#nerdjo x reader

[bowtiepasta]

nerdjo helps you study for your math finals by making you count the inches. get a tutor, they said. it’ll be good for you, they said.

you’re sure they meant a different kind of good. not the kind he asks about while he’s pushing into you, and pulling out inch by inch, calling it addition and subtraction. but you’re not one to complain. even if it’s been three slow, torturous hours of this.

him teasing, dangling you over the edge but never fully sinking in. yet his breathing gives him away — it’s as punishing to him as is it is to you, it so obviously is. so much so that his glasses collect fog, sliding down his nose and interrupting his ‘lesson’.

“how deep is it right now baby? you gettin’ tired yet?”

it’s ironic, really. how much of a slut he is. you know what they say about nerds, but you never expected.. this much. he’s normal. or at least he seemed to be. the posters in his room aren’t cut from magazines, they’re from comic books and conventions.

he walks his fingers from between your legs up to your navel, counting the ‘steps’ until he can press down on your stomach. “sweetheart, pay attention.” he whispers, “can’t have you failing.”

“if you wanna pass, we’re gonna have to start multiplying.”

[vinamari]

NERDJO who first notices you when you add to his ideas and explanation on electromagnetism and it’s applications on actuators

NERDJO that has a tight knit friend group but wants to talk to you but feels too shy

NERDJO in which he got laughed at by his friends at night because he was so flustered after ranting to you about Digimon after you asked him if he had any special interests

NERDJO who is always so quick and witty to answer questions or make snarky remarks in class but turns into a mess trying to talk to you outside of school

NERDJO that gets set up by Shoko and Geto by inviting you to Gojo’s dorm only to not be there, leaving the both of you alone under the guise they both had errands to run

NERDJO learns that day your interest in Pokémon so you both sit and rant to each other about your favorite characters before realizing you need to study

NERDJO becomes giddy when you end up sleeping over because of how late it was

NERDJO who’s friends tell him that he sees you more than just a friend from physics class

NERDJO that begins writing nerdy jokes about physics in your notebook column as a way to show his interest in you

NERDJO who you find very endearing and dorky, especially the little notes and doodles he leaves in your notebook

NERDJO who you notice rambles a lot about quantum physics and Digimon all while pointing at his computer screen and squinting

NERDJO who you have now learned to harbor feelings for and vice versa

[madamechrissy]

Just Friends!? - masterlist

Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six

-Art in the banner from nek0zuu_ on X-

Pairings- Former Nerd! Gojo and F! reader

Summary - Satoru Gojo was the biggest nerd EVER in high school with you, next door neighbors, study buddies, you were the best friends in the world. Never having the courage to ask you -the 'popular girl' out- you never knew he felt for you. He ended up leaving town, moving to the big city of LA- getting famous with a modeling career, and lost touch with everyone from his old life. While you're working the family pub to help out your parents, years later, he finally comes back to visit, just to have you making his drink. Everything about him is different, aside from those pretty blue eyes and the sweet grin. You feel he's so accomplished now, and you're just a small town girl, but little do you know, you've never left his mind.

CW- Will be explicit and smutty (it's me!?) based on the 2005 Rom com Just Friends - part of my amazinggg moot @indiewritesxoxo's Friday night flicks! 🌙 Nerdjo turned famous and cocky, but he's still just a Nerdjo deep down hehe- he'll have a whole retainer and he'll dance to boys to men a la the movieee

WC- 36k- ongoing

playlist:

Extras- Sukuna's POV here

Kofi link (if you feel generous & wanna buy me a ☕️

[yviqq]

nerdjo rant

the amount of mischaracterisation this fucker goes through, even in au, is insane 😭😭 becase gojo himself is already some fuckass nerd in canon that only understood stuff when explained in DIGIMON terms. in nerdjo au ppl say hes so shy and stutters n doesn't know hes attractive BROTHER ARE WE TALKING ABOUT THE SAME GODDAMN CHARACTER RN ?!!!?!?? nerdjo would be sooo cocky bruh he'd be one of those "um aksually 🤓" ahh fuckers that geniunely get on your nerves bcs of how entitled and know-it-all he is, not the fuckin nerd that drops all his books on the floor in a massive aura loss event and then goes "u-u-um s-s-s-sowwy 😣🥺" FUCK OOOFFFFFF that fucker has digimon n anime stickers all over his laptop and makes u think hes one of those weirdos that live in their parents basement n go crazy on discord w their e-kittens😭 until you approach the fuck n ask about his stickers. his unapproachable and resting bitch face will immediately fizzle and he'll start yapping about his interests n then realise he's yapped a little too much n stfu to recover from the aura loss.

sigh... anyways..... im not really THAT phased by people characterising Gojo like an uwu nerd 'cause it's your fic and you can do what you want i just wanna read more fics w cocky annoying fuck nerdjo 🥲🥲

[kisakunt]

nerdjo! who whines while he’s tutoring you. it’s been thirty five minutes and you’ve gotten through two problems, he reminds you. but you won’t stop changing the topic, or poking at his arm, or brushing his hair from off his glasses.

nerdjo! who begs you to stay up til midnight when you have a nine am lecture the next day so you can watch a new episode of his favorite, albeit lame, show with him because he wants to share it with you.

nerdjo! who, instead of bars, takes you to museums. he doesn’t act priss— he still laughs loudly at your jokes, he still slings an arm around your shoulder and tugs you along like you’re alone— but he does go into extensive detail when he sees an artifact he’s studied before or an art piece he looked up because it reminded him of you.

nerdjo! who calms you down when you have a big assignment coming up and insists on helping you with it (free of charge). he buys any supplies you may need, listens to you explain what you want to do with it, and compiles a step by step plan for how to achieve your goal as soon as possible.

nerdjo! who builds you lego flowers. call him lame, call him a child, but they’re forever! he says. he puts all but one together by himself and saves the very last one for you to do together, so the memory will last too.

nerdjo! who begs you to come with him to his optometrist appointment so he can make sure you still think he’s cute with his new frames. he wants to branch out, explore, switch it up— but he’s deathly afraid you’ll find him any less than handsome. he loves to impress you.

nerdjo! who knows you’re attracted to him. he knows he’s attractive as is, he’s not insecure about his looks. he’s an observant man, he knows what he does that makes you squeamish and he profits on it.

nerdjo! who pushes his glasses up while looking at you with two fingers. who tugs on ties he wears to interviews with one hand while he presses the other to your hip. who yanks his fingers through his hair and holds it in the air for just a second too long so you can see the way his eyes shine.

nerdjo! who, while he may be a nerd, radiates a confidence to him. that confidence shines through in moments like this, with his hands pushing your hips down as you desperately try to raise them.

nerdjo! who knows what he’s doing. his tongue is as precise as he is in between your thighs, lapping up at the sheer slick that covers you. he’s good at facts and memorization, so he’s memorized exactly when to flatten his tongue nice and slow and when to point it all fast like.

nerdjo! who moans when you do, rolling his hips into the bed as he continues dutifully. he’s obsessed. you’re everything, you’re the ground he walks on, you’re the hottest thing alive.

nerdjo! who has done this so many times it’s like religion to him. who is so used to your taste and your smell and the way you feel and it never gets old. and— no matter how many times he has been here, no matter how long he can last, no matter how little he’s being touched…

nerdjo! who cums in his pants more than half the time when he goes down on you. his whines vibrate against your clit, muffled by you dripping cunt.

nerdjo! who blushes a pink red, buries his face into your thigh, raises the pitch in his voice as he goes “couldn’t help it, baby, you’re so pretty… can i still fuck you?”

[mutedwinter]

Nerdjo who whenever you’re studying together, he constantly tries to rest his head on your shoulder, chest, or lap because he claims he “thinks better” when he’s touching you.

