literally me.
i'll take a quiet life
_Part 2_
Nerdjo! X nerdreader! Lmao guys I don't know it takes time to think for a scenario for nerd gojo!
♡ Gojo, the hopeless overthinker-After catching you reading a book on quantum mechanics, he stares at you for an entire class.
His mind is in overdrive.
“What does she know that I don’t?”
You glance up from your book and notice him staring.
Your expression doesn’t change, just a slight raise of the brow.
He starts questioning reality. He wonders if maybe you’re an alien who landed to study humans.
He’s not sure if he’s scared or in awe.
♡ Gojo, the performance artist-He’s in class, casually tossing out random knowledge to impress everyone.
You’re sitting right next to him, completely unfazed.
He throws out an elaborate theory about space-time continuums.
You glance at him, and in that cool, calculated tone of yours, you say, “Actually, there’s a counter-theory that suggests…”
He’s frozen stunned.
You just corrected him.
He’s in shock. He didn’t even realize there was a counter-theory.
♡ Gojo, the never-satisfied challenger-It’s become a ritual now. He challenges you to random things just to get a reaction.
One day, he walks into the library where you’re reading again and says, “I bet you can’t solve this one faster than me.”
You just stare at him like he's a child.
He watches you effortlessly solve the puzzle in seconds.
His brain breaks.
“Okay… you win. Again.”
He mumbles it like he’s been defeated, even though you both know he never stood a chance.
You just blink, your face a mask of indifference.
♡ Gojo, the insufferable over-achiever-He throws a math challenge your way in class, but it’s no longer about the challenge.
It’s about getting you to look up at him.
When you solve it in seconds, he pretends to be devastated.
“How… How do you do it?!”
You don’t even flinch. You just mutter, “It’s all about applying basic principles, Gojo.”
He finds it so frustrating but can’t help but admire you for it.
This feeling of being outmatched starts to gnaw at him, but it excites him too.
♡ Gojo, the dumbstruck fool-One day, he just can’t take it anymore. He watches you at lunch, reading your book with so much focus.
He interrupts your concentration with a dramatic gesture, throwing his arms out.
“You can’t possibly be that focused!”
You look up, raise an eyebrow, and say, “Well, Gojo, focusing is a part of my natural process of learning. You should try it sometime.”
His jaw drops.
The fact that you just casually insulted him makes him both irritated and in love at the same time.
♡ Gojo, the unintentional simp-He’s in class, trying to act all cool and aloof, but his eyes are constantly shifting to where you’re sitting.
You never seem to notice.
He can’t stop thinking about how you’re always so calm, always so collected.
One day, he catches himself staring at you for way too long.
His heart skips a beat when you finally look up and catch his gaze.
You don’t say anything. You don’t even smile.
But the look in your eyes… it makes his heart race.
He looks away like a fool, muttering under his breath. “What the hell is happening to me?”
♡ Gojo, the clingy puppy-He shows up to the library one day to find you reading, of course.
He’s spent the last few hours thinking of ways to get your attention.
He plops down next to you.
“Hey, Y/N, what are you reading?”
You glance at him for a second and say, “A book on theoretical physics.”
He stares at you, unblinking. “Sounds boring.”
You stare back, saying nothing, then go back to reading.
He can’t help himself anymore he leans over and practically whispers in your ear,
“I think you’re kinda cool, you know?”
Your response is the most distracting part of his life.
You don’t even look up. “And I think you should stop distracting me.”
♡ Gojo, the underestimator-He once convinced himself that he could outwit you in everything.
So when the next mission is announced, he’s all cocky about it.
“I’ve got this in the bag. No one’s a better strategist than me.”
But when the team assembles to discuss the mission, you outshine him with every point you bring up.
“You didn’t consider the potential outcomes of that tactic, Gojo.”
His face turns bright red. He tries to play it cool, but you’ve already won this round.
He’s still muttering about it later, trying to convince himself that it was just a fluke.
But deep down, he’s starting to see you as more than just his rival.
