, a faint smirk on his lips. “You need it.”
“You’re the worst,” you mutter, though you can’t stop the small smile tugging at your mouth.
He shrugs. “Better me than someone who’ll actually hurt you.”
The words linger for a moment, heavier than his usual insults, and you’re not sure what to make of them. But before you can respond, Toji grabs his bag and heads for the door, tossing one last look at you over his shoulder.
“Try not to embarrass yourself next time.”
And just like that, he’s gone, leaving you standing alone on the mat, glaring after him—but this time, your frustration feels different. Because underneath it all, you know he’s right: you will be back next week.
And whether you admit it or not, a small part of you doesn’t mind.
Chapter 4 - What he won’t say
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: thank you guys so much for the overwhelming amount of support and love 💕 i truly appreciate all of you ! If you haven’t already: Please check out this post. Love you lots 💋💋
taglist:
@jinxiewritings
{chapter 3} ; {next}
Chapter 11 - Dinner and Disdain
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: how we doing…? SMOOCHES 💋💋💋
{chapter 10} ; {next}
taglist: @jinxiewritings @actuallyvalerie
࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚
The dining room was tense, the air thick with unsaid words and resentments. Toji sat across the table from you, his head tilted slightly, eyes cast downward, focusing intently on the food on his plate. The clinking of silverware was the only noise cutting through the silence between you both. Your parents and his adoptive parents chatted away like old friends, their laughter and warm tones only emphasizing the heavy wall between you and him.
“Y/N, you barely touched your food,” your mom said, her voice cutting through your quiet frustration.
“I’m fine, Mom,” you said quickly, stabbing at a piece of broccoli just to stop her from asking again.
Toji’s mother, a kind woman with a perpetual smile, glanced at him. “And Toji, you’ve barely said two words all evening.”
Toji grunted, his usual noncommittal response, shoving another forkful of food into his mouth.
The parents exchanged looks but didn’t push. Soon enough, they excused themselves to enjoy the garden, leaving you and Toji to clean up the aftermath.
You immediately got up, stacking plates in silence. Toji did the same, moving with the kind of deliberate awkwardness that came when two people who desperately didn’t want to be near each other had no choice.
The sound of water running in the sink filled the void as you scrubbed at the dishes, refusing to look at him. Toji stood a few feet away, drying off a plate. He kept glancing at you, opening his mouth once, then shutting it again.
Finally, he sighed. “Look, I…”
You stiffened but didn’t turn around. “What?”
“I, uh…” He shifted uncomfortably, gripping the towel tighter. “I just wanted to say… I shouldn’t have said some of the stuff I said. At my place. It came out wrong.”
You froze for a moment before finally turning to face him. “Came out wrong?”
“Yeah,” he said, his tone defensive already. “Like, I didn’t mean all of it. Just some of it.”
“Just some of it?” you repeated, your voice rising as anger bubbled to the surface. You put the plate down, turning fully toward him. “Do you even hear yourself, Toji? Do you even care about what you said or did? Or is this just you trying to get rid of your guilt?”
His jaw clenched. “I ain’t tryin’ to get rid of nothin’. I just—”
“You just what?” you interrupted, your voice cracking. “You think you can say sorry, and it magically undoes all the years of hurt? All the shit you put me through? You think I’m just going to forget the way you humiliated me, ignored me, and treated me like I was nothing?”
Toji’s face hardened, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of guilt. “I didn’t mean to—”
“Didn’t mean to what, Toji? Didn’t mean to make me feel like I was less than human? Because congratulations, you did that perfectly.”
His fists clenched at his sides. “I wasn’t tryna make you feel like that. I just—look, I didn’t ask for you to be in my business when we were kids, okay? You were always actin’ like you could fix me or somethin’, like I was some damn charity case. That shit got under my skin!”
Your chest tightened as tears welled up in your eyes. “You think I was treating you like a charity case?” you asked quietly. “I just wanted to be your friend, Toji. I just wanted to help.”
“Well, I didn’t need it,” he snapped, his voice harsher than intended.
You let out a shaky breath, the tears falling freely now. “You know what? You’re right. You didn’t need it. And I didn’t need to spend years of my life caring about someone who couldn’t care less about me.”