Nerdjo who before you started dating, he actually wrote all of this texts in his notes app to check for spelling errors so that he wouldn’t embarrass himself when he texted you.

Nerdjo who gets into heated debates with Geto about which Spider-Man movie is the best and will die on the hill that The Amazing Spider-Man is the correct one. (Geto says it’s the one with tobey… BOO! TOMATOES! BOO!)

Nerdjo who gets genuinely upset when people misinterpret a character’s motivations. Especially when it comes to the legend of korra.

Nerdjo who kisses like he’s trying to memorize the feeling, like he’s in awe that this is actually happening. the kisses are a little hesitant, sometimes a little desperate cause he’s a starved man.

Nerdjo who accidentally broke his glasses the first time you made out in his dorm. (He got too into it and tossed them on the bed before they were inevitably crushed later on.)

Nerdjo who kicks his feet and giggles in the solitude of his dorm whenever you text or call him. (Geto is never home when this happens or he would never live this down until he died.)

Nerdjo who’s actually majoring in social work to help children in the foster system find homes (he will later on foster to adopt megumi!)

Nerdjo who is constantly talking about the hunger games books being better than the movies. If you say you liked the movies, he’ll be personally offended. (HE HATES THAT THEY LEFT OUT SO DAMN MUCH!)

Nerdjo who’s been planning your inevitable engagement since your first date. I mean…bro is like down bad. (It’s lowkey embarrassing. I didn’t say that, shoko did!)

Nerdjo who’s actually a lightweight. He’s not really a drinker because he says that it tastes awful. The last time he drank, he blacked out and ended up in the hospital. (It was something about his ankle getting slammed in a car door… no one really remembers honestly)

Divider by @v6que

[saatorus]

whisper of the heart — a nerdjo fic

synopsis — after reading about a book series that mirrored everything you’d loved about a past favourite, you were thrilled to find it in your college library. the copies were old—worn enough to still have checkout cards—but what caught your attention was the same set of initials, G.S., scrawled across nearly every one. the same G.S. who had filled the margins with sharp, thoughtful annotations. you couldn’t stop yourself from thoroughly enjoying the silly little comments written in the margins, leaving your own notes alongside theirs. it wasn’t until much later that you realised G.S. wasn’t some long-gone bookworm. it was none other than the man you had sworn to hate. gojo satoru.

pairing — nerd! satoru x reader

genre — academic rivals to lovers, somewhat inspired by my fav ghibli movie 'whisper of the heart' and my fav book 'if you could see the sun' by ann liang :)

tag list status — closed, the fic has been posted!

teaser wc — 1.4k

estimated final wc — 20k+

release date — unknown but hopefully within this month.

warnings — sexual content after hefty tension, mentions of feeling insecure, smidge of angst, will probably update as i go along.

"You all can come and grab the papers now—do not ask me for any re-evaluations, the mark presented on the paper is your final mark—"

You barely listen. The professor could be reading a grocery list for all you care. Your focus is already on the stack of midterms in his hands, your heart pounding like a drum against your ribs.

The exam had been brutal—200 marks, covering classical mechanics and electromagnetism, some of the toughest material in your Physics II course. Past students had called it a horror show, a midterm designed to crush dreams and expose weaknesses. It was weighted heavily in your final grade, which meant every single mark mattered.

The room is filled with a tense hum, a mixture of eager whispers and anxious murmurs. Some students hesitate in their seats, mentally preparing themselves before facing their doom. But you? You don't wait. You weave through the aisles, manoeuvring past people, determined to be one of the first to grab your paper.

And, of course, Gojo is right behind you.

"Jeez, you could at least pretend to be patient," he muses, his tone dripping with amusement as he strolls lazily down the steps, hands shoved in the pockets of his hoodie.

You roll your eyes. "Not all of us have the luxury of cruising through exams without trying."

"I do try," he says, flashing you a grin. "I try just enough."

Before you can shoot back a response, you reach the professor’s desk. Professor Takeda raises an unimpressed brow as he sorts through the papers.

"You two again," he sighs. "Half my life as a professor has been spent watching you bicker."

"Don't be dramatic, sir," Gojo says smoothly, resting an elbow on the desk. "It's only been three years."

Takeda shakes his head, muttering something under his breath about headaches before handing you your paper. You grab it without waiting, fingers slightly shaking as you flip it over.

98.

The relief rushes through you instantly, so strong you can’t help the triumphant burst of excitement.

"Ninety-eight!" you blurt out, beaming as you hug the paper to your chest. It’s a damn near perfect score, and after all those sleepless nights, all those hours of grinding through problem sets—you earned this.

Gojo, still waiting for his turn, glances at you with an expression you can’t quite place. His usual smirk is still there, but there’s something else—something quieter, almost thoughtful, before he smooths it over with his usual easy confidence.

Takeda hands him his paper. Gojo flips it over, barely reacting as he reads the number at the top.

"Ninety-five."

Your grin widens.

"You mean I beat you?" You practically bounce on your heels. "Me? The one you said was ‘too uptight’ and needed to ‘relax and accept second place’? Me?"

Gojo exhales through his nose, shaking his head, as he folds his paper out of your sight. "Don't get too cocky," he drawls, shoving the paper under his arm. "It’s just three points."

"Three points above you."

"For now," he corrects smoothly, nudging your shoulder as he moves past you.

It’s been this way since freshman year.

You and Gojo had ended up in the same introductory physics course, and from the very first midterm, it was clear: you were the only two truly competing at the top of the class.

But while you poured everything into studying—late nights, flashcards, equations scribbled on napkins—Gojo seemed to barely put in the effort. He’d show up late to lectures, half-asleep in sweatpants, glasses slightly skewed, yet somehow still aced every exam. He never took notes, never stressed, never seemed to break a sweat.

It drove you insane.

Because no matter how hard you tried, how much effort you put in—he was always right there with you. Sometimes ahead, sometimes just behind, but never far enough to ignore.

And worst of all? He made it look easy.

By now, the entire physics department knew about your rivalry. Professors expected you to fight over test scores. Study groups would take bets on who would score higher. Even during practical lab sessions, it was always a silent battle—who could get through the calculations faster, who could figure out the trick questions first.

You hated him.

And now, after years of this, you finally had something over him.

A small, almost imperceptible shift in the universe.

You beat Gojo Satoru.

As soon as class ends, you’re practically floating out of the lecture hall, midterm still clutched in your hands. The second you step into the cafeteria, your eyes scan the room for your friend, and when you finally spot her at your usual table, you don’t even bother with a greeting.

“I got a ninety-eight,” you announce, sliding into the seat across from her with an undeniably smug grin. “And I beat Gojo.”

Her head snaps up from her laptop. “Wait— Gojo Gojo?”

You roll your eyes. “As opposed to what? Some other Gojo in our department?”

“Oh my God, you actually did it?” she gasps, setting her drink down as she stares at you in something close to awe. “I thought that man was unstoppable.”

“Well, turns out he’s not.” You lean back in your chair, stretching your arms above your head. “Guess he finally met his match.”

Your friend is still blinking at you in disbelief when a voice cuts in from behind you, slow and amused.

“One good score, and you think you’re the shit.”

You freeze.

Then, before you can even turn around, Gojo is already there, stepping up behind you like a shadow that refuses to be ignored. You feel the presence of him—tall, lazy, entirely too smug—before you even lift your head to meet his gaze.

He’s leaning in just slightly, close enough to loom, his hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie. That familiar, insufferable smirk is plastered on his face, condescending and infuriatingly amused.

You huff. “Can’t a girl enjoy her victory in peace?”

He tilts his head, that same damned smirk never wavering. “Victory?” he echoes, voice dripping with mockery. “You’re getting ahead of yourself, aren’t you? One midterm doesn’t erase three years of domination.”