♡ Gojo, the frustrated genius-He’s notorious for his smug attitude, his self-proclaimed genius status.
But you, Y/N, have officially cracked the code.
He’s secretly obsessed with trying to figure you out.
There’s no logic in his mind to explain why he can’t stop thinking about you.
He finds himself watching you from afar, wondering if he could ever measure up to your calm intellect.
“Why does she have to be so perfect?” he thinks, but only when he’s alone.
The thought torments him and keeps him up at night.
♡ Gojo, the declaration of affection-One evening, after yet another failed attempt at getting your attention, he stands in front of you.
The usual smirk is gone.
“I think… I think I like you.”
You blink.
He’s waiting for you to say something clever, to shut him down.
But you don’t.
You just stare at him with that unreadable expression.
“Yeah, I know,” you finally say, casually flipping through your book.
He’s left speechless, heart racing in a way he’s never felt before.
The realization hits him hard. You’re so far above him, and yet, he’s already in too deep.
♡ Gojo, the love-struck fool-He can’t help it. No matter how much he tries to deny it, he’s falling for you.
Every interaction, every glance, every indifferent comment you make only makes him more obsessed with you.
But he’s Gojo Satoru, and he’s never been the type to give up so easily.
He’s decided.
He’s going to make you notice him.
No matter how hard it gets, no matter how impossible it feels,
He’s going to win this challenge.
And it’s going to be the best battle of his life.
@syrooo @11v1ngzomble @dekusdante @inoluvrr @hel1nn
sukuna being the test subject of your lip products | f. reader, s/h prns., crack 'n suggestive (under the cut), estb. rl ؛ ଓ
you don’t ask anymore. you just do.
the moment a new PR package shows up—wrapped in glittery tissue, smelling like candy and capitalism—you’re already rolling up your sleeves and calling, “baby, come here. test dummy time.” sukuna groans from wherever he’s sulking in the apartment (usually the couch, half-asleep with one hand in a bag of chips and the other on his game controller). he pretends not to hear you, but he does. he always does.
“what now?” he drags his feet over. shirtless, pouting, voice gravelly with freshly summoned attitude. “if this is another ‘juicy lip plumper no. 3’ i’m gonna riot.”
you ignore him, your hand snaking around his wrist and pulls him down to your vanity stool like you pay him for this. in a way, you do — you kiss him after, and he’d commit federal crimes for that.
“this one’s called eternal cherry kiss,” you say as you uncap the applicator with a dramatic flourish. “supposed to last through eating and drinking. you’ll be the judge.”
“what the fuck is ‘eternal cherry’ supposed to taste like?”
“eternally cherry, obviously.” you lean in. “now pucker up.”
he rolls his eyes, exhales through his nose like this is such an inconvenience, but he leans in anyway. you swipe the gloss across his mouth in a single fluid motion — crimson and glossy, instantly turning his lips into a billboard ad for ‘kissing season.’
he smacks his lips. frowns.
“feels sticky.”
you pull out your phone and hit record. “and now, we let the wear test begin.”
by 2 p.m., he’s still wearing it. there’s a faint cherry sheen while he raids in world of warcraft, barking orders through his mic with his mouth shimmering like a debutante. his guild doesn’t say anything. they know better.
by 5 p.m., you’ve taken him out for errands, the cashier at the pharmacy doing a double take. sukuna glares at the display of cough drops like it wronged him personally, but he doesn’t wipe it off. not even once.
you hand him a mic for the “after” segment. he’s sitting on the kitchen counter, shirtless again, lips still kissed-stained and glowy.
“so, mr. sukuna,” you say with your best influencer voice. “tell us your final review.”
he glares at the camera as he crosses his arms. the gloss is half-faded, but still there, like a badge of honor.
“it’s obnoxious. it survived a shower. survived battle. survived me eating an entire plate of biryani. and her biting my bottom lip at lunch like a demon in heat.”
you make a peace sign from behind the phone.