Toji’s mouth opened as if to say something, but no words came out. He stood there, frozen, as you wiped at your face.
“I’m sorry for being pushy and overbearing back then,” you said, your voice trembling. “I’ll keep my distance from now on. You can have your space. Just stay out of mine, and maybe we can finally move past this.”
With that, you turned back to the sink, your hands trembling as you finished washing the last dish. Toji stood there, silent and motionless, as if struggling to find something—anything—to say.
But nothing came.
You placed the clean dishes on the rack, brushed past him without looking, and walked out into the garden to join your parents. Toji stayed in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, the weight of your words settling heavily on his shoulders.
When you reached the garden, you plastered on a smile, though your cheeks were still damp. Your parents took the cue to wrap things up quickly, and soon enough, you were leaving.
Toji didn’t come out to say goodbye.
Chapter 3 - Fake It Till You Make It
Summary: The campus buzzes with life, but you feel like a shadow slipping through the cracks—unnoticed, unimportant. At home, it’s no better. Your parents dote on your step-sister, the star tennis player, while you’re the afterthought they barely acknowledge. She’s here too, her perfect reputation casting an even bigger shadow over your existence. College was supposed to be your escape, but living at home and walking the same halls as her makes it impossible. Then he shows up—Satoru Gojo, the rich, arrogant engineering major everyone seems to worship. His smug grin and effortless charm are the kind of things you can’t stand, but when a ridiculous twist of fate forces your lives together, you find yourself fake dating the most insufferable man you’ve ever met. It’s just a deal, temporary and harmless—or so you try to convince yourself.
an: JEEZ LOUISEEEE! SMOOCHEEEES 💋💋💋
{chapter 2} ; {next}
taglist: @hanakotateyama @sleepykittyenergy @inthedarkshadows000 @codeseven @byakuya61085 @minzxec @ivydoesit23
࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚
You already knew today was going to be bad, but you hadn’t expected it to be this bad.
It started when you woke up late. Your phone was dead—your stepsister had “accidentally” unplugged your charger overnight, and your alarm never went off. You had exactly ten minutes to get ready, which meant skipping breakfast and throwing on whatever clothes you could grab. In your rush, you stubbed your toe against the corner of your desk so hard that you nearly collapsed.
You tried to shake it off, but things only got worse from there.
By the time you got to campus, the café was out of everything except black coffee, which tasted like burnt disappointment. You tried to force it down anyway, only to spill half of it on your sweater before your first lecture.
Then, your professor—who never acknowledged your existence before—suddenly decided today was the perfect day to call on you. It had to be on the one topic you hadn’t reviewed properly, and when you failed to answer, he sighed and moved on. That one sigh was enough to make the students around you turn and look, some of them exchanging glances, some holding back laughter.
You spent the rest of the class staring at your notebook, trying to disappear.
By the time you reached the library, you were exhausted, but just as you sat down and opened your book, a chair scraped loudly across from you.
Before you even looked up, you already knew who it was.
“Why do you look like someone just ran over your dog?”
Satoru Gojo.
You sighed. “Go away, Satoru.”
“No can do,” he said cheerfully, leaning back in his chair. “Saw you sitting here all alone and thought, ‘Wow, that’s kind of depressing.’ So, here I am. Your knight in shining armor.”
You shot him a flat look. “More like my court jester.”
He gasped, clutching his chest like you’d mortally wounded him. “Ouch. Right in my fragile heart.”
Ignoring him, you turned back to your book.
He didn’t do silence.
“You didn’t answer my question,” he said, tapping his fingers on the table in an annoying rhythm.
“What question?” you muttered, already regretting engaging.
“Why you look like someone just ran over your dog.”
You debated whether answering would make him leave faster. “…Because I had a long day.”
Satoru hummed, tilting his head. “Long day or bad day?”
“Both.”
To your surprise, he didn’t joke. He just nodded, like he actually understood.
For a second, you almost thought you’d get some peace. But then, his smirk returned.
“And here I was thinking you were deep in thought about me.”
Your face deadpanned. “You’re delusional.”
“Maybe.” He leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. “But you still haven’t denied it.”
You shut your book. “Gojo.”
“Yes, my dear?”
“I will kill you.”
