THE PRESIDENT'S SWEETHEART
summary: satoru gojo is the untouchable, ultra-charismatic president of campus greek life—until a trip to the quiet university library completely short-circuits his brain. now, the smooth-talking frat king is a stuttering, lovesick mess for a quiet stem major who has absolutely no idea who he is.
pairing: satoru gojo x reader
contents: fluff - romantic comedy - college/greek life au - frat president!political science major!satoru - stem major!reader - down bad satoru - mutual pining - featuring suguru, sukuna, choso, and toji as chaotic protective frat bros
word count: 3.9k
a/n: this is my first fic ever, i'm so excited but also nervous!! english isn't my first language so please be kind ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧
the music in sigma alpha house wasn't just loud; it was a physical force. it vibrated through the floorboards, pulsed in the soles of everyone's shoes, and made the red plastic cups on the kitchen counters shake.
from his vantage point at the top of the grand, slightly scuffed wooden staircase, satoru gojo looked down at his world. he wore a backwards baseball cap, a vintage bomber jacket with his fraternity's greek letters stitched across the chest, and a smirk that he knew exactly how to use.
he was, without a doubt, the undisputed king of this campus. when elections had rolled around a few months ago, nobody else had even bothered to put their name on the ballot. why would they? satoru had the kind of charisma that felt like a magnetic pull. if he walked into a lecture hall, the energy shifted. if he threw a party, the whole campus showed up.
"hey, prez! catch!"
satoru didn't even look up as a crushed silver can flew toward his head. he simply reached out a hand, catching it cleanly out of the air before tossing it into a nearby recycling bin. he looked over to see suguru geto leaning against the doorframe of the executive office, holding a clipboard and looking thoroughly exhausted.
"the fire marshal is down the street, satoru," suguru called out over the bass, rubbing his temples. "if we get one more noise complaint, sukuna says we won't have the budget to pay the fines."
"relax, suguru. i'll handle it." satoru laughed, throwing an arm around his vice president's shoulders as they walked down the stairs. "the fire marshal's son is a pledge at kappa beta. i'll just promise him vip access to our next tailgate. works every time."
as soon as satoru's sneakers hit the first floor, a wave of voices cheered his name.
"satoru! do a flip!"
"gojo, tell these guys your beer pong record!"
he thrived in it. he floated through the crowded living room like a celebrity, high-fiving the guys and flashing bright, easy smiles at the girls who hovered nearby, hoping to catch his eye. satoru was a natural flirt; it was like breathing to him. he'd lean in close to hear a girl over the music, wink just to watch her blush, and crack a joke that had an entire circle of people laughing within seconds. he was completely, effortlessly in control.
he loved the noise. he loved the crowd. he loved being the center of a universe that he had built from scratch.
as the night bled into the early hours of the morning, satoru stood on top of a sturdy coffee table, raising a cup to a roaring crowd of college students. he felt untouchable. he was satoru gojo, frat president, the loudest voice in every room.
he had absolutely no idea that in less than forty-eight hours, a single quiet room—and a person who didn't care about his title at all—would complete break his composure.
the university library was satoru's personal version of hell.
it was too bright, too sterile, and worst of all, it was dead silent. satoru didn't do silent, he was a creature born for bass drops and shouting over crowds—not the rhythmic, aggressive tapping of laptop keys and the occasional dust-filled cough.
he wandered aimlessly down the narrow aisles of the third floor, dragging his fingers across the spines of old, heavy books. he looked entirely ridiculous. he was still wearing his bright blue fraternity hoodie, but today it felt suffocating.
"i swear to god, suguru, i'm going to use this book as kindling." satoru muttered to himself, squinting at a crumpled sticky note in his hand.
suguru had practically locked him out of the frat house this morning, refusing to give satoru the keys to his own car until he went to the library to retrieve a super-specific, archaic political science reference book for their upcoming chapter presentation. "you're the president, satoru. do some actual work for once," suguru's voice echoed in his head.
but satoru was completely out of his element. the numbering system on the shelves made absolutely no sense to him. was 320.1 before or after 320.09? he sighed loudly, a sound that immediately earned him a sharp, lethal glare from a student three rows over. satoru offered a weak, apologetic peace sign and quickly turned a corner, running a hand through his messy white hair. he was genuinely frustrated. he was satoru gojo; he didn't struggle.
