yas ♡

Masterlist ♥︎

Attack on Titan 𐐪ɞ

⊰ Eren Yeager | dont wanna fall inlove. You're okay baby.

⊰ Armin Arlert | coming soon!

⊰ Jean Kirschtein | coming soon!

⊰ Connie Springer | coming soon!

{More characters will be added upon request!}

Part 5 MDNI 18+

“Wait— how did you know my name?” as that question spills out he realizes he doesn't know your name either. You turn around flashing him a big grin before winking and giving him a little shush signal before walking off again.

After Gojo had gotten home from school he immediately took out the piece of paper you handed him with your number in it. He exhaled softly not believing he actually has your number and he barely had to do much.

He quickly moves his fingers across his phone screen inserting your number he didn't even stop to think about how to text you he was too excited to finally get to text you.

XXX-XX: hey it's Gojo :) I realized I never got your name btw.. So what should I save you as.. oh and here's my address XXXXXXXXX you can come at 5!

He throws his phone to the side as soon as he sends you that text flustered and nervous to see if you'll respond. His eyes widen and he tenses when only a few seconds later he already hears his phone ping.

XXX-XX: hiii gojo sweetie ;)

sorry about completely forgetting to give you my name whoops it's 𐙚˙⋆.˚  make sure to put a cute heart next to it!!

Gojooo :3 💙: DW it's fine!! I'm glad to have it now.. it's a beautiful name :)

𐙚˙⋆.˚ 🩷 : aweee gojo you little flirt! ty cutie piee can't wait to see u toniteee 😘😘

Gojo smiles giddily like a middle school girl with her crush he hearts your message and swipes out of the app looking at the time in the corner of his screen, 3:02 He had enough time to clean and make sure he looks good, not for you but for himself he tries to convince himself.

He's looking at himself through the mirror fixing up his hair making sure no strands are sticking out weirdly he also makes sure to check his breath because well he never knows maybe he might get some action tonight. Gojo checks himself out making sure he's ready to have you over meanwhile you are in your room quite frankly doing the same.

You're applying lip gloss, your lips slightly parted as you sit in front of your vanity mirror. You look to the side looking at the notification from Gojo, he didn't reply, just liked your message but you still appreciated the notification anyways. you press your lips together getting up from your seat walking to your full body mirror.

You look at your outfit smirking at yourself proudly, it's not much really, just a very cute jean mini skirt and a tight white tank top that showed a peak of your blue lace bra which pushed your tits up deliciously and you topped your outfit off with a little sweater that matched the color of your bra.

"perfect m'sure he'll like this" You muttered to yourself running your hands over your body checking yourself out before heading over to your vanity once more and spraying yourself with your favorite perfume that always had you smelling nice. You picked your phone up you noticed you still had 30 minutes left and you thought to yourself why not show up a little early anyway.

-

Gojo swears his heart dropped when he heard the doorbell ring he looked at the time on his phone, it was only 4:45 meaning you were 15 minutes early NOT what Gojo was expecting but not that he minded anyways he wanted to see you again as soon as possible.

He practically tripped over himself rushing to the door, wiping his hands on his sweats one last time and running a hand through his hair as if that would somehow make him look cooler. When he opened the door, he tried to play it off with a lazy smile—but the second his eyes landed on you, it faltered.

“Holy shit,” he breathed before he could even stop himself.

There you were, standing on his doorstep with that teasing little smirk, your jean skirt hugging your hips and that snug white tank giving him an eye-full he absolutely wasn’t ready for. The little sweater draped over your arms made it look like you hadn’t even tried—but Gojo knew better. That kind of outfit was lethal, and you knew it too.

“Hey, Gojo,” you sing-songed, stepping past him like you owned the place. Your perfume hit him like a truck and he actually had to close his eyes for a second just to collect himself.

“You’re early,” he managed to say, shutting the door behind you. His voice cracked at the end. Great.

You turned, hands behind your back as you rocked on your heels. “Mhm. I figured we could get started sooner…” you trailed off, biting your glossed lip slightly as your gaze drifted down his body. “Unless you weren’t ready for me yet?”

He blinked, cheeks flushing despite his grin. “I—pfft, of course I’m ready! I’ve got the whole session planned out, down to the last equation,” he said, tapping the side of his head like he was a genius.

You cocked your head. “Oh? Equations, huh? Hope you’re better at math than I am Im literally the worst at it"

He softly laughed. “c'mon you can't be that bad, I promise as your tutor you'll be even better at math than me.”

“Well,” you said, placing your hand on his bicep looking up at him through your lashes “if you claim to be a good tutor… why don’t you teach me something already, Gojo?”

He stared at you for a second too long before finally speaking “r-right uh follow me to my room!” he chirped before turning around walking towards his room, you look around as you both step in observing everything in his room like his nerdy anime and digimon posters, his assorted collection of figures to your surprise he even had a gaming pc.

"wow Gojo so you're like a decked out nerd huh?" You smirk plopping down on his bed

"uhh yeah I guess you could say that" you assume Gojo must be blushing because he’s embarrassed about you seeing all his nerdy things but actually he's blushing because when you plopped onto his bed your skirt rode up just a little. what a perv. He looks away from your figure and grabs the material he prepared for today plopping down next to you.

"Ok..so tell me what you're more confused about in math and I'll try my best to help you through it.." He says sheepishly as he feels your eyes on him, your smirk at that last part deciding to be a little tease.

"yeah? you'll help me through it Gojoo~?" You press yourself against the side of him tilting your head and smirking slyly at him he gulps before looking down at you and nodding with uncertainty not 100% sure on what you're getting at.

Gojo clears his throat, clearly trying to act normal, like he isn’t hyper-aware of the way your thigh is brushing against his or how your perfume keeps sneaking up his nose and messing with his head.

“Y-yeah,” he stammers, trying to steady his voice, “like… equations. Fractions. Graphs. Whatever’s giving you trouble.” You lean in closer, pretending to glance at the notes he laid out, but your lips are dangerously close to his ear now.

“Mmm… I think it’s graphs that really get me,” you murmur, voice soft, sultry. “All those hard lines and curves… I can never quite figure out what to do with them.” Gojo almost chokes on his own spit.

