#Honing Discipline

[spirefan]

Let's talk about how we spend our time and its reflections upon our values, discipline, and respect for an abundance of life's attributes on this cheerful Monday:

[bumblingbabooshka]

Archery Science Professor at the Vulcan Institute of Defensive Arts [Patreon | Commissions]

[samwiselastname]

honored the old late night impulse to browse a specific tag and now I'm being destroyed by beams. (gpose of emet-selch in culinarian gear). remember when I came on here like "oh turns out folklore is good actually, there is some merit to enjoying a solid, popular mass market option." this man is like taylor swift to me. fictional men with large fandom prescence are a wonderful metric to affirm my continued bisexuality. put his game model into a tight jacket and a stiff collar and I WILL reblog the screenshoot you paired with coldplay lyrics.

[synesindri]

iirc today is my last day of my the terror fandom speedrun...i should make a conclusions post

[patron-saint-of-emesis]

honestly like. i knew if i decided to quit weed cold turkey id go fucking insane so every day ive been telling myself i will not smoke until 3pm. and every day ive been hitting 3pm without smoking :) and lately some days ive been challenging myself to push it back further and further, like a ‘oh i lasted an extra hour, i can do another!’ and tbh its so nice. im appreciating the clear headedness and also feeling like im more in control over my vices

[aficionadoenthusiast]

yes, percy rose through the ranks of new rome disturbingly fast. no, jason did not do the same at camp half blood. yes, percy's rise to leadership at both camps took about two weeks and was completely unplanned. no, the same cannot be said for jason. his rise was carefully planned and took over a decade. they're both children of the big three, but where percy thrums with raw power, jason is a sword honed by zeus and hera. where percy is a survivor, jason is a weapon. where percy is a cycle breaker, jason can't get out. jason's fatal flaw was temptation to deliberate because he never managed to make his own choices. he was every classic definition of a hero rolled into one, and he never questioned it because his happiness came after the responsibility. jason was never going to ascend as fast as percy because jason was raised on hard work and discipline while percy, an abuse survivor and child of poverty, knew when to fight dirty. where jason was a transplant, percy was an invasive species. jason was always going to die because he was never more than a tool for the gods to throw away when he outlived his usefulness, or when he started to question his place. if someone as locked down as jason can question the system, anyone can. now that luke has put thoughts of overthrow in everyone's heads, zeus has to be very careful because while jason was expendable as his weapon, percy was unexpected in every way. zeus has no plan for him. when percy dies, he will become a martyr, so he can't die, except now everyone knows that percy doesn't want to be a god either. jason had to die, and now percy has to live.

[bredforloyalty]

i had a good day i like having things to do but unfortunately i have just remembered i am insane</3

[tetzoro]

zoro roronoa doesn’t let his guard down. even in his most vulnerable moments, his senses remain sharp, honed in by years of discipline. it’s woven into the threads of his very being to remain vigilant at every moment, even his naps. a second of hesitation could change the tides, threatening everything he’s sought so hard to achieve.

on top of that, he is very sensitive about his back. the mere thought of it getting scarred brings him a sense of shame so he ensures that it’s protected at all costs.

when you first started sharing a bed, zoro would lay flat and pull you to his chest if you insisted on cuddling. it’s how it’s always been and you figure it’s how it’ll always be.

but he has a habit of surprising you.

late one night, when the moon hung high in the sky and casted it’s soft glow over everything, zoro looked at you. his eye searched for something in your expression and after what felt like him sifting through the deepest depths of your soul, he slowly turned to his side, bare back exposed to you.

it takes a moment for you to process what he’s insinuating.

carefully, the ghost of your finger runs down his spine and you watch as he shivers, curling into himself a little more. his unguarded back was now at your mercy, the almost unblemished skin — save for a few beautiful moles, was now exposed to you.

the unspoken invitation lays before you, the palms of your hands sliding from his back and around his waist, accepting the quiet request of letting him be the little spoon for once. with a gentle smile, you cradle yourself along him, placing a sweet kiss on his shoulder in thanks for trusting you with such a privilege.

[atoltia]

Promise of Wealth

Sylus gave you access to the entirety of his fortune, and yet you keep using it... on him?

In which the MC doesn't really care about his money so much.

Sylus and fem!MC fluff

Disclaimer: I've only been playing the game for less than two weeks so apologies for any mistakes.

---

To obtain power, one must have it.

It was a natural truth, one that he diligently followed. It took discipline to hone his instincts, experience to ensure success in his ventures, a raw, natural brutality that served to enhance his ideals and further his reputation not just as the leader of Onychinus, but as a conqueror known throughout the galaxy.

The simple utterance of his name invoked fear. The visage of him exuded wealth, so much so that he could buy himself a decent-sized country if he so wanted.

Sylus was perplexed.

He had all the wealth that he could possibly covet, is still planning to acquire. He owned several multi-million enterprises, resorts, hotels, villas and manors - all the material gains that one could only dream to have and made sure you had access to every single thing the moment the two of you made your relationship official.

He trusted you with his card, he's opened up your own bank account already filled with millions, acquired property and assets in your name. You could get anything that you'd want and he wouldn't bat an eye.

And yet the only purchase you made for yourself in the several months you've been together was a book that costed no more than twelve credits.

His brows furrowed when he saw the credit card reports. There were purchases made by you. Several, even. But the amounts of the transactions were unimpressive, with a few sizable purchases here and there. And he knew, of course he knew, exactly what those big purchases were.

The new leather coat the you had tailor made for him was hanging over his office sofa. The jeweled cuff links that you got for him twinkled prettily against the light of his desk lamp. You replaced his gun holster, saying that his other one was already worn.

He was sure that the twins were sporting new jackets with bulletproof lining seeing as the last ones got torn to shreds in a gun fight two months ago. Even Mephisto's perch in the living room was brand new.

The refrigerator was always stocked with a variety of ingredients that previously weren't in the usual lists, and after a conversation with the chef and the staff, he knew that they weren't the ones getting the groceries in the last six months.

It's not like it upset him that you didn't use his wealth. It was just rather confusing and amusing to a degree. Was this you being stubborn, perhaps? Or was this your way of keeping your independence? Hm, it wasn't like he was preventing you from doing your work. Not at all.

He thought about looking at the purchases from your own card, but then thought against it. From the time you've spent together, he doubted that the results would be any different.

But he could ask.

You weren't difficult to find. At this time of day he could often find you in the living room, curled up on the couch with a book or fiddling with your phone, and today wasn't any different.

Soft music played from the record player next to the sofa as the curtains near the air conditioner rustled. You hand was outstretched, resting on nothing but air as you slept, the book that you were so diligently reading was strewn on the ground.

Sylus breathed out a chuckle as he leaned against the doorframe, just watching the steady rise and fall of your chest, shushing Mephisto when the mechanical companion fluttered his wings a little too hard.

But your training as a hunter wasn't for nothing. Heightened senses, even when asleep, was part of the package Sylus had to accept and fully expected when both of you moved past simply lovers to an official couple.

The flutter of your eyelashes was slight, but there was an alertness to your gaze the moment you awoke, quickly scanning the room without so much as budging any part of your body, and immediately calmed when you realized where you are and who was in the room.

"Mm."

"Hello, sweetie."

From beneath the covers you raised your other arm, reaching towards him when he strode towards you. It would be so easy for him to engulf you in his entirety. It wasn't lost on him that his physicality was so much bigger than you, but it was one of the things that you loved about him - loved at how easy it was for him to just pick you up and hold you, envelop you into his embrace.

"Sylus."

He loved the way you purred out his name, loved the way you just molded in his arms like warmed putty, soft and pliable as you positioned yourself in a more comfortable spot on his lap. He picked up the book from the floor.

"This is the book you bought."

"Yes."

"Why didn't you buy the others?"

You shrugged, pulled the book that hung loosely from his fingers before showing him the cover. "How would I know if the series is good if I don't buy the book first? It's a waste if it sucks."

He looked at you quizzically, smirked. Ruffled your hair.

"Oh, are you afraid to waste my money, sweetie? Fifty credits isn't a sum to be concerned about."

"Still," you pressed, drilling a finger into the spot that you know was ticklish, laughing when he grabbed your arm and bit your finger. "I'm not wasting shit on a mediocre book."

With your hand still in his grasp, he maneuvered you enough to have you be on top of his chest as he took your position on the couch, those long, long fingers of his kneading the dip between your hips. "Is it mediocre?"

"No. It's pretty good, actually."

"Then buy the rest of it."

"What if the third one sucks?"

"Sweetie," he took your chin, had you look into the deep scarlet of his eyes as amusement danced in it. "Just buy it or I'll buy it for you."

The look in your eye was indescribable to him. It was as if you were searching something that she couldn't quite grasp, couldn't quite find. He lightly bit the lip that you jutted out when you pouted.

"Do you not like spending my money?"

"I spend your money."

"Yes, but you spend it on us. Not on you."

Your brows furrowed. "So?"

"Darling," there was resignation on his voice as he flicked your forehead.

You frowned as you sat up, straddled him, your hands splayed on his wide chest. "I don't need anything. You already buy me things."

"And you need not more?"

"Sylus," you dipped down, cupped his cheeks. Kissed the tip of his nose. "I don't buy anything else because you already get me the things I could possibly need and more. So much more."

Those scarlet eyes regarded you as his fingertips ran up and down your back. You knew all too well how cold those eyes could get, how dangerous his hands could be. You knew all to well how easy it would be for him to snap you like a twig. You've seen it many times before, after all.

And yet he looked at you with such warmth right now that if you were a stranger, you would never be able to tell that this was Sylus, leader of Onychinus.

"I'll get you the entire universe if you so wish it."

And you knew, deep in your heart you know, that it was the truth. His truth.

So you told him your truth as well.

You straightened your position on his lap, careful to not... excite any other part of him as you reached from under your shirt, pulled out the necklace that he gave you all those months ago.

It was a simple little thing. A sizable ruby lovingly enveloped by two crow's wings made of polished silver. It was one of the first things he gave you when you accepted him, when you accepted his love and his force of will. When you wore it, you showed him that you accepted all of him, including his shadows, including his pain, including the violence that followed him wherever he went.

No matter how much glitter he decided to get you, all the shiny things he draped on you, you always came back to this necklace. It was a promise to him, as much as it was a promise to you.

"You gave me stability," you said to him as you rubbed circles on his muscled torso. "I won't have to worry about making rent anymore or if I'll have enough money to buy food for the next week. You gave me a home, you gave me companionship, you gave me warmth." And with every single gift of his, you tapped his lips. "Do you drive me insane? Yeah, you do." A kiss to his cheek, his lips. "But I'm sure I drive you insane much, much more."

Stillness descended upon you both, the music from the gramophone the only thing to indicate that time did not, in fact, stop.

"You gave me family, Sy."

Those large hands of his moved, prying your fingers from his chest as he slipped them between your fingertips before pulling you closer, gently, every so gently, peppering your neck with tiny little nips. He sighed.

"You will be my undoing."

You smiled, nuzzled into the crook of his neck. "As you will be mine."

So there you two laid, heartbeats and breaths syncing, his one hand stroking your back as he lulled you back to sleep.

And thought it probably wasn't the time to tell you that he bought a tropical island in your name.

---

still trying to grasp how I wanna write him so it might take a bit more practice haha I do have more sylus fluff planned. feel free to send ideas tho (preferably angst, hurt/comfort, fluff. i don't really like writing smut that much)

[squipa]

the silver lining’s i’ll be there with you

aka hcs about jason, your loyal knight

———

knight!jason who spent years training, honing his abilities and fine tuning every sense so he could be the finest soldier in gotham’s army. he was a weapon, strong and disciplined, a hero in every battle. such intense dedication was why he was personally assigned with the position of your personal knight by the king.

knight!jason who had to fight to remember everything he had worked towards when he laid eyes on you. he was a warrior, forged in fire and steel. but around you? he couldn’t focus. your delicate form, your beauty, your ethereal glow. you who smiled at him like he was a man and not a soldier, who was kind and trusting and spoke to him so freely it made his heart flutter. you, who saw him as a friend, rather than a weapon. he had never been in love, nor had he imagined himself capable of it. he hadn’t realized how easy it had been for you to melt away his hard-shell exterior until you had already wormed your way into his heart.

knight!jason who had no idea how to react to his overwhelming feelings for you. despite your constant proximity to him, his heart couldn’t help but flutter whenever you looked to him with those bright, kind eyes. he couldn’t help the pink that dusted his cheeks (hence why he kept his helmet on as often as you would let him) when you would wipe the sleep from your eyes and ask him to hold you close and protect you from the nightmares that plagued your mind each night. he couldn’t help but turn into a flustered, babbling mess whenever he tried to speak to you, any eloquence he had gone out the window in the days he spent watching over you.

knight!jason who slowly became your best friend. who would stay up late into the night to speak with you, answering any questions you would ask him, for how could he deny you? he’d make sure to stay awake long after you fell asleep, watching over you like you were the most precious thing in the world (to him, you were).

knight!jason who had to conceal his rage when it was announced you were to be betrothed to some beastly prince. he couldn’t let you see how he shook in anger, the last thing he wanted was to frighten you. you did your best to conceal your sorrow, putting on a brave face and spewing nonsense about your duty, but jason heart broke with yours. you shouldn’t be burdened with such a fate, it killed him to see you suffer. he cursed his position, for how could a princess, a woman of such divinity and grace, ever love him back?

knight!jason who wiped your tears, who held you close, and who leaned in for a kiss that never seemed to end, one of such passion and fervor he knew he had found his true love. “i may not offer you title or wealth. i may not offer you stability, or power, or any of the luxuries i wish i could give you. perhaps i am not the man that you deserve. but all i am is my love for you, it burns in my heart and consumes my very being. i may only offer you my affections, true and eternal, and the promise that in my arms you will always be safe and adored.”

knight!jason who sweeps you off of your feet, assures you that you won’t have to worry about a thing, “i’ll take care of everything, my love.” he takes you in the night, holding you against his chest as you ride out of the kingdom on horseback. you settle in a village, and you are no longer a princess and he is no longer a knight, but a man and a woman in love.