His grin widened. “That would require effort. And let’s be honest, you don’t strike me as the type.”
He wasn’t wrong, but you weren’t going to tell him that.
Gojo sat there for another ten minutes, occasionally tapping his fingers on the table just to annoy you, before finally stretching and standing up. “Alright, I’ll leave you to your brooding,” he said, adjusting his sunglasses. “But don’t miss me too much.”
You didn’t dignify him with a response.
A Lie That Shouldn’t Have Happened
When you finally got home, all you wanted was a shower and sleep.
But the second you stepped inside, your mother’s voice cut through the air.
“Come to the living room.”
Your stomach sank.
Your stepsister was sitting on the couch, legs crossed, a smug, knowing smile on her lips. Your stepfather sat beside her, looking like he’d just won the lottery.
“We have something to celebrate,” he announced.
You didn’t react.
Your stepsister, on the other hand, was practically glowing. “I got invited to the National Collegiate Tennis Championship,” she said, tilting her head like she wanted to see your reaction.
Your mother sighed, so proud. “She’s worked so hard. It’s an amazing opportunity.”
You forced yourself to nod. You weren’t bitter about your stepsister’s success. It wasn’t her fault she was their favorite. But the way your parents used her as a golden standard—while treating you like you weren’t even worth noticing—never failed to sting.
Your stepfather leaned back in his chair, his expression turning more mocking. “And you,” he said, looking at you expectantly, “what exactly have you been doing?”
“College,” you said, keeping your voice neutral. “Like everyone else.”
“Right,” he scoffed. “But you don’t do anything else, do you? No sports, no clubs. You don’t go out, you don’t socialize.” He smirked. “Do you even have a boyfriend, or are you just wasting your time being forgettable?”
Your stepsister covered her mouth, laughing under her breath. “Dad, that’s mean,” she said sweetly. “She’s just… not really the type to have a boyfriend.”
Your mother sighed like this was the greatest disappointment of all. “She’s always been a bit… invisible.”
That was it. That was the moment.
The exhaustion, the stress, the endless belittling—it all crashed over you at once. Before you could stop yourself, you blurted out, “I do have a boyfriend, actually.”
The room went silent.
Then, they laughed.
Not a chuckle. Not a scoff. A full-blown, gut-wrenching laugh.
“You?” Your stepfather shook his head, smiling. “Oh, that’s rich.”
Your stepsister raised an eyebrow. “Wait, you’re serious?” Her smile widened. “Who is he?”
Your brain short-circuited.
Shit.
“Someone from school,” you muttered.
“Well, obviously,” she said, laughing. “But what’s his name?”
Your heart pounded. “You don’t know him.”
Your stepfather shook his head, amused. “Sure, kid. Whatever you say.”
Your mother didn’t say anything, but the look she gave you said it all—like she didn’t believe you for a second.
Your face burned.
Before they could ask anything else, you turned on your heel and stormed upstairs.
By the time you slammed your bedroom door, reality had settled in.
You had lied.
You had actually lied.
And worse? You had no way of getting out of it without making yourself look even more pathetic.
For the next week, you racked your brain for solutions. You considered telling them you broke up with this mystery boyfriend before they could meet him, but you knew that’d just open the door for more insults, more mockery. You thought about faking a long-distance relationship, but that seemed way too complicated.
Meanwhile, Satoru Gojo was everywhere.
You didn’t know why you kept seeing him—maybe the universe was punishing you—but he popped up in the library, at the campus café, even outside one of your lectures. And every single time, he made sure to annoy you.
“You always look so serious,” he teased one day, leaning against the table you were studying at. “Are you plotting world domination or just thinking about me?”
“Neither,” you muttered, turning the page in your book.
“Sounds fake, but okay.”
He was relentless.
And today, after another long, exhausting day, you just wanted to be alone.
Your safe place was a hidden bench near the lake, tucked away behind the trees where no one ever bothered you. It was quiet, peaceful—exactly what you needed.
But as you sat there, staring at the water, a loud rustling noise came from the bushes.
You tensed.
Then, Satoru Gojo stumbled out.
“Are you serious?” you groaned.
“Oh, hey,” he grinned, “didn’t know you’d be here.”
“This is my spot.”