His hands scramble for a pencil as he flips open the textbook in front of him, trying to physically shield himself with the material like it’s some kind of defense.

“Right! Graphs! Okay cool, cool cool cool—so this is, uh, a parabola…” You giggle quietly and lean your chin in your hand, blinking up at him like he’s the most interesting thing in the world.

“you’re cute when you get all nervous, y’know.”

“I’m not nervous,” he lies—terribly—his voice cracking at the end.

“mhm. sure you’re not.” You let your knee bump into his under the pretense of adjusting your position, but you don’t move it away. Your skirt has slid up again, and this time you don’t bother fixing it. You watch as Gojo’s eyes flicker down for just a second before jerking away, his jaw tight.

He shifts uncomfortably, suddenly sitting more rigidly. “Okay, s-so the x-axis goes here,” he mumbles, pointing to the graph. “And if you plug in the numbers—”

“Gojo,” you interrupt, voice slow and syrupy as you reach forward and rest your hand over his on the page, “I’m trying really hard to focus. But you’re making it kinda hard.”

Gojo’s head snaps to you, eyes wide. “Me?? I’m making it hard??”

You just smile and trace a lazy circle on the back of his hand with your fingertip. “Mhm. You just have that effect, y’know?”

He swears he short-circuits. His brain completely blanks—he’s forgotten what a parabola is, what numbers are, who he is.

“W-we should really get through this lesson,” he mutters, practically begging the universe to give him strength. His voice is shaky, but there’s a little edge of something else in there too. Something hungry.

You hum. “sure. Go ahead, teacher. I’m all ears.” But your smirk says otherwise. He starts explaining again, hand still trembling under yours, and you let him—for now. Every time he gets even slightly more confident, you lean a little closer, let your chest brush his arm, let your eyes wander just enough to make him stutter all over again. Gojo tries to stay focused. Really, he does. He’s clutching the pencil like it’s a lifeline, his other hand gripping the edge of the textbook so hard his knuckles go white. He’s halfway through explaining how to find the vertex of the parabola, and you’re… well, you’re definitely not helping.

You tilt your head, your lashes fluttering as you lean forward again—pretending to squint at the page, but you know exactly what you’re doing. The strap of your tank top slips just a little, falling off your shoulder. You don’t fix it.

Gojo’s eyes darted to it, then back to the book. Then back again. “Uh—so—when a is negative the graph opens, uh… downward…”

You smile like a cat who knows they’ve got the mouse cornered. “Downward, huh? kay think I get it” You rest your hand on his thigh looking at the graph.

“You’re killing me,” he mutters under his breath, pushing his fingers through his hair as his face burns.

“what?” you blink innocently. “I’m just trying to understand the material. You said you’d help me.” You scoot just a little closer and remove your hand. Now your thigh is pressed fully against his, warm and bare and impossible to ignore. Gojo freezes like a deer in headlights.

“W-we can… review another example,” he says, flipping the page too fast and nearly tearing it. He’s clinging to this tutoring session like it’s his last thread of dignity.

“Great idea.” You rest your chin on his shoulder now, peeking at the book over his arm. Your breath fans lightly against his neck and you feel the shiver run through him.

“You smell good,” you murmur offhandedly, like it’s just a casual little observation. “Like soap. And something else… is that cologne?”He swallows hard, ears turning red.

“Uhh. Yeah. Maybe. Just a little.”You smile to yourself, your voice low and warm.

“It’s nice. Makes me wanna get closer.” Gojo’s hand slips, dragging the pencil across the page in a messy line.

“O-oh, cool, coolcoolcool. Totally normal thing to say,” he rambles, trying and failing to focus. “You really are bad at math, by the way.”

You grin. “Mhm. I know. Guess that means we’ll need a lot more tutoring sessions, huh?”

“Yeah,” he breathes, dazed. “I think I’m in trouble.” he mutters to himself but you end up hearing it anyway. You hum, leaning back just a bit, the warmth of your body pulling away.

“Maybe. But only if you stop being such a good teacher, Gojo~” He’s barely holding it together. Every brush of your skin, every word laced with suggestion, it’s like a slow drip of gasoline on an open flame. He’s this close to combusting.

But for now, he nods, forces a grin, and mutters, “A-alright. Next problem…” You glance up at him through your lashes again. He’s fidgeting—his leg bouncing a little, his pencil tapping the page like it might save him. But it won’t.

Not with you this close. Not with your skirt riding high up your thighs, the scent of your perfume wrapping around his senses, and your eyes locked on his mouth more than the textbook. You wait a beat longer. Just to watch him squirm.

Then, without warning, you lift your hand and slowly slide it over his thigh—not high enough to be bold, but just enough to jolt him. Gojo freezes.

“Y-you okay?” he asks, voice cracking hard. He’s staring straight ahead, but you can feel the way his breath catches in his throat.

You tilt your head. “Yeah. Just trying to get comfortable,” you say sweetly. “You don’t mind, do you?”

His lips part like he wants to say something—anything—but no words come out. He glances down at your hand on his thigh, your bare skin pressed against his, the little peek of your bra still visible and you can practically see him sweating bullets.

“okay but..” Gojo says suddenly, tossing the pencil down with a soft thud. “You’re not even trying to study.”

You blink innocently. “Sure I am.”

“You're lying." he says, turning to you, and now his voice is different—low, frayed, a little breathless. “You’ve been messing with me this whole time.” You smirk, leaning in so your faces are inches apart.

“Maybe. But you liked it.” He swallows, eyes flicking to your mouth. You see the exact moment he gives in.

In one quick motion, Gojo leans in and kisses you—soft at first, like he’s afraid he’s imagining this, but when you melt into it, he groans low in his throat and deepens the kiss. His hand slides to your waist, gripping tight like he’s been dying to touch you since the second you walked through his door.

You gasp a little, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, and that’s all it takes—he pushes you back gently onto the bed, hovering over you now, eyes wild and wide with need.

“You’re such a bad student” he murmurs against your lips, breathing hot. “You’re lucky you’re cute.” You grin against his mouth, heart racing.

“Yeah? if im such a bad student what are you gonna do about it, Gojo?” that has him practically whining, God he thought you were so hot.