———

i’ve been working on a bigger fic but i wanted to keep y’all fed… i wrote this extremely sleep deprived and burnt out </3 not my best work but i hope y’all enjoy!!

[melanchoire]

Hey! Could I request a nsfw college AU with Karina?

Where you’re the shy, honor roll, top of the class, goody two shoes type and Karina is the outgoing, popular, everyone wants to be with her or her friend type.

You guys are in a relationship and she decides to sneak you guys into the deans office because she loves adrenaline and gets a thrill out of knowing the two of you could potentially get caught as she eating her lunch(you) on top of the deans desk.

Thank you!

BAD GIRLS R US ──── yu jimin

── ( 🚬 ) you thought acing exams was stressful? try dating karina, the campus rebel whose every impulsive decision threatens to unravel your perfectly structured world; now, she’s got her sights set on corrupting your good–girl image, and you must decide if you’re willing to risk it all for a taste of the forbidden fruit she's so tempting you with.

pairing. teasing dom!rebel girlfriend!karina x sub!good student!fem reader

warning(s). cum eating, cunnilingus, dirty talk, degradation, fingering, semi exhibitionism, spanking, squirting.

word count. 3,8k

being in a relationship with karina was, as cliché as it sounded, like riding a roller coaster with a fear of heights. you, the exemplary student, the beacon of discipline in academic pursuits, found yourself perpetually dangling from the precipice of her chaotic brilliance. honor roll was your middle name. you were a picture of academic discipline, dean’s list regular, a name synonymous with responsibility.

karina… well, karina was a supernova. bright, chaotic, and drawing everyone into her orbit. she was the cool girl from the movies, eternally confident, radiating a charisma that could light up a room.

but god, she has a big charm.

you remember the initial shock of it all. how she had noticed you. you, huddled in the library with your nose buried in textbooks, while she breezed through life, a whirlwind of social gatherings and spontaneous adventures. yet, here you were, undeniably, irrevocably entwined.

walking with karina was a public affair… it was impossible to go unnoticed. walking with her through the college halls was a sensory overload. your hand swallowed in hers, or her arm draped tentatively around your waist, became a magnet for attention. every few steps, a chorus of greetings would erupt; “good morning, karina!” “hey, karina!” “morning, karina, you look great!” the greetings were relentless, a chorus of admiration echoing her every footstep. her replies were always effortless, sprinkled with wit and genuine warmth. her confidence was a force field, deflecting anxieties that would usually cripple you. her attitude was the reason you loved her.

you, on the other hand, would shrink a little, offering shy smiles and quiet nods. even with your closest friends, karina’s presence amplified your timidity. you were perfectly content in her reflected glory, a quiet moon orbiting a vibrant sun.

now, standing in the bustling college hallway, the aroma of lukewarm coffee swirling around you, you checked your phone for the tenth time in as many minutes. sunlight filters through the leaves, dappling the brick facade in shifting patterns.

you’re waiting for karina, having escaped your literature class early after demolishing the midterm. elation had bloomed in your chest — an unexpected free morning! you’d texted karina, hoping she’d be free to celebrate with… something. anything. her reply was brief: “teacher MIA. free as a bird. meet you at the vending machines?”

first, you wonder why your girlfriend suddenly has free time when she’s supposed to be studying right now. surprisingly, karina didn’t have class because her professor supposedly bailed. you’re skeptical, but not enough to outright accuse her of ditching. you take a sip of your coffee, the lukewarm caffeine doing little to soothe the nervous flutter in your stomach.

that nagging little voice in your head, the one honed by years of academic integrity, whispered suspicions. karina skipping class? it wasn’t entirely out of the realm of possibility, but something felt off. you took a sip of coffee to try and relax and let the warmth soothe you from within; its bitterness doing little to soothe your rising unease. instead, it was as the taste of hazelnuts and caffeine had doubled your discomfort and worry.

as you scroll through instagram, a pair of hands snaked around your waist, startling you. the unexpected pressure sends a jolt of electricity through you. before you can react, someone’s blowing on your neck, a warm breath tickles your neck and sends a shiver down your spine, followed by a quick, playful kiss just behind your ear.

you nearly choke on your coffee, sputtering and flailing, before whirling around to find karina holding back a laugh, her eyes sparkling with mischievous delight. “hi baby.”

“karina!” you punch her lightly on the shoulder, a scolding simmering under your voice. “you idiot! you scared me half to death!”

“but you looked so cute, all serious and focused.” she said, her voice laced with amusement. “like you were solving the mysteries of the universe with just a cup of coffee and your phone. all focused and serious. it was adorable.”

you rolled your eyes, trying to maintain a semblance of composure. “very funny.”

you glare, but the heat in your cheeks betrays you. it’s impossible to stay mad at her. you give her the look and she apologizes, pressing a soft kiss to your lips as a peace offering.

she leaned in, her expression softening. “okay, okay, i’m sorry.” she murmured, planting a soft kiss on your lips. the world seemed to fade away for a moment, the noise of the hallway blurring into a distant hum. “i’ll say it again, i’m sorry sorry.” she murmurs, her breath warm against your skin. “couldn’t resist.”

she looped an arm around your waist, pulling you against her side and steering you down the hall. you let her lead, the familiar weight of her presence grounding you. “c’mon, let’s go for a walk.” she said, her voice regaining its usual playful tone. “tell me all about your brilliant conquering of calculus.”

“it was a literature exam.” you retort, giving her a slight sideways glance, noticing how she smirked at you getting moody when she manages to get out of you the attitude she loves the most

“so…” she says, her voice light and conversational. “how was the midterm from hell?”

“easy.” you retort, trying to sound nonchalant. “finished it in twenty minutes.”

“show off.” she nudges you playfully.

“and you, ms. art aficionado? what masterpieces are you creating today?” even though you two were joking around a bit and treating each other in a certain way, your question had a genuine interest.

“just finished a sculpture”. she replies. “i’m pretty proud of it. it’s… well, you’ll see.”

“i look forward to it. and if you need some help, i can help if you want.” you offer, ever the dutiful girlfriend.

“thanks, babe.” she rests her head on your shoulder for a moment. “i think i’m good for now. i just have to finish this painting project for arts. it’s kind of hard, you know?”

“yeah, i see. and what class was it that you so conveniently didn’t have because of a teacher’s absence?” you ask, your voice laced with gentle suspicion.

karina laughed, a melodious sound that always made your heart skip a beat. she tried to hide her smile, but a tell–tale glint in her eyes betrayed her. it only took one pointed look from you for her to confess. “okay, okay, you caught me.” she admits, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

“me and yeji and giselle decided a sunny morning was better spent… elsewhere.”

you felt a familiar surge of exasperation. “karina!” you started, ready to launch into a lecture about responsibility and wasted potential.

you open your mouth to scold her, to lecture her about responsibility and wasted potential, but she clamps a hand over your mouth, her eyes wide with mock horror. “shhh! don’t say it so loud!” she hisses. “someone might hear me, and then i’ll be in actual trouble.”

before you could formulate a retort, she grabs your wrist and tugs you in the opposite direction, away from the main thoroughfare and towards a more secluded part of campus. “c’mon, let’s go somewhere more… private to discuss this.”

you stumbled after her, your mind reeling. where was she taking you now?

“karina, where are you taking me?” you ask, your voice tinged with concern. she’s never skipped like this before. “we should probably get you back to class—”

she cuts you off, spinning you around and leading you towards the hallway with all the administration offices. now, you two are standing outside the… dean’s office. the polished brass plaque gleams in the filtered sunlight.

you stared at the imposing wooden door, your heart pounding in your chest. “karina, what are you doing?” you ask, your voice rising in pitch. the anxiety that had been simmering beneath the surface now threatens to boil over. “why are we here? you’re not in trouble, are you?”

she leans closer, her eyes sparkling with a reckless abandon that both terrifies and exhilarates you.

she grinned, a wild, mischievous glint in her eyes. “well, if i’m going to get a report for skipping class anyway.” she said, her voice dripping with mock drama. “i prefer to give a good reason for having one.”

“are you serious? karina, you’re going to get into serious trouble! actually... you’re going to get us into serious trouble! do you have any idea how a report would look next to my grades? that would ruin my student image! and—” before you could continue with your monologue, she interrupts you.

“relax.” she says, her voice a low murmur. “i’m going to get a report whatever happens, so, i prefer to give a good reason for having one. and don’t worry, if we get caught, i promise you that i’ll be the one to take full responsibility and face the consequences alone, so stop being a pussy.”

you don’t have time to process her baffling statement before she’s pushing you through the door, her hand firmly planted on your lower back. the office is thankfully empty, the dean presumably away at a meeting. the air smells of old paper and authority. this is so wrong.

she pressed you against the cool, smooth surface of the door, her body a warm, insistent pressure against yours. your breath caught in your throat. her hands moved to cup your face, her thumbs gently tracing the lines of your cheekbones. her gaze, intense and playful, locked with yours.

“karina.” you breathed, your voice barely audible.

she didn’t answer. instead, she lowered her head, her lips brushing against yours in a feather–light kiss that sent shivers dancing down your spine. the kiss deepened, her lips parting yours, inviting you in. you surrendered, your worries and anxieties melting away in the heat of her touch.

her hands moved from your face to the small of your back, pulling you even closer, molding your bodies together. the subtle scent of her perfume, a mix of vanilla and something indescribably floral, filled your senses.

her hands roam freely, tracing the curve of your waist, sliding under your shirt to explore the sensitive skin of your back. you gasp against her mouth, your body responding instinctively to her touch. her fingers dance along your spine, sending shivers down your back.

the world shrinks to the space between you, a bubble of heat and desire in the sterile environment of the dean’s office. you can feel the rapid beat of her heart against yours, the frantic pace of her breath mingling with your own.

you instinctively arched closer, your own hands finding their way to her hair, the soft strands sliding between your fingers. the kissing grew more insistent, more demanding, a silent conversation of desire and unspoken needs.

she nibbled at your lower lip, her tongue tracing its outline, and you moaned softly, the sound lost in the deepening kiss. your hands moved lower, tracing the curve of her back, the smooth fabric of her blouse a tantalizing barrier.

the kissing broke, and she trailed kisses down your jawline, her breath warm against your skin. you tilted your head back, giving her better access, a silent invitation. her lips found the sensitive skin of your neck, and you gasped, a thrill shooting through you.

“karina.” you managed to whisper, your voice trembling slightly. “we… we shouldn’t be doing this here. the lunch bell will ring any minute.” the absurdity of the situation finally registered, the dean’s office feeling suddenly small and claustrophobic.

she pulled back slightly, her eyes dark and knowing. “then…” she whispered, her voice husky with desire. “we should hurry up.”

karina’s hands slid up your sides, her fingers splaying across your back as she pulled your body flush against hers. you could feel every curve and contour of her lithe, toned figure pressed against you, separated only by the thin fabric of your uniforms.

she captured your mouth in a searing kiss, her lips moving hungrily against yours. her tongue pushed past your teeth, exploring and claiming, dominating your mouth with a fierce intensity. one hand tangled in your silky hair, gripping it tightly as she angled your head to deepen the kiss.

karina’s other hand slid down to grab your ass, squeezing the firm flesh hard enough to leave imprints of her fingers. she ground her hips against yours, letting you feel the heat building between her legs. the kiss turned sloppy, wet, obscene in its intensity as she devoured your mouth.

karina’s hands slid down to your ass, squeezing the soft yet firm cheeks, followed by a tap on your side, giving you the signal to wrap your legs around her waist. without breaking the weight, she effortlessly carries you up to the dean’s large, polished mahogany desk

after a long, breathless moment, she broke the kiss, leaving you both panting. a string of saliva connected your lips before she licked them clean with a wicked grin.

karina’s eyes flashed with unbridled lust and a hint of madness as she gazed at you, chest heaving with each ragged breath. without warning, she spun you around and bent you over the dean’s large, imposing desk, scattering papers and office supplies to the floor. her fingers found the hem of your skirt, pushing it up and bunched around your waist.

“fuck, you look so hot like this, love.” she growled, giving your ass a sharp smack. the sound echoed through the office, followed by the muffled yelp that escaped your lips. karina rubbed the reddened flesh, soothing the sting before continuing with her purpose.

slowly, teasingly, she hooked her thumbs into the waistband of your panties and tugged them down, yanking them off your legs and tossing them carelessly to the floor. cool air kissed your bare skin, making you shiver with anticipation.

wrapping her long hands around your waist, she spins you around, making you lie on your back. karina grabbed your thighs, spreading them wide and pushing your legs against your chest, making you hook your hands on the back of your knees and hold them against your chest — this exposed your most intimate place to her hungry gaze.

“mmmh, and look at this pretty little pussy... all pretty and perfect, just for me.” karina licked her lips as she took in the sight of your exposed sex, glistening and ready. she leaned in close, her warm breath ghosting over your most intimate place. her fingers slid through your slick folds, teasing and stroking. she could feel the heat radiating from your core, the slick evidence of your arousal coating her fingertip.

without further preamble, karina leaned in and sealed her mouth over your sex, her tongue delving deep between your folds. she groaned at the taste of you, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment before she focused intently on pleasuring you. her tongue circled and flicked over your clit, then pushed inside your tight heat, fucking you with deep, deliberate strokes.

karina’s hands gripped your thighs hard enough to leave marks as she held your legs open, keeping you spread wide for her hungry mouth. she devoured you like a woman starved, determined to taste every drop of your arousal.

she lapped at you greedily, savoring your unique taste, before focusing on your sensitive clit. she suckled and flicked the hardened nub, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body.

karina attacked your pussy with wild abandon, her tongue delving deep and stroking every sensitive nerve ending. sloppy, wet sounds filled the dean's office as she ate you out with gusto, not caring about the mess she was making or who might hear.

every so often, she would pull back and spank your ass hard, leaving a red handprint on your cheek. the sharp sting only served to heighten your arousal, making you writhe and buck against her mouth.