You scoff, crossing your arms. “Oh, please. Like you’ve actually dominated me.”

“Oh, you want me to bring out the stats?” Gojo hums, slipping into the seat beside you like he owns the place. He props his elbow on the table, resting his cheek on his palm as he begins, “Physics I final—97 to your 96. Thermodynamics midterm? 95 to your 91. Electromagnetic Fields exam—”

You groan. “Jesus Christ, you memorized all of them?”

“You think I don’t keep track?” He arches a brow, eyes glinting with amusement. “It’s not my fault I have a consistent history of kicking your ass.”

Your friend snorts into her drink. “He kinda has a point—”

You shoot her a glare.

Gojo, meanwhile, is clearly having the time of his life. He leans in, that imposing height of his making his presence impossible to ignore, his voice dropping just slightly, almost teasing.

“But sure,” he drawls, chin resting in his hand. “Enjoy your one win, (name). I’ll let you have it.”

You grip your cup so tightly the plastic crinkles. “Let me have it?”

“Mmm.” He tilts his head, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “Wouldn’t want you to cry when I obliterate you on the final.”

Your friend nudges you under the table, mouthing he’s so full of shit, but you barely register it—because the air between you and Gojo is charged in a way that makes your stomach twist.

You won’t admit it out loud, but part of you wonders— is this how he always talks to you? So close, so taunting, like he enjoys watching you bristle.

You hate how natural it feels, how effortless the rhythm of your bickering has become.

But more than anything, you hate the way your heart stutters when he pushes himself out of his chair, hands still stuffed in his pockets, and grins down at you like he already knows how the next round of this fight is going to end.

“You should really start studying,” he hums, walking backward toward the exit. “You’ll need it.”

And with that, he’s gone, leaving you fuming at the table.

Your friend watches him go, eyebrows raised. “So, uh,” she says slowly. “Are we sure you guys aren’t flirting?”

You glare at her.

“I hate him.”

She smirks. “Mhm.

a/n: umm.. hi.. first time writing a full length fic (ignore that i wrote a 10k fic and still lowkey think it was a drabble i am so used to reading long ass fics) but idk how tumblr works but if you wanna be tagged just uhhh comment haha eats cement

[ohimsummer]

PUCKER UP! ft. NERDJO

— minors dni, nerdjo x meangirl! reader, college! au, pegging, ass-eating, this started getting sloppy nasty lmao reader is a freak fr, hints of stsg, pet names (pretty boy, princess), kind of proofread

wc 3k….😭

it's easy to get satoru to do anything for you.

he's caught off guard when he opens the door to his dorm and you’re shoving yet another homework assignment in his hands, backing him into the room. he's easily victim to honeyed words from your glossy lips, the flutter of your eyelashes. though, if that isn't enough, a firm palm to his already-hardening bulge is sure to get you whatever you want. the gesture is topped off with a promised reward of sucking him dry, however, you're both painfully aware that you would have done so anyway.

satoru settles beside you on his bed, where you lay browsing through social media. he works dutifully, though still listening and responding to the mindless school gossip that no one else would ever let him know about. you keep him well-informed.

twenty minutes have passed, and you spare the papers a glance. it astounds you that satoru is already halfway finished in less than thirty minutes with what would have taken you at least an hour. it's easy for him...maybe a little too easy. maybe a little unfair.

"you're working too fast.", you huff, wrinkling your nose.

satoru pauses, pen hovering over the paper. he looks between you and your homework. "... is that a problem...?"

you sit up on his bed, staring in disdain at the half-finished work in his lap. "if it was? you're not just rushing, are you?"

here he comes with the pouting. satoru is extremely confident in his work, and he knows you know he'd never let you get a bad grade. "don't critique me, i know what i'm doing–“

"bend over, i'm bored."

his jaw falls slack as you tug open the drawer next to his bed, and pull out the lengthy, baby-blue toy hidden away.

"you–, now–?", he sputters. "i'm in the middle of–"

"oh, shut it, shut it.", you wave off his complaints with a manicured hand. "can't you multitask?"

satoru opens his mouth to give a snarky reply, but his words fall short when you slip the tip of the dildo between your lips. he can feel your eyes on him, but his gaze won't leave the way the toy disappears into your mouth, and blood goes rushing to fill the half-erect hard-on he's been sporting since you got here.

you pull the dildo from your mouth with a 'pop!'. "so? be a good boy and bend over for me?"

it's kind of funny, how you don't even have to touch him or bat a lash or use that one flirty tone that makes his head spin, yet satoru still tugs his own shirt off and pants down. he faces away to lower his head and present his round ass to you. a finger traces over the hem of his boxers, embedded with two bold sets of initials on them: yours and an S.G. not satoru's own name, of course.

with a quick kiss to his thigh, you're pulling the white boxers down his legs and tossing them inside. satoru's asshole sits bare and on display for you, puckered and twitching as you admire him.

as if reading your thoughts, he mumbles, "don't stare so much..."

you break gaze with the hole inches from your face to raise a brow at your boyfriend. "shouldn't you be doing my homework?"

"uh–“, he scrambles to form a sentence."yeah, but–"

"pass me the lube and the harness, too."

satoru obeys your command, reaching into the still-open drawer to pull out a bottle of strawberry-flavoured lubricant and a light blue, leather harness. he reaches back a hand to give it to you, where you snatch both items from his grasp and satoru immediately hears the sound of the tube cap clicking open.

not wanting to be chastised again, satoru tries his hardest to steer his focus back to the papers beside him. the pencil trembles in his hand, but he manages to write all of three words before feeling your finger circling his hole.

he jolts, his face flushes at your mischievous giggle behind him, and satoru coerces his body to relaxation once more. it's a feat which is basically impossible when his mind is fixed on the way your finger traces the rim of his entrance, and the more subtle, wet sounds of you massaging lube into the dildo.

"i don't see you doing any work.", you scold him, and satoru yelps when you pluck a harsh finger against his hole. despite the surprise, his dick twitches at the mild discomfort.

pushing himself again to focus on the blurry words and math problems in front of him, satoru mashes the lead a little harder than he should into the paper, clenching the pencil tightly in his fist. he blocks out the movements and sounds going on behind him: the slick pumping of the dildo strapped to your waist, your other hand clutching and gripping either ass cheek in your palm, sinking nails into the skin for a quick lesson in pain before the pad of your thumb pokes and prods at his puckered hole again.

this lasts for what seems like an eternity before a new sensation sends a shiver up his spine, something that forces a gasp from his lips and raises the thin hairs on his neck. it's warm, wet, and familiar—the overwhelming feel of your tongue bullying its way into his insides.

"hey, hey, i–i won't be able to focus if you're doing that–!", satoru whines, but you pay him no mind. his fists wrench the fabric of the comforter as the slimy, pink muscle worms inside.

behind him, you moan at the flavor, slipping your tongue from his orifice to flatten it against his pale skin, running it from satoru's balls to the top of his ass crack. satoru flinches when you spit on his hole, and whines like a mutt in heat at the sloppy way you make out with his asshole. every kiss and bite to his cheeks has him tightening around your tongue, but you wriggle it with a driven intent to get him nice and loose for the absolute pounding you're about to bestow upon him. it's disgusting, and satoru fucking loves it.

he's so lost in you and your heavenly tongue that he almost doesn't register the warmth spreading in his lower body. it's at the last second that satoru lets out a strangled moan and his first orgasm comes washing over him. ropes of cum shoot out to coat his bare thighs and chiseled abdomen as satoru squirms from the sheer pleasure. he's so fidgety, he almost lets your assignment go slipping off the edge of the bed. it’s grabbed just in time, and he shoves it a little further away to avoid any more of the wet spots his drool has already stained into them.

you let him have his fun, come down from his little high, and then satoru feels your touch retreat from his sensitive behind. "did you still plan on getting that done today, or...?"

satoru shivers, and cranes his neck to give you a puppy-eyed gaze, tears having built up on his lash line. "...it's hard."

his poor, pathetic, puppy-dog tone and the deep pink tint across his cheeks and up to his ears yank at your heartstrings. it's times like this where you feel bad for being mean to him, even if it's all an act. satoru's just so fucking cute, he reminds you that can't keep up the cruel demeanor towards him forever.

