Nerds do it best ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ꕥ
Pairing: Nerdjo x fem!reader
Content: college au, tutor Gojo, 18+ smut, p in v, eating out, fingering, both reader and gojo drink a little alcohol but everything is with consent. Satoru kinda flip flops between nerd and awkward frat guy.
w.c 3.8k!
You sit at a table at your campus library, the soft afternoon sunlight streaming through the windows and casting a light glow over the space. Across from you sat your tutor, Satoru Gojo, hunched over a textbook while scribbling down some problems for you to do. It’s not like you wanted to be here studying complex math equations until your head spun, but your professor was an old-fashioned lady who wouldn’t take no for an answer when she set you up with Satoru as your tutor. It’s not like you could blame her though, math wasn’t your strongest subject and she was just trying to be helpful.
You couldn’t complain either, the guy was practically a genius in your eyes and you’d actually learned something with him.
And he wasn’t bad to look at either. You watched him write, his long slender fingers gripping the pencil as his arm flexes slightly. He nibbles on the bottom of his pink lips as his brows furrowed in concentration, his long white lashes fluttering beneath his glasses that had now slid down his nose slightly. Your eyes wander up the length of his arms, he ditched his usual hoodie in favor of a black Digimon graphic t-shirt, and you weren’t complaining. Who would’ve thought that hidden underneath all of those hoodies Gojo was actually pretty built. Your eyes traced the muscles of his sculpted bicep up to his boyish jawline, and his deep blue eyes-
“Um, did you hear what I just said? Are you even listening?” That immediately snapped you out of your thoughts as you meet his gaze with a sheepish smile. He adjust his glasses and looked at you impatiently, obviously not amused. You couldn’t help yourself though, he’s too easy.
“Oh Gojo give me a break!! I feel like we’ve been here for hours, go easy on me, not everyone can be as smart as you.” You muster up your best sad face, which looks more stupid than anything, while he just stares at you, a light flush dusting his cheeks as he processes the compliment.
“It’s only been 20 minutes…” he mutters, but you can already see him giving in as he taps the pencil against the textbook and looks at you, waiting for your next move. You lean in close, ready to mess with him.
“Is that a new shirt? You’re always wearing hoodies and oversized clothing, it’s a nice change, you shouldn’t hide all this…maybe you could actually get a girlfriend instead of hanging around those dungeons and dragons guys all the time.” His breath hitches as you lean in close, too close, so close actually that you could smell the body wash he used, a minty Christmas tree adjacent scent.
He lets out an indignant huff, leaning back back in his chair and stretching his arms back, his shirt riding up a little, just enough for you to notice the defined v-lines of his torso that lead down into his pants.
A light scoff escapes him as he notices your gaze.
“Just for that, twenty more practice problems before the end of our session.” He pushes the textbook in front of you and you groan at the sight. Just when you were starting to weasel your way out of studying too. While you were begrudgingly doing problems, you missed the way he fiddled with the hem of his shirt and snuck fleeting glances at your features.
Your brain is in shambles and your fingers are cramping from the amount of revisions he made you do, part of you believes it was on purpose, a punishment for trying to get out of studying. Can he blame you though? Who wants to spend their Friday evening studying with some nerd in the library, even he was a great eye candy distraction.
In a stroke of utter genius, well in your opinion anyway, an epiphany strikes you. What better way to forget about studying than to go to that huge frat party you’ve been hearing about all week?
The frat house is stuffed to the brim with arrogant jocks, deceptively charming frat boys and their sorority girl counterparts, and anyone else who has managed to squeeze themselves in. The walls are littered with haphazard attempts at decorations, cheap dollar store banners and blown up balloons, confetti scattered around the floor. You walk through the crowd, greeting people you recognized on your way to the kitchen to grab a drink, passing by the makeshift dance floor in what you could only assume what was supposed to be the living room.
Looking over the available drinks makes you wish you brought your own thermos of literally anything else. Boxes of cheap beer filled the fridge, or you could always go for a cup of the mysterious jungle juice in the punch bowl, a weird orange-yellowish color with poorly cut slices of lime floating around in it.
While you decide which drink will be your executioner for the night, someone’s gaze lands on you from across the room. Gojo’s sharp blue eyes widen behind his glasses. For a second, he freezes like he’s calculating whether to bolt or play it cool.
Then, with an awkward half-smile and a nervous tug at the strap of the tank top he’s wearing. A tap on your shoulder and a familiar voice pulled you from your thoughts.