“fuck, you taste so good.” karina growled against your cunt, giving your clit a hard suck. she released it with a pop, only to dive back in and press the flat of her tongue against it, rubbing firm circles.

“such a naughty girl… letting me do this in the dean’s office.” she purred, punctuating her words with a sharp smack to your ass. “i bet you love being a dirty slut, don’t you baby? being eaten out where anyone could catch us?”

tears burn in your eyes, escaping from the corners of your eyes and turning into fat drops as they begin their journey down your blushing cheeks. a sob escapes from your swollen and almost sore lips from biting them so much in attempts to contain your moans and noises so as not to be caught in this position by some teacher or student. “you’re the one who suggested it.”

karina laughed, a low, wicked sound that vibrated against your sensitive flesh. she delivered another hard spank to your ass, leaving a matching red handprint on the other cheek.

karina smirked up at you, her chin glistening with your juices. she gave your clit a quick flick with her tongue before responding. “mmmh, you’re right, baby. i’m the one who suggested it. guilty as charged, baby. but i’m not sorry. i saw what i wanted and i went for it, just like this… and look at you, being such an obedient girlfriend for me.” she purred, rubbing your reddened skin soothingly before gripping it hard enough to leave bruises.

she dove back in, sucking your clit into her mouth and flicking it rapidly with her tongue. at the same time, she pushed a finger, then two, into your dripping cunt, pumping them in and out at a brutal pace.

“mmmh, and now look at you, spread out on the dean’s desk like a feast for me to devour. i can’t help myself around a cute little thing like you.” she purred, curling her fingers to rub your g–spot as her thumb circled your clit.

karina leaned in and buried her face between your thighs again, attacking your pussy with single–minded focus. she licked and sucked and fucked you with her tongue and fingers, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

she could feel your walls starting to flutter around her invading fingers, signaling your impending orgasm. karina doubled her efforts, determined to make you come undone on her tongue.

“that’s it, baby, come for me.” she growled against your cunt, the vibrations pushing you over the precipice. “i want to taste your cum dripping down my chin as i make you scream my name.”

karina punctuated her words with a particularly hard spank to your ass, leaving a vivid red handprint on your skin. at the same time, she pressed her thumb hard against your clit and bit down gently on your clit, sending you hurtling into ecstasy.

she could feel your breathing growing more ragged, your hips bucking erratically against her face. with a final, hard suck to your clit, she pushed a third finger into your tight channel, stretching you deliciously.

karina fucked you hard and fast, the wet squelch of her fingers plunging in and out of your dripping cunt filling the room. she could feel your walls fluttering, your body tensing, and she knew you were right on the cusp.

with a final, brutal thrust and a hard suck to your clit, karina sent you hurtling over the edge. your pussy clenched vice–tight around her fingers as your orgasm crashed through you, waves of ecstasy radiating out from your core.

your pussy clamped down around her fingers as your orgasm crashed over you, wave after wave of intense pleasure radiating out from your core. karina moaned as she felt your release flooding her mouth, lapping up every drop of your essence like a woman starved.

karina groaned against your spasming sex, lapping up your release and pushing her fingers deeper to feel every pulse and flutter. she worked you through your climax with skilled fingers and a wicked tongue, wringing out every last tremor and aftershock until you collapsed back onto the dean’s desk, boneless and sated. only then did she pull back, a smug grin on her face as she licked her lips.

pathetic. that's what you looked like right now; pathetic. but of course your girlfriend was enjoying every damn second of this moment, seeing you so vulnerable given the context of the situation… maybe this will just feed her twisted brain and get her mind working on thinking of more places she can get a nice piece of pussy if she’s in the mood

maybe this will just feed her twisted brain and get her mind working on thinking of more places she can get a nice piece of pussy if she’s in the mood, and of course, you’d never deny it to your girlfriend, right?

“not bad for a quick fuck in the dean’s office, huh baby?” she purred, standing up and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. her eyes raked over your disheveled form, sprawled out on the dean’s desk with your skirt bunched up around your waist.

karina leaned over you, bracing her hands on either side of your head. she licked her lips, still glistening with your juices. “and i’m not nearly done with you yet, baby. we’ve still got so much more to explore together… just wait until i get you all to myself.”

pulling away from you, she takes your wrist, giving you a gentle tug to lift your body off the desk and onto your feet.

she picks up your discarded panties on the carpeted floor, kneeling in front of you. wrapping one of her hands around your ankle, she helps you lift each of your legs and put your underwear back on. she hooks her thumbs into the waistband of your underwear, pulling the panties up your weak, shaking legs — the fabric stained as it made contact with your slippery folds and puffy clit, but hey, you had to endure the sensation until you could find a moment to sneak off to your dorm and find a clean pair of panties.

smoothing your skirt and setting it into place, karina watches through her lashes as you put your sweater back in place and comb your hair, running your fingers through your messy locks. “we’ll go get something from the cafeteria, okay? let me buy you something for lunch. you need to regain your energy to continue the day, you can’t be in class with that lack of energy on your body. i promise that after class, i’ll take you home and take proper care of you.”

you smiled victoriously. finishing the literature exam in record time and passing it, being able to spend quality time with your girlfriend, getting fucked by her and then her promising you a nice breakfast and a date afterwards? today was your lucky day.

“oh, and wipe that satisfied smirk off your face before someone sees. wouldn’t want people getting the wrong idea about the dean’s pretty little assistant.”

[sanguineterrain]

(AFAB reader, more subby, comes fast, eager Jason at the people's request 🤲)

IF you praise Jason while he's inside of you, he will come first.

Jason thinks that this is a design flaw. You... disagree.

You discover it by accident the second time you have sex. The first time is negligible—Jason was nervous about being intimate with you and doing a good job, and he was a big ol' virgin, so obviously when you stroked his face and told him what a good, sweet boy he is, he blew his load. Obviously.

The next time has him seeking you out after patrol. He's freshly showered and maybe a little worn out, but he misses you. Moreover, Jason is prepared to fuck you. Show you that he can take charge and not rut on you like a dog. Jason's one of the most disciplined people ever. Certainly the most disciplined that you've known. You're telling him that you sink onto his cock and all of a sudden, that control swandives out the window? Impossible.

No, Jason knows better this time. He's going to be gentle, obviously, but he's focused on your pleasure. He finds you in bed already but not asleep because you can't sleep until he's home, not completely.

He prowls the bed, trying to hone his instincts. Having sex with you is just like any task he has assigned. Everything narrows to this moment. All of Jason's attention is on making you come first.

You greet him softly. This is where Jason is tricked. Jason forgets what a soft voice belies. You don't even realize you're doing it. You tell him you missed him and kiss him hotly, kiss down his neck, rake your hands through his hair. You tell him what a good man he is, keeping Gotham safe, protecting you and everyone in it, and Jason is hard.

Damn. Jason had meant to keep this on his terms. Get hard from your pleasure. But you catch him off guard like this, warm and soft and free with your praise. All you have to do is spread your arms and welcome Jason in and his fat cock is pushing against the waistband of his boxers.

He shudders as you scratch the nape of his neck, nip his ear. But then Jason clears his head, fights through the thick honey of your presence. No, he has a mission. He intends to complete it.

Jason throws himself into your body instead. He knows his size is all-encompassing. You're swallowed up in his arms, caged in between his shoulders. Yes, good. Jason wants you to feel overwhelmed in the best way, the way he feels when he's with you.

You say faster, so Jason goes faster. You say slow down, so Jason slows down. You say rub my clit, so Jason rubs your clit. You pull him closer with your ankles digging into his back, so Jason steadies himself and fucks you deeper.

And then Jason forgets the lesson. Forgets what makes you so persuasive.

And when you gasp in his ear, "you're fucking me so good, angel," Jason feels his gut tighten dangerously.

"Wh-what?" he asks, hips stuttering.

You grin, eyebrows contorting in pleasure. You grab his face with both hands. Jason's brain is sending him warning signals.

"Ease up," you tell him gently, so Jason eases up. Your grin grows.

"You're such a good listener," you say. "That's why you fuck me so good, Jason."

Gut tightening. Jason wrangles his urge to empty his balls in your pussy. No, he's being good! He's a good boy, not a good dog. Good dogs can't do anything but whimper and come and come.

You scoot closer, forcing him deeper into you. Jason shudders. You wrap your arms around his neck, bring his face close to yours. Jason braces himself with his hands on either side of you.

"Yeah, you're so good." You pet his hair. "You were made to be inside of me, honey bunches."

Briefly, Jason thinks about if the roles were reversed, if it was you inside of him. He thinks you'd probably be able to hold off better than he can. This is actually fucking impossible. You're so wet, pussy a hundred fucking degrees. And when you make him slow down, Jason feels the drag of his dick against your walls, and everything in his brain turns to static.

"If you wanna come, you can come," you say sweetly. Danger, danger! You look up at him, having the gall to look innocent. There's no way you don't know what the hell you're doing.

"Wanna make you come first," Jason says, voice stronger than he feels.

You hum sympathetically. "But you're so sensitive, baby. Can feel you shaking."

Jason shakes his head, locks in. No, he's going to make you come first. He starts to fuck you in earnest, his thrusts hard enough to make you squelch against his cock.

And then you go in for the kill.

"You're so pretty," you say. Jason's eyes flutter. Your gaze turns predatory.

"Yeah, pretty and good and strong. You're my big, strong guy, aren't you? You thought about this all day, I bet. Thought about how you'd make me feel good. You don't have to think about it anymore, sweetpea. All you need to do is get hard and come inside of me."

Jason shakes his head again. No, no, he's not going to give in. He can hold it. He can be good.

"Good boy," comes your sweet voice. "Good Jason. You fuck me the best. No other guy could do it for me like you can. You'd tear open anybody who tried, wouldn't you?"

Jason nods eagerly even though his balls feel tight. Yes! Yes, he would! If you told Jason to bite, he'd only ask how hard. He'll drown his muzzle in blood for you.

"Uh-huh," you say knowingly. "I love you, Jason. I love you so much. I'm yours. And you're mine."

That does it. The last of Jason's control shoots into your cunt in hot spurts. Jason tears up out of frustration and pleasure. His mouth is open in a silent shout.

You grin and keep to yourself how easy it'll be to get knocked up off of your boyfriend's fat cock. A few sweet words and he's coming. That's when you start to believe that this is a habit, not an outlier, for your virginal boyfriend.

"Fuck," Jason says, lashes thick with tears. "Fuck, fuck. I was s'posed ta hold it."

You coo, wipe his tears with your thumbs. "It's okay, baby. I don't mind. We can practice."

Yes, you'll practice, alright. Practice how many times you can make Jason come inside of you. And if Jason's truly bent out of shape about not making you come, well, you have no issue with training him how to eat you out.

(The first time Jason makes you orgasm before himself, he gets so excited he comes.)

[robinvomit]

†  masterpiece : damian.

⋆˙⟡ "She was my muse, my inspiration, the very air I breathed while creating."

⋆˙⟡ request: damian with reader as his muse. ↦ kalico note: it's not super long but it's something.

mindless indulgence had never been something that damian entertained. he was methodical and disciplined in every pencil stroke and charcoal press against parchment.

like fighting, art required accuracy. attention.

his lines had softened at some point in time. something more human had replaced the clinical, angular drawings of geometrics and anatomy. it started without his realization.

a silhouette in his notes' margins, a fleeting moment unconsidered. he told himself that the tilt of a smile, the arch of a brow, and the curve of a cheek were all just practice.

observing and learning. honing a skill.

however, the truth was concealed in the countless drawings of you that he had made without intending to, between the pages of his sketchbook without wishing to.

he didn't tell you. he didn't want you to know.

his fingers, on the other hand, twitched toward his pencil every time you laughed and sat with him in the silence, never oblivious to the way light danced along your features.

you were his inspiration, the topic he kept coming back to; the one thing in his world that he couldn't quite put into words. no matter how often he tried or how well the lines were written, they never did you justice.

so he continued to try. again and again.

you were his hidden masterpiece and even if you never knew, he would perfect it for the rest of his life if only as an excuse to keep you close.

[fairlyabookie]

the things you do that got them head over heels

Ace - teasing him back

Ace had a knack for teasing you, even if his little banter would be light-hearted in nature, he wasn’t shy about using a little incident into a sassy remark. To him, the bickering you exchange meant that he found someone worth his while, who can match his wavelength so to speak.

You’d get flustered with his quips, a little smirk tugging at your lips as if to mask your indignant state. He’d declare himself a victor in the chaos, basking in the glory of your demise.

Unfortunately for him, you knew him well - well enough to ascertain his weaknesses. In due time, you say a smart quip, one that left him incredulous. He short circuits, rendered speechless until a second passes, his mind locked into getting you back - but he has nothing, save for a profound heat rushing up his cheeks.

“What the hell, man?” He says with a light chuckle, his smile betraying his astonishment. For a cheeky guy like him, you found his reaction priceless, your laughter delayed for a beat or two.

Sebek - your focused expression

The both of you study together in the quiet library, the faint rustling of turning pages and scribbling pens on paper filling the silence. His watchful eyes peer on your profile, your posture and expression serene in the guise of studying.

