Pairing: Fratboy!Gojo Satoru x Meangirl!Reader
Synopsis: hottest guy in campus crushing over the meanest mean girl?
Warnings(❗️): mostly cuss words, arguing, dirty jokes(?), idk leave me alone
Gojo Satoru was your walking nightmare.
Every party, every hallway, every group chat you were in, there he was: loud, unserious, six-foot-something of smugness wrapped in a fit white shirt. He had that stupid grin girls melted for and the cocky attitude that made you want to run him over.
A year ago he came up to you at a frat party, blue eyes glinting like he already owned you.
You could still remember the way his smile dropped, just a little, before reforming into something cockier and definitely more annoying.
Ever since, he’s made it his mission to haunt you.
Pranks. Comments. Laughing too loudly whenever you walked past. Acting like he was God’s gift to earth just because half the campus drooled over him. His fanbase swore they hated you to death for rejecting him, as much as they were grateful for that, but in their minds you could never reject THE Gojo Satoru. Very controversial.
And yet… he always came back.
You were at your locker touching up your lip gloss when Gojo’s reflection appeared behind you, leaning so close his breath touched your shoulder.
“Well, well, if it isn’t the meanest girl on campus.” His voice was a low, mocking drawl. “With the amount of guys you’ve gone through, you could’ve just let me fuck you, y’know.”
“It’s rich coming from you, Satoru,” you said, smacking your lips together and admiring the shine. “You probably have three different STDs and a coupon for a fourth.”
He grinned like your insults were compliments.
“You’re so mean. You know that?”
“Yeah, it’s hard keeping up the good work,” you said, slamming your locker shut. “But you make it real easy.”
Gojo shoved his hands into his pockets, leaning forward with that signature smirk that probably got him out of parking tickets.
“I’d give you such a good time,” he murmured. “All you gotta do is give in a little. I’m actually doing you a favor, you know. Every girl on campus would dream of this, but you—” he tapped your chin lightly, “you’re so spoiled.”
You raised a brow, turning away and letting your hips sway as you walked off, your pink skirt sliding a little higher with each step.
“Oh my god,” you huffed dramatically. “You just never give up, do you?”
“Nope,” he called, following you with infuriatingly long strides. “A man who yearns, earns.”
“If you weren’t such a dickhead,” you said, stopping in front of him, “I might’ve considered it.” You jabbed his chest with one manicured finger. “But after the stunts you’ve pulled? Do you really think I’d let you hit?”
Gojo leaned down, eyes locked on yours—a challenge, a promise, a spark of something stubborn and stupid and addictive.
Your laugh was sharp. “Delusion looks good on you.”
He smirked, stepping even closer. “You keep saying no, princess. I’ll keep giving you reasons to change your mind.”
You rolled your eyes and walked away, “I expect to see at the party tonight” he yells, bringing his hand up. “I’m not coming so don’t bother.”
You had a feeling he was far from done with you.
——————————————————————————
The party was already too loud, too crowded, and too full of people you didn’t like—but you walked in anyway, pretending to act like you’re not as annoyed as you actually were.
You made it exactly five minutes in before he found you.
Gojo appeared beside you like a bad magic trick. “Look who showed up.”
You didn’t even look at him. “Congratulations. You can see.”
He leaned down until his breath brushed your ear. “I can see a liar, actually.”
You turned, lifting your cup between you like a shield. “What did I lie about?”
“You said you weren’t coming.”
“We’re both full of shit then. Next.”
He grinned, delighted. “So we agree.”
“No.” You crossed your arms. “I’m just acknowledging your bad personality.”
“Awww ,” he said, placing a hand dramatically on his chest, “that hurts. Hurts deeply.”
You rolled your eyes. “You’re impossible.”
He gasped—loud, theatrical, absolutely ridiculous. “Impossible? Me? I’ll have you know I’m a delight. A treasure. A gift.”
“A gift people try to return.”
A few people nearby snorted. Gojo’s jaw dropped in offense so fake it deserved an award.
“Wow,” he said, “you’re in a mood tonight.”
“I wonder whose fault that is.”
“Yours,” he replied instantly. “Because you’re obsessed with me.”
You choked on air. “Obs— Are you okay?” You finish while jabbing a finger to the side of your head, making him understand that you’re asking if he’s “brain damaged” to which he chuckles.
“Only a little,” he said cheerfully. “But not enough to miss the fact that you’re still here in front of me right now.”
You blinked. “I’m here because you’re blocking the drinks.”
“Ohhh.” He nodded wisely. “Right. You came all the way here just for vodka cranberry. Not for me.”
“Not because you missed me.”