“I don’t see your name on it.”
You shot him a glare. He sat down anyway.
You considered getting up and leaving, but you were too tired to fight.
For a while, neither of you spoke. The only sounds were the rustling leaves and the soft ripples of the lake.
Then, Gojo broke the silence.
“Alright, spill. What’s wrong?”
You scoffed. “None of your business.”
“Oh, so it’s extra bad.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “C’mon, you’ll feel better if you talk about it.”
You tried to ignore him. But he kept poking, prodding, teasing until finally, you snapped, “Fine! I lied to my family about having a boyfriend, okay?”
He blinked. Then, a slow, mischievous grin spread across his face.
“Oh, this is fantastic.”
“What?”
“I’ll be your boyfriend.”
You stared at him like he’d grown a second head. “Are you insane?”
“Probably,” he admitted cheerfully. “But listen—this works out perfectly. You need a fake boyfriend, and I need a serious girlfriend for my family thing. Boom. Problem solved.”
You gaped at him. “You can’t be serious.”
“Dead serious.” He placed his hands on your shoulders, grinning like a lunatic.
Your brain struggled to keep up. Gojo? Pretending to be your boyfriend? This had to be a joke.
“This is ridiculous,” you muttered.
“Ridiculously genius,” he corrected.
He must have seen the doubt on your face because his expression softened slightly. “Hey. It’s just a deal. No strings attached, no weird expectations. Just two people faking a relationship to make their lives easier.”
You hesitated.
You wanted to say no. But… he wasn’t wrong.
“Fine,” you muttered. “But if you make this weird, I swear—”
“No promises,” he sang.
With an annoyed sigh, you pulled out your phone. “We need proof.”
The first selfie was awkward. You sat stiffly on the bench, trying to keep as much space between you and Satoru as possible. He, of course, leaned in way too close, grinning like an idiot as he snapped the first photo.
Click.
You glanced at it. It was bad. You looked uncomfortable, your lips pressed into a tight line, while Satoru, on the other hand, looked effortlessly photogenic—like he wasn’t taking a fake couple’s picture but rather doing a promotional shoot for some high-end brand.
“This is terrible,” you muttered.
Satoru let out a dramatic sigh. “That’s because you look like I’m holding you hostage.”
“You are holding me hostage.”
“Emotionally,” he agreed, scrolling through the photos. “Alright, let’s try again. This time, look at me like you actually like me. Pretend I just said something funny.”
“You’re not funny.”
“Blatant lies.” He placed a hand over his chest, feigning offense. “I’m hilarious. Try to keep up.”
Click.
The second was worse. You tried forcing a small smile, but it came out looking like you were in pain.
Satoru examined it and snorted. “You look like you just swallowed a lemon.”
“I hate this.”
“No, you just suck at it,” he corrected. “Here, let’s make it natural.”
Before you could react, he suddenly threw an arm around your shoulder and pulled you in.
“Hey—!”
Click.
“Much better,” he said, showing you the photo.
It was… convincing. His arm around you, the effortless smirk, the way your faces were close enough to suggest something more. You still looked hesitant, but at least you weren’t grimacing anymore.
“This could work,” he said, sounding pleased.
You shifted uncomfortably. “You’re way too comfortable with this.”
He wiggled his eyebrows. “Natural talent.”
You rolled your eyes. “Whatever. We got the pictures. We’re done here.”
“Not quite,” he corrected. “We need a convincing story. How long have we been dating? How did we meet? What’s your favorite thing about me?”
“Nothing,” you deadpanned.
“Ouch. Okay, my favorite thing about you is—” he tapped his chin thoughtfully before grinning— “how easy you are to mess with.”
You groaned. “This was a mistake.”
“Too late now, babe,” he teased, stretching out the last word obnoxiously. “We’re in this together.”
You sighed, rubbing your temple. “Fine. How did we meet?”
“Obviously, you fell madly in love with me the first time you saw me.”
“Try again.”
“We met in class,” he said, thinking. “I was struggling with my engineering assignments, and you offered to help. We bonded over late-night study sessions, and boom, love blossomed.”
You squinted. “You don’t struggle with engineering.”
“They don’t know that,” he pointed out. “Besides, it makes me sound relatable.”