Unaware of his gaze, your mind was elsewhere, intent on memorizing acronyms for a quiz you needed to make the perfect score for, dates of historical events that you might forget, and incantations for spells that could probably save your life. Troubled as you were, your lips curl to a pout as you take note of the subjects you had to study for.

Sebek found this particular side of you amusing - adorable he can admit - but charming as you had to voice out your woes about the difficult subjects that suddenly crowded your study schedule. How your features scrunched up to one of intense concentration tugged his heartstrings.

“What?” Your question breaks the impenetrable silence of the library, a curious look listing your features. Sebek shakes his head, already adapting nonchalance. “It’s nothing.” You perk an eyebrow, your gaze lingering onto your classmate for a beat longer before returning to a page full of notes.

Epel - the way you do your routine

Makeup routine was vital to a Pomefiore resident’s daily tasks for discipline and perfection; a flawless skincare routine followed by a makeup routine that screamed a meticulousness befitting of the dorm’s ideals. You had fit the dorm to the T, waking up every morning to do your skincare routine and makeup routine, achieving praise from your dormmates.

Although Epel was initially annoyed by this tedious routine, he managed to tolerate everything from just one person: you. There was something seamless about you lathering toner all over your features, your gaze fixated on the vanity before you as you pinpoint any imperfection from your routine. It was like honing a muscle, your movements rehearsed as you reached out to a bottle of moisturizer from your cabinet.

The unhurried yet intentional fluidity made your routine so painless, so fruitful, so.. Who was he kidding? Even with his cherubic looks, he could easily use 3 products instead of 10. As he begins his routine, he engraves your intense expression in mind - your hands applying every cream and serum in sight for flawless skin.

“You need help, Epel?” You give pause, droplets of water dripping from your palms, your cheeks white from cleanser. “Sorry, spaced out-” Epel hastily replies, averting his gaze elsewhere that was not your vanity. He sneaks another glance at you, your face a glistening sheen from the cleanser’s work. An impulsive thought intrudes his conscience, one that ignited his spirit to do better.

Jack - stretching

There was nothing a short jog could do to start the morning. Rays of sunlight streak across the horizon in swathes of orange and yellow, his eye catches on your side profile, silhouetted by the morning light. Basking in the sunlight, you take a moment to stretch your muscles, the cotton fabric of your shirt lifting just a smidge to reveal a slither of your figure.

Jack tried his best not to steal a glance; besides, this was an innocent maneuver after a while of exercise, of course, you’d take a moment to stretch. Yet, his eyes flicker back to your figure, watching you work out the knots and muscles with grace.

There was something about the morning hour and the minutes after exercising; the way your hair would cling onto your forehead, your flushed cheeks, and the exhilarated smile gracing your lips, the morning sun illuminating your physique in a flattering light. A prick of heat rushes up to his cheeks, his tail wagging back and forth.

“Jack, your tail is wagging!” You let out a chuckle, a hand itching forward to ruffle his head. Betrayed by the appendage, he quickly grabs it, his eyes aligning with yours. “It didn’t,” He mutters sheepishly. You regard the comment with a perked eyebrow. “Well then, I’m feeling a little energetic, let’s say we do one more lap before class?” Jack couldn’t agree more, preparing his stance for another moment of exercise.

Deuce - fixing up your hair

There was something particular in how you’d fix up your hair in a matter of seconds, whether it was a quick ruffle or brushing your locks. He’d catch himself lose his breath when you pause to adjust your locks, your fingers brushing them back to an angle, a sigh escaping your lips.

He couldn’t keep his eyes off you, watching your fingers tussle your locks effortlessly, a bit of the skyline catching on your silhouette oh-so-beautifully. For a moment, he could fathom his cheeks heat up; he shouldn’t be looking at you. A second longer and you would’ve caught him staring.

He hears the world stop, his heart rate accelerating as he catches a glimpse of you shifting your hair to one that you favored. His throat runs dry, a gulp not enough to quench his parched throat from the sight of you. Any second longer, his demeanor would be thrown off completely. The young man attempts to quell his heart, just enough to recover himself.

“Hey Deuce, let’s get going.” You call to him, your voice anchoring him back to reality. “R-r-right.” Your classmate clears his throat, a feeble attempt at normalcy. He steps ahead of you, hoping to mask the blush coloring his cheeks.

author's note: happy white day, everyone! i got inspired by this little post I had read from my little hyperfixation and lo and behold! Hope you enjoyed, and please feel free to like!

[admiringlove]

➵ pairing. gojo satoru x fem! reader.

➵ summary. gojo satoru was a slytherin through and through—cunning, clever, and infuriatingly charming, with a reputation as both a prodigy and a troublemaker. you, a gryffindor prefect, couldn't be more different—fearless, fiercely principled, and far too stubborn to let someone like him get under your skin. or so you thought. by day, the two of you bicker and clash, bound only by your shared duty, but by night, within the room of requirement, you're partners in something far greater—a secret operation known as the marauders, granting the whispered wishes of hogwarts students.

➵ warnings. gojo being gojo; mentions of unforgivable curses; mentions of strangling someone (gojo); mentions of injury; slytherins being called anarchists; snape; mentions of hexing a cat (i think that counts as animal cruelty but idk for sure); profanity; slight timeline inaccuracy bc i like professor fig so i kept him in the fic w the others; etc.

➵ genre. wizarding world au; academic rivals to lovers; enemies to lovers; angst; fluff; adventure; etc.

➵ word count. 6.6k.

➵ author's note. so so excited to introduce you guys to mischief managed! big thanks to @gojofile for proofreading. have fun reading, and i hope slytherin prefect gojo warms your hearts <3 also also, taglist is still open!

➵ navigation. masterlist, next.

Gojo Satoru.

The mere mention of his name was enough to stir an unpleasant bitterness in your mouth—like biting into a sour Acid Pop, sharp and unforgiving. He leaned casually against one of the stone pillars near the corridor leading to the Great Hall, his posture so relaxed it was almost infuriating. You, however, stood at the top of the steps leading down to the bustling crowd of prefects below, arms crossed tightly over your chest, waiting. It was the sort of wait that carried the weight of years—years of dealing with him, with this. You had, like the others, arrived promptly, but unlike them, you had been watching the clock tick away in growing frustration, the minutes wasted under the strain of his absence.

With every second that passed, the sour taste in your mouth grew. You were no stranger to his arrogance, no stranger to the fact that Gojo Satoru never seemed to care about anyone else’s time but his own. How predictable, how utterly insufferable. He had this remarkable ability to ruin an entire evening simply by being late, the kind of late that stretched from a few minutes into an eternity. The others, however, had long since forgiven his transgressions, accepting the lack of discipline as some sort of unavoidable part of his charm.

You didn’t share that sentiment.

He walked up to the group then, casually slipping past the other prefects who all, unsurprisingly, seemed more than willing to let his tardiness slide. His lips curled into that infuriatingly charming, carefree smile, and the first few apologies that spilled from his mouth were as hollow as they were insincere. He rubbed the back of his neck, looking entirely too pleased with himself. If there was one thing you had to give him credit for, it was his ability to navigate the world with a confidence so blinding it nearly rendered everyone around him incapable of holding a grudge.

Except, of course, for you.

You could feel the weight of your own gaze burning into his back as he spoke. He was an impossible contradiction—infuriating, selfish, and absurdly arrogant, and yet, undeniably captivating. Even with all his faults, there was something magnetic about him. Those piercing blue eyes of his, so impossibly bright, and the soft curve of his lips, perpetually tipped upwards in a self-assured grin, had a power over people that you could not quite ignore. You’d seen it yourself—the way his presence could make entire groups of students lose their composure, how even the toughest of professors faltered under his gaze.

But not you.

You couldn’t care less for his entrancing gaze, nor for the way his words slipped from his lips like honey, perfectly crafted to disarm and beguile. His blue eyes, though striking, could not erase the irritable taste of his disregard. And his smile? It only made your stomach churn. You had learned long ago to keep your distance, to shield yourself from the charms that so effortlessly ensnared the rest. You were no fool.

"Alright, round up," calls the Head Girl, her voice slicing through the hum of conversation like a well-aimed hex. You sigh, already weary, and stand as she begins to rattle off the night’s patrol assignments. Your fingers toyed absently with the sleeve of your robe while you listened, half-attentive, until the sound of his name snapped you into focus.

Your gaze found him instinctively, as if drawn by some unseen force you hated to acknowledge. He was leaning back against the wall, all easy confidence, that maddening smirk tugging at his lips. Those pink lips, which were far too perfect for a boy who never seemed to put in any effort at all.

“[L/N], you’re with Gojo. Astronomy Tower and the North Wing.”

You exhaled sharply, the sound almost lost in the shuffle of murmurs and groans from the other prefects. Of course. Of course. You could practically feel his satisfaction radiating across the room without even looking at him. But you couldn’t resist. Your eyes flicked back to his, catching the faint tilt of his head, the knowing gleam in his irises. That smirk had only grown wider, as though he knew exactly how much this would infuriate you.

He always did.

You brushed past him on your way out, your shoulder caught the edge of his robe in a deliberate slight. He didn’t move, didn’t flinch, only watched you with that insufferable grin as though you amused him beyond words. You ignored him—pointedly, completely. He wasn’t worth your breath tonight.

There was too much at stake. You had an hour of patrol to endure before you could finally collapse into bed, and an early Potions lesson tomorrow morning with Snape waiting to shred your dignity into pieces. Snape adored Gojo, of course. He always found reasons to praise him, whether for his technique or his "sharp mind," as if the boy ever cared about rules or discipline. You, on the other hand, weren’t so lucky.

You could still feel the sting from the first day back, the dull thud of Snape’s heavy Potions tome cracking against the back of your skull because you’d dared to yawn during his lecture. Gojo, meanwhile, had been sprawled at the back of the class, sound asleep, the faint rise and fall of his chest utterly unbothered. Snape hadn’t said a word to him. Not one.

As you stepped out of the eastern wing and into the cool, open air, the castle loomed behind you, its shadow stretching long and dark across the grounds. Your footsteps echoed faintly against the cobblestones, their rhythm unsteady, almost reluctant. You yawned, stifling the sound with the back of your hand, though the ache of it lingered in your jaw. It had been a day—a week, really. The first week of your sixth year at Hogwarts, and already it felt like you’d lived through months.

The Astronomy Tower rose ahead, its silhouette sharp against the star-flecked sky. The air was crisp, biting against your skin as you fought to keep your eyes open. Another yawn threatened to escape, but you forced it down.

“A little tired, are we?” 

His voice cut through the quiet, smooth and sharp, his steps falling in perfect cadence with yours. The click of his boots on the stone floor reminded you of a metronome, steady and deliberate, as if the universe itself aligned to his whims. You didn’t look back, didn’t even bother to reply. A hum escaped your lips instead, low and dismissive, but you knew it wouldn’t deter him.

“You know,” he continued, unperturbed, “I didn’t see you at dinner tonight, Fawkes Junior.”

The nickname landed with its usual weight, heavy but familiar, like a coat you’d grown used to wearing despite its ill fit. It wasn’t the “Fawkes” that bothered you anymore—not after you’d finally experienced the beauty of the bird last year. The phoenix was a marvel, even more luminous than you’d imagined, its plumage shimmering with an otherworldly glow. No, it was the “Junior” that still irked you, the diminutive edge of it, the implication that you were less than.

You remembered that moment in Dumbledore’s office, the phoenix rising from its ashes with a blaze of light so blinding it had brought tears to your eyes. Dumbledore had watched you closely, the faintest smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he recited the same words he’d spoken countless times before. A phoenix, he’d told you, could carry the heaviest of burdens, its tears more potent than any potion. He’d winked then, a gesture that felt both knowing and unnervingly intimate. You’d laughed it off, of course. What else could you do?

Shaking the thought from your mind, you replied curtly, “I was in the library. Something about Quidditch. McGonagall wanted me to look over the first-years’ picks.”

“Ah.” His voice curled around the word, drawn out and laden with that peculiar tone he used when he wanted to draw people in. You hated that tone, the way it made you feel like a moth fluttering dangerously close to a flame. “Well, I suppose I’ll have to up my game, then. Can’t let you Gryffindors get too comfortable. The House Cup is ours this year.”

You glanced at him then, just long enough to catch the glint of mischief in his eyes, the faint tilt of his lips. “You and I both know we won last year fair and square,” you said, your voice tinged with accusation. “Not that you didn’t try to hex our Seeker into food poisoning before the match.”

He laughed, a low, melodic sound that set your teeth on edge. “And you caught me. Hexed me right back, if I recall.”

“It was deserved.”

“I’m still the best Seeker Hogwarts has seen in our generation,” he said, his tone mockingly self-assured.

You arched a brow as you ascended the final steps to the Astronomy Tower. His claim was, unfortunately, true, but you’d never admit it—not to him, not to anyone. Instead, you let silence answer for you, the faintest quirk of your lips the only acknowledgment of his words.

The door to the tower creaked open, the chill of the night air spilling over your skin. He stepped ahead, turning to face you with that same infuriating grin, as if he’d already won whatever battle was brewing between you.

It was the first week of September, and the air already carried a bite to it—sharp and unwelcome for the Quidditch players who would soon be out on the pitch. You pulled your cloak a little tighter around yourself, biting back the impulse to complain about the chill, but it slipped out anyway. "Bloody hell," you muttered under your breath, though the frustration wasn’t entirely with the weather. "Not that I mind it, really. I quite like it. It’s just—"

"—going to be a bummer while we’re playing Quidditch," he finished for you, his voice light, teasing, like always. You didn’t even look at him when you said it, but you knew he'd be grinning that absurd grin of his, the one that seemed capable of disarming entire rooms with nothing more than a flash of teeth.

"Right. And you try to find a new way to cheat. Again," you added, rolling your eyes at the inevitable.