"ohh.", you coo at your nerdy, loser boyfriend and peck short kisses onto his ass cheeks. "you want me to go slower, baby?"

"yes. yes, please.", he whines. "i can't focus to finish your work."

so adorable. truthfully you couldn't give less of a fuck about the papers anymore, but it's still a little endearing that even in such a position, satoru is still determined to get you the passing grade you don't deserve.

as promised, you take it down a notch, just to give him more control of his thoughts. and satoru figured taking things a step back would do wonders when you weren't absolutely ravishing his hole, but this...this may be significantly worse.

the once intense fervor of your movements has been replaced with a skillful precision. every stroke and flick of your tongue around his rim feels more pleasurable than the last, and satoru's cock jerks and aches at the slow, sensual sucks to his ass. you replace the dig of your nails with the occasional, unforgiving smack!, only to layer on top a coat of soothing kisses. the drawn-out movements make him even more conscious of every single thing you're doing.

but still, your plan was to grace him with some mercy, and satoru won't allow you to say he didn't at least try. so, with newfound strength, he squeezes the pen in his hand, and he gets to work.

his body remains painfully aware of the thrills and pleasure you shower him with, and satoru struggles to keep those feelings at bay from distracting his mind. it's a challenge, but satoru does likes a challenge, and he finds he's managed to complete the remaining bottom half of the current page. this is it. he's on the final paper, so close to the finish line, before he can stop having to worry about it. and then he feels your gentle tap on his thigh.

it takes him out of the space he's forced himself into. satoru turns until he just sees you in his peripherals. "huh? what's wrong?"

"nothing.", you reassure him. "do you want to pack that up before i start?"

'start?', he thinks, and then he feels the slap of the rubber dildo between his ass cheeks. "ah, um–“

his throat goes dry, and you gliding the heavy length back-and-forth along his asshole doesn't help in the slightest.

"just do your best, okay? i'm happy with a B."

satoru isn't happy with anything below an A-, but the complaint is stripped from his tongue as he feels the thick tip of your cock sinking into his hole. even with your slow movements, it knocks the wind from his lungs, and all he can let out is a choked moan. stuck gripping the streets, his cheek is smushed against the bed and his mouth agape, until satoru finally feels you flush against the back of his thighs.

there’s a beat, then your encouraging voice in his ear: “breath, satoru.”

a second later and you can see the tension leaving his larger, toned body. your hands make a delicate path up the curve of his back, massaging his sensitive nape which leaves him gasping, before one of them trails back up his spine. you apply pressure as you go, further pronouncing the arch in satoru’s pliant body, and the wandering hand ends at his hip.

slowly, you unsheathe the girthy, faux length from his ass, revealing more and more and more until only the tip remains. his hole tightens, and you don’t think you’ve ever been so jealous of both a man or a piece of fucking silicone in your entire life. you’d kill to have a real one right now, to feel satoru’s moist insides and the way he’d clench around you, sucking you in further and further until you were stuck balls deep in him. it’s fucking unfair.

“m–move, please.”, he begs in such a soft mewl. so needy, so impatient. so spoiled as you plunge your cock into him again.

a sharp gasp flees his lips, followed by satoru's strangled moan as you bury yourself to the hilt. there’s a prominent vein on the back of his hand from how tightly he grips the sheets, pillow, anything satoru can get his hands on.

though you move languidly, satoru quickly dissolves into an utter wreck. your hands hold tight onto his waist with initial intent to keep him steady, but his moans bring out a crazed animal in you. soon you're manhandling him back-and-forth to meet the ever-growing roughness of your thrusts. the sound of you pounding into him can't even be heard over the slutty noises tumbling out into the open air, hitting all four walls to fill the dorm room. it makes you ache, yearning for some relief other than the occasional friction of the harness against your clit.

"fuck, you're so hot.", you lean down and pant against his ear. satoru babbles something you can’t understand, and it makes you laugh. you can't help mock him a little.

"so loud, too.", comes the bratty taunt, and satoru whimpers out a barely coherent 'sorry'. god, he's so cute and pathetic. you feel like you're bullying him, corrupting your little nerd boyfriend, and it turns you on tenfold.

"aren't people living in the dorm next to you? they’re gonna be pissed.", you tease further, though never letting up on your thrusts and in fact picking up the pace. "these walls are pretty thin. suguru was here yesterday, did you get a noise complaint?"

"mhm."

that response catches you off guard—his audible confirmation along with a weak nod of the head.

"are you serious?" satoru nods again, and you let out an incredulous scoff. "damn, i was just kidding. i may have to go harder, then, i want them to know how well i treat you, too!"

it’s all gibberish in satoru's mind. with such scrambled thoughts, he can barely hold on to a thing you're saying, let alone worry about maintaining his now continuously waning status as a considerate neighbor.

"c'mere." your words sound muffled amongst the fog in his head. satoru strains his eyes and barely sees your blurry figure hovering over him. "pass me the pillow, babe."

he flails a feeble hand in the general direction of said object, finally landing on the soft cushion and using what—in his current state—feels like an absurd amount of strength in order to hand it back to you. a second later, he feels you tugging at his waist. “lift your hips up.” and, ever the helpful boyfriend, satoru uses every bit of remaining energy in his bones to raise his body.

"look at you, my good little loser." he feels you squeeze the pillow between him and the bed, and then goes limp again beneath you. his cock twitches at the soft pressure surrounding his length. it reminds him of a fleshlight, something you and suguru make sure he's extremely familiar with.

there's a 'smack!', and satoru whimpers at the sharp slap to one of his ass cheeks. you knead at the fat flesh in your hands, dulling the pain, and pull satoru’s ass apart to stare at the way his hole quivers and tightens around you.

"do you like being lazy?”, you tease. "letting me do most of the work?" he nods. "say it. tell me you’re my pretty little pillow princess.”

"i’m y–your pretty–, pretty pillow princess.", satoru moans with a cheek against the mattress, and lets out a feeble cry when you give his ass another loud smack.

"mmm, yeah." a sinister grin paints itself across your lips. your hands continue squeezing satoru’s sore ass in your palms, and your boyfriend groans in pleasure as you begin fucking into him again. "fuck, such a good toy for me."

you say something else, something he doesn’t hear, if not for satoru’s bedframe thudding against the wall, or the lewd slapping of skin on skin, then definitely because of his own moans echoing in his ears. there’s a short pause. satoru registers the dip of the mattress on each side of his head, and the blurry details of your manicure. the ticklish touch of your fingers brush against his forehead, moving locks of stark white hair to reveal more of his gorgeous face.

"my pretty boy.”

satoru whines at the praise before feeling the length of your cock rubbing against his prostate. it's calm at first, a frustratingly slow grind against his ass where he can feel the silicone balls of your strap up against his own. but soon you're picking up pace, slamming into him with each thrust, thrusts that send satoru flying forward every time you plunge deep into him again. every rock of your hips against his brushes satoru’s leaking cock harder and faster along the pillow under his body. it feels out of this world, and all too much to endure.

the heat and pleasure overrunning satoru has steadily evolved from a slow trickle, to growing waves, to a huge tsunami bearing down on him. his entire body is searing; he releases a particularly loud cry of your name as cum shoots straight into the fluff of the pillow, soaking deep inside the fabric as waves of pleasure flood over him. tears burn at his hazy, blue eyes, making it impossible to see clearly, but that doesn't matter when satoru's eyes are wrenched shut anyway as you slow to another grind against his ass, fucking him through his final orgasm.

satoru lies there, trembling and taking in heaving breathes of air. he lets out one last pathetic whimper when you pull out, leaving his hole tragically empty, but still accepts the press of a few soft kisses to his pink, tear-stained cheeks.

