extra help | gojo satoru
what’s a teacher to do when his student is building up so much cursed energy? help her get it under control, of course.
pairing: gojo satoru x f!reader
wc: 4.7k
warnings: smut, 18+ (minors dni), teacher/student relations (reader is of age), fingering, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, sir kink, unprotected sex (do not do this), lowkey corruption, squirting, exhibitionism (?), creampie, gojo refers to himself as “teacher” because i said so
note: barely edited, something to ease the brainrot. gojo satoru hollow me challenge.
“Can you maybe, I don’t know, shut the fuck up?”
The jab spews out of your mouth before you can stop it. Your filter is long gone, the thoughts that pop into your head forming into verbal words without the chance to even process them. Once you hear it, you mentally slap yourself. Now you just look like an asshole.
“Jeez, no need to be a bitch about it,” mutters Nobara. She rests on the concrete steps on her elbows, appearing utterly disinterested with her head tossed back and eyes closed, soaking in the fresh air.
“I’m not being a bitch.”
“Yes, you are.”
“I’m not!”
“You kind of are,” Megumi says quietly, shrugging slightly when your incredulous expression finds his to be stoic and unmoving. He leans down to scratch behind one of his dog’s ears. His nonchalance boils your blood even further, effectively working you up past your melting point. A bitter laugh leaves your mouth.
“…You motherfucker-”
“Good morning, everybody!”
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with whatever happens from here, our names will last far beyond our years
for my armin angst anon :) thank you for the request, i honestly love angst and write it all the time outside of fanfic so idk why i don’t do it more often!
pairing: armin arlert x reader
wc: 1.5k
genre: angst, fluff (happy end)
a/n: takes place somewhere just before the events of season 4. also, hi guys! this is lowkey word vomit and i’m a bit out of practice so if this doesn’t seem like me, that’s why lol
they say that time heals all wounds, but in your case, time does nothing but prolong the constant sting in your throat. it denies the sinking acceptance your weary heart pleads for. because as long as you have time, you don’t have to face the truth.
so what if you love him? so what if it’s been years? so what if no matter what you do, you can’t let him go? it’s not like it’s going to change any time soon. but even if it did, even if you had the choice to move on, you’re not so sure you would. he’s the last bloom of the season left that you pick out of selfishness, the butterfly you’re blessed to catch yet hate to let go.
because if not him, who else?
armin is everything. he’s your reflection and your opposite, late nights and early mornings, kind and then cruel across his commitment to morality. he’s there on good days and bad days, with a smile or sympathy. if you’re lucky, you get both.
he’s brutally imperfect, perfectly human, and so easy to love.
but when standing against the end of humanity, there’s no room for childish fantasies like yours.
you love him so bad it hurts. he’s at the forefront of your mind at all times, even when he’s standing right in front of you. you think of him visiting that girl in the basement, day after day, frozen in her cowardly crystal as she hides from retribution. he waits, staring, and she occupies his mind when you desperately wish it could be you. what is it about a criminal that intrigues him past rationality?
yet the worst thought is that one day, you might not feel so strong.
it’s something keeping you around. it’s something to imagine on nights when the sun hangs in the sky as low as your hope for the future. he’s something to bet on and pin your fleeting dreams to. however long this feeling lasts, you hang on with all that you can, because waiting at the end is the inevitable sting of loving someone who doesn’t love you back.
it’s a realization you’re not ready to come to yet. for now, a little voice convinces you that there’s a chance. and a chance is enough, isn’t it?
you’re sitting by the docks, feeling the afternoon sun sear your skin, when gentle footsteps knocking on the wood alert you to his presence. when you crane your neck up to see him, he stretches his arms behind his head before sitting down next to you. it’s not surprising, considering armin makes a point to show he cares for all of his friends, but you still wonder if maybe how hard you were thinking about him somehow drew him in. you try to resist the heat burning at the skin of your cheeks fueled by his mere appearance.
“it’s a really nice night, huh?”
he sighs as he lowers his palm to the edge of the wood and throws his legs over, cementing his place beside you. you cling your knees close to your chest while your head rests upon them for support.
“yeah. i didn’t know it could be this pretty.”
tender rays of sunshine brush over his blond hair, making it shimmer like gold. it’s tentative, as if the great light source that keeps your world turning is even too afraid to touch armin arlert.
“me too, but i think i always hoped for it. expected it, at least,” he says with a nod. nostalgia swims in the pond of color in his eyes as he looks out across the water. “but that’s how it is when you’re a kid.”
you want to laugh. when you were a kid, you certainly weren’t concerned with the existence of an ocean beyond the walls. something tells you armin didn’t just expect it out of naivety.