"do you need help finding something?"
the voice was soft, spoken in a hushed, polite whisper, but it made satoru jump an inch off the carpet.
he spun around, ready to flash his classic, thousand-watt presidential smile to charm whoever was bothering him. but the moment his eyes landed on you, the smile died on his face.
you were wearing a little laminated 'library staff' badge pinned to your cardigan. you had a cart of books beside you, and you were looking up at him with a patient, helpful expression. you were completely ordinary compared to the flashy girls who screamed his name at parties, but to satoru, the air in the room suddenly felt incredibly thin.
"uh," was all that satoru managed to say.
that was it. that was the grand opening line from the most charismatic guy on campus. uh.
"i, um," he stammered, his blue eyes widening behind his round sunglasses. he suddenly felt hyper-aware of how tall he was, how loud his sneakers were on the floor, and how fast his heart was suddenly hammering against his ribs. his smooth, unbothered composure didn't just crack—it shattered into a million pieces. "book. i need… a book."
you let out a tiny, amused breath, your eyes crinkling at the corners. "right, most people do. what's the title?"
satoru's hand felt clumsy as he shoved the crumpled sticky note toward you. his fingers brushed against yours for a fraction of a second, and a jolt of pure electricity went straight up his arm. he literally stepped back, his face flushing a furious, sudden pink.
you read the note, unbothered. "oh, the political theory texts. they're actually a floor down in the basement archives. follow me."
as you turned and began walking toward the stairs, satoru followed like a dazed puppy. his brain was in total, catastrophic system failure. he tried to think of something clever to say. usually, flirting was like breathing. he'd ask for a number, make a joke about the quiet rules, wink—something. but as he stared at the back of your head, his mouth felt completely dry. he was terrified that if he spoke, he'd squeak.
you led him into the quietest corner of the basement, scanned the shelves for three seconds, and pulled back a thick, leather-bound book from the top shelf.
"here you go," you whispered, handing it over with a sweet, polite smile. "advanced political structures. good luck with your studies."
"th-thanks," satoru choked out, his voice cracking slightly on the 's'. he gripped the book like a shield. "i'm satoru, by the way. gojo. i run the—"
"nice to meet you, satoru," you interrupted softly, giving him a polite little nod before turning back to your cart. you clearly had no idea who he was, and frankly, you didn't seem to care.
satoru stood frozen in the basement aisle for a solid two minutes, clutching the textbook to his chest, watching you walk away.
by the time he dragged his feet back up to the third floor, he saw you sitting at a secluded corner desk. your shift was clearly over. you had a massive, intimidating stack of organic chemistry and advanced calculus textbooks piled high next to you. you slipped a pair of large, noise-canceling headphones over your ears, completely tuning out the rest of the world as you buried your face in notebook, entirely focused.
satoru stood a few rows back, hiding half of his face behind the political science book. his cheeks were still burning. he looked at the heavy stem books, then at your peaceful face, and then down at his own trembling hands.
he was down bad. he was so incredibly, terrifyingly down bad.
"he's broken." sukuna said.
he didn't look up from the chapter ledger spreadsheet on his laptop, his face set in its usual permanent scowl. he was sitting at the massive, grease-stained kitchen island of the sigma alpha house, aggressively tapping his pen against the marble.
"what do you mean, broken?" choso asked, carefully organizing a mountain of neon-colored philanthropy fliers into neat, perfect stacks.
"i mean he's malfunctioning," sukuna muttered, gesturing with his pen toward the living room. "look at him."
across the house, satoru gojo—the undisputed king of campus, the man who normally couldn't sit still for more than thirty seconds—was slumped on the worn leather sofa. he was staring blankly at his phone, a soft, dopey smile plastered across his face. his legs were draped over the armrest, and he was mindlessly twisting a lock of his white hair around his fingers. he looked like a teenage girl in a 90s rom-com.
suguru walked into the kitchen, tossing a bag of ice into the sink, and groaned at the sight. "he's been like that since tuesday. i told him to go to the library to get one reference book, and he came back looking like he'd been hit like a truck. he hasn't yelled 'let's go!' once today."