He chuckled, a low, amused sound that seemed to vibrate through the very air between you. "I say we stay here for the hour," he proposed, his tone one that would’ve convinced anyone else in the world. But not you. "Not like anyone gives a damn. Nobody’s going to be out in the North Wing at this time, except for us. Not when the dungeons lead directly to the Room—"

You could feel the weight of his words, could almost see the exact way his eyes would be sparkling with the promise of mischief, the way his mind was already working out the logistics of evading anyone who might ruin his latest scheme. He was clever, yes—brilliant, even. But it was always something else. That glint in his eye, that knowing smirk, the feeling like there was more behind every word and every movement. He was a bloody narcissist, but you could admit it: he made it look like an art.

You shook your head, muttering a small "Shut up," with a stern tone, eyes fixed ahead, refusing to even glance in his direction. As you brushed past him, your shoulder nudged his as a small warning, the smallest of touches, but enough to tell him that you weren’t in the mood for whatever else was about to come out of his mouth.

"You’re such a bore," he muttered, his voice dripping with mockery as he rolled his eyes. You huffed, the sound escaping you before you could fully hold it in, and made your way toward one of the arches. The cool wind rushed against your face, teasing the strands of hair that had escaped your ponytail, and you felt a warmth rise to your cheeks. The Black Lake stretched before you, vast and murky, the Forbidden Forest just beyond it, a dark, intimidating blur. The rustle of leaves whispered to you on the breeze, and the air itself smelled fresh, clean. It was almost peaceful—if not for his insufferable presence.

"I'm only doing what's asked of me, Gojo," you said, voice cutting through the silence between you. Your eyes flicked to him, and you almost wished you hadn’t. He was leaning casually against the stone, an impossibly carefree smile curling at the corners of his mouth. "If you can’t do your job, maybe you shouldn’t be a prefect. You’re not fit for it anyway."

"I know," he said, his tone suddenly so dramatically solemn it made you want to roll your eyes in return. "I’m only fit to be the most marvelous person at this school, unfortunately. Everyone else is... well, they’re just ordinary, and that bothers me. Except for you. And Suguru. Maybe Shoko." His gaze flickered to you, challenging you to disagree, but you remained silent, too exhausted to indulge him.

"I thought I was a bore," you said, raising an eyebrow as you turned to face him, arms folded loosely across your chest. He chuckled low, the sound rich and almost taunting.

"Oh yes," he agreed easily, “You are a bore. You're sort of filthy, too, really. I get this weird, uncomfortable feeling whenever I see you—like a cockroach."

You didn’t have to look at him to know the grin that must have spread across his face at his own words. You could feel it in the tone of his voice, could practically see the smugness radiating from him. You twisted away, sharply, walking back toward the stone staircase that led down. “This cockroach,” you muttered, “will hex you to fall out of the tower to your death.”

"Ah, threatening me again," he said, a laugh in his voice as he followed, always too close behind. "You really should be careful. I wouldn’t want to be the one to give you an excuse to use that hex."

"Come along," you snapped, the patience draining from you. "I suggest we finish our patrol soon so I can actually get some sleep."

"And I," he replied without missing a beat, his voice light, "shall nap in Snape’s class tomorrow. We’re learning about the Blood-Replenishing Serum anyway. I did it last year—privately, of course. I’ll probably just wait until we actually have to brew it to pay attention."

"Self-absorbed prick," you muttered under your breath, but he heard it, as always. His grin widened, as if he had just received the highest form of praise, and his eyes sparkled with mock admiration.

"Pitiful nag," he retorted, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. He didn’t even have to try to sound smug. It was just part of who he was. And the worst part was, you couldn’t help but be aware of how much it irked you. And, somehow, how much you... didn’t mind it at all.

The next morning, Snape’s voice droned on like a monotonous hum, the same lecture about the Blood-Replenishing Serum that Satoru had so carelessly mentioned the night before. You sighed quietly, your quill scraping against the parchment as your thoughts drifted, mind half on the lesson and half on the weight of exhaustion pressing down on you. Every so often, you glanced up, only to see Gojo doing exactly what he'd said he would do: napping.

His head was cradled in his arms, the silky white strands of hair fanning out around him like some sort of halo, and his chest rose and fell with each slow, rhythmic breath. You scoffed under your breath. Typical.

Turning your attention back to Snape, you could feel the tension build in the pit of your stomach. The silence in the room lingered longer than usual, and when his eyes met yours, it hit you like a punch to the gut.

Shit.

"[L/N], would you care to enlighten us?" Snape's voice was smooth, deliberate. "What exactly seems to be distracting you from this crucial lesson in the very field you have expressed an interest in pursuing upon graduation? Do you or do you not want to go to St. Mungo’s?"

You blinked, the weight of the question settling over you as you rose from your seat. There was no use in pretending; he saw right through you, as usual. "Sorry, sir," you mumbled, staring down at your notes with a sudden sense of urgency.

He didn't buy it. You could feel his presence looming over you as he approached your desk, the air thick with expectation. "Without consulting your notes," he said coldly, his eyes narrowing, "name five ingredients required to make this serum work effectively. Without fail."

Your stomach twisted, but you met his gaze. The whispers of your classmates buzzed at the edges of your hearing, but they didn’t matter. You had been listening—despite the exhaustion weighing heavily on you—and now it was time to prove it.

"Powdered unicorn horn, sir," you said, voice steady, making sure to pause, "for its restorative and revitalizing properties. Knotgrass. Ginseng Root. Phoenix feathers. And Essence of Dittany."

There was a long pause, his gaze unrelenting, studying you like a hawk eyeing its prey. For a moment, you thought your heart might beat out of your chest. Then, finally, he let out a low hum, almost as if he were impressed but refused to let it show.

Without another word, he turned, striding back to the front of the room, leaving a tense silence in his wake. You slowly exhaled, unaware that you’d been holding your breath. The weight on your shoulders lifted slightly, and you sank back into your seat, your quill still hovering over the paper.

You turned your head, drawn by the weight of his gaze. Gojo Satoru watched you, his expression unreadable, a kind of casual indifference that masked something deeper, something you couldn’t name. He didn’t look away, not at first, just met your eyes for a long, deliberate moment before letting his head slump down again, a silent punctuation to whatever this unspoken exchange had been. You rolled your eyes and forced your attention back to the lesson, willing your pulse to even out.

By the time you emerged from the classroom, booksack slung over one shoulder, he was waiting, as though he had planned it all along. He fell into step beside you, grinning the grin that always made you question why the universe bothered with him at all.

“Looks like you’ve been brushing up on Potions,” he said breezily. “I might actually have competition now.”

“You’re not all that great, Gojo,” you replied, voice flat with practiced disinterest. You waved a quick goodbye to Utahime and Nanami, your friends already slipping into the tide of students heading toward their next class.

“Besides,” you continued, “don’t you have Suguru to bother?”

He groaned theatrically. “Him and Shoko don’t have Potions with us first period this year. Absolute tragedy. If Suguru did, I wouldn’t have to spend every lecture napping.”

“You’re insufferable,” you said, scoffing. “How can you even—”

“Ask me anything,” he interrupted, hands tucked casually in his robe pockets, his tone too smug for someone talking about Potions theory. “Anything we learned today. Go on.”

You stared at him, wishing—for perhaps the hundredth time—that there weren’t rules against strangling your classmates. The image of your hands wrapped around his neck, his perfect jawline slackening, his too-blue eyes dimming, was fleeting but satisfying. Instead, you sighed, letting the moment pass.

“You’re a bastard,” you said, shaking your head. “I don’t have time for this. We’ve got Defense Against the Dark Arts now, and unlike you, I actually care about passing.”

“Ah, DADA. Another subject you just happen to excel at,” he drawled, his voice laced with mock admiration.

“I excel because I work for it, not because I’ve got daddy’s money and a legacy to coast on.”

“Convenient how you keep forgetting I’m better than you at everything,” he said, the grin widening.

“Not everything.”

“Oh, right. Because you’re the dueling queen now. We both remember what happened to that poor third-year's cat last year,” he scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“And yet, I’ve beaten you. Twice.” You smirked, savoring the memory of those duels. “I am Head of the Dueling Club, remember?”

“Because you’re unbearable?”

“No. Because I’m better.”

“You still can’t get the Patron—”

“Gojo Satoru and [L/N] [Y/N].”

The voice was sharp and clipped, and you both turned as one. Professor McGonagall stood in the corridor, her lips pressed into a thin, disapproving line.

“I trust,” she began, striding toward you with the air of someone who had better things to do than reprimand wayward students, “the two of you are maintaining decorum this year.”

You winced, the memory flaring sharp and uncomfortably vivid. Last year, an argument between you and Gojo had spiraled into chaos in the courtyard. Wands raised, tempers hot, and spells flying—until yours, a hex meant for Gojo, ricocheted off a stray shield charm and struck someone’s cat instead. The poor creature froze mid-leap, rigid and unblinking, to the horror of its owner and the delight of a small crowd that had gathered to watch the spectacle. McGonagall had arrived moments later, her reprimand as swift and merciless as her counter-curse. The scolding had burned itself into your memory, along with the mortifying sight of the cat limping off, thoroughly unimpressed. You'd received detention for the first time that year.

“Yes, Professor,” you said, your voice meek in comparison to how you’d spoken to Gojo moments earlier. “We were just heading to class.”

“Good.” Her sharp gaze flicked to Gojo, who suddenly seemed far less amused. “And I trust Mr. Gojo hasn’t been neglecting his responsibilities. If I find you late for your rounds again tonight, you’ll no longer be in contention for Captaincy of the Slytherin Quidditch team. Madam Hooch and Professor Snape will see to that. Do I make myself clear?”

Gojo swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he nodded. “Yes, ma’am,” he muttered, his voice devoid of its usual bravado.

You couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped you, quickly masked behind your Potions textbook. His humiliation was rare, and you intended to savor every moment of it.

As you walked away from the corridor and towards DADA, your smile only widens. This year might just turn out to be more interesting than the last after all.

When you entered the Great Hall for dinner that night, you spotted Gojo immediately. He’s at the Slytherin table, a loose sprawl of limbs, his laughter a little too loud, his hair catching the light like spun silver. You glanced away before he hooked you in, too. It's a small, bitter truth: you would have liked to sit with Shoko tonight. But she was at the Slytherin table, and the social architecture of Hogwarts had always been unkind to cross-house friendships.

You settled instead next to Utahime, who is demolishing her plate with a ferocity that suggests starvation, and across from Nanami, who has arranged his roasted parsnips into orderly lines. You helped yourself to a pasty and let the quiet chaos of dinner roll around you.

“Do you have rounds tonight?” Nanami asks. His voice is steady, his gaze as deliberate as his movements. Everything about him measured, careful. A newly minted Prefect, he wore the title like it was a chore he knew he’d never be allowed to set down.

“No,” you said, reaching for another pasty. “Iori might.”

Both of you turned to Utahime, who paused her assault on a piece of roast lamb long enough to let out an exhausted sigh. “Of course I do,” she said. “I have rounds, I have Quidditch, I have first-years practically dangling off me like flobberworms. Did you know McGonagall’s been having me run drills with Itadori? That kid’s a menace. Eleven years old and flying like he was born with a broom in his hand. Eleven! At that age, I could barely manage not to knock myself out midair.”

“You got scouted at the end of first year,” you pointed out, narrowing your eyes at her.

“Because I broke half the bones in my body trying to,” she shot back, grabbing what looks like a slice of shepherd’s pie—or maybe baked potatoes. It was hard to tell anymore, the table a patchwork of dishes, all melting into each other. “Itadori didn’t even have to try. Just showed up and decided to be brilliant. No learning curve. No effort. Nothing.” She shakes her head as if personally offended. “I hate people like that.”

Nanami nodded solemnly, as if Itadori’s existence were a philosophical tragedy. You scarfed down a Yorkshire pudding, barely tasted it, and pushed your plate aside. “Going somewhere?” Utahime asked, raising an eyebrow. “You were eating like you had somewhere to be.” “Snape,” you lied smoothly, leaning back in your seat. “I had some errands from today’s class.” She snorted. “I heard what happened today. Good luck trying to appease that sourpuss.” You laughed, the sound light, harmless. It was an easy lie, so practiced that it slipped off your tongue without weight. Let her think it was Snape. Let her think it was anything but the truth.

The truth, as you glanced toward the Slytherin table, was waiting. Shoko caught your eye first, and you gave her a small wave and an exaggerated grin that she returned. She turned back to something Suguru was saying, and then, just for a moment, Gojo’s gaze found yours.

It was quick—imperceptible to anyone else, but it was there. A look. A nod. That was all it took.

He stood, his departure casual enough to be an afterthought, though you knew better. You watched him slip through the Great Hall doors, his frame momentarily silhouetted against the darkened corridor before he was gone.

You reached for dessert—chocolate gateau, custard—but left the ice cream untouched. No time tonight.

Something, or someone, awaited you. Both, perhaps.

“I’m heading up,” you murmured, pushing back your chair. “I’ll see you at breakfast, yeah?”

Utahime barely glanced up. Nanami nodded, distracted. No one questioned it. Why would they? You gathered your things and stood, your resolve quiet but purposeful.

The lie had been effortless. The truth, however, was already starting to make its demands.

You stood, smoothing the creases of your robes with deliberate care, before slipping quietly out of the Great Hall. The buzz of conversation receded behind you, replaced by the low hum of torchlight flickering against stone walls. You moved quickly but not hurriedly, your eyes darting to the shadows, tracking movement that wasn’t there. You were certain the white-haired idiot had taken the quickest route—through Professor Fig’s classroom, perhaps ducking into the dungeons if he had been feeling bold. Typical Gojo, always choosing chaos and convenience in equal measure. You, of course, were left with the scenic route.