“oh, please,” you say with a roll of your eyes. “you don’t give yourself enough credit. you practically know what’s going to happen before the rest of us have even started thinking about it.”
he lets out a breath of shy laughter through a smile. he’s too modest. “yeah, maybe.”
the blunt edge of your nail scratches at the fresh, amber wood to your side. you press a little more, digging it out like a miniature canyon while silence fills the air. armin opens his mouth and the proximity allows you to hear a rushed intake of air, like courage, filling his lungs before it hitches in his throat. it pauses there, contemplating, before he lets it out in faltered attempt to seem like it went according to plan.
but he swallows and tries again, because armin knows the world will always give him a second chance.
“speaking of… i wanted to talk to you in the first place because, well,” he cedes, rubbing his eyes, “i kind of get the feeling something big is about to happen.”
he chews at the corner of his lip, eyes darting to the side to gauge your reaction.
your head tilts in curiosity. “really? what makes you say that?”
you watch as he fiddles with his fingers in his lap. his nails run along his cuticles, the natural folds in his palms, gathering his thoughts in preparation to set them all out.
his fingers tug through his bangs to soothe his tired roots. “well, it’s been a long time coming. with eren gone, sending notes, arranging plans. it’s coming to its climax, i think. and once it starts, it’s not gonna stop until it’s over.”
bright locks fall in front of his fact when a light gust of wind blows by. his cheeks are smooth and soft with a slight pink tint from the heat of the day, and his lashes are long and wispy, like the wings of an insect. you have to pry your gaze away though your heart pleads you for a second longer spent admiring.
“i really care about you. i just wanted you to know that.”
you’re not sure you hear it right at first. swept away with his image in the hazy evening, you almost miss that he’s talking to you directly. he cares about you. your pulse stutters.
he cares about you.
you blink, swallowing the apparent dryness in your mouth. “i care about you, too.”
after all this time, you should be used to it. the way how he cares will never be the same as how you care, it shouldn’t hurt you, but you still feel your eyes sting and throat tighten. you can’t help it.
you can’t look him in the eye. instead, you avert your attention to the place in the wood you’ve been indenting your nail. the pressure helps distract from the tears gathering along your lashline. it slowly forms the shape of your initial, a diminutive mark on the expansive docks soon to be walked over by thousands.
“is something wrong?”
your immediate reaction is to dismiss. the words are already slipping off your tongue, excuses that it’s the sun in your eyes and denials that you’re just tired, but they get stuck at the end. is it because the opportunity is here? something pushes them away from the edge as they desperately rock themselves back onto the safety of the cliff with flailing arms and wobbly legs.
hundreds of scenarios rush through your mind, of him getting up and leaving, of awkwardness, of anger and anguish, and yet it’s not enough to derail you. you can’t sit in your itches any longer. if the world is ending soon like he implies, then so be it, because god knows you’d take his word over anything.
“i’m sorry,” you sniffle, voice frail and barely above a whisper. “i just love you.”
you brace for impact, but it doesn’t come. the only sounds are the sawing of your nail, the squawks of distant birds, the waves crashing gently on the shore how they always do at dusk. then his fingers wrap around your wrist, still moving against the wood, to grasp your attention. his eyes are warm and inviting as you slowly lift your head to find them.
“i love you, too.”
a sad smile tugs at your lips. he doesn’t get it. honesty has never hurt so much. “no,” you confess with a sorrowed tinge, “like i love you.”
his eyes crinkle up like crescents. the grin adorning his cheeks is like a medallion, glowing and bright and entirely juxtaposed from the ache of yours. “i love you” he presses, eyebrows raising in emphasis.
“but…”
“but, what? you really doubt it?” he smiles with a breath, eyes crinkling shyly as he looks away. “i thought it was obvious.”
his thumb presses small circles into the back of your palm before letting go and brushing it away from where your hand covers your mark. his nail is much wider and blunt so it doesn’t take long for a faint ‘A’ to appear beside yours, a shade just lighter than the surface.
“if you think you were being obvious, you should have caught on to me earlier,” you laugh.
a coy smile pulls at the corner of his mouth, pressing a dimple into his skin. “maybe i did.”
“you did not.”
“okay, i didn’t. but,” he pauses, holding up his index finger, “i always hoped!”
it draws an airy, relieved laugh from your chest. armin leans down and blows the dust across the wood and sweeps away the extras with his hands.
your initials sit carved into the docks of your home with love, together. no matter if you are unable to return, they’ll still be here. if no one else is around to remember today, at least these letters will be imprinted with a story.
it’s proof of life, proof you lived, and most notably, proof that it was with armin arlert.
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