you hum skipping up the stairs, some latest tune with your hair swishing behind you as you reach your room.
flicking on a light, you throw your bag onto the couch and immediately release your hair from the shackles of your high pony.
wind-down time after a fun night with your girls.
taking off your shirt you approach your favorite part.
you can finally, finally unhook your bra.
twisting your shoulders back you turn around to watch yourself unhook it in the mirror until..
in the reflection of the mirror your eyes land on your window.
what the-
you scream throwing the nearest thing (your purse) at the window and quickly pull your shirt back on.
a flash of white hair moves behind it as your purse makes contact with the glass, bouncing off rather dramatically.
is that…?
you stomp up to your balcony opening its door and glaring up at the intruder.
“l-listen…i can explain- i wanna start off by saying im sorry—“
“satoru” you say calmly, “come inside”
the blue eyed man, your very own boyfriend, blinks at you and then hesitantly steps in closing the door behind him.
you take a deep breath in.
“what. the. hell. IS WRONG WITH YOU??”
“uhhh..bad timing?”
“yes!!! why are you at my window, without even informing me mind you” you jab an accusatory finger at him “watching me undress like a PERVERT”
an expression of complete shock overtakes satoru’s features as he stammers over his own explanation.
“listen,” he raises his hands in surrender, “i didn’t mean that to happen”
“what to happen?” you snap.
you weren’t really mad at him just….confused and kind of irritated.
satoru takes a step back in defense, he was significantly taller than you but if someone else was watching they’d think he was cowering under your scolding.
“watching you…undress…” he trails off.
your brows furrow as you shake your head in disbelief.
“and i’m not a pervert” he mumbles under his breath, adjusting his glasses and looking away.
“okay just.. why are you on my balcony? you scared me you know..” you sigh giving him a chance to explain.
“i just missed you, i wanted to see you so i came” and now he’s pouting. cute.
you lick your lips, searching for an ounce of patience.
you take in his state, he’s in his spider-man pj’s, hair slightly disheveled and a jacket half-hazardly thrown on.
“let me get this straight” you pace a bit tapping your chin, “you were in bed thinking about me”
satoru’s eyes pop open, surprised by your accurate prediction.
you continue, “and instead of walking through the door like a normal person you chose to climb to my balcony and watch me through my window?”
“statistically that’s a lot of assumptions”
“prove me wrong”
“okay” satoru looks around taking in the state of your room, while you impatiently tap your foot.
and then he’s pushing you onto the bed.
he hovers over you, hair falling into his eyes and his frames slightly askew.
“i just wanted to see you, the staring while you undress part happened purely of off chance and probability”
“right” you roll your eyes.
“some might even call it luck” his eyes crinkle when you smack his shoulder playfully, letting out a soft laugh.
“ow- is it so bad” he hums, snuggling into the crook of your neck so his voice comes out muffled.
when he looks up, his pupils are blown wide “not like anything i haven’t seen before, but i think ive forgotten let’s check”
oh and the probability of nerd!satoru taking off your shirt tonight just went up to a 100%.
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content — nerd!gojo x reader, bayonetta-inspired reader, fluff, humor, college au, slice of life, friends to lovers, friends who are basically dating, mildly suggestive. the artworks used are not mine. all credits go to the artists!
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★ Satoru Gojo is a twenty-one-year-old guy studying Physics at one of the best universities in the country. Despite his enviable intelligence, he's a complete klutz. His pale skin, blue eyes, and long white eyelashes make him look like an angel. To a certain someone, maybe he really was. In reality, though, the albino is just a clumsy, shy student with a massive inferiority complex. And on top of all that, there was one small big problem: he was hopelessly in love with none other than his childhood best friend, who was his complete opposite.
★ While Satoru puts on, without a second thought, the first piece of clothing he finds in his closet — usually an oversized hoodie twice his size, baggy pants, and a worn-out pair of sneakers — she gets ready with a care that borders on narcissism. She's always flawless, walking as if the whole world were her runway and she, the biggest star of the show. Her style consists of low-waist pants and skirts, high heels, flashy belts, lots of accessories, impeccable makeup, and thin-framed glasses that only make her presence more striking. She's so beautiful, so absurdly gorgeous, that Satoru sighs softly and thanks the heavens for breathing the same air as her.