“…ten outta ten,” he adds reluctantly. “would wear again. for science. or whatever.”
and in the comments, someone goes, “i want what they have.”
sukuna replies from your account—because of course he has the password—with: “die mad about it.”
but since testing lip products just on the lips is for cowards, you’ve upgraded.
this is science. clinical, methodical, incredibly serious influencer business. and sukuna? well, he’s your canvas. your unwilling, irritable, secretly-over-the-moon canvas. he walks into the room already shirtless—because at this point, he knows—arms crossed over his bare chest, all grumble and menace. “so what’s the experiment today, doc? you gonna write your damn @ on my forehead in pink gloss?”
“don’t tempt me,” you say sweetly, uncapping the new gloss. it’s called kissbomb ultra lacquer, and it smells like peaches. “this one claims to last twelve hours, transfer-proof, fade-resistant, and kink-safe.”
he blinks. “kink-safe?”
“don’t worry about it.” you grab his wrist and guide him to sit on the edge of the bed. “shirt off.”
“already is,” he mutters.
“pants too.”
he raises a brow. “...you testing or tryna get laid?”
“yes.”
you climb into his lap with the confidence of a scientist mid-breakthrough, gloss wand in one hand, determination in the other. you apply it slowly, precisely, like you’re prepping for war.
and then the kisses start.
soft little muahs on the corner of his jaw. one on the bridge of his nose. two on his neck, left and right, where his pulse ticks faster. one on each shoulder, then trailing down the hard curve of his bicep. his arms are crossed still, fists clenched, jaw tight—but his ears? red. his breathing? not as chill as he wants to seem.
you murmur, “don’t flex. you’ll smudge the print.”
“’m not flexing,” he says through gritted teeth. “this is just how i exist.”
you keep going. lips marking his collarbones, his ribs, his stomach. lower. every kiss leaving a little stain in a perfect pink imprint like someone went stamp! stamp! stamp! on your big scary man and turned him into a valentine’s day clearance bin.
“you know,” you say thoughtfully, inspecting your work, “you kinda look like the lesbian flag right now.”
he glares at you. “say that again and i’ll throw you out the window.”
you grin, not even fazed. “oh no. my hot queer ally boyfriend’s covered in lip prints. whatever will i do.”
the whole day, he walks around the apartment looking like a sexy battlefield. every mirror he passes, he pauses—just for a second—checking if they’re still there. (they are. of course they are. you chose a good gloss.)
he’s got one kiss mark on the dip of his spine. two on the inside of his thighs. one perfectly placed behind his ear that makes him twitch every time he catches the scent of peach.
“stop looking at me like that,” he growls at you from across the room, sprawled out on the couch later, sipping water and trying to act normal. “you look like a cat who just knocked over a vase.”
you climb on top of him again. inspect a few faded spots. reapply.
“just touching up my art,” you murmur. “quality control.”
he leans his head back and sighs, but his hands are already settling on your hips. there’s a glint in his eyes that says he’s so pretending to hate this. he’s so full of shit.
and when you post a blurry photo of your masterpiece—captioned “new gloss. 12 hour wear. boyfriend approved 💋”—you wake up the next morning to 4,700 comments and one furious growl from sukuna.
“who the fuck is asking if they can be next?”
you hum, flipping over in bed to kiss him right on the chest. “don’t worry, baby. the gloss may be long-lasting, but you’re the exclusive trial subject.” he grumbles, eyes half-lidded, smug despite himself.
“…damn right i am.”
kiss divider by @uzmacchiato
girlfriend reveal
femchuu in different outfits ⭐
Men who are academically gifted, very smart and calculated, but somewhat clueless when it comes to love. He has a good reason for that though; nobody before you had caught his attention. Now that he’s found you, his heart is beating faster, cheeks heating up, fingers itching to reach out and hold you. His normally cool demeanour is crumbling. Did you cast a spell on him? He has a lot to learn about romance, and the good thing is that you basically have a completely blank canvas to paint on. He didn’t pick on any bad habits and he’s already a perfect gentleman.
