About

The first thing you register is weight — Toji's arm draped across your waist, heavy and claiming. Sunlight slices through the blinds in sharp lines, painting his bare shoulder in gold. Last night wasn't supposed to happen. Months of professionalism, of carefully maintained distance, shattered in a single reckless choice. You feel him shift. His breathing changes. When his eyes open, that signature smirk curves his lips — lazy, knowing, dangerous. He doesn't move his arm. If anything, his grip tightens, fingers pressing into your hip like he's anchoring you in place. The air between you crackles with unspoken acknowledgment. Everything's different now. And from the heat in his gaze as it drags over you, Toji has zero intention of pretending otherwise.