★ Satoru's room is the perfect reflection of his personality and hobbies. There are collections of action figures, many still sealed because he simply doesn't have the courage to take them out of the box. A mountain of mangas balances in one corner of the room. The shelves are packed with sci-fi books, many with worn-out spines from being reread so many times. A Game Boy Advance SP lives on his desk and usually accompanies him between classes. But there's something that draws more attention than any collection or mess in the room: an entire wall of polaroids pinned to the wall. There are dozens of photos of him with his best friend — although the vast majority are just of her. Some were taken in secret, like one where she's touching up her gloss in front of a compact mirror without realizing she's being photographed. Others are posed, with her arm resting on his shoulders and her long gel nails, always painted an intense cherry red, contrasting with the delicate paleness of his neck. He would never admit it out loud, but he often spends a few minutes of his day just staring at those photos.
★ They've known each other since childhood and are pretty close. Some people are sure they're a couple; others insist they have "sibling energy." Satoru always freezes for a moment when someone asks if she's his girlfriend. His heart races for a second before he gives a shy smile and answers, almost hanging his head, that no. Is it a lie? No. But he really wishes it were. Still, the two of them know practically everything about each other, and even after all these years, they keep discovering new little things every time they spend quality time together.
★ Satoru is polite, reserved, and very gentle with her. He pays attention to every detail: remembers her favorite drink, the gloss brand she's always buying, the bags she mentioned wanting months ago, and even the sweets she likes the most. He always finds an excuse to give her a little gift, even if it's just a small trinket. On the flip side, he gets completely flustered when he's the one receiving a present. He has this strange feeling that he doesn't deserve that much affection or effort. Still, he accepts everything she gives him, even hiding his blushing face behind his round glasses. The only time he almost returned a gift was when she gave him a special edition of his favorite video game. He got so emotional — and so worried about how much it must have cost — that he insisted she take it back. She rolled her eyes, flicked his forehead, and told him to stop being so silly. Ever since, that edition has occupied the most prominent spot on his shelf.
★ Satoru likes quietness. His college routine is intense, full of assignments, projects, research, and exams that seem to never end. Yet, no matter how tired he is, he always makes time to see her. The simple thought of making her feel left out is enough to fill him with guilt. If that happens, he apologizes so many times that she ends up telling him to shut up. And he obeys right away. After that, he just walks her to their favorite café, carrying her bag while she drinks coffee and eagerly tells him about her Fashion classes, the sketches she drew, the fabrics she discovered, and the clothes she plans to sew. Satoru doesn't understand half the terms she uses, but he would listen to her talk for hours without complaint. Honestly, he could listen to her talk about anything for the rest of his life.
★ As mentioned before, despite his apparent shyness, he's very kind to her. He does any favor without complaining. He carries her bag, her heavier college materials, and all the shopping bags when they go to the mall. And he does it all with a sincere smile on his face. The problem is the reward. Whenever she thanks him by holding his chin between her fingers or placing a gentle kiss on his cheek, his pupils dilate fast and ridiculously. His whole face turns reddish, his ears burn, and his heart seems ready to escape through his mouth. It's pathetic. At least that's what he thinks. Still, he can't bring himself to care one bit. Those small displays of affection are enough to make him want to throw himself into a puddle just to keep her from slipping and, maybe, earn another little thank-you kiss.
★ His angelic appearance is deceiving. Satoru is absurdly shy, but his imagination certainly isn't. Every now and then, he catches himself staring at his best friend's long, well-manicured nails for way too long. Then his mischievous mind starts to wander. He imagines what it would be like to feel them gliding across his skin, leaving deep scratches that would take days to fade. Just thinking about it, he holds his breath, feeling an abnormal heat take over his face, turning his ears red. An involuntary sigh escapes his lips, and she notices, turning her face toward him. Satoru looks away immediately, clears his throat, and pretends to be paying attention to anything else, anything but her.
★ Despite his somewhat intense thoughts, he genuinely likes her nails. Every time she comes back from the salon, she makes a point of finding him first, extending her hand with a smug smile, clearly expecting a compliment. Satoru hesitates for a few seconds before holding it with the delicacy of someone touching a rare jewel. His long, slender fingers lightly glide over hers while his blue eyes take in every detail of the freshly done polish. He murmurs a "I-it looks... really pretty" in a low voice. Satoru lets go of her hand slowly, as if reluctant to lose that brief contact. It takes him a few seconds to gather the courage to lift his face again, only to find her smiling in a way that fills his stomach with butterflies.