“D-don’t say stuff like that~ it’s too tempting…” he mumbles, voice wobbling like he’s hanging on by a thread. He’s looking anywhere but your face—down at your lips, your hand on his thigh, the inch of blue lace peeking from under your tank. Anywhere but your eyes.

You lean in, your voice a sultry whisper against his ear. “Tempting…? So you’ve thought about this, huh?”

Gojo makes a noise in his throat—somewhere between a whine and a gasp—and squeezes his eyes shut like he’s trying to delete the whole situation from his memory before it breaks him. “Th-that’s not what I meant—! I mean, I have, b-but—like, not in a creepy way! Just in a normal, completely average way! Like a guy would!”

You laugh quietly, and that does nothing to help the pink spreading across his cheeks. “You’re adorable,” you murmur, dragging your fingers up his chest slowly, watching his breath hitch with every inch.

His head flops back with a groan, glasses sliding slightly down his nose. “You’re seriously gonna kill me,” he mumbles.

You hum thoughtfully. “I mean, I could stop. Go back to learning about… parabolas or whatever.”

Gojo’s eyes snapped open, panicked. “No—! I mean. Y-you don’t have to stop exactly, just maybe slow down a little or I might—” He cuts himself off, pressing the heels of his hands to his burning face. “God. This is not how I thought tutoring you would go.”

You giggle and shift in his lap just slightly—enough to make him physically twitch. “Guess you should’ve made me study harder.”

He makes the most pitiful noise you’ve ever heard. “You’re evil.”

You smile sweetly, tilting your head. “But I’m your favorite, right?”

“…Yes. Obviously. Unfortunately. Please have mercy.”

You giggle at his barely-whispered plea for mercy and lean forward again, your fingers skimming just beneath the hem of his hoodie like you’re testing how far you can go before he breaks.

“Mercy, huh?” you murmur, brushing your lips barely against his jawline. “Didn’t take you for the begging type, Gojo.”

He lets out a sound that might’ve been a whimper, his whole body tensing like he’s holding on to the last shred of self-control he has left. “I’m not—I mean I am—but only because you’re being mean,” he blurts out, voice cracking. “You’re cheating. This is cheating.”

You pretend to be confused, blinking up at him with wide, innocent eyes. “Cheating? But I’m just trying to learn…”

“You’re not learning anything!” he practically explodes, hands flying up in exasperation, then immediately dropping as he realizes he’s yelling. “You’ve been driving me insane since you got here and—oh my god—I can’t think straight, you smell good, your boobs are out, and you’re touching me and you’re so close and I haven’t even finished writing the example problem and—!”

You cut him off by kissing the corner of his mouth, not quite a kiss, just enough to knock the wind out of him. “Then stop thinking.”

His breath hitches again—he swears he could combust on the spot. You can see it in the way his thighs tense under yours, in the way his fingers dig into the edge of the bed like he’s trying not to grab you. He wants to. So bad.

“But if I stop thinking,” he says, voice barely above a whisper, “I’m gonna do something stupid. And you’re gonna laugh at me.”

“I won’t laugh,” you promise, dragging your nails gently up his arm. “Unless you're secretly into it....” He full-body shudders.

“You’re actually insane.” You smile, eyes sparkling. “And yet you still haven’t told me to stop.”

“I can’t tell you to stop,” he blurts. “I literally can’t. You could say anything right now and I’d fold like a pathetic lawn chair.”

“Anything?” you purr, nosing up against his ear. You can feel him trembling. “Like if I said ‘I want you to touch me, Gojo’…?”

He whines. Like, actually whines, head dropping forward onto your shoulder as his hands finally come to rest on your waist—tight, needy, but still so nervous you can feel the tension buzzing through him.

“You’re not fair,” he mumbles, voice muffled against your skin. “You’re not playing fair.”

You run your fingers through the soft white strands of his hair and smile, leaning in close to whisper against his temple, “Good thing this isn’t a game then… or you’d already have lost.”

His breath hitches at your words and he stays still, trembling, like he’s deciding whether to run or melt right into you. But it’s already over. His fingers twitch against your waist, gripping harder now, and when he lifts his head, there’s a glassy look in his eyes—unfocused, lust-drunk, and desperate.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” he mutters. “I was just trying to explain linear motion. That’s all I wanted. Now my brain’s—fuck—I can’t even remember how to spell velocity.”

You lean in until your lips are brushing his featherlight. “Good. Then maybe take a break from studying and indulge in me hm?”

His mouth crashes against yours in a messy, frantic kiss, all teeth and tongue. His glasses are skewed, his hoodie pulled taut between your bodies as he grips your hips and drags you down flush against the hardness straining in his sweats. He groans into your mouth like it hurts—like he’s been this hard since you walked in and it’s finally breaking him.

“God, you’re so—so—pretty, and mean, and smart, and mean,” he babbles between kisses, one hand sliding up under your top, shaky and reverent as he finally touches skin. “I was trying to be professional, I swear, I had notes and everything—”

You roll your hips down into his lap and he chokes, head falling back, lips parted. His cock twitches against you, leaking through his sweats.

“This is what you wanted, right?” you whisper, dragging your fingers down the front of his chest, his stomach jumping under your touch.

“Me on your lap, distracting you. Being such a baddd student, hmm??" He whimpers, nodding like he’s trying to keep his sanity through sheer willpower.

“I’m not gonna last,” he says weakly. “I’m—if you keep moving like that, I’m gonna—gonna come in my pants like some desperate virgin loser—”

“Gojo,” you say softly, smiling as you palm him through his sweats. He gasps, body jerking. “That’s because you are a desperate virgin loser.”

He moans. Full-body, high-pitched, humiliated. “Oh my god.”

“But,” you murmur, shifting to tug down the waistband of his sweats just enough to free him, his cock flushed and twitching in your hand, “you’re my desperate loser now, right?”

His eyes roll back as you stroke him, his hips bucking helplessly into your fist. “Y-Yeah. Fuck. Yours. Just—just don’t stop. I’ll do anything, just don’t stop—”

And when you sink down onto him, slow and tight, squeezing him inch by inch until he’s fully inside, he clutches at you like he’s drowning, sobbing out your name like a prayer.