"satoru?", you whisper softly against his ear. “all good?” and you give him another kiss on the forehead when he gives a weak nod. "atta boy, you did so well. i'm going to get you a towel, 'kay?"

your boyfriend only makes a weak effort to grasp your hand, but you understand what he’s asking for, regardless. “fine, pretty boy. i’m right here, just relax and catch your breath for me.”

and, as usual, satoru follows your instructions without question. he is comforted by the gentle squeeze of your hand, the caress of your fingers through his hair, and the doting kisses you place on his shoulders, neck, and face. eventually, his brain is empty, drained. satoru begins dozing off to sleep in a far-away land—away from his room and away from homework, yet still surrounded by your soft, lingering presence.

🩵: @staryukis @lxnarphase @anthoosies @deepenthevoid @bubblez-blop @luvvmae @risuola @bunnymacaron @snowsilver2000 @hellkaiserinphoenix @cinnamoneve @satoruxsc @starlightanyaaa @domainexpansionmypants @giasssslife @babytoshiii @kissesfrombelle @v0ctin @purplegemadventures @luvvforliaa @apatuaia @sataraxia @leilalilox @sugu-love @manyno @the-monster-under-the-bed @blindbabycadder @xinfvl @jianyuu4mii @sherb3t @sugoroo @hellokittyish @satorvs @notdwenby @mamshousehusband @rubiesoferebor @andyramblingstuff @gojosbabyma @ravenbc @superkoolartist @nillosgarden

[gojosoups]

saw this on twitter, nerdjo giving you backshots while studying for his upcoming midterm tmr

[writeriguess]

hey neema, i was going to request a jjk nerdjo fic! something with smut and fluff please!

Sweet Surrender

Gojo sat cross-legged on the bed, glasses perched on his nose, completely absorbed in the book resting on his lap. You watched him with amusement from where you lay, curled up against the pillows.

“You know,” you mused, stretching lazily, “for someone as naturally talented as you, I didn’t expect you to be such a nerd about everything.”

He hummed, flipping a page. “Oh, come on. Do you really think I’d go into anything unprepared?” He glanced at you over the rim of his glasses, a smirk playing at his lips. “Especially something this important?”

Your eyes flickered to the title of the book: The Art of Female Pleasure. Heat rushed to your face. “You’re—wait, are you actually studying how to—”

“Make you feel amazing? Yeah.” He shrugged like it was the most normal thing in the world. “I mean, it’s just logical, right? Why wouldn’t I want to be the best at it?”

You groaned, hiding your face in your hands, but the flutter in your chest was undeniable. No one had ever cared like this before.

“You’re ridiculous,” you mumbled, but when you peeked up at him, he was watching you with something softer in his expression.

Gojo reached over, cupping your cheek. “I just want to make you feel good, sweetheart.” His voice was quiet now, intimate. “If that means doing a little research, then so be it.”

The teasing edge was still there, but his sincerity had you melting. He set the book aside and shifted closer, fingertips tracing slow, featherlight patterns along your arm. “Can I?” he asked, giving you the chance to back out, but you were already nodding.

The first press of his lips was chaste, reverent even. He kissed you slow, taking his time, as if memorising the shape of your mouth. His hands wandered—one slipping under your shirt to splay against your bare waist, the other tangling in your hair as he deepened the kiss.

By the time he pulled away, your breathing was uneven, and so was his. “God, you’re beautiful,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your jaw, then down the column of your throat. His hands moved to the hem of your shirt, waiting for permission before peeling it off.

He took his time exploring you, mapping out what made you shiver, what made you sigh. His fingers trailed lower, ghosting over your stomach before finally slipping between your thighs. A quiet groan left him when he found you already wet for him.

"You're so soft," he whispered, easing a finger inside you, slow and careful. His lips brushed against your temple as he moved, curling his fingers just right. “Is this okay?”

You whimpered, nodding.

He added another, stretching you gently, watching your every reaction like it was the most fascinating thing in the world. “You’re perfect,” he murmured, his free hand brushing damp strands of hair from your forehead. “And so, so beautiful like this.”

By the time he withdrew his fingers, your body was trembling, desperate for more. He stripped off his sweats, his cock hard and flushed, leaking at the tip.

“Okay, I read about this part,” he said, laughing breathlessly. “I should go slow.”

You giggled, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Yes, Gojo. Slow is good.”

He grinned, pressing a kiss to your lips as he guided himself to your entrance, sinking into you inch by inch, taking his time, letting you adjust. His breath hitched when he finally bottomed out, his forehead resting against yours.

“God, you feel so good,” he whispered, kissing you between each word. “I love you.”

And as he started to move, slow and deep, every thrust punctuated with quiet praises and soft kisses, you knew—you had never been loved like this before.

Gojo moved slowly, his cock filling you in a way that had your breath catching in your throat. He watched your face with awe, like he wanted to burn the sight of you into his memory—flushed cheeks, parted lips, eyes hazy with pleasure.

“You’re so perfect,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your lips before trailing more down your jaw, your throat. “You’re taking me so well.”

His movements were unhurried, every slow thrust angled just right, dragging delicious friction against your sensitive walls. But he wasn’t just relying on that. His hand slipped between your bodies, fingertips seeking your swollen clit, rubbing gentle circles as he rocked into you.

Your back arched, a strangled moan escaping your lips. He groaned at the way you clenched around him, his head falling against your shoulder. “Fuck, sweetheart, you’re squeezing me so tight,” he murmured, voice thick with restraint.

He kept his pace steady, pushing you closer and closer to the edge with every deliberate movement. His lips never left you—kissing your temple, your cheek, whispering praise against your skin.

“You’re doing so good,” he breathed, thumb pressing just a little firmer against your clit. “Come for me, baby. I need to feel you.”

The combination of his deep strokes and the steady pressure on your clit was overwhelming, pleasure winding tight in your core. It only took a few more thrusts before the coil inside you snapped.

Your orgasm hit like a wave, rolling through you with devastating intensity. Your walls fluttered around him, your body trembling as pleasure crashed over you. Gojo cursed under his breath, his hands gripping your hips as he slowed, letting you ride it out.

“That’s it, baby,” he murmured, his voice nothing but pure adoration. “So beautiful when you come for me.”

Your body was still shivering with aftershocks when he resumed his movements, his pace a little less controlled now, a little more desperate. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath ragged.

“Shit,” he groaned, his thrusts becoming uneven. “Baby, can I—fuck—can I come inside you?”

You barely hesitated, nodding as you tangled your fingers in his hair. “Yes, Gojo. Please.”

A broken moan left him at your permission, his hips stuttering as he finally let go. He pressed himself deep inside you with one final thrust, his body tensing before warmth flooded your core. He gasped your name, his grip tightening on you as he spilled himself inside, his cock pulsing with each wave of pleasure.

For a moment, neither of you moved, both of you just breathing, wrapped up in the heat of each other’s bodies. Then Gojo let out a breathless laugh, pressing a lazy kiss to your shoulder.

“Holy shit,” he mumbled, his voice dazed. “That was—wow.”

You giggled, still a little lightheaded, and he kissed you again, softer this time, full of lingering warmth.

“You okay?” he asked, brushing damp strands of hair from your face.

You nodded, your body completely relaxed against him. “More than okay.”