★ By some ironic twist of fate, that beautiful boy has a terrifyingly low self-esteem. Satoru is very insecure. He's too hard on himself, thinks he's never good enough, and sees himself as weird or annoying. She once wondered if it was all a consequence of the bullying he suffered as a kid — scars that insisted on staying after all those years. But nothing justifies the cruel way he treats himself. Because of that, she started complimenting him more often. It was a mistake. Or at least, for poor Satoru Gojo's brain. All she had to do was hold his face in her hands, plant a kiss on his cheek, and tell him how smart, handsome, or talented he was, and he would simply stop functioning. She complimented him for anything, from solving a complicated Physics problem to making an amazing move in a video game — even though she barely understood any of it.
★ In those moments, Satoru would freeze. Words would disappear, and his hands would start sweating. He'd turn red to the tips of his ears and try to deflect, mumbling that she was exaggerating or just being too kind. But she never let it slide. She'd interrupt him immediately, put her hands on her hips, and stare at him with a serious, almost authoritative expression.
"Just accept the compliment, Satoru."
He'd obey, again. Not because he was convinced, but simply because he couldn't argue with her when she made that face. Deep down, he loved seeing her like that. He'd just never have the courage to admit it.
★ When it comes to love languages, Satoru is all about quality time. He could spend hours talking about the mangas he's reading, the crazy theories from some sci-fi movie, his favorite action figures, or the game he spent the entire weekend trying to beat a boss in. But whenever he realizes he's been talking too much, he gets completely embarrassed. He lowers his head, scratches the back of his neck, and apologizes, convinced he must be boring her. She, on the other hand, just smiles and tells him to keep going — she likes listening to him, likes the sparkle in his eyes when he talks about something he loves. Satoru also loves showing her his favorite movies, even knowing many are far from the style she usually watches. Still, she pays attention to every scene, asks questions, and shows clear interest in what matters to him.
★ Although spending hours by her side is already enough to make him happy, there are small moments that hold a special place in his heart: when she pulls him closer during a movie, when she absentmindedly strokes his white hair, or when she adjusts his round glasses with all the naturalness in the world. In those moments, Satoru feels a warm comfort spread through his chest and thinks, silently, that he could stay like that forever. He snuggles into her, believing that paradise exists — and he's in it.
★ Satoru doesn't know when he'll confess. Actually, he doesn't even know if he'll ever be able to. In his head, she's way too bright for someone like him. Everything about her seems extraordinary, while he insists on seeing only his own flaws. But as unlikely as it seems, Satoru wants to become someone worthy of her. His ocean-blue eyes can't see anyone else the same way. She occupies his thoughts during class, appears uninvited in his dreams, and turns any ordinary moment into something special just by being there.
★ Sometimes he catches himself imagining what it would be like to introduce her to others as his girlfriend. What it would be like to hold her hand without making up an excuse. What it would be like to call her "mine" and see her smile that way that makes his heart skip a beat. Until that day comes, Satoru keeps his feelings to himself, nurturing the hope that, someday, he'll finally find the courage to say the three words he's repeated hundreds of times inside his own head. Hopefully, he will.
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author's note: i'll still be making a part two for this headcanon and, hopefully, write a few one-shots set in this same universe in the future. i hope you're all doing well. see you soon! :)
Seeing ppl embrace Gojo being smart on this app makes me happy <3 It's also inspired me to write abt him being a physics professor lol. Idk if it'll be a series or a oneshot so we'll see.
Like I can totally picture him making his students fight over Blookets in class for extra credit
Tall. Sleep deprived. Pretty in an unfairly effortless way. The kind of nerd who acts cocky because he actually is smarter than almost everyone around him. Wears round glasses instead of the blindfold and constantly pushes them up dramatically during conversations.
Studies absolutely everything with scary intensity, then turns around and forgets to eat for twelve hours. He’s the type to casually explain insanely complicated concepts while laying upside down on a couch. Computer science / physics / engineering major energy.
The kind of guy professors both adore and fear because he keeps correcting them mid-lecture. His dorm room is a disaster. Expensive monitor setup. Random energy drinks everywhere. Three unfinished projects. Notes scribbled across every surface. But somehow he always knows where everything is. Teases you constantly if you study together.
“You’ve been staring at the same paragraph for ten minutes.”
“I’m thinking.”
“No, baby, that’s buffering.”
Lowkey loves when you sit in his lap while he works. Claims you’re distracting him while actively pulling you closer. Pulls all-nighters like they’re a personality trait. If you wake up at 3 AM, there’s a 90% chance he’s still awake coding, gaming, or researching something completely unnecessary. Secretly very competitive academically. If someone scores higher than him on an exam, he becomes unbearable for a week. His flirting style is obnoxious.