"maybe he's sick?" choso suggested, looking genuinely worried. "should i make him soup?"
from the hallway, toji walked in, wearing a tank top, holding a protein shaker, and looking entirely too old to be hanging out at a frat house. he took one look at satoru, let out a loud, mocking laugh, and raided the fridge. "he's not sick, idiots. he's whipped."
"whipped?" suguru blinked. "by who? satoru flirts with everyone, but he doesn't actually date."
and that was the truth. but as the week rolled on, the signs became impossible to ignore.
the real crisis happened on friday night. the sigma alpha house was absolutely packed for their mid-semester banger. the bass was rattling the windows, the strobe lights were cutting through the sweaty air, and a group of girls from the top sorority campus were practically begging satoru to come take a group photo with them.
normally, satoru would be right in the middle of it, posing, laughing, and being the life of the party.
instead, he was standing near the back door, completely ignoring three different girls trying to spark a conversation with him. his eyes kept darting to his phone screen. when a girl playfully touched his arm, satoru actually stepped back, nervously clearing his throat and checking his watch.
"uh, sorry, i actually gotta… go check on the breaker in the basement. yeah. fun party, though!" he stammered, offering a painfully awkward thumbs-up before slipping through the back door.
suguru watched the entire exchange from the bar, his jaw dropping. "did satoru gojo just reject a girl to go look at a circuit breaker?"
"he didn't go to the basement," sukuna said, appearing over suguru's shoulder like a vengeful spirit, his eyes narrowed as he watched the back exit. "the basement door is on the other side of the house. he just left the property."
by saturday night, the situation had reached a boiling point. the frat house was in full swing again, a line of students stretching down the block just to get in. inside, the crowd was chanting.
"prez! prez! prez! prez!"
they wanted him to do his traditional, chaotic speech from the top of the staircase to officially kick off the night. suguru ran up to satoru's room and slammed the door open.
"satoru, you're up, get down—"
the room was empty. the bed was made, the window was cracked open, and satoru's signature sigma alpha bomber jacket was hanging neatly in the closet. the president had completely abandoned ship on the biggest night of the semester.
suguru marched back down the stairs, his face deadpan as he approached the rest of the executive board gathered by the kitchen.
"he's gone." suguru announced.
toji grinned, slamming his protein shaker on the counter. "that's it. grab your jackets, boys. we're tracking the idiot."
"i'll bring the car," choso said, instantly protective. "if someone is blackmailing our president, i will handle it."
"i don't care who she is," sukuna growled, grabbing his keys with an irritated sigh. "but she's ruining our social calendar, and i'm going to personally tell her off."
the gps on suguru's phone led them far away from the chaotic neon lights of their street and straight into the quiet, historic district of the campus town.
sukuna parked his black suv across the street from a tiny, brightly lit botanical greenhouse cafe. it was the kind of place that smelled like lavender and expensive matcha—a place satoru gojo wouldn't be caught dead in under normal circumstances.
"there," toji muttered, pointing a thick finger through the windshield. "in the corner by the giant plant."
suguru, sukuna, choso, and toji piled out of the car, ducking behind a row of large, decorative hedges outside the glass windows of the cafe. four of the most intimidating guys on campus were currently crammed together, peering through the leaves like a bunch of terrible secret agents.
and what they saw made their jaws collectively drop.
satoru was sitting at a small wooden table. he wasn't wearing his usual loud street clothes; he was wearing a soft, beige knit sweater that made him look completely approachable. opposite him sat you. you were laughing softly at something, a small plate of pastries sitting between you.
but it was satoru's behavior that caused a literal system error in his brothers' brains.
"is he… holding her purse?" sukuna whispered, his voice dripping with pure disbelief. he was. a small, cute tote bag was slung over satoru's massive shoulder.