“Holy shit,” he gasps, arms wrapping around your waist like he’s afraid you’ll vanish. “You feel so good—I-I’m not gonna make it—I’m gonna—oh god, I’m gonna come already—” "Mm..Gojo you're filling me up s-so well im so happy u-ugh been wanting this." You moan out into his ear and he whimpers loudly at that stiffening under you.

"W-what agh- do you mean you've fuckfuckfuck been wanting this?" You're kissing all over him before finally pulling back in a complete daze over him.

"G-gojo Ive mphh- wanted you since I saw you on the first week of school this y-year I fuck — Heard a teacher calling you Gojo w-while praising your work and you just looked so cuuteee~ needed to have you" Your arms are wrapped around his neck and Gojo swears he's seeing stars. so that's how you knew his name — wait you knew him before he even knew about you?

"D-don't hafta call me agh Gojo anymore just call me sat-agh satoru~" He draws out his eyes rolled back and his knuckles white with how hard he's gripping onto you, you look down at him and grin your hips grinding on him.

"T-toru m'close cum with me please?" You whine out your movement getting faster and faster being too much for Gojo to handle. "C-cum on me baby~ im right there pleasepleaseplease give it to me ugh you're so pretty" He cant shut the fuck up begging you to cum on him as hes so close to reaching his high.

One final snap of your hips and you both break. Loud, helpless, completely ruined. It hits him hard, his whole body jerking beneath you as he spills deep inside, voice cracking with every breathless moan of your name. And even as he twitches and throbs, face buried in your neck, he clings to you like he’s never letting go.

"god..that was a-amazing t-thank you.." you smile softly and lay your head on his chest listening to his heartbeat.

"no need to thank me toru hun.. but this makes me your girlfriend now right?" You blink up at him and he wraps his arms around you tight, placing a soft kiss on your forehead.

"definitely you're not going anywhere."

Synopsis: Your boyfriend's such a meanie especially in bed (not rlly hes just a tease :P)

Armin’s grip on your hips tightened as he moved inside you, each slow, deep thrust pulling a soft gasp from your lips. He leaned down, his breath warm against your neck, and couldn't help but chuckle. “Look at you,” he whispered with a teasing smile. “Can’t even keep quiet, huh? Your pussy’s so loud.”

You bit your lip, trying to stifle a moan, but it only made him smirk. “Min~ that’s meannn,” you whimpered, your voice breathless as he pushed deeper.

Armin laughed softly, his pace slow but relentless, his fingers digging into your skin. “Oh, you think so?” he teased, his lips brushing against your ear. “But you love it, don’t you? You’re dripping wet for me. Just a slutty little thing, getting so loud.”

He watched you squirm beneath him, a mix of pleasure and embarrassment painting your face. He leaned in closer, his lips grazing your ear as he continued to tease you. “You can’t even keep it together, huh? You’re mine, baby. All mine.” He gave a soft chuckle when he felt your body tense with every deep thrust. “You’re so fucking tight... it’s almost too easy.”

You moaned, hands clutching the sheets, your body desperate for more. “Please, Armin, don’t stop,” you gasped, your voice trembling.

His eyes darkened with satisfaction, his thrusts never faltering as he kept his slow, steady rhythm. “I know, baby. You need me, don’t you? You’re doing so well. Just letting me fuck you like this.” His voice dropped, getting a little harsher, but there was still that playful edge. “Such a good little slut, taking me like this.”

You whimpered, your legs shaking slightly as he pushed deeper, the pressure building inside you. “Mmm, Min~ you're so meann,” you breathed out, your hands gripping onto his arms as if you were trying to keep yourself grounded.

Armin smirked at your words but couldn’t help but soften just a little. His pace slowed, just enough to make you ache for more, before he leaned in close again, his breath hot on your skin. “I’m not being mean,” he whispered, his voice low and teasing. “I’m just making sure you feel every inch of me.” His hands gently caressed your thighs, as though reminding you how much he cared, even as he still dominated your body with his thrusts.

“You’re so perfect for me,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over your clit, making you gasp. “You can’t help but be this good, can you? Just need me to keep fucking you like this.”

You whimpered again, your body starting to tremble, the pleasure almost unbearable now. “Please, Min... don’t stop... I need it,” you begged, voice breaking with need.

Armin’s eyes softened for just a moment before he pressed into you again, his pace speeding up, but still controlled. “You’ll get everything you need,” he promised, his voice gentle, almost affectionate despite the teasing tone. “You just need to let go, baby. Let me take care of you.”

Part 4

Thankfully, Gojo doesn’t have to wait a whole week to see you again. As soon as he steps out of his English class, you’re there. But instead of your lips curving into a smile, they’re in a little pout, your eyebrows furrowed as you stare intently at your phone.

Gojo thinks you look absolutely adorable like this — he almost coos out loud. But then he notices the sort of stressed look on your face and immediately feels concerned. What’s wrong? You’re usually so bubbly.

He doesn’t even realize his feet have started moving toward you, like you’re a magnet. Before he knows it, he’s tapping your shoulder, a look of worry clear on his face as you glance up. The sight of your expression nearly makes you coo — the way Gojo’s eyes are soft behind his glasses, lips pulled into a slight frown, has your heart melting.

“Hi, Gojo~ What’s up?” You give him a soft smile, all your attention now on him.

“Are you, uh… are you okay? You look… stressed?” He speaks — or more like squeaks — his words coming out uncertain as he scratches his neck and looks at the floor.

“Aww, you worried about me?” You stick your tongue out playfully and nudge his side. He flinches, face turning red.

“N–No— I mean, uh, well, I was, but— I mean, yes? I just… y’know, saw you staring really hard at your phone, so…” He panics, looking everywhere but at you.

Your smirk fades into a small “Oh,” as you remember what you were focused on.

“Oh, right… I was on this site looking for a tutor. But ughh, I don’t know who to pick…” You roll your eyes, whining a little. To you, it’s just a minor inconvenience you’ll probably solve in a minute. To Gojo, it’s the opening to a million possibilities — all of them starring you.

“I could tutor you!”

For the first time, Gojo speaks to you with confidence. Because he knows he could tutor you. He’s smart — painfully aware of it. If his parents hadn’t offered to pay, he would’ve had a full-ride scholarship waiting for him.

You look up at him, eyes wide with curiosity. “Really?”