“Need help with your homework?”
“I already finished it.”
“Marry me.”
Looks devastating in oversized hoodies and glasses. It’s genuinely irritating. Acts arrogant but melts instantly if you praise his intelligence sincerely. He’ll pretend not to care while smiling for the next six hours. Builds things for you randomly. Custom keyboard. Modified gaming setup. Playlists coded into weird little apps. Nerdjo’s love language is basically.
“I made this specifically because it reminded me of you.”
Satoru Gojo as Frat!Gojo
Campus menace. Rich boy energy so severe it physically irritates people. Shows up to parties in expensive clothes looking unfairly good with absolutely no effort. Loud. Charismatic. Flirty with everyone. But somehow especially attached to you.
Definitely the frat president everybody complains about while secretly attending every single event he hosts. Has a reputation for being unserious academically until people realize he’s still somehow top of the class. Constantly draping himself over you at parties. Arm around your waist. Chin on your shoulder. Pulling you into his lap like it’s instinct. Gets ridiculously smug if people are intimidated by you together.
“Yeah, I know we’re hot. Thanks.”
Terrible influence.
“Skip class with me.”
“No.”
“I already forged your attendance sheet.”
Somehow balances, being the life of the party, winning drinking games, flirting shamelessly and acing exams. Nobody understands how.
Protective in subtle ways. If parties get too overwhelming, he notices immediately. Suddenly there’s a hand guiding you somewhere quieter while he casually distracts everyone else. The type to wear compression shirts and backward caps just to ruin your mental stability.
Everyone assumes Fratjo only likes casual relationships until they see how he acts with you. Because the second he genuinely falls in love? It’s over. He becomes clingy fast. Loves public affection. Kissing your forehead in crowded rooms. Holding your hand under tables. Pulling you closer every five seconds.
Extremely jealous but tries to act chill about it. Someone flirts with you and suddenly Gojo appears beside you like:
“Heyyy, baby. Miss me?”
Despite acting carefree, he actually pays close attention to you. Remembers little details. Notices mood changes. Keeps your favorite snacks in his room. Fratjo’s room is somehow both luxurious and chaotic. Designer clothes on the floor. Expensive speakers. Empty energy drink cans. You stealing his hoodies constantly.
Underneath all the confidence and chaos, he’s still Gojo. Lonely sometimes. Exhausted underneath the charm. Craving someone who sees him instead of the image everyone else loves and once he realizes you do? He’s hopelessly gone for you.
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Your boyfriend was painfully innocent. The kind of guy who blushed at dirty jokes, who still said “making love” instead of fucking, and who had never even watched porn because he felt guilty about it. He was practically untouched… until you got your hands on him.
Tonight, you had him pinned on your bed, shirtless and breathing fast, his cheeks burning as you straddled him in just a tiny lace thong. “You’ve never touched a girl like this before, have you, baby?” you cooed, guiding his shaky hands to your tits.
He shook his head, eyes wide with nerves and barely-contained lust. “N-no… never.”
“Good,” you whispered, grinding slowly on the massive bulge in his pants. You took his hand and pushed it between your thighs, letting him feel how soaked you were. He let out a broken whimper the second his fingers touched your bare pussy. “Feel that? That’s all for you. Now be good and put a finger inside me.”
He obeyed with a shaky breath, sliding one thick finger into your tight heat. The sound he made was almost pathetic; half moan, half sob — as your walls clenched around him. “More,” you demanded, riding his hand. “Fuck me with your fingers like you’ve fantasized about.”
His innocence cracked right in front of you. Soon he was pumping two fingers deep, eyes glued to the way your pussy dripped down his hand. You finally pulled your thong aside, positioned him at your entrance, and sank down slowly, taking every inch. “Oh god—” he choked, eyes rolling back as your tight, wet pussy swallowed him whole. “It feels… too good… I shouldn’t-”
You moaned, starting to ride him. His hands gripped your hips desperately as you fucked him harder, whispering every filthy thing you wanted to do to him — how you’d make him eat your pussy for hours, how you’d ride his face until he couldn’t breathe, how you’d turn his innocence into something addicted to your cunt.
He didn’t last long. With an overwhelmed cry, he came hard inside you, filling you up with thick loads while you praised him for being such a good boy and taking you so well. When it was over, he looked up at you with dazed, adoring eyes, already half-hard again.
You smiled down at him and kissed his forehead. “We’re just getting started, baby.”