He would do anything for you, he might not know much about being in a relationship, but he adores you. He is eager to learn about affection, dating, kissing, establishing a routine with you, loving you. He’s an act of service kind of person, eager to please and care for you. He’s the one reminding you of your appointments, making sure you eat enough and stay hydrated, taking care of you when you’re sick, helping you study or work on whatever projects that you have. Whenever he comes over, he cleans your dishes without even a second thought, and you felt bad at first to subject him to your messes until you realized that he loves doing those things for you.
He quickly learns how and when to hold your hand, what kind of dates you like, the pet names that make your heart skips a beat, how to kiss you until you’re breathless and wanting more. He’s also a very good listener, which is actually impressive since he seemed mostly socially clueless when you first met him. He takes an interest in all the things you like. He does research on your favourite music groups, he catches up on TV shows you enjoy so he can understand what you’re talking about when you mention them, and he tries to learn the recipes of your favourite meals. He has a whole folder in his notes app dedicated to gift ideas and things he wants to remember about you — your drink order, favourite restaurant, the flowers you like, the brand of a bag you were eyeing last time he went to the mall with you. He doesn’t want to miss anything.
He’s become completely attached to you and he’s so touch starved that he takes each and every opportunity to be near you and hold you in some way, usually burying his nose in your neck. He takes note of your sweet perfume then, mentally adding it to the list of things he knows about you, right next to the flavour of chapstick he tasted on your lips the last time he kissed you.
fushiguro megumi, todoroki shoto, shinso hitoshi, tsukishima kei, kozume kenma, armin arlert, tomioka giyuu, hayakawa aki, + all your favs.
man i fucking love the baddie x nerd! gojo trope, i wanna kiss the brain of whoever came up with this idea
ᡣ𐭩 content — fan!gojo x pop-princess!reader. fluff, gojo's kind of a freakk :P
fan!gojo is, delicately put, obsessed. his penthouse apartment? a whole room dedicated to your discography, limited edition vinyls glowing under soft led lights, and walls plastered with every magazine cover you've ever graced. his credit card? permanently swiped for your latest merch drops, holographic posters, and plushie keychains.
fan!gojo who hears about the meet-and-greet raffle from your instagram (he's the first to like the post). panic sets in. a raffle? random chance? this is an affront to his meticulously planned life. no amount of money can guarantee a win.
fan!gojo who has to beg for this stranger on reddit to give them their tickets to him. he lost a little over a million dollars (yeah, okay, in hindsight, that wasn't financially smart — but, this was the opportunity of a lifetime).
fan!gojo who ends up bringing geto with him, since he doesn't want the other ticket to go to waste. out of geto, of all people, he's not sure. geto, the heavy-metal aficionado. their music tastes' are worlds apart, but gojo's doing his best friend a favor.
fan!gojo who spends hours picking out his outfit, to which geto snorts, "it's not like you're going on a fucking date with her."
fan!gojo who huffs, dramatically crossing his arms. "we're taking pictures."
fan!gojo who ends up bring all of your vinyls to the meet-and-greet. every single one. "what?" he asked geto, who was giving him a funny look. "i couldn't decide. they're all amazing."
fan!gojo who's practically bouncing off the walls, when the security guard tells him it'll be their turn, soon. will he be okay? does he look okay? wait, does he smell okay?
fan!gojo who's shoving his to-be-signed merch into geto's hands, cracking his knuckles. after a moment, he snatches them back, hissing, "don't do anything embarrassing, okay?"
"...says the one bringing a whole ass record store."
fan!gojo who is freaking out when he lays his eyes on you. in person. even geto, who's never seen him flustered over a girl, can't help but snicker.
fan!gojo who thinks your voice is even sweeter in real life, if that's possible. you smile, a soft greeting leaving your lips. all he can do is stutter a response. (yes, geto is filming.)
fan!gojo can't tear his eyes off you. you're dolled up in the prettiest shade of pink, and you look gorgeous. your hair rests in soft curls, styled to perfection. though, he'd pop a boner if you showed up with bed-head.
fan!gojo who gets all his merch signed by you, as he grins boyishly, a warm pinking dusting his cheeks.
fan!gojo who musters out the courage to blurt; "i love you! y— your music, i mean," stuttering over his attempted amends. too much courage, it seems.
fan!gojo who practically sighs in relief when you laugh. "yeah?" you ask, handing him his items.