"look at his face," suguru breathed, pressing his forehead against a leaf. "he's blushing. satoru doesn't blush. he doesn't even know how to blush."
inside, you reached over and wiped a bit of powdered sugar off the corner of satoru's mouth with a napkin. the fearless, untouchable sigma alpha president instantly turned a shade of red that matched a fire engine. he didn't make a smooth joke. he didn't smirk. he literally tangled his own fingers together, looking down at his lap and stuttering out what looked like a shy 'thank you', his white hair practically glowing in the warm cafe lights.
"he's completely defenseless," choso whispered, clutching his chest. "look how gently he's holding her hand. it's beautiful, i'm so proud of him."
"it's pathetic," toji snorted, though he was grinning like a maniac, thoroughly enjoying the blackmail material. "i'm going to ruin his life with this." he reached for the door handle, ready to ruin satoru's night, but suguru grabbed his jacket collar and yanked him back.
"wait, don't go in yet," suguru hissed, a devious glint in his eyes. "if we catch him now, he'll just make up an excuse. we need more evidence. we're tailing him tomorrow."
sukuna grumbled, but ultimately nodded. they quietly backed away into the night, leaving the president completely unaware that his inner circle had just turned into his paparazzi.
the next morning, the operation began in earnest.
it was a sunday, a day satoru usually spent sleeping in until 2:00 pm to recover from the weekend's parties. but today, at 9:00 sharp, satoru practically skipped out of the sigma alpha house, looking freshly showered and wearing a crisp, neat flannel.
behind him, a dark suv with tinted windows rolled out of the driveway, keeping a precise two-car distance.
"target is on the move," toji deadpanned from the passenger seat, wearing sunglasses indoors just to commit to the bit.
their first stop was the university library's outdoor courtyard. the boys parked and took up positions behind a brick pillar. through a pair of binoculars that choso had inexplicably brought from home, they watched you and satoru sit at a concrete picnic table.
you had your massive, terrifyingly thick organic chemistry textbooks spread out. and satoru? he was actually holding a highlighter, intently reading a textbook right alongside you.
"is… is he studying?" suguru blinked rapidly, rubbing his eyes. "satoru hasn't opened a textbook since freshman orientation. he usually just flashes his smile at the professors or begs me for his notes."
"look closer," sukuna muttered, leaning over suguru's shoulder. "he's not studying. he's been on the same page for twenty minutes. he's just using the book to hide his face because he's staring at her."
it was true. every time you leaned down to write a formula, satoru would peek over the top of his book, a completely dazed, love-struck look on his face. when you suddenly looked up, he panicked, dropped his highlighter, and scrambled to pretend he was deeply invested in a chapter about cell structures.
"isn't that idiot a political science major?" sukuna snapped from behind the pillar, his eye twitching as he watched satoru intensely study a diagram of a plant cell. you laughed—entirely oblivious to the stakeout happening across the courtyard—reaching over to ruffle his white hair, and satoru instantly melted, looking like he had just won the lottery.
by 2:00 pm, the stakeout moved to the campus park.
the frat brothers watched from a safe distance behind a duck pond as the untouchable campus king willingly allowed himself to be humiliated. you were trying to teach him how to crochet a little yarn flower. satoru's giant, clumsy hands were tangled in bright pink yarn, his tongue poking out the side of his mouth in intense concentration.
"he looks like an idiot," toji laughed, taking a video on his phone. "the guy who handles a six-figure fraternity budget can't figure out a slipknot."
but the real kicker was how quiet he was. there was no shouting, no arrogant smirking, no crowd cheering his name. he was just listening to you talk about your major, nodding along with genuine interest, and looking incredibly soft.
"alright, i've seen enough," sukuna finally sighed, tossing his keys in the air. "he's completely gone. the satoru gojo we knew is dead. we need to go introduce ourselves to our new sister-in-law before he completely forgets how to speak english."
before suguru or choso could stop him, sukuna aggressively parted the bushes and marched right onto the grass, his face set in his signature terrifying scowl. the others had no choice but to follow him, trailing out of the greenery like a bunch of unhinged, heavy-set bodyguard shadows.
satoru's head snapped up. his blue eyes widened in absolute, sheer horror behind his sunglasses as his executive board successfully surrounded their picnic blanket.
"nice pink yarn, gojo," toji smirked, crossing his arms and looming over the space.