A sigh escaped your lips, soft as a feather, as you veered left down a quieter corridor. It was second nature by now, mapping out where Filch would be at this hour. Filch was predictable. His blasted cat, however, was not.

Rounding the corner, you stopped short. Mrs. Norris. The yellow-eyed menace herself. She sat planted in the middle of the corridor like a gargoyle come to life, her tail flicking languidly against the flagstone floor. Those unnervingly bulbous eyes fixated on you, unblinking, as though she had been expecting you all along.

You froze, your hand instinctively twitching toward your pocket—not for your wand, no, but for something far more effective. You had learned her ways, after all. It had taken a few unfortunate encounters, a near-miss with Filch, and a fair bit of trial and error, but you had cracked her code.

Fish pie. Trout. Even a sliver of smoked salmon would do. You had kept a stash since fourth year, just for occasions like this. Slowly, deliberately, you pulled a neatly wrapped morsel from your pocket and held it out. Her ears perked up, and for the briefest moment, you swore her sharp features softened. She approached, silent as a ghost, her eyes darting from you to the bribe.

You crouched, placing the offering on the stone. She sniffed once, twice, then devoured it with alarming efficiency. Satisfied, she gave you a look that felt almost approving, before slinking away into the shadows.

You exhaled, a small smirk tugging at your lips as you straightened up. Mrs. Norris might have been Filch’s enforcer, but even she had her price. You glanced down the corridor, the way clear now, and continued on your path. What awaited you at the end of this journey—well, that was a secret you intended to keep.

The Hospital Wing loomed just ahead, its faintly glowing windows casting soft squares of light onto the cold stone floor. You kept close to the shadows, your footsteps light as a whisper, your gaze flicking toward the open door. Madam Pomfrey was nowhere in sight, but you knew better than to trust the stillness. She had an uncanny way of appearing precisely when students would have preferred her not to.

Your hand brushed the cool banister of the staircase as you ascended, the air shifting subtly, growing cooler and quieter with every step. The torches along the corridor flickered faintly, their light wavering as if uncertain whether to welcome or warn you. You glanced back once, twice, the hush of the castle wrapping itself around you like a cloak. You were close now. Close enough to feel the familiar pull in your chest, an inexplicable certainty that drew you forward.

The corridor narrowed, the stones beneath your feet vibrating faintly, like the heartbeat of the castle itself. You reached out, your fingers grazing the smooth curve of a pillar, and paused. The walls ahead began to shift. Slowly, subtly, they rippled like water disturbed by a single drop. Then, as if answering an unspoken request, the stones crackled and ground against each other, carving themselves into something new.

The outline of a door emerged, its edges glowing faintly before darkening into a deep, obsidian black. The transformation was seamless, almost elegant in its inevitability. A smile tugged at your lips, small and triumphant. The Room always answered, but the spectacle never failed to enchant.

You pressed your palm against the cool surface of the door, letting it ground you for a moment. The world felt impossibly quiet now, the weight of secrecy pressing against your ribs. One more glance over your shoulder, a final check to ensure you were alone. The corridor was empty, the castle asleep in its ancient stillness.

With a deep breath, you pushed the door open. It glided inward without resistance, revealing the familiar expanse beyond.

The Room of Requirement greeted you with its usual, maddening perfection. The cavernous ceiling stretched high above, shrouded in shadow, while bookshelves lined the walls in neat, endless rows. A fire crackled in the hearth, casting a warm glow over the cozy seating arranged nearby. Round tables dotted the space, their surfaces scattered with parchment and ink. On the far side, a collection of training dummies stood silently, their worn surfaces gleaming faintly in the firelight. The space was vast and intimate all at once, a sanctuary conjured just for you.

But then your eyes landed on him.

Standing near the corner, his white hair catching the golden light like a beacon, was Gojo Satoru. He leans against a bookshelf with his usual infuriating ease, a smirk playing across his lips. His eyes, those unnervingly sharp blues, found yours immediately, and for a moment, you swore he’d been waiting here all along.

“Welcome back, Fawkes Junior,” he drawled, his voice breaking the spell of the room, his smirk deepening as he took in your expression. “You’re late.”

“No matter.” You shrugged, brushing past him and making your way to the sprawling pinboard that dominated the far wall. Tacked to it were parchment scraps and intricately scrawled maps of the castle, the grounds, even the surrounding Forbidden Forest. The parchment looked well-used, edges curling and stained with ink spills and hurried fingers. Across the room, a long table was strewn with yet more parchment, quills, and ink bottles. A small lantern burned low at its center, casting flickering shadows across the walls. Gojo had, at least, taken the liberty of setting up the space for that night’s work. Small mercies.

You shrugged your robe off, tossing it carelessly over a chair as you approached the table. “Let’s get started. How many requests so far?”

“Four,” Gojo replied, lounging lazily against the table with that infuriating grin of his. He tapped his finger against a short list he'd scribbled onto a scrap of parchment. “All from different drop points. I checked the rest last night, after rounds. Nothing new since.”

You leaned over the table, your eyes scanning the list. One particular entry caught your attention—a hastily written note, its ink smudged and nearly illegible. You tapped it with your finger. “Is this one from Reynard Willis? That new fifth-year transfer from Ilvermorny?”

Gojo smirked, his white hair catching the light in a way that made you want to throttle him. “The very same. Apparently, he was in desperate need of a Time-Turner. Got himself into some… personal entanglements he’d like to sort out.”

You let out a sharp laugh. “A Time-Turner? Is he insane? How does he even know about us?”

“Word gets around,” Gojo said with a shrug, though his grin widened. “Shall we indulge him?”

“Absolutely not,” you said firmly, shaking your head. “From what I’ve heard, he’s the type to lose his own wand, let alone keep something like that safe. No. Too risky. Reject it and take up this one instead.” You pointed to another request, this one penned in neat, precise handwriting. “Partridge Locks, seventh year. Wants her Charms grades adjusted from a pop quiz. Harmless enough. We won’t even have to touch her professors’ files—just a quick charm on the grade book.”

“Boring,” Gojo groaned. “Though you’re right. Getting caught stealing Time-Turners from McGonagall’s office would be catastrophic. You’re lucky you already have one. You get to parade around with something so precious while I—”

“I use it to attend all my classes,” you interrupted, rolling your eyes. “History of Magic and Ancient Runes are scheduled at the same time this year, and I wasn’t about to choose between them. Believe me, it’s hardly glamorous.”

“Still not fair,” he muttered, pouting. “Alright, fine. I’ll handle Locks. If I time it right, I can slip into Flitwick’s classroom through the dungeons.” He leaned over the map, tracing a path from the Hospital Wing to the Astronomy Tower. “Exit here, loop back toward the Great Hall, and no one will even notice.”

You crossed your arms, a smirk tugging at your lips. “Is there one for me? These other two seem simple enough. What’s this one about sneaking a love potion into the Ravenclaw Tower?” You plucked the parchment from the pile, scanning it. “Ooh, to Higuruma? Interesting. That could be fun. Though he’s clever—he probably wouldn’t drink it.”

Gojo snorted, leaning back in his chair. “Clever? Please. He’s a Prefect, not a genius. You could slip it into his breakfast tomorrow morning, and he’d down it without a second thought. Besides,” he added with a dramatic wave of his hand, “I hate sneaking into the Ravenclaw Tower. Riddles to get inside? Who has the patience for that?”

You laughed, a quiet, mischievous sound that echoed softly in the dim room. “Fine. I’ll take care of it. But if he figures it out, I’m blaming you.”

“No one even knows who the Marauders are,” he said, leaning back in his chair with an air of smug satisfaction. “For all they know, we could be an underground organization—some shadowy network pulling strings behind the scenes. It’s kind of brilliant if you think about it. Nobody suspects it’s just two bored students who stumbled across the Room of Requirement and thought it’d be fun to enchant parts of the castle to take requests.”

His grin widened, and you hated how infuriatingly infectious it was. “Come on, Fawkes, loosen up a little.”

“Loosen up?” You shot him a pointed look, then crossed your arms, leaning against the table. “You almost revealed to the entire Potions corridor that we can conjure Patronuses. Patronuses, Gojo. Do you even comprehend how much trouble we’d be in if McGonagall overheard? Let alone Snape. Although, knowing him, he’d probably let you off the hook and come after me instead. I’d be expelled before you could blink.”

You shuddered at the thought, and he snorted. “You’re such a goody-two-shoes. It’s honestly painful.”

“And yet, somehow, I still don’t know what your Patronus is,” you grumbled, narrowing your eyes at him. “The one thing I’m actually curious about, and you keep it locked up like some great clan secret.”

“It was all part of the mystery,” he said, his lips curling into that insufferable smirk. “Anyway, I’ve been working on something. A little… project. Something that might help us out.”

“What kind of project?” you asked, one brow arching.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk.” He clicked his tongue, wagging a finger at you. “You think I’m just going to tell you? Please. You’ll see it when it’s done. Next week, maybe. Until then, you’ll just have to suffer in suspense.”

You rolled your eyes, exhaling dramatically. “I hate you, you know that?”

He grinned, all teeth and mischief, as though he’d won some unspoken game. You grabbed another parchment from the pile on the table and scanned it, a frown tugging at your lips. “Take this one, too,” you said, sliding it toward him. “A Quidditch request. Someone—oh, of course, it’s a Slytherin—wants us to hex a Bludger for next week’s Hufflepuff versus Ravenclaw match. Anarchists, the lot of you. Just want to watch the world burn.”

He laughed, the sound reverberating off the high stone walls. “What can I say? Chaos is entertaining.”

You dropped into the chair where your robe was slung, your posture dissolving into a practiced slouch. “This year better be fun,” you muttered, your voice edged with a hint of boredom. “These requests have been so dull. Remember last year, when someone asked us to enchant everyone’s quills during the O.W.L.s? Now that was creative. I want more of that. Something… exciting.”

Gojo leaned forward, his elbows on the table, his gaze gleaming with intrigue. “Patience, Fawkes. You never know what the castle might throw our way.”

You sighed, letting your head tilt back against the chair, the flickering torchlight casting strange, restless shadows across the room. Despite the monotony of the tasks before you, there was an undeniable thrill in the secrecy, the subterfuge, the strange magic that bound you and Gojo to the whispers of the castle.

And somewhere, deep down, you knew this was only the beginning.

© all works belong to admiringlove on tumblr. plagiarism is strictly prohibited.

[infintiandbeyond]

A Rivalry for the Ages

Gojo x Teacher!Reader

Word: 6.3k

An angsty enemies to friends to lover trop with classic miscommunication and a happy ending :) Happy Reading.

------------------------------------

The first time you began to see Gojo Satoru as a rival more than an enemy was after a devastating defeat. 

Your journey to becoming a teacher at Kyoto Prefectural Jujutsu High School had been an arduous one, marked by determination and resilience. Raised in a family renowned for their jujutsu techniques, you had always felt the weight of expectations upon your shoulders. From an early age, you exhibited a natural talent for jujutsu sorcery, but it was your unyielding spirit and relentless training that truly set you apart. 

After graduating from the distinguished Jujutsu High School in Tokyo, where you often found yourself competing with the prodigious Gojo Satoru, you decided to hone your skills further by undertaking missions across various regions. Your proficiency and unwavering dedication did not go unnoticed, earning you a reputation as a formidable jujutsu sorcerer. When the opportunity arose to join Kyoto Prefectural Jujutsu High School as a teacher, you seized it with both hands, eager to impart your knowledge and inspire the next generation of sorcerers. 

You knew the best way to prove yourself would be at the Sister School Goodwill Event. The months leading up to the event were filled with rigorous training sessions and tireless preparation. Your commitment to prove yourself and elevate your students' potential was unwavering. You emphasized discipline, creativity, and perseverance, pushing them to their limits while fostering a sense of camaraderie and mutual respect. 

As the event approached, excitement and anxiety intermingled. Memories of your own school days at Tokyo Jujutsu High and your rivalry with Gojo Satoru resurfaced, fueling your resolve. You frequently recalled the times you had come close to beating him, only to fall short. But now, as a teacher, your goals were different. It was not about personal glory—it was about guiding your students to victory and displaying the strength of Kyoto Prefectural Jujutsu High School. 

The atmosphere at the event was electrifying. The friendly yet fierce competition between the schools was palpable, and you could not help but feel a mix of pride and nervous anticipation. You had faith in your students but knew the challenges ahead were formidable. 

The air was charged with tension as the Sister School Goodwill Event commenced. As the newly appointed teacher at Kyoto Prefectural Jujutsu High School, you stood confidently, bragging about your students’ accomplishments, hoping fervently that they would surpass the Tokyo school. You had always been in the shadow of Gojo Satoru's laurels during your youth, never catching his notice. Yet, during this event, you were going to make him see you. Make him acknowledge your power and skill. 

The Sister School Goodwill Event was a grand affair, attracting spectators from all corners of the jujutsu world. Held over several days, the event featured a series of competitions designed to test the skills, strategy, and teamwork of students from both schools. 

The first day kicked off with the individual battles, where students displayed their unique techniques and prowess in one-on-one duels. As you watched from the sidelines, your anxious heart swelled with pride. Your students fought valiantly, each clash echoing with the sounds of their determination and the roars of the crowd. The intensity of the matches was beyond anything you had anticipated, and it was clear that the Tokyo students were equally prepared. 

Following the individual battles were the team events, which emphasized coordination and collective strength. The relay race through the treacherous forest terrain was particularly exhilarating, as students navigated obstacles, traps, and even summoned curses. Your students had trained tirelessly for this, and their performance was nothing short of spectacular. They moved with precision and trust in one another, highlighting the unity and discipline you had instilled in them. 