“Yes! And… I’ll do it for free. You won’t have to pay me!” He grins, a new side of him shining through. Hearing him offer is one thing — but offering for free? That makes you ecstatic.

You practically pounce on him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Oh thankyouthankyouthankyouuu! You’re such a sweetie~” You squeeze him tight, and Gojo swears he’s in heaven. “Y–Yeah, no problem…”

He’s completely whipped, your scent clouding his brain. He’s never been this close to you before. You notice his stutter and giggle, pulling back with a step.

“So… when can you start tutoring me?” you ask, batting your lashes while he tries to gather his composure. Jesus, how pathetic — one hug and he’s already this flustered?

“Oh, I’m free whenever…” he says with a smile.

You brighten like a lightbulb just flicked on.

“So… you can do tonight, right?”

His eyes nearly pop out of his head. You smile at him innocently.

He tries to think — really, he does — but three seconds later he’s blurting out, “Y–Yeah! Of course! I can do that!”

You grin as he stiffens. Only now does he realize… he hasn’t actually prepared to tutor you.

“Great! So here’s my number.” You dig in your bag, pulling out a scrap of paper to scribble it down. “Text me the time and your address. I’d do it at my place, but I want a change of scenery, ya know?”

He nods like he understands, though all his attention is on your fingers brushing his as you hand him the note — your eyes locked on his.

“See you then, Gojo~” You wave and turn around, walking away.

He smiles, watching you go — but as you take a few steps, it suddenly hits him.

“Wait— how did you know my name?”

part 3

You blink up at him, lips parting in a soft little “oh!” like you’re surprised someone’s actually talking to you. Then your smile gets even bigger, sugary sweet and a little teasing.

“Digimon?” you repeat, tilting your head. “Is that like... Pokémon’s cousin or something?”

Gojo almost drops dead on the spot. Not because you got it wrong—but because you’re looking at him like he just handed you a bouquet of roses instead of nervously word-vomiting a random question.

He scrambles to answer, voice cracking just a little. “I-It’s kinda like Pokémon! But cooler! And—and the storylines are way deeper and the evolutions are different and—” He’s rambling. He knows he’s rambling. He wants to sink into the floor.

But you’re giggling, all soft and pretty, twirling that same strand of hair around your finger like you’re genuinely listening.

“That’s so cute,” you say, and Gojo’s brain short-circuits all over again.

You lean in a little closer, just enough that he can smell your candy-sweet perfume. “So... if I say yes, do I get one of those cute little pins?” you ask, batting your lashes at him.

Gojo stares at you, wide-eyed, like you just offered to marry him. He fumbles with the straps of his backpack, yanking it open and digging around until he pulls out a little Angewomon pin—his favorite one. The one he wasn’t planning to ever give away.

But he hands it over without even thinking, fingers brushing yours for a second too long. “Here! I—uh—you can totally have it!”

You take it like it’s a treasure, beaming at him as you pin it carefully to the strap of your own pink glittery bag.

Gojo’s heart feels like it might actually explode. He can’t stop grinning. Can’t even think straight.

“Thank you, Gojo,” you say sweetly, voice soft as you peek up at him from under your lashes.

His name on your lips hits him harder than a Digimon battle. He almost doesn’t notice that he never actually asked how you knew his name.

(But that’s a story for another time.)

It’s been a week since Gojo last saw you, and not for lack of trying. He’s been lurking by the lockers, wandering the halls like a lost puppy, even pretending to care about the library’s gross carpet just in case you passed by. But you never did. It’s like you were a dream he imagined, and now he’s stuck mourning the one good thing to happen to him all semester.

Now he’s sulking at a cafeteria table, head buried in his arms next to a tray of untouched fries, mentally kicking himself for not saying hi when he had the chance. He should’ve told you you looked really, really pretty. Should’ve offered you one of his Digimon pins, especially after he noticed you sneaking a peek at them. Maybe you would’ve smiled at him again.

He’s so lost in his own misery he almost misses it—the soft little laugh that cuts through the cafeteria noise like a neon sign. Gojo jerks up so fast his glasses slip down his nose.

And there you are. Standing in line at the snack bar, twirling a strand of hair around your finger, wearing the tiniest denim skirt he’s ever seen. You look even cuter than he remembered—shiny lip gloss, sparkly earrings, that clueless little tilt of your head like you just wandered out of a music video.

He fumbles his phone, nearly knocks over his tray, heart beating so loud he’s sure everyone can hear it. You’re real. You’re right there.

Panic and excitement slam into him all at once. He can’t blow it again. No thinking. No chickening out. Before he can stop himself, he’s scrambling up, grabbing his Digimon backpack like it’ll give him strength, and speed-walking across the cafeteria with absolutely no plan.

His palms are sweaty, his mouth’s dry, and he’s pretty sure he’s seconds from fainting, but somehow—miraculously—he taps you lightly on the shoulder.

You turn around, and the second your eyes land on him, you smile.

Gojo freezes like a glitching NPC. Your lip gloss catches the light and for a full second, he completely blanks. Then, somehow, his mouth moves—and what blurts out is a breathless, “H-hi! Uh—do you like Digimon?”

Synopsis: Situations where JJK MEN whimper! MDNI 18+

Warnings: Sub!Ino, Sub!Hiromi, Sub! Kusakabe

overstimulation, power play, light degradation and mocking praise, cockwarming, uncontrolled orgasms, begging, whimpering, and multiple orgasms. size kink, praise kink.

WC: 1k

Takuma Ino 𝜗𝜚

You’re riding Ino so fast he’s barely hanging on, his fingers digging into your hips like he’s scared you’ll float away. His head is thrown back against the pillow, messy hair stuck to his forehead, mouth parted in desperate little gasps.

“B-baby—holy shit, slow down, fuck—!” he babbles, voice cracking as you bounce harder.

You just giggle, leaning down to kiss his throat, feeling his pulse hammering wildly under your lips. “What’s wrong, pretty boy? Thought you said you could ‘handle anything.’”

Gojo notices you for the first time on a Tuesday. You’re standing by the lockers, struggling with a key that keeps slipping out of your perfectly manicured fingers, wearing this tiny pink sweater that looks like it belongs in a pop star’s closet.

