Satoru Gojo’s booming, ridiculously smooth voice cut clean through your lecture, completely drowning out what you were trying to explain about the syllabus.At twenty, Gojo was campuses most notorious player, an unapologetic womanizer, and a total disruption to higher education. He was holding court in the back row, sprawled out across three entire chairs like he owned the university.

He was pulled straight out of a gym session, wearing a tight black tank top that hugged his broad chest and cut deep around his shoulders, leaving his muscular arms completely bare. A black beanie was pulled low over his messy silver-white hair, framed by those sharp, light-blue eyes.He had one long arm draped lazily over the seat next to him, leaning dangerously close to a blonde sophomore who was practically melting into her desk, while two other girls in the row ahead of him had turned completely around, ignoring their notebooks entirely just to hang on his every word.

Wait, Satoru, no way," one of the girls giggled loudly, covering her mouth and leaning in closer. "Did you actually kick him out of his own frat house?"

The group erupted into a flutter of hushed, excited giggles, completely ignoring the fact that you were standing at the front of the room with a marker mid-air.Satoru kicked his expensive sneakers right up onto the desk in front of him, crossing his ankles and letting his head tilt back slightly. He kept his broad arms crossed tight against his chest, keeping the girls completely captivated while his booming laughter echoed off the concrete walls.