The final day of the event featured the highly anticipated baseball game, a tradition that brought a light-hearted yet fiercely competitive spirit to the proceedings. The rules were simple yet demanding, requiring not just athletic ability but also quick thinking and clever use of jujutsu techniques. The sense of camaraderie and mutual respect among the students was palpable, even as they faced off against formidable opponents. 

Throughout the event, you found yourself crossing paths with Gojo Satoru more often than you would like. His presence was as commanding as ever, and his teasing remarks kept you on your toes. Despite the underlying tension and rivalry, there was an unspoken acknowledgment of each other's skills and dedication to your respective schools. 

Each day brought its own challenges and triumphs, and by the time the baseball game arrived, the atmosphere was electric with anticipation. The stands were filled with cheering students, faculty, and alumni, all eager to see who would emerge victorious. You could feel the weight of your students' expectations and hopes, and you silently vowed to guide them to their best performance yet. 

Despite your efforts, however, the disappointment was palpable after the baseball game ended in a loss for your school. "Better luck next time," Gojo teased, a smug grin on his face as he stared down at you. It was hard making direct eye contact when your view was interrupted by such dark shades.  

You turned your head, hiding the sting of defeat, and replied with a slight smirk, "Don't get too comfortable, Gojo. We'll come back stronger." 

He chuckled, using a finger to tilt his shades down a few inches, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Is that a challenge? I look forward to it. Just don't let your students slack off." 

Rolling your eyes, you retorted, "I don't need you to tell me how to train my students. Besides, they’re already motivated enough to beat you." 

His grin widened. "I like your spirit. We should have a little wager on the next event. What do you say?" 

Raising an eyebrow, you tilted your head thoughtfully. "What's the wager?" 

He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a teasing whisper. "If your students win, I'll treat you to dinner at the best restaurant in Tokyo. If mine win, you must join me for a training session. Best date you will ever have, guaranteed. Deal?" 

You extended your hand with a confident smile. "Deal. You better prepare to lose, Gojo." 

He shook your hand, his touch lingering just a moment longer than necessary. "We'll see about that." 

As you walked away, you could not help but feel a flutter of excitement. The thought of a rivalry with Gojo was exhilarating, pushing you to greater heights. 

The second time you saw Gojo Satoru as a rival, you did not think you’d ever hear the end of it. 

The next few months flew by, filled with intense training sessions and the anticipation of the upcoming the next Sister school event. The thought of Gojo’s shocked face at the victory your students fueled you to try even harder than before, you knew you would win, there was no other way. 

The day of the Goodwill Event arrived with a burst of energy and anticipation. The arena buzzed with excitement as students from different schools mingled and prepared for the competitions. You could see the dedication etched on your students' faces, a mirror of your own resolve to secure victory. 

Despite their best efforts and intense training, the competition proved to be tougher than expected. Gojo's students demonstrated exceptional skills, pushing your team to their limits. The final match came down to a nail-biting finish, with Gojo’s team narrowly clinching the win. 

The disappointment was palpable as you gathered your students afterwards. They looked exhausted and disheartened, the weight of defeat hanging heavily in the air. You took a deep breath, addressing them with a warm yet firm tone. "You all fought valiantly. Remember, this loss is not a measure of your worth or abilities. It is a steppingstone to becoming even stronger. We'll analyze what went wrong, learn from it, and come back with even greater determination." 

As you spoke, you noticed Gojo approaching with a smug but good-natured grin. “Tough break,” he said, his tone surprisingly gentle. “But your students showed great promise. I can see why you’re so proud of them.” 

“You’re not getting rid of us that easily, Gojo,” you replied, the competitive fire still burning in your eyes. “We’ll be back, and next time, we’re taking that trophy.” 

He chuckled, a spark of admiration in his gaze. “I look forward to it. Until then, don’t forget our wager. A deal’s a deal.” 

With a nod, you turned back to your students, who were beginning to show signs of renewed hope. Together, you walked away from the arena, already planning the next phase of your training. The loss had only strengthened your resolve, and you knew that the next time you faced Gojo, it would be under different circumstances. 

As you and your students walked away from the arena, a memory from not too long ago surfaced, a stark reminder of Gojo's effortless brilliance. 

It was a particularly grim day when a powerful curse had surfaced in the heart of the city, causing panic and wrecking havoc. Determined to prove your worth, you had rushed to the scene, ready to confront the malevolent spirit. 

The sky had darkened with ominous clouds as you faced the curse, its dark aura pulsing with a menacing energy. You had fought with all your might, each attack a testament to your skill, but the curse was relentless, absorbing your efforts with an almost mocking ease. Just when it seemed like you might be overwhelmed, a familiar, nonchalant voice broke through the tension. 

"Need a hand?" Gojo's unmistakable silhouette appeared amidst the chaos, his demeanor as casual as if he were strolling through a park. Without waiting for a response, he raised a hand, and with a single, precise gesture, the curse was obliterated in an explosion of light and energy. 

You had stood there, panting, and exhausted, watching incredulously as Gojo walked over, his signature smile firmly in place. "You did well," he had said, his tone genuinely appreciative, "but sometimes, it's okay to ask for help." 

That moment had left an indelible mark on you, a potent mix of frustration and awe. It was not just his overwhelming power that struck you, but his ability to make the impossible look so effortless. It was shortly after this encounter that your phone rang, breaking the introspective silence. 

"Hello?" you answered, still catching your breath from the recent ordeal. 

"It's Masamichi Yaga," the gruff voice on the other end of the line stated. "We need your help at the Tokyo school. There's a shortage of teachers, and your experience would be invaluable." 

You hesitated, glancing at your students, who were now chatting animatedly about their plans for improvement. "I appreciate the offer, but I have my own responsibilities here." 

"I understand," Yaga replied, "but think of the impact you could have on a larger scale. These are trying times, and your skills as a mentor are greatly needed." 

The weight of his words hung in the air. You knew it was not just a call for help; it was an acknowledgment of your abilities and the importance of your role in shaping the next generation of sorcerers. After a moment's contemplation, you agreed. 

"I'll be there as soon as I can," you said, determination settling in your voice. 

Yaga's relieved sigh was almost palpable. "Thank you. Your presence will make a significant difference." 

As you ended the call, you felt a renewed sense of purpose. The challenges ahead were daunting, but this was an opportunity to grow, to push your limits, and to stand shoulder to shoulder with the likes of Gojo.  

The third time you saw Gojo as a rival, was when he tried his best to become your friend. 

When you arrived at the Tokyo school, Gojo was the first to greet you, his usual nonchalant demeanor firmly in place. "So, you're here now," he remarked casually, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Don't think you can just waltz in and take over." 

You rolled your eyes, a smirk playing at your lips. "As if I'd want to," you retorted, though you could not deny the flutter of nerves his presence always seemed to induce. 

"Good to see you haven't lost your edge," Gojo said, his tone light but sincere. "We've got a lot of work ahead of us." 

"Tell me something I don't know," you replied, feeling a mix of excitement and apprehension at the thought of working alongside him. 

Gojo chuckled, his smile widening. "Don't worry, I'll try not to overshadow you too much." 

"Just try to keep up," you shot back, a playful challenge in your voice. 

Despite your cool facade, you could not deny the flutter of nerves his presence always seemed to induce. Gojo, ever the enigma, watched you closely. You did not flatter him as others did; instead, you spoke your mind, often challenging his views, earning his respect, and growing admiration. 

The next day, you found yourself standing in the training yard, surrounded by the energetic presence of his students. Each one of them brought their unique skills and personalities to the session, creating a dynamic and challenging environment. 

"Alright, everyone," you began, addressing the eager faces before you. "Today's focus is on teamwork and strategy. Let's see how you handle different scenarios together." 

The students nodded, their determination evident. You divided them into pairs, matching their strengths and weaknesses to foster growth and cooperation. As the training commenced, you could not help but be impressed by their dedication and progress. Yuuji's raw strength and agility, Megumi's tactical prowess, Nobara's fierce determination, Yuta's versatile combat skills, Maki's unwavering discipline, Toge's precise command of cursed speech, and Panda's adaptability all contributed to a formidable team. 

Throughout the session, you provided guidance and feedback, pushing them to refine their techniques and think on their feet. The atmosphere was electric, filled with the sounds of exertion and the clash of weapons. Despite their individual talents, it was their ability to work together that truly shone through. 

Unbeknownst to you, Gojo had been observing from the sidelines, his keen eyes taking in every detail. As the session progressed, a smile played at the corners of his lips. He was genuinely impressed by how well you managed the training, bringing out the best in each student while fostering a sense of camaraderie.  

As Gojo observed from the sidelines, he found his gaze frequently drifting towards you. Each precise instruction you gave, every moment of encouragement you offered, and the fierce commitment in your eyes as you guided the students captivated him. He could feel his heart quickening, thumping louder with every passing second. The admiration he felt was no longer about your skills or dedication; it was something deeper, more personal. He was falling for you, and it terrified him. You had been on his mind, constantly, ever since that Sister Event two years ago. Before that, it took all he could to not embarrass himself in front of you during your years in school together. He had missed you greatly and seeing you now, looking even better than you had before, made those feelings grow ten times as much. The fear of overwhelming you or coming off too strong gnawed at him, making him hesitant to even breach the subject. Yet, he could not deny the growing affection, a tender sensation that made him wish for more moments like these, where he could witness your brilliance up close. He wanted to be near you, to understand you, but the fear of ruining what fragile bond you had kept him rooted in place, torn between his feelings and his restraint. 

When the session finally drew to a close, you gathered the students around for a debrief. "Excellent work, everyone," you praised, your voice filled with pride. "You've shown remarkable progress and teamwork today. Keep pushing yourselves and supporting each other. That's how we'll grow stronger together." 

The students beamed, their spirits lifted by your words of encouragement. As they dispersed, you felt a presence beside you. Turning, you saw Gojo, his expression one of genuine admiration. 

"You handled that brilliantly," he remarked, his tone sincere. "They're lucky to have you." 

A warm flush of gratitude spread through you at his praise. "Thank you, Gojo," you replied, meeting his gaze. "It means a lot coming from you." 

He chuckled, a playful glint in his eyes. "Don't let it go to your head.” 

Over the next few months, the students continued to train diligently under your guidance. Each session brought new challenges and opportunities for growth, as they honed their skills and deepened their bonds with one another. You introduced a variety of scenarios, pushing them to think creatively and work as a cohesive unit. The progress was evident; their techniques became more refined, their strategies more sophisticated, and their teamwork more seamless. 

You and Gojo often collaborated on training exercises, blending your unique approaches to create a comprehensive and dynamic curriculum. The students thrived in this environment, their confidence soaring with each passing week. Your partnership with Gojo grew stronger as well, fueled by mutual respect and a shared commitment to the students' success. Despite the occasional teasing and playful banter, a genuine camaraderie developed between you two, marked by trust and admiration. 

Through it all, Gojo's feelings for you only intensified. He found himself attracted to your passion, your dedication, and the way you effortlessly inspired those around you. The students, observant as ever, noticed the subtle shifts in his demeanor. Gojo found himself increasingly drawn to your strength and independence. It was refreshing to meet someone who did not bend over backward to seek his approval. You reminded him of why he loved being a teacher; to see raw, unfiltered talent and passion. You, on the other hand, began to see beyond Gojo's arrogance. You noticed the subtle signs of exhaustion, the heavy burden of expectations he carried, and the loneliness that lurked behind his ever-present smile. 

The students soon noticed Gojo's interest and began scheming ways to bring the two of you together. Their mischief was both endearing and exasperating, nudging you towards an unexpected friendship with Gojo. 

Megumi and Nobara collaborated to put something in motion. Their first plan involved organizing a picnic, hoping that the relaxed atmosphere would spark a deeper connection. 

"This will be perfect! They will have no choice but to talk and bond," Megumi suggested. However, an unexpected downpour forced everyone to take shelter, and the moment was lost amidst the scramble to stay dry. 

"Well, that didn't work," Nobara sighed. “We might need a little more help.” 

The next afternoon, after an intense training session, the students gathered in a quiet corner of the campus, whispering conspiratorially. Megumi explained the situation to Yuuji.  

"We need a new plan," Megumi said, his brow furrowed in thought. "Something that will really make them see their feelings for each other." 

"How about a romantic dinner?" Yuuji suggested, her eyes gleaming with excitement. "We could set it up in the training room with candles and flowers!" 

Nobara shook her head, a skeptical look on her face. "We tried that already, remember? They got called away on a mission." 

"True," Yuuji conceded. "But what if we try something more subtle this time?" 

"Like what?" Megumi asked, intrigued. 

"Maybe we can create a situation where they have to rely on each other," Yuuji proposed. "Something that will make them realize how much they mean to each other." 

Nobara nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah! Like a team-building exercise, but more intense. What if we pretend one of us is in danger, and only they can save us?" 

"It's risky," Megumi cautioned, "but it might just work." 

"Or we can spread a rumor," Yuuji added, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "People will start talking, and maybe they'll feel pressured to address it." 

"That's actually not a bad idea," Megumi admitted. "They might be forced to confront their feelings if everyone else is talking about it." 

"Alright, so we have two plans," Nobara summed up. "We either create a situation where they have to depend on each other, or we spread a rumor and see what happens." 

"Let's try both," Yuuji said confidently. "We can't afford to fail this time." 

With determined nods, the students dispersed, each one silently vowing to bring their teachers together no matter what it took 

Undeterred, they next arranged for a surprise team-building exercise, partnering you and Gojo for all the activities. 

"Ready to lose?" Gojo teased as you both prepared for the first challenge. Instead of fostering romance, the competitive spirit between you two only seemed to amplify, leading to playful arguments and a lot of laughter, but no confessions of love. 

"You call that a throw?" you challenged, smirking at him. 