He’s not trying to stare. He’s really not.

He’s supposed to be flipping through his Digimon forum on his phone, checking on a debate about whether Wargreymon could beat Beelzemon in a hypothetical fight (he totally could). But his brain blanks the second he catches sight of you.

You’re like... a Disney princess if she got dropped into the middle of their ugly beige school hallways.

Lip gloss shining. Hair perfect. Little clueless frown on your face as you poke at your locker.

And maybe it’s stupid, but something about it makes Gojo’s heart thud.

He watches you finally wrestle the locker open with a triumphant little squeak, giggling to yourself. The sound actually makes him smile like an idiot.

(He immediately ducks his head, pretending to be very invested in his phone.)

You notice him, too.

Because how could you not? He’s tall and kind of awkward, standing there with a backpack covered in little Digimon pins and messy white hair falling over round blue-tinted glasses.

You tilt your head, curious. He doesn’t match the hallway’s vibe. At all. Too bright. Too weird. You like it. You give him a little smile—soft, polite, almost teasing.

He freezes.

Actually freezes.

You think he might bolt like a spooked cat, but instead, he lifts one hand in a clumsy, half-hearted wave.

You giggle under your breath and turn back to your locker, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. He watches you walk away, feeling like someone just unplugged his brain.

In another life, maybe he would’ve said something. Asked your name. Told you about the Digivice buried in his backpack.

But today, it’s just a glance. A smile. A spark. Something small. Something real. And Gojo thinks— (he hopes) it might not be the last time.

Synopsis: Situations where JJK MEN whimper! MDNI 18+

Warnings: Sub!Gojo, Sub!Geto, Sub!Toji, Sub!Choso, Sub!Sukuna, Sub!Nanami

Overstimulation (m receiving), riding, bondage (ribbons), sex toys (vibrator), teasing, orgasm denial, begging, whimpering, crying, humiliation, praise/degradation, multiple orgasms, orgasm control.

WC: 3k

Gojo Satoru 𝜗𝜚

The grip he has on your waist doesn't loosen, in fact it tightens not to get you to keep going like he usually does but to try and stop you.

"agh— sweetheart m-mind slowing down hah?" You only smirk looking down at him with your eyes lidded as your hips keep snapping down onto him riding him like you've got places to be.

"S'ok toruu, you can handle it big boy" cooing you take his face into your hands pressing a soft kiss on his forehead making him groan.

"Keep going and I might jus—" Before he can finish his sentence your hips roll in a certain way making him jolt his grip tightening and eyes squinting his jaw falling slack. "ohh fuck baby s-so good" He can already feel himself coming and you can too.

Bf law headcanons!! Part 1

Bf!Law who acts all nonchalant and composed, but secretly memorizes your favorite drinks, snacks, and the way you take your tea—then makes sure it’s always stocked on the Polar Tang.

He’ll be sipping his own coffee like nothing happened, but that cup next to it? That’s yours. And he made it exactly how you like it.

Bf!Law who pretends to be annoyed when you bug him during work, but the second you leave the room, he’s glancing at the door like, “…Took them long enough.”

And when you finally come back? He mutters a soft, “You were gone too long,” without even looking up.

Bf!Law who lets you sit in his lap while he’s reading logs or maps. You ask if you're in the way, and he just wraps an arm around your waist and says, “You’re fine. Don’t move.”

You don’t move. He doesn’t ask again.

Bf!Law who secretly loves when you call him by his first name. He won’t admit it, but the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth gives him away every time.

“Law.” “Hm?” “No, I meant... Trafalgar.” Cue the very subtle blush and a soft “...Idiot.” under his breath.

Bf!Law who teases you mercilessly but gets flustered fast when you flip it on him. You tell him he’s cute and suddenly his face is in his hoodie, hiding the pink crawling up his ears.

“Shut up,” he mutters. “You’re the cute one.”

Bf!Law who will genuinely kill for you but also scolds you like an old man if you forget your coat.

“You wanna get sick? In this weather?” “…I forgot, sorry—” “Nope. Come here. Arms up.” He’s already wrapping you in his coat and zipping it all the way up.

Bf!Law who acts like he doesn’t care about PDA but always finds excuses to touch you—hand on your back when walking through crowds, brushing your hair out of your eyes, fixing your collar.

You call him out on it and he just shrugs. “You’re mine. Gotta make that obvious.”

Bf!Law who lets you doodle on his arm tattoos with a pen when he’s resting. He’ll pretend to be annoyed, but then walk around with little stars, hearts, and tiny “♡ you” scribbles for the rest of the day.

Bf!Law who would 100% room you out of danger in a second if he sensed something off, no hesitation. Doesn’t matter where you are—he will instantly get you back to safety.

“Didn’t I tell you not to leave my sight?” You pout. “You’re overprotective.” He just pulls you into his arms and smirks.

Mdni 18+

His hips slam into yours relentlessly, the sound of skin meeting skin filling the air as you try to keep your breath steady, though it’s impossible with each punishing thrust he delivers. The way his fingers dig into your hips keeps you anchored in place, your back arched, unable to escape the overwhelming pressure he’s creating inside you.

“Say it. Tell me how much you want it.” His voice is low, gritty, almost teasing, despite the desperation lacing his tone.

You bite your lip, your body trembling as you try to push back against him, but he’s too powerful, controlling every movement. “Please… Toji, I need it... I can’t—” you gasp, eyes fluttering shut as he shifts, hitting deeper, his grip on you tightening.

“Yeah, you need me, huh?” His words are punctuated with each hard thrust, his breath hot against your skin. “You fucking love this, don’t you? The way I fill you up... like no one else can.”

The pressure builds inside you, a tight coil ready to snap, and you can feel the heat building between your legs again. You claw at his back harder, desperate for more as he keeps fucking into you with a steady rhythm that’s both merciless and addictive. “Toji… oh god, I—"

“Don’t hold back,” he commands, his tone rough, eyes darkened with lust as he watches you come apart beneath him.

Toji groans, feeling you tighten around him, your breath shaky and uneven. His hands shift, gripping your jaw roughly as he forces you to look at him. "You're such a mess," he mutters, his voice a mixture of satisfaction and something darker. "Can barely handle me, huh? Look at you, all needy, just like I knew you'd be."