You sighed. “Whatever. And how long have we been together?”
He grinned. “Long enough to make it believable, short enough that you don’t have to explain why I wasn’t around before. Let’s say… a month?”
You shrugged. “Fine.”
“And my favorite thing about you?” he pressed.
“That you shut up when I tell you to.”
He laughed. “We both know that’s not true.”
You shook your head, stuffing your phone into your pocket. “I’m leaving.”
“Not before you post those pictures,” he reminded you.
You hesitated.
Posting them meant committing to this ridiculous lie. It meant opening yourself up to questions, speculation, and attention—all things you had avoided for so long.
Satoru watched you, head tilted. “Cold feet?”
You exhaled slowly. “No.”
With one last look at the photos, you posted them to your Instagram. Satoru did the same, tagging you with a caption that read:
“Finally got her to admit she’s obsessed with me. Took long enough. ❤️”
Your phone immediately started vibrating.
By the time you got home, the notifications were nonstop.
Messages. Comments. Likes.
And by morning, one thing was clear:
You and Satoru Gojo were now the hottest gossip on campus.
Chapter 2 - The Art of Taking an L
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: This chapter plays before the events of Chapter 14 in Toji’s Story (Toji SMAU - When love was always there). Next Chapter will be Reader’s POV!! Thought I’d switch it up a little. Do we love it? SMOOCHES 💋💋💋
{chapter 1} ; {next}
taglist: @hanakotateyama @sleepykittyenergy @inthedarkshadows000 @codeseven @byakuya61085
࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚
I’m really sorry to say this but the MHA “fans” who’ve been losing their minds over izuku and ochako possibly being canon are incredibly embarrassing. I understand that you want queer representation and I personally believe that it’s very important but you won’t get it in every single show that’s popular. You guys are only embarrassing yourself and the fandom with your behavior.
Please watch this tiktok and come to your senses. It’s really not that deep 🩷
Their Social Media - Main Cast (Part 1)
an: I decided to make a separate post for all of their social media accounts! don’t be afraid to ask questions if you need clarification!! ( ˶ˆᗜˆ˵ )
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.
Taglist OPEN!
taglist: @hanakotateyama @sleepykittyenergy @inthedarkshadows000 @codeseven @byakuya61085 @minzxec @ivydoesit23 @naughteehee @not-aya @bochichi @emlient @gojoprincesss @havingnonamesucks @n1vi @linny-bloggs
Introduction
Chapter 1 - Invisible in the Spotlight
Chapter 2 - The Art of Taking an L
Chapter 3 - Fake It Till You Make It
Chapter 4 - False Advertising
Chapter 5 - Tricks, Treats and Terrible Ideas
Chapter 6 - Terms and Conditons (Mostly Ignored)
Chapter 7 - The Art of Faking it Too Well
Chapter 2 - Bait and Burn
Summary: You see him again on your first day of college. Fuck. Toji Zenin has been the bane of your existence since your first day of kindergarten. Over the 15 years you’ve had the “pleasure” of knowing him, he’s made it his personal mission to make your life a living hell. From chopping off your hair in kindergarten to pushing you into a pond on your first day of high school, Toji has done it all. You’d always thought he would choose a college far away from you, but as it has always been, fate came to kick your ass. Hard.
{chapter 1} ; {next}
warnings: cursing, sexual language
AN: shoko might be ooc in this. don’t really care. she’s my burnt out med student queeeeen.
Chapter 6 - Muhammad Ali
Summary: You see him again on your first day of college. Fuck. Toji Zenin has been the bane of your existence since your first day of kindergarten. Over the 15 years you’ve had the “pleasure” of knowing him, he’s made it his personal mission to make your life a living hell. From chopping off your hair in kindergarten to pushing you into a pond on your first day of high school, Toji has done it all. You’d always thought he would choose a college far away from you, but as it has always been, fate came to kick your ass. Hard.
warnings: cursing, sexual language, mentions of bullying
an: he’s nice in his own way, right? right??? (losing my mind.) satoru’s making a move! (yay or nay?) things are starting to get interesting! don’t you guys think?? lololol. smooches for y’all 💋💋💋
{chapter 5} ; {next}
taglist: @jinxiewritings