His grin softened as he cupped your face. “Good. Because I plan on making you feel this good every single time.”

And as he pulled you closer, holding you tight against his chest, you had no doubt that he meant it.

[snail-day]

You got this, Nerdjo!

Part One // Next Part // Masterlist

Gojo Satoru was not stalking you. He just happened to be standing in the board games aisle of the popular bookstore near campus. At the same time you were. For the third time this week. Total coincidence. Really. He was just hear for an expansion pack. For Dice. Okay maybe he is here for you. He's been thinking about you since the moment he saw you checking out the Gundam section last week. Really. He wanted to give you his opinion but...he didn't want to seem like a total dick. A mansplainer of sorts.

Oh god, there you are again. Picking up a game. Oh you look so focused. So beautiful. So smart. Wait, is that - oh no. Not that one.

You were reaching for a notoriously convoluted board game, one even Redditors have many complaints about, and before he could stop himself, his feet were moving. Mouth was moving. Everything was moving except his common sense.

Okay, Satoru. Tap the shoulder. Speak. Be your usual charming self. It's just a girl. A very pretty girl. Say something. Be normal.

He tapped your shoulder. Lightly. You turned to look at him with the kind of expression one might give to a stranger who had absolutely no business tapping them in a bookstore. Which, honestly, he didn't have the business to do. Then cleared his throat - loudly, awkwardly - and blurted out:

"Ireallydontthinkyoushouldpickupthatgametherulesaredifficultactuallytherulesdon'tevenmakesenseImeanwhoevencameupwiththem - "

Oh my god. Oh my god. Did I just say that out loud? What did I just say?

First, your brows knit together slowly as you blinked, turning towards him with a touch of confusion and offense on your face.

“You don’t think I can understand… the rules?”

Shitshitshit

His heart dropped straight to his ass.

Going to throw up. Going to throw up. Going to throw up.

How am I fumbling this bad?

He could practically see the social bar above his head draining to zero. As your very pretty, bright eyes stared up at him. He wondered just where did you get those eyes from? His future mother-in-law or father-in-law? Wait no don't be fucking weird.

“No, oh god no! I didn’t mean - uh, that’s not - I think you could totally get it! I mean, you probably solve logic puzzles for fun! You look like you’re really good at thinking! Wait, not that you look like a nerd, but - uh - like, in a hot way - shit, no, I mean - "

End me. Just smite me down right here between Settlers of Catan and Uno.

Waving his hands now, panicking in real time. You, somehow composed, just turned the game box over and calmly read the back, letting him spiral like a dying Beyblade.

“I just meant - it’s a bad game,” he added weakly. “Like, the win condition is unclear and the rulebook has typos and there’s no official errata - it's just, um… bad design.”

You finally looked back up at him. “So what game would you recommend?”

For a second, Gojo just stood there.

You're still talking to me. Oh god. Oh no. You, beautiful and stunning, want my opinion. My professional opinion. I can’t screw this up

“S-Splendor,” Satoru blurted, voice cracking at the edges. “Or maybe Wingspan? No wait. Cascadia? Or - do you like deck-building mechanics? I could make a whole list. I actually have a spreadsheet. A whole reddit. ”

You absolute loser.

But you were… smiling. Just a little. And nodding like you were genuinely interested.

Gojo, poor nerd Gojo, practically short-circuited on the spot.

You ended up leaving the store with a board game you didn’t plan on buying. Not because of the game, really. But because the tall, twitchy, white-haired guy with far too much enthusiasm had somehow roped you into a monologue about probability mechanics, game balance, and “that one time my friend Nanami rage quit a co-op dungeon crawl.”

He was… weird. But kind of charming. In a feral raccoon digging through your trash for affection kind of way.

“So, uh,” he said, hovering beside you outside the store, practically bouncing on his heels, “if you ever want to, y’know, play a game or something - like, totally casually, not like, a date, unless you want it to be, which - no pressure - uh - I just thought maybe you’d be into - um…”

He trailed off. Heart thundering. Couldn't even ask Reddit for Advice You stared. He swallowed. Blinking rapidly, those pretty-blues darted anywhere but you.

“…I run a D&D campaign,” Satoru said suddenly. “Every Friday night. Very low-commitment! Very chill! High-level story arcs. I made all the NPCs. I do voices. I - it’s cool. I swear.”

What are you doing what are you DOING you weren’t supposed to tell them about the campaign yet they’ll think you’re weird this is why you don’t have a girlfriend Satoru you idiot -

But you smiled. Then handed him your phone - little charm dangling off the case. Something cute. You probably picked out without a second thought. God, he’d kill to have matching phone charms with you.

“…Add your number,” you said. “Text me the details.”

He blinked at the phone, questioning how he is worthy enough to text you. Then promptly fumbled it, typed his name with three emojis, deleted them, re-added one, panicked, backspaced everything, and tried again.

You mentioned you had class.

Right. You're busy. That's fine. Yes. He has your number. Oh god why is his heart pounding so loud. Can you hear it? Could you feel it when his hand brushed against yours?

Satoru nodded too fast. Rushed words as you trailed away with a wave. He was left there wondering what your major was. Who you knew. If you'd actually show up next Friday. If he’d just imagined all of this.

When he finally texted you later, it read:

Hey it’s Gojo from the bookstore 🧠 I asked my party and there’s a spot open in the campaign 👀 you’d be perfect. Unless you hate fun. Then we can just play Wingspan lol anyway let me know!! pls 🥺

And before you could even respond, another message came in.

also pls ignore any typos i'm at the gym 💪getting ready for all those monsters we're going to be slayin ⚔️

Friday night. Gojo’s apartment. He had cleaned. Like, deep cleaned. Scrubbed corners no one would ever look at. Decorated the bathroom. Lit a candle that smelled like vanilla and cedar. (He may or may not have spent an hour on Reddit reading forums titled “What candle scents make girls fall in love with you?” and this one had the best upvotes.)

He had set the scene. Maps unfurled like ancient scrolls of destiny. Dice sets lined up in a neat little rainbow offering to the gods of chance. Snacks meticulously arranged in what was supposed to be a dragon shape, though now it looked like a pile with tiny wings. Still. It was the thought that counted.

Everything was ready.

You're coming. Oh god. You're really coming. You're gonna sit here. With me. Maybe next to me. Or maybe not. No - no, no, you can sit next to Shoko. Or Nanami. Shit. What if you like Nanami? Oh my god, what if you like Nanami and not me? He’s got that broody thing.

He paced.

Screw it. Just play my campaign. Laugh at my jokes. Please. Just - please think I’m cool. Just once. Please don’t see through how desperate I am.

He adjusted his glasses. Then adjusted them again. Re-checked his rulebooks even though he wrote half the notes inside them himself. He’d already rehearsed your character’s intro fifteen times. But he did it again.

“…and as the tavern door creaks open, a figure steps through the mist. Cloaked in shadows, yet - no. No, too dramatic. They’ll think I’m trying too hard. Which I am, but like, subtle. Okay. Again - ”

His voice cracked mid-practice. He flopped down into his DM chair, then stood up again two seconds later, muttering, “Nope, can’t sit. Gonna combust.”

They’re gonna be here soon. They’re gonna walk through that door and I’m gonna die. Literally die. Headlines: Local Dungeon Master Dies When Pretty Person Shows Up.

The doorbell buzzed. Satoru physically jolted. Then stood there frozen in front of the door, hands out like he was about to catch a falling star. Or a live grenade.

Okay. Okay. It’s fine. Just breathe. Be normal. Don’t say anything weird. Don't tell them about the custom soundtrack you made for their backstory. Don't confess anything emotionally compromising in the first five minutes.

He opened the door. A stupid smile formed on his face.