His pace doesn’t slow, and the more you try to hold on, the more he pushes you to the edge, watching the way you unravel beneath him. "So fucking sloppy, can't even keep it together when I'm inside you. You're mine, doll, completely fucking mine."

He pulls back, only to thrust harder, each movement punishing, pushing you closer to the edge, the tight coil inside you threatening to snap. His eyes glint with dominance, watching your every reaction, knowing he has you right where he wants you.

With a final, relentless thrust, Toji pushes you over the edge. The tight coil inside you snaps, and everything—every thought, every feeling—explodes in a rush of raw sensation. For a moment, there’s nothing but the overwhelming rush of pleasure, your body trembling violently as you try to catch your breath.

Toji doesn’t stop, continuing with a brutal, almost possessive rhythm, until the very last tremor of your release fades into exhaustion. Only then does he slow, his breathing heavy and ragged, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he watches you.

He pulls back just enough to lean over you, his face inches from yours, eyes dark but full of something else now—satisfaction, maybe even something more. "Told you you couldn’t handle it," he mutters, his hand gently brushing a strand of hair from your face, almost tender despite the earlier forcefulness.

You’re left breathless, the aftermath of everything still rippling through your body.

Toji’s smirk lingers as he watches you catch your breath, his hand brushing your hair back with a gentle touch. “Oh, baby, you’re such a mess,” he teases, his voice soft but laced with satisfaction.

You can barely keep your eyes open, still reeling, but you manage to mutter, “You’re mean…”

He chuckles, his fingers lightly tracing your skin. “Yeah? I’m just the meanest, huh?” His hand slips under the covers, pulling you closer, as if he knows exactly what you need. “But I’ll take care of you. Don’t worry.”

You give him a half-hearted shove, still too exhausted to fight back. “You’re impossible.”

LoveIsland!Gojo who enters the villa like he owns the damn place, strutting in with that trademark cocky smile. He stretches out on the lounge chair like he’s meant to be here, arms draped behind his head, sunglasses perched lazily on his messy white hair.

“Damn,” he smirks, glancing over at the girls who are practically melting under his gaze. “You all look like trouble. Lucky for you, I like that.”

The girls laugh—some flustered, some intrigued, but none of them can ignore how magnetic he is. Gojo doesn’t even look at them—he’s already searching for something more.

LoveIsland!Gojo who doesn’t even pretend to hide the way he’s scanning the villa, his eyes flitting over each girl like they’re all distractions. He’s searching for one thing, one person, and when his gaze lands on you, he stops.

It’s like everything else falls away. His smile shifts, just a touch, something darker creeping in. There’s no pretending, no flirty lines. His eyes burn into you with an intensity that cuts through everything.

“Damn,” he mutters under his breath, eyes tracking every inch of you like he’s hungry. “They didn’t tell me heaven was a stop on the way here.”

His voice drops lower, a quiet confession meant only for you. The others? They don’t exist in this moment. You’re his focus.

LoveIsland!Gojo who goes through the rounds of the challenge like it’s a casual game, but the entire time, his thoughts are locked on you.

When the “kiss the islander you’re most attracted to” challenge hits, Gojo doesn’t even glance at the other girls, who’ve been throwing themselves at him. No, his steps are slow, deliberate, and every single move is a message.

He stops right in front of you. His smirk isn’t playful anymore—it’s almost desperate, like he’s been dying for this moment. He doesn’t wait for permission. He just takes it, hand reaching out to tilt your chin up.

When his lips crash against yours, it’s nothing like the others—there’s no teasing, no games. It’s raw. It’s hungry. The kiss is desperate, full of need, like he’s been starved for it and can’t wait another second.

The entire villa goes silent. There’s no laughter, no murmurs. It’s as if the world holds its breath just to witness the storm that’s going down in that kiss. When he finally pulls back, there’s no cool cocky smirk, no quip.

He’s breathless, his pupils blown wide. The kind of look that says, I need you, I’m losing my mind, but he just wipes his thumb across your lip like it’s nothing.

“Fuck,” he mutters, voice tight, raw. “Tastes better than I imagined.”

LoveIsland!Gojo who watches you with a new, almost feverish intensity the rest of the night. Every conversation you have with someone else, every laugh you share with another guy—Gojo is watching, studying, his eyes following you like he’s counting every second you’re not his.

When one of the other boys tries to pull you for a chat, Gojo is already there—swooping in, a lazy grin on his face but a fire in his eyes.

“Sorry, bro,” he says, voice deceptively calm. “Think she’s busy.”

His arm is already around your shoulders, pulling you closer to his side, like he’s making sure no one else even thinks about getting in his way.

LoveIsland!Gojo who stands at the firepit later, hands shoved in his pockets, but he’s not relaxed. Not even close. He’s fidgeting, his jaw tight, his eyes flickering toward you every few seconds like he’s ready to explode.

When the recoupling happens, he doesn’t make a big speech. He doesn’t need to. He just looks at you, a look that feels like a promise.

“This one’s easy,” he says, voice thick with desire. “I’d like to couple up with someone who hasn’t been trying to get my attention... probably ‘cause they already have it.”

There’s no asking—just a statement, the weight of it almost suffocating.

He doesn’t wait for you to say anything. He doesn’t need to. He offers his hand, fingers curling like he’s already decided you’re his.

When you take it, there’s a huge smile. you hear a “Good choice,” from him, his voice low and almost too intimate. His fingers lace with yours, holding tight, like if you slip away, he might just fall apart.

He doesn’t let go of your hand for the rest of the night, each brush of his fingers against yours a reminder that he’s never letting you out of his sight.

LoveIsland!Gojo who leans back on the bench, arm stretched across the back of it, so close but never quite touching. Every inch of his body is alive with energy—desire, need, but he plays it cool like it’s all part of the game.

When the recoupling ends and the cameras turn off, Gojo doesn’t waste a second. He leans in close to your ear, voice barely a whisper.

“Guess I’m yours now,” he breathes, his words laced with raw hunger. “You’ve got no idea how much I want you. Hope you’re ready.”

LoveIsland!Gojo who finds you on the terrace later, your body a little too warm from the villa’s heat or maybe from the tension swirling between you two. He slides the door open, barefoot and shirtless, like he knows the effect he has on you.