“Uh…hey! Didn’t think I’d see you here…” His voice is quieter than usual, less sassy and a bit more flustered. “You… came to study me or something?” He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, that was clearly an attempt at a joke. After recovering from the shock of seeing your nerdy tutor at a frat party, dressed in a tank top no less, you
“You of all people are the last person I’d expect to see at a party. I assumed the most action you got was going to dungeons and dragons campaign or something” you bite your bottom lip as you hold back a smile, watching his expression morph into an offended frown.
“Okay first of all, what is your thing with saying I play D&D like that’s an insult?? Secondly, I’m a Dungeon Master, not that you’d know anything about rolling a nat 20.” You purse your lips.
“You seriously just proved my point about you being a total nerd, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing. But I’m curious, what are you doing here?”
He leans in closer, his usual sass he carries himself with giving way to a more confident demeanor. He takes a beer from a cooler behind you, getting a little too closer before stepping back, and takes a swig of it.
“What? You think nerds can't have fun too?Am I not allowed to party like a normal person? You think I just spend my free time studying or something? Like I don’t have a life outside of tutoring your ungrateful ass.” His biting words and playful sneer caught you off guard. This side of him was something you’ve never seen before, not that it was a bad thing of course.
“This version of you is…interesting to say the least. I’m kind of into it if we’re being honest here…”
His smirk falters for a second, as if he didn’t expect you to like this version of him. He recovers fast, leaning in just enough that you catch the faint scent of cheap frat party beer.
“Oh? So now I’m interesting? I might start acting like this during our tutoring sessions so you actually pay attention.” A beat. Then he blinks, realizing what he just said and his ears go pink. It’s like he’s flip flopping between two sides of himself.
The night is filled with drinking games and bad jokes that don’t land every time. All throughout, though, there’s this underlying current of tension. His eyes follow you around the room, lingering a touch too long on your body, his smile a bit too wicked for the nerd you thought he was. You dance, drink, and laugh far more than you thought you would. Satoru seems different now, as if his usual serious exterior has peeled away to reveal something more relaxed… and undeniably attractive.
The boundaries between you two begin to blur. You and Satoru do shots, dance together, share stolen glances, each glance lasting just a little too long before one or both of you look away. Every time he touches you, to move closer on the dancefloor or brush a strand of hair from your face, the touch lingers on your skin, leaving you wanting more.
At one point you stumble back from the dance floor after one too many shots, only for his arm to shoot out like a human seatbelt.
He leans against the wall to steady you and his glasses are crooked as he watches you over the rim of his beer bottle.
“You keep looking at me like that,” he mutters, “and I’m gonna start thinking you actually enjoy my company.”
“…Or maybe something else.”
“Something else?” You mutter, looking up and giving him your full attention.
His breath hitches for a second. He sets his beer down with too much precision, like he’s stalling.
“Yeah. Something else.” His eyes are locked onto yours behind those stupid glasses.
“Like how you keep biting your lip when I’m talking… or how you ‘accidentally’ brush against me every time someone bumps into us.”
He steps closer, his towering frame casts a shadow over you as he tilts his head, smirk cocky but also tentative, like he’s testing the waters.
“You gonna make me spell it out?”
He doesn’t wait for an answer, gently taking your wrist and pulling you through the crowd of partying students. You find yourself in a hallway with fewer people. He leans against a closed door, tugging you gently so you’re practically chest to chest, the heat from his body almost burning. His glasses are askew again, but he doesn’t bother straightening them. He looks almost bashful when he realizes how bold he was being, but he doesn’t back down. Instead, his grip on your wrist forms, his thumb pressing gently on your pulse point. Is it just you, or did the temperature in this hallway go up by like, ten degrees?
He studies your face with a sort of intensity you’ve never seen before. His other hand cups your jaw, fingers trembling just the slightest.
“This is a bad idea,” he mutters. “God, this is such a bad idea.”
And yet, you go for it anyways, leaning in enveloping his lips in a soft kiss while using your body weight to hold him against the wall.
He makes a sound that’s somewhere between a whimper and a moan, hands dropping to your waist as he returns the kiss like a starving man. His body seems to mold itself to yours as you press him against the wall, his hands roaming over your body like he’s committing it to memory.
His lips are surprisingly soft against yours, one hand comes up to cup the back of your neck, the other wrapping around your waist and pulling you against him.
He nips at your bottom lip, his teeth teasing as his tongue runs across the seam of your mouth like he’s begging for more.