Is he blushing? Please don't be blushing. Oh no. They’re even cuter than I remembered. I’m so screwed.

Wearing the coziest hoodie. Carrying a dice bag. Smiling. Beside you - because of course - was Geto Suguru. Satoru’s longtime friend. Fellow player. Tall. Cool. Calm. Hair tied back in a lazy bun that somehow made him hotter. That bastard. Satoru barely had time to panic before you laughed at something Geto said. A soft, amused laugh that curled around Gojo’s ribs and squeezed.

Then it happened. You looked at Geto. Blushed. Just the faintest pink brushing your cheeks. Just a second too long of eye contact. Just enough to punch Satoru square in his already fragile, overly romantic, nerdy heart.

You don’t like him. Right? No. It’s just warm. It’s almost summer. The hallway’s probably stuffy. Your hoodie’s too thick. That’s it. That’s all it is.

“Hey,” you greeted, blissfully unaware of his internal collapse.

“H-Hey!” Satoru yelped, voice cracking at a completely unnecessary octave. “You made it! That’s so cool. That’s - you look. Uh. Dice. You brought dice. Awesome. Good job.”

What the hell are you saying? Shut up.

Geto smiled at him. That smug, easy smile that Satoru had seen melt hearts and start trouble since freshman year.

“You didn’t tell me your new player was cute,” he said, tone maddeningly casual. You blinked. Satoru stopped breathing.

“Oh,” you said, voice softening, eyes flicking away. A little flustered. “Um. Thanks.”

You’re just being polite. That’s not real. That wasn’t real. Right?

Satoru forced a smile that came out more like a grimace. His brain was melting. His heart was clawing against his ribs.

“Haha! Yeah. So anyway! Let’s, uh. Go. Sit. Down. And have a drink. Or a seat. Or both. Whatever people do. When they enter rooms. With other people.”

Oh my god, please shut up. Please shut up. You’re going to die here and your ghost will be a virgin forever.

a/n: if you see any mistakes...no you don't totally not editing this while getting ready for wicked...totally not

[rlnk]

Too smart, too pretty, and definitely too close

art by @/chu-cho

wc. 1.3k

Gojo was extraordinary—skimming through classes like they were side quests, acing every test with minimal effort, and making it all look so easy. What was there to study when everything came so naturally to him? On top of that, he was absolutely adored by the teachers. His endless rants, as irritating as they were, left them in awe. After all, what other student grasped everything on the first try?

He was the top student for a reason.

Then, you transferred to his school and suddenly, everything changed.

You were slowly, yet surely, creeping up behind him—matching him score for score. While others flinched at his remarks, you met him head-on, snapping back at him. And you weren't just smart—you were sharp.

For the first time, Gojo wasn’t the only one the teachers praised. Suddenly, it was always you and Gojo—sitting together, constantly compared, constantly pit against each other like academic rivals. Apparently, to them, it was amusing to see the two of you bickering like a married couple.

And if he was being honest… it wasn’t just the teachers who had taken notice of you.

Everyone did.

You were friendly. Charismatic. The kind of person who effortlessly gathered people around you. Meanwhile, Gojo had his small circle—and he liked it that way. But you? You were orbiting everything.

Including Gojo. A little too much for his liking.

At first, it irritated him. How could someone like you waltz in and start shaking up his world? How were you always there—ready with a sharp remark, always matching his pace?

But then… mild irritation turned into something else. Something more persistent.

He started catching himself watching you in class. Noting the way your brows furrowed when you were deep in thought, the way your fingers tapped restlessly against your notebook when you got impatient, and the way you laughed—bright and easy—surrounded by people who gravitated to you like planets to a star.

It was infuriating.

Because the more he watched, the more he realized that he didn’t exactly hate it.

And that? That was the worst part.

You were always in his space—pushing up next to him to compare answers, cornering him after a test to discuss questions, and occasionally bumping into him during lunch with some ridiculously complex physics book clutched like a prize. (One of his books, actually.)

But no matter how much he told himself it annoyed him, Gojo just couldn’t quite bring himself to pull away.

“It was just so fascinating,” you said, eyes practically sparkling, wild energy in your voice as you bounced on your feet—probably from the sheer mix of exhaustion and caffeine. You held up The Elegant Universe like it was some kind of treasure. “I actually… stayed up all night reading it. Thanks for lending it to me.”

Your grin was shy but knowing, like you knew how insane it sounded. You stepped slightly closer without realizing it, and suddenly, Gojo was very aware of how close you were.

The height difference meant he had to look down, and you had to tilt your head up to meet his gaze. Barely a few inches of space between you. The only thing separating you was that stupid book.

He could feel your warmth. But all he could look at… were your lips. Shiny and parted slightly as you caught your breath. Oh god, had your lips always looked that glossy?

Gojo blinked.

What were you saying again? Right—the book. His book.

He’d lent it to you mostly on a whim, fully expecting you to take your time with it. He knew you were smart, sure—you always had some clever answer ready, always kept up with him—but this? He hadn’t expected you to devour the whole thing overnight.

Not many people could stomach the kind of dense, theoretical science he read for fun. But you? You’d eaten it up like it was nothing—and actually liked it.

When had he ever met someone who matched him like that?

And the worst part?

He loved that.

He scoffed, trying to recompose himself, shaking his head. “So… you lost sleep over the book I gave you?” His voice came out more amused than he intended, the smirk on his lips automatic.

He shoved his hands into his pockets—just to stop himself from doing something stupid. Like brushing a strand of hair from your face.

You shot him a grin and nudged him with your elbow, completely unaware of the chaos you were creating in his head. “You make it sound like you haven’t done the same.”

Damn. You got him there.

But even with your excitement, he could see the exhaustion plain on your face—your eyelids drooping, shoulders sagging, swaying slightly like the textbook in your hands was the only thing keeping you upright. And still… you were so unapologetically you.

He sighed.

You looked ridiculous. Endearing. Exhausted. Kind of like a sleep-deprived monkey that had stumbled into his space just to ramble about string theory.

Without thinking, he muttered under his breath, “Get some rest, nerd.”

You blinked up at him, thrown by the surprising gentleness in his voice. Your brow quirked. “Aw, is that concern I hear? You getting soft on me, Gojo?”

He tried to roll his eyes, but it didn’t quite land. Instead, he glanced away, jaw tightening like he’d just gotten caught doing something very uncool.

Maybe he should’ve kept quiet. Let you wander off—half asleep, rambling about quantum mechanics, blissfully unaware of how much space you’d started to take up in his head.

He had more books at home. Obscure ones. And the idea of you—sitting cross-legged on his bed, flipping through them with that same glint in your eye—made his throat go dry.

Would you be impressed by his collection? Would you run your fingers along the spines, reading titles under your breath like some kind of spell? Would you flop onto his bed like you owned the place, teasing him for alphabetizing them?

Oh no. Nope. Not going there—wait.

…What if it were more than just books?

His breath hitched.

What if you were sprawled across his sheets, legs tangled in his blanket, lazily flipping through another of his nerdy-ass physics books? What if your shirt slipped just enough to show that stupid collarbone he’d been obsessed with lately? You’d been wearing looser shirts lately—blaming the heat—and god, it was driving him insane.

Especially when you leaned closer beside him, practically gifting him a view of your collarbone… and more.

It was a miracle he hadn’t failed the last quiz.

What if you laughed at one of his dumb jokes again, shoved his shoulder, and the two of you stumbled onto his mattress? What if you climbed on top of him—smug, unbothered—with those glossy lips curved into a flirt so sharp it made his heart stutter.

What if you leaned in close—close enough that he could feel the warmth of your breath against his mouth and murmured something like—

“So… you gonna offer me another book, or are you just gonna keep staring?”

Fuck.

His entire body tensed. His mind short-circuited. His gaze flicked to your lips again like they held the answer to some impossible equation.