“Not because you were thinking about me.”
“Not because you wanted to see if I’d kiss you.”
He really knew how to get on your nerves. “Gojo, please shut the fuck up.”
He smirked like he’d just won a prize. “And there it is.”
You shoved past him, heading toward the kitchen, but of course he followed—lazy steps, smug smile, eyes burning with trouble.
“This isn’t an argument, cause I literally wouldn’t know who you are if you weren’t always being a pain in the ass” you snapped.
“Oh, but it is,” he countered easily. “A very serious one. You’re mad at me.”
You stopped, turning sharply. “Why are you like this?!”
He blinked. Then, deadpan, “Genetics?”
“Mhm. You say that,” he said, leaning closer, “but you showed up.”
Your heart thudded once, traitorously loud.
“If you keep talking,” you said, “I’m walking right out that door.”
He stepped back, hands raised. “Okay, okay. I’ll behave.”
You raised a brow. “You? Behave?”
“Alright, fine. I’ll behave ironically.”
Later in the night, someone dragged a folding table into the living room and declared it was time for a game.
Of course Gojo was already there, sleeves pushed up, smirking like he’d been waiting just for you.
“Oh look,” he drawled when you approached, “here to lose?”
“You don’t even know what we’re playing.”
“Don’t need to,” he shot back. “I can beat you at anything.”
You stepped up beside him, arms crossed. “Bold words for someone who cried the last time he lost Mario Kart.”
“That was one time,” he corrected. “And my controller was broken.”
He leaned down, whispering, “Keep talking. Just makes beating you more fun.”
Someone shouted that the game was flip cup, and before you could refuse, Gojo was already lining you up across from him like it was a duel at sunrise.
The music thumped, people cheered, and you knocked your first cup back with ease. It flipped perfectly on the first try.
You smirked. “Aww. What happened, hotshot?”
He narrowed his eyes. “Beginner’s luck.”
“Please. I was born better than you.”
The next round you both flipped in sync, cups slamming onto the table at the exact same time. The group roared.
Gojo grinned wide, his competitive streak burning bright.
“Princess,” he said, “if you wanted to be this close to me, you could’ve just asked.”
“Shut up and drink, Satoru.”
The rivalry escalated—trash talk, shoulder bumps, the occasional brush of his fingers against yours that he absolutely did on purpose.
But somewhere between rounds, the atmosphere around you shifted.
People were getting sloppy. Loud. Reckless. Someone was half passed out on a couch, drinks spilling, others recording them instead of helping. A couple was making out in the hallway so aggressively it looked painful.
Your mood soured instantly.
You stepped back from the table. “I’m done.”
Gojo blinked. “What? Scared to lose?”
“As if,” you snapped. “Just not interested in watching everyone dissolve into brainless animals.”
He raised a brow as you grabbed your phone. “So you’re leaving?”
“Because people are drunk?”
“Because people are disgusting,” you corrected sharply. “There’s a difference.”
He watched you with that lazy, assessing look of his—half amusement, half something else.
A low, taunting sound that made you stiffen.
“There it is,” he said. “The princess attitude.”
You narrowed your eyes. “Don’t start.”
“Oh, I’m starting.” He took a step toward you, hands in his pockets, tone dripping with sarcasm. “You’re so dramatic. One person throws up and suddenly you’re too good to exist in the same building.”
You bristled. “It’s pathetic. They’re embarrassing.”
“They’re in college,” he countered. “Being embarrassing is the whole point.”
“Well I’m not interested.”
“You’re not interested,” he echoed, mocking lightly. “Yeah, I know. Because you’re spoiled.”
Your jaw tightened. “Excuse you?”
“You heard me.” His smirk grew. “Spoiled little daddy’s girl. Never had to deal with anything messy.”
He cut you off with a shrug. “It’s fine. Honestly? Kinda cute.”
Your glare sharpened. “Call me that again and see what happens.”
He leaned in, voice low and teasing, deliberately pushing your buttons.
For a moment the party noise faded behind the rush of heat in your chest—anger, embarrassment, something sharper you refused to name.
You stepped away from him.
“I’m leaving,” you said coldly. “Enjoy your little zoo.”
You turned toward the door.
Behind you, Gojo sighed—dramatic, annoyed, but also…something else.
“Princess,” he called after you, “don’t actually go home mad.”
“Fuck you” you said, walking out into the cool night air.
But your tight grip on the doorknob said otherwise.
——————————————————————————
A/n: I love disappearing for months and coming back one night out of nowhere. I wanted to make it longer but colouring every dialogue took so much energy out of me I don’t wanna write this story anymore🙏🏼