One of your hands runs up the expanse of his muscular back and tangles itself in his soft locks, tugging at it.
He groans against your lips and the way you pull at it makes him shudder, his fingers tightening on your waist like he’s holding onto the last bit of his self restraint.
“Fuck—” His voice is wrecked already, breath ragged as he breaks the kiss just to stare at you with blown-out pupils.
He stares at you for a moment. Then his mouth crashes back into yours like a man starved.
His hands slide beneath the hem of your shirt, fingers skating over the soft skin of your stomach. His mouth travels down to your neck and lips are hot against your skin, teeth grazing just enough to leave you wanting more.
He suddenly breaks the kiss, panting slightly as he pulls back just enough to meet your eyes. His expression is a mix of desire and something almost vulnerable.
“My room’s upstairs, If you… y’know. Wanna keep this going.”
There’s no smirk now, no teasing glint in his gaze, just him as he waits for your answer. Like he needs to hear you say it before either of you takes another step.
You nod wordlessly, a little taken aback that you’ve actually gone this far, but you’re not mad about it.
His breath catches and for a second he just stares, eyes wide behind his crooked glasses.
Then, with a shaky exhale, his hand finds yours and laces your fingers together as he tugs you toward the stairs. The party noise fades behind you both as he leads the way up to the second floor
The door clicks shut behind him when you two finally reach his room. A lamp that sits on his bedside table casts a soft, dim glow, there’s textbooks stacked haphazardly on a desk, and an unmade bed takes center stage.
His eyes dart around the room, taking in the mess of dirty clothes and half-empty coffee cups. He rubs the back of his neck, avoiding your gaze.
“Uh... ignore the mess. Wasn’t expecting guests.” His cheeks flush slightly, though you’re not sure if it’s from the alcohol or his embarrassment.
“I didn’t know you lived in the frat house…so you’re a frat boy then??”
He shrugs, letting go of your hand to snake a hand through his already messy hair.
“Not exactly something I advertise, y’know? Nerdy guy lives with frat bros isn’t exactly a winning line.”
He clears his throat, shifting awkwardly for a second before his gaze finally lands on you. He looks almost… nervous, which is a sharp contrast to the confident persona he had just moments ago downstairs.
He steps closer but hesitates, he isn’t sure how to proceed now that you’re both alone in his room with the door shut. The air feels more charged now, tension thick enough to slice with a knife. He wets his lips, eyes flicking between your face and the bed almost unconsciously.
You see his crumbling demeanor and sigh internally. It’s almost cute, seeing how he switches between confident and sheepish. You step closer, placing your hand on his chest as you ease him down onto the bed.
He lets out a soft exhale of breath as you push him backward, his arms flailing slightly before landing on the mattress with a clumsy thud. He stares back at you with wide eyes, glasses nearly slipping off his nose as he tries to process the fact that you just sat him down like he’s a puppy to be tamed.
“W-Wait—” His voice cracks halfway through, “I was supposed to be cool about this.”
You straddle his lap and press a tentative kiss to his lips, then decide to leave a trail down the column of his neck to his collarbone. He sucks in a shuddering breath and lets out a low whine.
You gently remove his shirt. His chest is solid, muscled from hours of strength training. His abs flex as he lifts his body, helping you slip his tank top off. His skin is smooth and warm. He opens his eyes, staring up at you with a kind of dizzy intensity.
His hands find yours, guiding them to his chest. His breath hitches as you explore the defined planes of his torso, and he lets out a soft groan when your fingers trail down toward the waistband of his jeans.
He shifts slightly, sitting up so your hips are almost flush against his as his hands grip your thighs. His thumbs slip under the hem of your top, skimming across your bare skin with a slow, deliberate pressure that makes you shiver.
His voice is almost a purr mixed with a slight whimper. “Can I… take this off?” You nod. His fingers are surprisingly gentle as he slowly pulls the material over your head. He drops your shirt on the floor, his gaze roaming over your exposed skin like he’s trying to memorize every inch. His eyes linger on the curve of your chest, his tongue darting out unconsciously to wet his lips.
“You’re gorgeous. Like, unfairly so.”
After fumbling to unclasp your bra, he uses his strength to flip your positions, gently laying you down on your back, so he’s hovering over you.
“I wanna take care of you. Let me do that, okay?”
He lowers his head, his tongue tracing a path down your neck, between your breasts, all the way down to your navel. His mouth reaches the waistband of your pants, his fingers undoing the button as his teeth pull down the zipper. He pulls down your pants, watching your expression the whole time in case you want him to stop. He slides your panties down your legs, leaving you completely bared to his heated gaze. He lowers his head, his mouth pressing hot, wet kisses up your inner thighs.