“Couldn’t sleep either?” His voice is smooth, teasing, but there’s an edge to it—like he’s about to lose it if he doesn’t have you right now.

LoveIsland!Gojo who walks over without a second thought, sitting down right next to you. His body presses against yours like he has to be close—like he’s suffocating without that connection. His fingers brush yours, but it’s more than that. It’s claiming.

“You hiding from me?” he murmurs, but you can hear the desperate edge in his voice, like it’s killing him that you’re not already his.

He’s so close now, his lips almost brushing your ear. “I can’t stop thinking about you,” he admits, voice tight with need. “I’ve wanted this since I saw you.”

When you don’t pull away, when you don’t shut him down, Gojo’s hand slides to your neck, pulling you in with an urgency that nearly breaks him.

“I need to kiss you again,” he breathes, no longer asking, but pleading. Yearning.

The kiss is frantic. Desperate. Like he’s been waiting for this moment for an eternity. His hands are on you now, pulling you closer, his body pressing against yours as if he needs to feel you against him to survive.

When he pulls away, his breath is ragged, his forehead resting against yours, eyes closed.

MDNI 18+ | Soft Dom, Stoned Sex, Praise & Teasing, Lazy Grinding, Slow Fingering, Overstimulation, Possessive Eren, Soft but Mean

It’s always calm and soothing smoking a blunt with Eren. You’re curled into his chest on the couch, legs thrown over his lap, the sleeves of his oversized hoodie swallowing your hands as he lights it for you. The soft glow of the TV flickers in the background, something muted and forgotten, the room hazy with smoke and his scent.

Eren always holds it for you on your first drag—so careful, so sweet—and lets you lean into him as the high settles into your bones. The first hit is too deep, too fast, and you cough into your sleeve with watery eyes and shaky lungs.

He’s instantly there.

“It’s okay, baby,” he murmurs, palm patting slow circles between your shoulder blades. “You’re okay. I’m right here, just breathe.”

His voice is hushed and low, soothing in a way that sends shivers straight down your spine. His hand rubs your back softly, the fabric of your hoodie catching under his palm, grounding you.

You lean into him instinctively when the coughing fades, cheeks warm, eyes glassy. Eren brushes your hair back with fingers that linger a little too long behind your ear, then presses a kiss to your temple.

“Still alive?” he teases.

You hum, letting your head fall onto his shoulder, eyes fluttering closed as he starts rambling—some nonsense story about Connie and a light pole.

“And then Connie, dumbass that he is, tried to slide down the pole and got his pants caught. We had to—shit, what did we use? I think Jean had to cut him out.”

You giggle softly, not really following, too high and too warm and too Eren-drunk to care. You nod along anyway, and he watches you, eyes half-lidded and lazy, but hungry. Always hungry.

And when he calls you pretty? You melt.

“You’re so cute when you’re high,” he murmurs, eyes roaming your face. “All quiet and cuddly.”

You blink up at him, dazed, lips parted. “Thank you…”

“God,” he laughs softly. “Look at you. Blushing and shit. You know I could fuck you dumb right now and you’d just say thank you again.”

You stare at him, and your thighs clench.

He catches it. Of course he does.

“Oh? What’s that?” His voice dips lower, softer, but the edge sharpens. “You like that idea, huh?”

His hand slides down your bare thigh, the pads of his fingers warm and calloused as he traces small circles into your skin.

“You wanna be good for me?” he murmurs. “Be my good girl tonight?”

You nod. Too fast. Too eager.

Eren grins, and his fingers slip higher, under the hem of your hoodie—his hoodie—his hand ghosting over your bare waist like he’s savoring the warmth of you.

“Take your panties off,” he says gently, like it’s nothing. “Nice and slow.”

Your hands tremble as you do it, high and pliant, your mind cotton-candy soft under his gaze. You shift, tossing them to the side as he watches every move you make, jaw tight, eyes darker now.

He pulls you into his lap without another word, one hand sliding under your ass, guiding you down so you’re straddling his thigh. You can feel the heat of him even through the fabric of his sweats—he’s hard already, but he’s in no rush.

Not with you like this.

“Look at you,” he says, dragging the blunt again before tapping the ash out lazily. “Dripping on my thigh already and I haven’t even touched you.”

Your cheeks burn hotter, but you don’t move—not until he starts to rock you.

His hands grip your hips, guiding you slowly forward and back against his thigh. The friction is delicious—hot, slow, and maddeningly light. He watches the way your breath hitches, the way your hands scramble for his shoulders.

“That’s it, baby. Just like that. Let me do all the thinking, yeah?”

You nod again, brain slipping further into mush as you rut against him, gasping every time the rough fabric of his sweats brushes your clit.

Eren presses his forehead to yours, eyes half-lidded and hazy, but there’s a wicked smile tugging at his lips.

“Feels good, huh?” he whispers. “I could do this all night. Just keep you here like this, whining and shaking on my thigh.”

You’re already getting close. Too close. Too fast.

“Eren… I—” you pant, eyes wide, thighs twitching.

He lifts your hips, just barely, and slides his fingers between your legs.

And when his fingers slip inside you, slow and thick and wet with how ready you already are, you gasp—head falling back, hips jerking into his touch.

“Shhh,” he coos, kissing your throat. “You’re okay, baby. I got you.”

He pumps his fingers deep, curling them just right, and your whole body starts to tremble. The high makes everything feel so much, like you’re falling apart just from this.

“Already this close?” he chuckles, breath hot against your neck. “God, you really are my good girl, huh?”

You moan as your legs shake again, hips grinding into his palm, chasing that release with everything you’ve got.

“Go on,” he whispers. “Cum for me. Soak my fingers. Show me how sweet you are.”

And you do—hard, body clenching around him, your thighs trembling as your high crashes into your orgasm. He doesn’t stop. Not even when you cry out and grip his shoulders, nails biting into his skin.

“That’s one,” he says calmly. “Let’s see how many more I can pull out of you.”

You whimper. “Eren—too much…”

But he just smiles. Kisses your cheek sweetly. Wipes the tears from your lashes as his fingers slide in again.

“I know, baby. I know,” he whispers. “Just relax for me.”

“I’m right here.”