"yeah," fan!gojo says, breathy. "huge fan."
you tilt your head at him, thoughtful eyes. "i can tell." fan!gojo's cute, you think. as they're heading out, you stop him, watching his brows knit in confusion.
"we can take a picture, just us," you suggest. "if you'd like."
if fan!gojo would like? fuck, yeah, he would.
fan!gojo who's beaming, waiting for the click of the camera, when you catch him off-guard — pressing a kiss to his cheek.
fan!gojo who's eyes widen, and he's sure that photo came out odd on his end, but god, he'll keep it forever.
fan!gojo who thinks his life can't get any better, but you're sliding off your bejeweled, pink bracelet and slipping it on his wrist. eyes twinkling, you wave him out.
it's not until he gets home, placing his merch back where it belongs (on what normal people would call a shrine, but fan!gojo prefers the term collection), that he notices something on his vinyl, not just a signature.
it's your number, with, right below it; for my biggest fan.
fan!gojo who's breath hitches. he's won.
𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚔 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚒𝚌𝚎
pairing: hockey player!katsuki x trainer!reader
warnings: cussing, tensions, bakugou kinda being very forward
notes: hockey player katsuki save me 🤤
what started as teasing texts between the star hockey player and the team's trainer turns into late-night tension and feelings neither of you want to name
Megumi and Geto are always doing the most gay stare ever in the official art lmao
gojo satoru had experienced hell before, that one time he lined up to get his favorite manga signed by the author but kept letting people cut in front of him because he was too scared to say something and he’s just nice like that. that was until geto told him off for doing it because he ended up not getting his book signed. he’s so dumb.
but this—this was a different kind of hell. he’s sat on the couch at a house party with.. yeah, you guessed it. the squad: suguru geto, toji fushiguro, ryomen sukuna… a whole bunch of hotties
it’s not really a pleasant sight to see. 2 girls clinging onto sukuna, fushiguro making out with one and geto talking to a girl who is clearly interested in him..
and then there’s gojo.
sitting there awkwardly, clutching a cup in his hand while sipping on nothing.
sure, he loves his best friend suguru. he just hates how popular he is. at every function, all the girls seem to be magnetised to his mysterious and brooding aura. and gojo’s just there, i guess. he huffs at the thought. he thinks knows that he could treat a girl soooo right if they just gave him a chance!
geto excuses himself to go upstairs with the girl. satoru already knows where this is going, so he brushes it off. he then eyes the group of girls from afar giggling and whispering to each other while looking at the guys on the couch. actually.. it looks like they’re looking towards his direction.
“come on y/n! just ask him!” your friends keep nudging and shoving you towards his direction, and gojo couldn’t help but scowl.
after finally mustering up the courage to come up to him, you fiddle with your fingers before stuttering out a quiet “hi,”
gojo sighs, “if you’re here to ask for suguru’s number, i’m not interested.”
your eyes widen in confusion which makes him confused too.
“oh, uh.. i was actually going to ask for yours..?”
what.
there’s no way.
“it’s fine if you’re not interested, i’m sorry—”
“NO, NO, I AM!” he internally cringes at his response. “sorry, i just.. thought you were gonna ask about suguru.” he puts his palm out, silently asking you to give him the sharpie. you shrug and give it to him, rolling your sleeve up.
you smile after he writes down his number on your forearm, giving you back your pen. “thanks,” he nods at you. “and for the record.. i think you’re way cuter than geto.” gojo’s face heats up as you walk away, burying his face into his hoodie.
you tuck the pen into your pocket, suppressing a grin as you walk away. behind you, gojo groans, burying his face deeper into his hoodie, his muffled voice barely audible.
“way cuter than geto,” he mutters to himself, kicking at the ground. “way cuter. oh my god.”
͙͘͡★ divider by @zerowhy & @cafekitsune 🩵