"Fuck, you're so wet already" he moaned, his fingers spreading your folds apart as he has to bite his bottom lip to suppress a whine. He lifts one of your legs over his shoulder as he presses a soft kiss to your inner thigh. He steels himself, and inches closer until his soft, plump lips make contact with your slit as he presses increasingly desperate kisses to it.
Your hand immediately finds a place in his hair, tugging at the white locks as you let out a high-pitched sound. This immediately egged him on, as his mouth found its way to your clit, tongue circling around it as he looked up at you through his long, white lashes, desperate to hear more sounds of approval from you to know he was doing good. Your thighs instinctively clamp around his head, but that doesn’t deter him. He takes your bud in between his lips and sucks on it, starting out gentle but quickly going harder once he hears the squeals that pass through your lips.
“Am I doing good? Do you like this? Please…” he whimpers into your clit as his half-lidded eyes find yours for approval.
You can only respond in a short “yes yes…please keep going..!” between pants as your chest rose and fell.
He lights up at that, burying his face even deeper into you if that was even possible. He’s practically drooling as he switches between lapping at your fluttering hole and clit, a mix of your slick and his drool in a thin layer on the bottom half of his face. He collects some of your slick on two of his fingers and brings them up to his lips, groaning when the taste reaches his tongue. He uses those same fingers and gently slides them into your heat, whining again once he feels you squeeze.
“You’re so tight…imagine how you would feel around my cock.” You swear he almost creamed his pants right there.
Any thoughts you had of teasing him were quickly thrown out the window once he began pumping his fingers in and out, curling them in just the right way that hits the spot that makes you squirm and whimper out loud. He leans in close as he keeps that same rhythm, his breath ghosting over your ear, “please, finish for me, please?” He can’t help but whine as he feels you clamp down even harder on his fingers at that.
“Mmph- I-I’m so close…gonna cum!!” His lips envelope yours, swallowing every sound that comes out of your mouth. Your orgasm finally hits, walls clamping down so hard you swear he thought it was his cock inside of you instead of just his fingers. He removes his fingers from inside you and puts them into his mouth, sucking on them as he groans.
Your chest rises and fall as you pant, coming down from your high and noticing the bulge that has formed in his pants. He follows your gaze and flushes slightly when he realizes what you’re looking at. He unbuckles his belt, dropping his pants as well as his boxers, leaving the sight of only his hard cock. Its long, with at least two veins running up the shaft from where you can see. The top is flushed an angry red as it leaks beads of precum.He pressed forward, the head of his cock barely slipping inside your wet heat. He moaned at the feeling, his hands finding and squeezing your hips as a way to ground himself.
He thought he was gonna lose himself on the first thrust, let a series of some whimpers escape his lips as he felt the warmth from your walls surrounding his sensitive cock. Your arms wrap around his neck as you moan, the feeling of him stretching you out was almost mind-numbing.
Satoru leaned down, making sure to bury his head in your neck as he focused on his thrusts. He panted heavily, trying to keep a steady pace as he felt himself lose it a little.
"F-Fuck..."He muttered to himself, biting his lip to muffle his moans. He tried his hardest to keep his cool, but it seemed like you were making it impossible for him to do that at all.
He folded your legs close to your chest and went impossibly deeper, his mushroom tip hitting that spot that made you see stars every time. Already sensitive from your first orgasm, it wasn’t long until you felt that knot in your stomach tighten once again, your nails scratching down Satoru’s back as you threw your head back. The pain only made him groan as he sped up.
“You gonna cum for me, pretty girl? Yeah? Me too, please, wanna feel you cum around my cock.”
And when you finally finish, your walls spawning around him, the feeling makes Satoru unravel right there and he pulls out, thick hot white ropes of cum painting your breasts and torso as he pants like he just ran a marathon. His eyes are dazed and glassy as he admires your disheveled form, the way your cheeks are flushed and the thin sheen of sweat that coats your body.
He leans in and places a gentle kiss to your forehead before collapsing beside you, still trying to regain some strength to be able to say a few word to you.
“You did so good for me.” You murmur as your hand reaches out to run through his hair, his bangs sticking to his forehead. His eyes look up at you like a puppy dog’s, still tired but watching your every move. He manages to sit up, steadying himself on his palms.
“Maybe you could come here for our next tutoring session..?”