"w-what the—! what are you guys doing here?!" satoru's voice cracked perfectly into a high-pitched squeak. he scrambled to stand up, knocking his knees against the picnic basket and trying to use his massive frame as a human shield to block you from their view. "suguru! sukuna! go away! you're completely ruining the vibe!"
"we've been watching you all day, you idiot," sukuna grumbled, stepping forward and flashing his phone screen, which showed a crystal-clear photo of satoru tangled in pink yarn. "you skipped the mandatory meeting to learn how to crochet?" sukuna snatched the tangled ball of pink yarn right out of satoru's hands.
"it's a slipknot, actually. and it's very complex!" satoru shot back, his ears turning a violent shade of crimson as his smooth, unbothered president persona completely disintegrated. "get out of here before you scare her—"
before he could yell any further, you stepped out from behind satoru's shoulder. instead of being terrified by the sudden ambush of large, intense-looking guys, you gave them a warm, adorable smile and opened a plastic container sitting on the blanket.
"oh, hi!" you said, your voice calm, sweet, and totally unfazed. "are you satoru's friends from the house? i'm glad you're here! i actually baked some fresh blueberry scones this morning. would you like one? satoru was too nervous to eat breakfast, so there's plenty left."
the collective hostility from the boys evaporated in a fraction of a second.
choso's face instantly softened. he completely ignored a sputtering satoru and stepped right onto the blanket. "i'm choso, his older brother figure. if he ever acts annoying or uses that loud voice around you, just tell me. i will handle him."
"i'm suguru, the vice president," suguru said, immediately shifting into his most charming, polite executive mode. "and don't worry, we didn't mean to startle you. we were just checking up on our fearless leader."
you giggled, offering the container. toji immediately reached in, taking a massive bite. "oh, wow. these are actually incredible. hey sukuna, try this."
sukuna stood there, still clutching the ball of pink yarn, looking down at the giant, blushing mess of his president, and then at you. you were nice, polite, completely unimpressed by satoru's campus status, and you made phenomenal baked goods. with a defeated sigh, sukuna stuffed the yarn into his pocket and plucked a scone from the container.
"fine," sukuna muttered, chewing. "she's approved. you're still a loser, gojo."
satoru buried his face in his hands, letting out a weak, pathetic groan. "please stop talking," he mumbled into his palms, his ears burning a violent, undeniable red.
just as you and satoru had agreed that night, you tried to keep your dating life under wraps. you didn't want the drama, and satoru wanted to protect his favorite quiet space from the chaotic world of greek life.
but unfortunately on college campus, rumors seem to travel at the speed of light.
within weeks, the whisper network was in full swing. "did you hear? the sigma alpha president is locked down." "no way, satoru? with who?" "someone from the library, i think. a stem major. she doesn't even go to his parties."
people were skeptical of course. the campus king and a quiet, adorable library girl? it didn't make sense to anyone.
except for the sigma alpha house. the frat brothers became your fiercest, most terrifyingly protective bodyguards. if anyone ever questioned your relationship, sukuna would glare them into silence, choso would proudly tell everyone about the baked goods you brought to the house, and suguru would smugly remind people that satoru was a changed man.
and he really was—he still threw the best parties, but the second you walked into the room, his eyes found yours, and that soft, goofy sweater-wearing satoru belonged entirely to you.
fast forward to exactly one year later.
the spring semester was winding down, and satoru's term as president was officially coming to and end. a massive, heavy cardboard box arrived at the sigma alpha house, and the boys gathered around as suguru carefully sliced it open to pull out the brand-new, yearly chapter composite.
they hung the massive, elegant frame dead-center in the main hallway, right alongside decades of history.
if you walked into the house today, your eyes would immediately go to the very top row. right in the center was satoru's professional headshot—though, true to form, he had ruined the serious vibe by wearing his signature round sunglasses and flashing a proud, dorky peace sign.
but right next to his photo, placed perfectly in its own elegant frame with the exact same weight and importance as the president, was a beautiful, radiant picture of you.
and underneath your name, embossed in elegant gold lettering, read the title:
sweetheart.
© choivae // please do not copy, repost, translate, or feed my works to ai .ᐟ
