Satoru Gojo || FRATJO!!

Ah yes, Satoru Gojo, The notorious basketball player and pretty face.

This was an infuriating man, he had a hot mouth, he had a pretty face, had a perfect body, A girl's dream come true, a boy's biggest rival.. Except he didn't have to fight, He just won as it is. Isn't it unfair? Yeah, well, the world was like this, beauty standards.

The man was a whole ass Greek god.

He wasn't the type to put in extra work, he had people, important people, despite being the school frat-boy, He sure had an amazing GPA. A whole ass 5? Yeah, I'm out. He was born a charmer, a genius and a know-it-all IT expert.

Of course, it all came to him because he built that reputation from the starting, brick to brick, word to word. He was previously a dingy nerd who used to live on ramen, hopes and dreams. He was a gentleman, wasn't like those 2015 high school bullies who pushed others in lockers and locked them in all days.

He had a filthy mouth when he wanted to, yes. He didn't need to put in effort to charm anyone, just a simple, easy grin, and he had the women swooning and the men envious for his charm. But there was juuussst one problem.

You.

Not in the traditional wrecker sense, not in the problematic sense, and not in the rude girl sense. You were.. just there. And that affected him the most. He would find himself observing you in classes, chin propped up on his hand, a smirk on his face. Sometimes he'd be so deep in the rabbit hole that Suguru had to smack him on the head to break his reverie.

He'd find himself asking other girls and some friends of yours whether you were single or not, your schedule, your timetable and your free time.

Well, not really free, that disappointed him, but you worked in a Café, A café that was near the college. And so, out of curiosity, he started visiting you naturally. And.. it became his daily routine. To the point you had started to anticipate his arrival. He would always come in with a:

"Heyy, cutie, what's in the menu?" Or.. some corny but funny pick up lines.. "Are you a keyboard? Because you're so my type."

Or "Is your mother an artist? Because she gave birth to a masterpiece." (Don't worry he's a silly man.)

This push-and-pull occurred every damn day, And naturally, you got along.

Ever since that fateful day, Satoru had been absolutely whipped for you. Heads over heels.

He'd give you every thing, from shiny trinkets, to expensive jewelry. The contrast between Satoru Gojo, the effortless campus icon, and Satoru Gojo, the domestic roommate, was staggering.

To the rest of the university, he was untouchable. He was the golden-boy IT prodigy who glided through life on top-tier genetics, an infallible GPA, and a smirk that made people lose their minds. But behind the closed door of your shared apartment? He was an absolute menace.

Living together meant seeing past the polished Greek god persona. It meant tripping over his scattered mechanical keyboards and endless cords left on the living room floor. It meant fighting for the couch cushions because he insisted on sprawling his over-six-foot frame across the entire sofa, resting his head directly in your lap the second you sat down.

"You're late," Satoru muttered one evening, his voice muffled against your apron as you finally walked through the door after a long shift at the café. He didn't move an inch, just wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you down into his space. "The café closed twenty minutes ago. I timed it."

He tilted his head back, resting his chin on your knee to look up at you. Gone was the sharp, sarcastic edge he wore in public. Here, with his messy hair falling into his eyes and a lazy, soft smile on his face, he was utterly defenseless.

Reaching into his pocket and pressing a small, velvet box into your hand without missing a beat—yet another extravagant gesture tucked between mundane chores. "Found this today. Thought it'd look nice on you." He hummed.

You sighed, looking from the shimmering bracelet in your palm back down to the man who could buy the entire building if he wanted to, yet chose to spend his evenings whining for your attention on a secondhand couch.

"..Don't start now, I was bored, plus it looks pretty on you. Now stay still, you're being my pillow for tonight, Or else I'll whine. And you hate hearing me whine, don'tcha, Sweets?" He teased, his breath warm against your ear, his tongue piercing glinted in the dim light of the setting sun.

Ah yes, Satoru Gojo, The notorious basketball player and pretty face.

This was an infuriating man, he had a hot mouth, he had a pretty face, had a perfect body, A girl's dream come true, a boy's biggest rival.. Except he didn't have to fight, He just won as it is. Isn't it unfair? Yeah, well, the world was like this, beauty standards.

The man was a whole ass Greek god.

He wasn't the type to put in extra work, he had people, important people, despite being the school frat-boy, He sure had an amazing GPA. A whole ass 5? Yeah, I'm out. He was born a charmer, a genius and a know-it-all IT expert.

Of course, it all came to him because he built that reputation from the starting, brick to brick, word to word. He was previously a dingy nerd who used to live on ramen, hopes and dreams. He was a gentleman, wasn't like those 2015 high school bullies who pushed others in lockers and locked them in all days.

He had a filthy mouth when he wanted to, yes. He didn't need to put in effort to charm anyone, just a simple, easy grin, and he had the women swooning and the men envious for his charm. But there was juuussst one problem.

You.

Not in the traditional wrecker sense, not in the problematic sense, and not in the rude girl sense. You were.. just there. And that affected him the most. He would find himself observing you in classes, chin propped up on his hand, a smirk on his face. Sometimes he'd be so deep in the rabbit hole that Suguru had to smack him on the head to break his reverie.

He'd find himself asking other girls and some friends of yours whether you were single or not, your schedule, your timetable and your free time.

Well, not really free, that disappointed him, but you worked in a Café, A café that was near the college. And so, out of curiosity, he started visiting you naturally. And.. it became his daily routine. To the point you had started to anticipate his arrival. He would always come in with a:

"Heyy, cutie, what's in the menu?" Or.. some corny but funny pick up lines.. "Are you a keyboard? Because you're so my type."

Or "Is your mother an artist? Because she gave birth to a masterpiece." (Don't worry he's a silly man.)

This push-and-pull occurred every damn day, And naturally, you got along.

Today was apparently another one of those days, He walked in the café with his usual swagger, leaning over the counter where you stood while it CLEARLY said to not lean on the counter. You looked up to see his handsome, cheeky face.

"..Hey, Sweetheart, Anything new?"

.