College had always been easy for Gojo—at least, everything except the actual academic part. Not that he wasn’t smart, but he was always focused on others thing.

He was the kind of guy people gravitated toward without thinking. Tall, unfairly attractive, sharp-tongued but charming enough to get away with it. Money followed him, attention followed him, and for the longest time… so did women. Constantly.

It had practically become routine.

A party, a smirk, a drink in his hand—someone new in his bed by the end of the night. No strings, no complications. Just the way he liked it.

Just a ‘quick fuck.’

At least, that’s how it used to be.

Because lately? Things had been… off. And unfortunately for you, that meant your life had been off too.

Being Gojo’s roommate was nothing short of a nightmare.

There had been nights where you shoved your earbuds in as far as they could go, blasting music just to drown out the unmistakable sounds from the other side of the room. High-pitched lady moans, breathless gasps, the rhythmic creak of the bed that made you want to throw yourself out the nearest window, skin slapping against wet skin.

And the worst part— He didn’t care.

Not even a little, he didn’t apologise in the morning when you were obviously running on two hours asleep- he laughed, patting your back — ‘maybe you should try it!’ then he’d steal a few bites of your breakfast and zoom out the dorm as if he had something better to do.

The fallout with Toji had spread faster than wildfire.

Whatever happened between them—no one was saying anything directly, but everyone knew. And just like that, Gojo’s usual crowd thinned out.

Even the woman—the ones who used to practically orbit him—kept their distance.

Maybe Gojo was definitely in the wrong in whatever he said or did to cause that effect.

“Ughhh…!”

His voice echoed through the dorm as he collapsed dramatically onto the couch, arm flung over his eyes like he was suffering from something far worse than his own ego taking a hit.

“I’m so— pent up!” he groaned. “Two weeks. Two weeks without sex!.”

You didn’t even look up from your laptop. The clicking of your keyboard continued, hoping it would soon drown out is constant whining.

He peeked at you from behind his arm, gaze lingering as if thinking about something. Then silence.

You thought—hoped—that would be the end of it.

It wasn’t.

You felt him before you heard him. The couch dipped beside you, then warmth—arms sliding around your waist without warning, his chin nearly brushing your shoulder.

“C’mooonn,”Gojo drawled, voice lower now, less theatrical—more coaxing. “Help me out… I’m not picky right now.”