And the worst part?

You sat beside him in every class. Every. Damn. Day. Shoulder-to-shoulder. Desk-to-desk. Grinning at him like you weren’t absolutely wrecking his sanity one teasing comment at a time.

Goddamn it.

His face flushed deep red, heat blooming up his neck like a fever. He couldn’t breathe—couldn’t think. His hands twitched uselessly in his pockets, desperate not to imagine what they’d be doing if even a fraction of that fantasy was real.

You tilted your head, squinting at him. “Dude. Did your brain just blue-screen or something? You okay?”

He coughed, suddenly snapping back to reality—dragging a hand through his hair and forcing a smirk. “Yeah. Fine. Just… visualizing the tragic end of your sleep schedule.”

You snorted. “Worried about me again? You’re getting really bad at hiding your love for me, Gojo.”

Before he could snap back with something halfway clever, you flashed him a cheeky grin and turned to walk off—raising the book in a lazy wave.

“Later, nerd.”

Gojo stood there, flushed, frozen, heart thudding against his chest like it wanted out.

Yeah.

He was so screwed.

part 2.

[kingkruell]

MARGINALIA | GOJO SATORU

A NERDJO SERIES . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

SYNOPSIS he wasn’t supposed to stay past week three. but now he’s showing up early, quoting lectures he barely pretends to listen to, and watching the way you underline your notes like it means something. somewhere between shared worksheets, side-eyes, and scribbled margins—gojo satoru starts falling for the girl by the window. and maybe, just maybe, she starts noticing him too.

CONTENT nerd!gojo satoru x classmate! reader, female reader, informatics student gojo x journalism student reader, university!au, non-sorcerers, slow-burn, slice of life, gojo being soft, love-struck gojo, campus and classrooms settings, awkward crushes, emotional intimacy, fluff, friends-to-something more, unspoken attraction, smut.

A/N this blog will be updated regularly along with new parts. a trigger warning at some ill-attempt on humor as well as (perhaps) an inaccurate usage of coding or journalistic terms.

listening to la lune - king krule

see i was raised to the moon just to hold a gaze with a view across the other side it won't be long till you're inside till you're inside my heart to be with you, such a view to be elevated to you

[nerdjo artwork by su2kuna on twitter]

comment to be added to taglist! first part (intro) will be published very soon and reblogs are very much appreciated <3

— and you'll see the details between the margins

PART 1 the space between lines [int.] ⊹₊ ⋆

PART 2 coming soon...

PART 3 coming soon..

PART 4 coming soon..

PART 5 coming soon..

and more to come.

[cuntygojo]

18+ content – mdni.

“slowly— fuck.”

your hand comes to a stop at gojos tip, precum pooling at his sensitive slit.

“tell me what to do again and you won’t cum at all.”

he gulps, muttering a soft apology, and you quickly get back to work. your hand wraps around his thick cock with a squeeze, sliding down to his base. gojo’s hips jerk— your hand moves faster. it’s a vicious and repetitive cycle that gojo has yet to notice. his eyes are half lidded, tears pooling, letting out a guttural moan. he wants to cum, he needs to. he’s desperate at this point, and anything he can do to get some release— he was going to do it. gojo starts moving his hips as if to fuck your hand. the soft, warm tightness of it evoking a high pitched whimper.

“are you tryin’ to cum without permission?” you huff.

“no– no no, i’m sorry, i’m sorry—�� another whimper escapes him, “it feels t’good.”

you pause to look at him, he’s a mess— a fucked out mess, if you will. but god, does he look delicious. hand: moving on their own, yours slide up and down eagerly on gojos sensitive tip. he moans into your neck, pressing soft, warm kisses onto it.

“cum baby, cum for me gojo.” you whisper softly onto the shell of his ear.

white spurts from his red tip, cock pulsing, hands desperately gripping at anything he can grab ahold of. he was always so, so sensitive. and god did you love teasing him for it.

[miiyas]

satoru gojo’s passion for quantum physics and its theories has always overshadowed you.

maybe that’s why you ended things with him and maybe that’s why he drowns himself in work and numbers to patch the inevitable hallow parts of his heart. but when he sees you among the bustling life of people at one of those science conventions you’ve deemed ‘ridiculously ridiculous and so him,’ the rough stitching of his heart, one where he had mended together, seem to snap and falter on the spot.

his suit suddenly feels all too formal on him, the world around him goes deaf in his ears, and his eyes can’t leave yours. you’re wearing a pretty, familiar blue dress that eases the eyes and compliments your smile; a duller color than his eyes. you’ve kept the one he bought you a few years ago for a convention just like this one, the one you’ve refused to go and the one you two broke up over.

you’re standing a distance away from him, arms looped around some … guy. satoru couldn’t tell who it was. but as if on instinct, he feels himself walking away from his booth, ignoring whoever was speaking to him and pushing past crowds, jaw slack and his eyes never leaving your figure and the way you laugh— gosh, the way you laugh made his ears ring and his hands go static and his cheeks burn.

you looked perfect. you were always perfect. the way you wear that pretty blue dress with a small smile resting your face makes his heart ache. it should be him you’re with and it should be him that has his arms around you and before he knows it, he’s standing arms length away from you, breathing shallow, quick breaths and your eyes finally meet his.

the smile on your face slowly drops in realization of just who was beside you, eyes growing round and wide as your whole body suddenly goes numb.

“hey, satoru ! sorry, i was just introducing my girlfriend to wataoshi sensei. i’ll be back to our booth in a few minutes.” gojo lifts his head to face the person you’re with and his heart drops dead. you came to the convention, the one you continuously told him you hated going to, with his research partner. and now, you’re his girlfriend.

girlfriend. the word echoes in the young man’s mind, staring at his partner for a moment longer as if he was waiting for a punchline. but the creeping silence makes his throat bob and his fingers twitch as the reality of things crawl back to him.

his project partner is smiling and wataoshi has his hands behind his back as he introduces himself to gojo, smiling with wrinkles creeping up his soft features, but his words go in one ear and out the other. gojo nods along but his eyes slowly slide back to you, lips slightly parted as if he was going to say something, his brows knitted in confusion.

betrayed ? satoru gojo felt beyond betrayed. to see you arm in arm with his research partner in this specific event, the one you ingrained in his mind saying you despised, it makes his head spin and world cloud to highlight you and only you.

you swallow a lump down your throat and the grip you have on the guys arm loosens, stained memories of satoru lapsing in your mind. his bright blue eyes dart around to scan the features on your face, staring at you with a look that looks soft and painful, like he’s trying to figure out what he should be mad about. but with a clench of his jaw and a swallow of thick spit, gojo brings a hand to his glasses and pushes them up, looking back at his partner with a thin, forced grin; charming as ever.

“take your time,” he nods, pointing a thumb to the crowd and wave of people behind him and the peek of the booth. “a few people are waiting for us, but i can stall them.” with that, satoru leaves with a bow to wataoshi and a second glance to you, biting the inner flesh of his bottom lips before walking away.

the soft, red carpet that gojo walks on feels like it’s swallowing him whole, each step heavier than the other. the air feels too warm for him and he can feel your eyes still on him even through the large wave of people, staring at his back and the way his figure distances itself and becomes smaller with each step.

satoru’s heart aches and his hands clench into a fist before he hides them in his dress pants pockets. within the caves of the pocket, he plays with a stick of chapstick and subconsciously rubs his lips together, uncapping and capping the stick with his thumb and index finger quietly.

your chapstick. the one you gave him a long while ago and the only thing he has closest to a kiss from you.

[baepsays]

thinking about Cillian Murphy in the dark night as scarecrow wearing those sexy siren glasses, that is exactly how my spy Nerdjo dresses at the office.