Still determined, they resorted to spreading rumors, hoping that the gossip would force either you or Gojo to address the situation directly. 

"Did you hear? Apparently, Gojo-sensei and our instructor are an item," one student whispered. 

"Really? They do spend a lot of time together," another replied. 

This too failed, as both of you brushed off the whispers, focusing instead on your duties and responsibilities. 

"Just ignore them," you said, rolling your eyes. 

"Yeah, they're just being kids," Gojo agreed, smiling reassuringly. 

Despite their best efforts, none of the students' plans seemed to work. Yet, through these orchestrated scenarios, you and Gojo spent more time together, slowly but surely building a bond that neither of you could deny. It was clear that while the students' plans had not succeeded in the way they intended, they had inadvertently brought you closer together in a way that was genuine and unforced. 

One particular evening, after a long day of training, you found yourself in the school's courtyard, practicing alone. Gojo approached quietly, watching you with a mixture of admiration and curiosity. 

"You're pushing yourself too hard," he said, breaking the silence. "You need to rest." You turned to face him, sweat glistening on your brow.  

"I don't need your advice," you replied stubbornly.  

Gojo chuckled, "Stubborn as always, I see. Just don't wear yourself out." 

You paused, considering his words and the familiar warmth in his eyes. It struck you then - Gojo was not trying to belittle you or undermine your efforts. He was looking out for you, caring in the only way he knew how. 

Gradually, the pieces fell into place. All those times he seemed to effortlessly excel, while you struggled to catch up, were not meant to overshadow you, but to push you to greater heights. His provocations were not to demean but to challenge, to see you become the best version of yourself. 

As you gazed at him, the realization enveloped you like a soothing balm. "Thank you," you murmured, the words laden with newfound understanding. Gojo's eyes softened, a rare vulnerability flickering across his face. 

"Anytime," he replied, his voice gentle. In that moment, the barriers between you began to crumble, leaving behind a bond forged in respect and mutual admiration. 

The fourth time you saw Satoru as a rival was when you both fought to be the better friend, and in a twisted turn of events, it was him. 

The higher-ups eventually assigned both of you to a perilous Special Grade Mission. "Stay close," Gojo instructed, a rare seriousness in his tone. As you approached the dilapidated entrance of the abandoned hospital, an eerie silence enveloped the surroundings. The air was thick with malevolent energy, and the shadows seemed to twist and flicker with a life of their own. 

Suddenly, the curse emerged, a monstrous entity with grotesque limbs and a gaping maw, its eyes burning with hatred. The battle commenced with a flurry of motion. Gojo, with his unparalleled speed and precision, launched a barrage of powerful strikes, his Limitless technique creating an impenetrable barrier between you and the curse. His movements were a blur, each attack calculated to weaken the entity. 

Despite Gojo's efforts, the curse's resilience was formidable. It retaliated with ferocity, its claws slashing through the air, aiming for any vulnerable spot. You fought valiantly by Gojo's side, your attacks synchronizing with his, but the curse's strength was overwhelming. A particularly savage blow sent you crashing into a crumbling wall, pain searing through your body. 

"Stay down!" Gojo shouted, his voice edged with panic as he intensified his assault on the curse. Ignoring the pain, you pushed yourself back into the fray. 

The curse, sensing an opportunity, launched its most devastating attack. A wave of dark energy surged towards you, and before you could react, it struck with brutal force. Agony exploded in your chest as you collapsed, blood pooling around you. Gojo's eyes widened in horror, and with a roar of fury, he unleashed his full power, obliterating the curse in a blinding flash of energy. 

Rushing to your side, Gojo's hands trembled as he assessed your injuries. "Hang on," he muttered, his voice breaking. He scooped you up with a gentleness that contrasted the urgency of the situation. Every second counted as he sped towards Shoko Ieiri, his breath ragged with fear and panic. 

Bursting into the infirmary, Gojo shouted, "Shoko, help!" The healer immediately sprang into action, her expression grave as she began to work on your wounds. Gojo stayed at your side, his eyes never leaving your face, silently willing you to survive. 

Days turned into weeks as you lay recuperating, your body slowly mending from the life-threatening injuries. Emotions you had long buried began to surface. The countless nights spent envying Gojo's effortless brilliance, the sting of being overlooked, all seemed distant memories compared to the genuine concern and tenderness he now showed you. His presence was a comforting balm, and you found yourself looking forward to his visits, your heart softening with each passing day. 

Emotions you had long buried began to surface. The countless nights spent envying Gojo's effortless brilliance, the sting of being overlooked, all seemed distant memories compared to the genuine concern and tenderness he now showed you. His presence was a comforting balm, and you found yourself looking forward to his visits, your heart softening with each passing day. 

The fifth time you saw Satoru as a rival, you weren’t sure if he was fighting for the same thing. 

While you were recovering, many of the students visited you, bringing warmth and cheer to your otherwise quiet days. Among your frequent visitors were Nanami Kento and Geto Suguru. The three of you quickly became close friends, spending time together and sharing stories, laughter, and a renewed sense of camaraderie. Of all your new friendships, your bond with Nanami grew the deepest. His steady presence and thoughtful conversations were a comfort, and you often found yourselves lost in discussions long after the others had left. 

"You know," Nanami said one evening, "it's refreshing to have these conversations. It reminds me of why I enjoy teaching." 

You smiled, "I feel the same way. It's good to have friends who understand." 

However, it did not take long for Gojo to notice your growing closeness with Nanami. A flicker of jealousy began to smolder within him, and he found himself bristling at the sight of you two together 

Nanami and Geto, perceptive as they were, soon picked up on Gojo's increasing discomfort. With a shared understanding and a touch of mischievousness, they devised a plan to push Gojo into confessing his true feelings before it was too late. 

One afternoon, while you were sitting in the courtyard enjoying a quiet moment, Nanami approached with a mischievous glint in his eye. "Hold still," he said, leaning in closer, "I think there's something on your cheek." Before you could react, he gently brushed his thumb across your skin, his touch lingering just long enough to catch Gojo's attention from across the yard. 

Gojo's eyebrows shot up, and a storm of emotions flashed across his face. Without another word, he spun on his heel and headed straight for Geto. "Did you see that?" he fumed. "Nanami was practically caressing their face!" 

Geto stifled a laugh, understanding the ploy immediately. "You know, Gojo, you could always make your feelings clear instead of sulking and glaring like a jealous teenager." 

Gojo’s frustration boiled over. "I can't just—how do I even start?" 

"Simple," Geto smirked. "You tell them how you feel." 

With those words echoing in his mind, Gojo's resolve hardened. He could not stand the thought of losing you to someone else, even if it were Nanami. Driven by a newfound urgency, he found himself running to your apartment in the middle of the night, his breath ragged as he knocked on your door. 

When you opened it, surprise evident in your eyes, Gojo was suddenly nervous and not sure how to confess anymore. His usual confidence wavered as he stuttered, "I... I was wondering if... maybe you'd like to go out with me sometime?" 

Confused by his sudden hesitation and disoriented by being awakened at such an odd hour, you thought back to the bet he had mentioned at the Goodwill Event. "Is this about the bet?" you asked, your voice cautious. 

Gojo blinked, momentarily thrown off. "Y-yes, the bet," he quickly agreed, hoping to salvage the moment. 

You nodded reluctantly, "Alright, we can go out... for the bet." 

Relief and disappointment mixed in Gojo's eyes, but he resolved to use this opportunity to get closer to you. 

“I won’t disappoint.” Gojo aimed to cover those vulnerable feelings with a suave smirk and a wink. You stared straight into the cerulean blue eyes that had been haunting your every waking moment.  

“I’m sure you won’t. Goodnight, Satoru.” You smiled quickly and closed the door. 

As you both went your separate ways, while elated at the familiarity that you now shared, Gojo could not help but feel a pang of regret. He wanted to be honest and tell you about his true feelings, but fear of rejection held him back. His mind raced, wondering if you would ever truly understand the depth of his affection. 

You, on the other hand, felt a mixture of confusion and curiosity. You had always felt a special bond with Gojo, but the idea that he might have deeper feelings for you was something you had not fully considered. The thought of it made your heart flutter, yet the mention of the bet left you uncertain about his intentions. 

The weight of unspoken words hung heavily on both of your minds, a tangible presence that neither of you could ignore. In that moment, everything felt both exhilarating and terrifying, as if the future of your relationship hinged on the next steps you would take. 

Gojo's determination began to solidify, and he knew that he could not let this opportunity slip away. He would find a way to tell you how he truly felt, no matter how daunting the task seemed. 

The next evening, Gojo planned a wonderful date, making every effort to impress to make it memorable. He took you to a picturesque rooftop restaurant with a stunning view of the city skyline. The soft glow of candlelight and the gentle strumming of a live guitarist set the perfect romantic atmosphere. 

Throughout the evening, the conversation flowed effortlessly. You shared stories, laughed at his playful jokes, and listened as he spoke passionately about his work and his dreams. The connection between you grew stronger with every passing moment. 

After dinner, Gojo surprised you with a walk along the riverbank, where the moonlight danced on the water's surface. He held your hand, and you felt a warmth and comfort you had not experienced before. As you paused to take in the serene beauty of the night, you both turned to face each other, the air thick with unspoken emotions. 

"Tonight has been incredible," you said softly, breaking the comfortable silence. "I never knew you could be so romantic, Gojo." 

He chuckled, a hint of nervousness in his voice. "There's a lot you don't know about me, but I want to change that. I want us to know everything about each other." 

Gojo's eyes locked onto yours, and he slowly leaned in, his intentions clear. Your heart raced, and just as your lips were about to touch, a sudden noise startled you both, causing you to pull away. The moment passed, leaving you both with a mixture of anticipation and longing. 

"Maybe next time," he murmured, his voice laced with hope. 

Your heart sank as you were reminded of the real reason behind the date. It was all for a bet made at the goodwill event, a calculated move to win a challenge. The wonderful evening, the laughter, the almost-kiss—it was all tainted by this revelation. You could not help but feel foolish for allowing yourself to be swept away by the moment. 

The next day, during practice with the students, you could not shake the memory of the almost-kiss. You found yourself very noticeably avoiding Gojo, unsure of how to process your feelings and the unresolved tension between you. You focused intently on the lesson, doing your best to maintain a professional demeanor, but Gojo's presence was impossible to ignore. 

"What's going on? You've been avoiding me all day," Gojo said, his eyes searching yours for answers. 

You took a deep breath, your emotions a whirlwind of confusion and hurt. "You really don't get it, do you?" you replied, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and sadness. "It was all just a game to you. The date, the romantic gestures—all of it was because of a bet." 

Gojo's expression shifted from confusion to realization, his eyes widening slightly. "Wait, it wasn't just a game to me. I—" 

But you could not bear to hear any more. "Save it, Gojo. I don't want to hear your excuses," you interrupted, turning away from him. The bitterness and resentment began to creep back into your heart, and you resolved to keep your distance, avoiding him as much as possible. 

The days that followed were filled with strained interactions and a palpable tension. You focused on your duties, doing everything in your power to maintain a professional demeanor. But behind the mask, your heart ached with the sting of betrayal and the loss of what could have been. 

The first time Gojo Satoru saw you...he knew he would never let you go. 

A week later, as you were strolling along campus, Yaga called you into his office. He offered you a permanent position as a teacher, praising your dedication and skill. The offer was tempting, but your mind was made up. 

"Thank you, Yaga," you said, attempting to keep your voice steady. "But I think it's best for me to return to Kyoto. I need some time away from everything here." 

Yaga's brows furrowed in concern, but he nodded in understanding. "If that's what you feel is best, then I won't stand in your way. Just know that you'll always have a place here." 

As you walked back to your room to pack, you could not help but feel a sense of finality. You were ready to leave, to put the tumultuous emotions behind you. But unbeknownst to you, Gojo also happened to be nearby, as he was the one to encourage Yaga to keep you on, just as he had not too long ago convinced him to hire you in the first place. He had inadvertently overheard your conversation with Yaga. His heart sank, the weight of your departure hitting him like a tidal wave. 

Distraught, Gojo wandered aimlessly through the hallways until he ran into Nanami and Geto. They instantly noticed his somber expression. 

"Why the long face, Gojo?" Nanami asked, raising an eyebrow. 

Gojo let out a heavy sigh. "They're leaving. I overheard them talking to Yaga. They're going back to Kyoto." 

Geto exchanged a look with Nanami before shaking his head. "You're really going to let them walk away just like that? Come on, man, stop pouting and go get them back." 

Nanami nodded in agreement. "If they mean that much to you, then you need to fight for it. Don't let a misunderstanding ruin everything." 

Gojo's eyes lit up with a renewed determination. He knew they were right. This was his chance to make things right, to prove that his feelings were genuine. He could not be a coward anymore. Without another word, he turned on his heel and sprinted down the halls, his mind racing with thoughts of how he could convince you to stay. 

As you were nearly finished packing, you heard hurried footsteps approaching. You turned to see Gojo standing at your doorway, breathless and with a look of desperation in his eyes. 

"Please, just listen to me," he begged, stepping into the room. "I can't let you leave without telling you how I truly feel." 

You stood silent, heart pounding, as Gojo took a deep breath and continued. "I've never felt this way about anyone before. Your presence, your strength, everything about you has changed me in ways I cannot even begin to explain. I know I've made mistakes, but I'm asking you to give me one real chance. Give us a real chance" 

His voice wavered, but his resolve was clear. "Stay. Stay and let me prove to you that I'm worth it, that we can be something extraordinary together." 

Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked at him, torn between the life you had planned and the undeniable sincerity in his words. This was a decisive moment, one that could alter the course of both your lives forever. And you were ready to take that leap if it meant he kept looking at you like that. 

“Yeah, let’s do it.”