#chapter 3 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

izumkay · 3 days ago

Text

~KNOTTED DESIRES~ |CH-3|

—SATORU GOJO

♡Pairing- SatoruGojo×TeacherFem!Reader(main), Reader×Nanami.

♡Summary- As a new teacher, you step into the prestigious halls of a modern high school, ready to guide and inspire your students. But your plans take an unexpected turn when Satoru Gojo, a charismatic and self-assured senior, makes a move on you, challenging your boundaries and professional. What starts as a clash of personalities quickly evolves into a forbidden connection, leaving you both caught in a whirlwind of desires.

Gerne/Tags- Age difference(8 years), Student-Teacher relationship, Satoru is obsessed over you, high school setting, Love triangle, complicated relationship, happy ending.

Warnings!- MDNI. Explicit sexual content, angst, mentions of death, blood, fluff, strong language, hurt/comfort.

Wc- 6.5k

Previous chapter!

The week passed in a blur of lectures, grading, and stolen moments of quiet frustration. Despite your best efforts to keep things professional, Gojo’s antics were relentless. Every smirk, every sly comment, every lingering glance—it all left you questioning how to handle him.

Now, it was Friday afternoon, and you were tidying up the classroom after the final bell rang. Most students had already cleared out, but, of course, there was one who lingered.

"Miss," came that familiar, infuriatingly playful voice.

You didn’t even need to turn around to know who it was. "What do you need, Gojo?" you asked, your tone laced with exhaustion as you continued organizing the papers on your desk.

"I was serious about needing help in math, you know," he said, his voice closer now.

You turned, meeting his bright, mischievous gaze. He was leaning casually against one of the desks, his bag slung lazily over his shoulder.

"You’re perfectly capable of understanding the material on your own," you replied firmly. "You just don’t try."

Gojo tilted his head, a mock look of hurt crossing his face. "Ouch. That’s harsh, Miss. You’re supposed to believe in your students."

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. "Gojo, I don’t have time for this. If you’re not going to take your education seriously, that’s on you."

"Who said I wasn’t serious?" he countered, his tone softening. "Look, I get it—I joke around a lot. But I really am falling behind. You’re a great teacher, and I think I’d do better with one-on-one help."

His sudden sincerity caught you off guard. You stared at him, searching his expression for any sign of his usual teasing. But he looked… earnest.

"Are you asking me to tutor you?" you asked hesitantly.

"Yeah," he said, shrugging like it was the most natural thing in the world. "Unless you’re too busy for your favorite student."

You frowned, unsure if you were making a mistake. But then you thought about your role as a teacher. If he truly needed help, wasn’t it your job to guide him?

After a long pause, you finally said, "Fine. I’ll tutor you. But this is strictly professional, Gojo. No games, no jokes."

His grin returned, brighter than ever. "Deal. When do we start?"

You regretted your decision almost immediately. The moment the word “fine” left your lips, Gojo’s grin widened to an infuriating degree.

"How about tonight?" he asked casually, as if he hadn’t just thrown your entire weekend into chaos.

"Tonight?" you repeated, incredulous. "That’s not happening. I have plans."

He tilted his head, his grin turning sly. "Plans, huh? What kind of plans? A hot date, maybe?"

You shot him a sharp glare. "Not that it’s any of your business, but no. I’m grading papers."

"Sounds thrilling," he said with a dramatic roll of his eyes. "But seriously, Miss, let’s get started soon. Midterms aren’t that far off, and I’m in desperate need of your genius."

"Monday," you said firmly. "After school. I’ll tutor you for an hour in the library."

Gojo pouted, his lower lip jutting out slightly. "The library? That’s so boring."

You crossed your arms. "Then I suggest you find someone else to tutor you."

"Fine, fine," he relented, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "The library it is. But just so you know, Miss, you’re going to regret how much time you spend with me. I’m irresistible."

"Shut up," you said, already turning back to your desk.

As he sauntered out of the classroom, you sighed heavily, wondering what you’d just gotten yourself into.

—♪°.•✧•.°♪—

♡The First Tutoring Session♡

Monday arrived faster than you expected. After the last bell, you headed to the library, your bag heavy with lesson plans and materials you’d prepared for Gojo.

He was already there, sprawled in a chair like he owned the place. His tie was loosened, his sleeves rolled up, and his ever-present smirk greeted you as you approached.

"Right on time," he said, kicking a chair out for you with his foot.

You ignored his casual tone, setting your materials on the table. "We’re here to work, Gojo. No distractions."

"Of course, Miss," he said, feigning innocence.

For the first twenty minutes, he actually seemed to be trying. He followed along as you explained equations, scribbled notes in his notebook, and asked questions that—shockingly—weren’t sarcastic.

But then the smirk returned.

"You’re really good at this," he said, leaning closer. "Ever think about tutoring full-time? You could make a killing."

"Focus, Gojo," you said, pointing to the problem on the page.

"I am focusing," he said smoothly, his voice dropping slightly. "Just not on the math."

You froze, feeling heat creep up your neck.

"Do you ever stop?" you muttered, refusing to meet his gaze.

"Not when it’s this fun," he replied, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied grin.

You exhaled sharply, determined not to let him get under your skin. This was going to be a long semester.

You could feel the occasional glances of students from nearby tables, their whispers barely audible but still enough to make you aware of their curiosity. It wasn’t hard to guess why. Tutoring Satoru Gojo, of all people, was bound to attract attention.

His reputation preceded him—not just as the loud, cocky student who dominated every social circle, but also as the one person everyone seemed to orbit around. Whether it was his natural charisma, his infamous antics, or just his good looks, he had a presence that was impossible to ignore.

And now, here you were, sitting across from him, trying to get him to focus on basic algebra while he looked far too amused for someone supposedly "desperate" for help.

"Do you always attract this much attention?" you muttered under your breath, your eyes briefly darting toward a group of students pretending not to watch.

Gojo followed your gaze, then turned back to you with a lazy grin. "Jealous, Miss? Don’t worry, you’re the only one I’m paying attention to right now."

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. "I’m not jealous. I’m just wondering if you ever take anything seriously."

"I take you seriously," he said smoothly, leaning forward slightly.

Your breath caught for a moment, but you quickly recovered, narrowing your eyes at him. "Focus, Gojo. This isn’t a game."

He chuckled, sitting back in his chair as if you’d just told the funniest joke. "You’re so serious, Miss. But don’t worry, I’ll make this worth your time."

You didn’t respond, instead pointing to the next problem on the page. "Solve this one. And no shortcuts."

For once, he didn’t argue. But as he bent over the page, pencil in hand, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were walking a very fine line with him—a line he seemed determined to blur.

As you leaned over to check his work, you became acutely aware of how close he was sitting. His thigh brushed against yours under the table, sending a jolt through you that you immediately tried to dismiss. The faint heat radiating from him was impossible to ignore, and the subtle scent of his cologne—clean and sharp—lingered in the air between you.

No. Absolutely not.

You straightened abruptly, shaking off the intrusive thoughts. Focus. You’re his teacher, for crying out loud.

"You okay, Miss?" Gojo’s voice was laced with amusement, his eyes glinting with something that told you he’d noticed your sudden flustered state.

"Fine," you said briskly, your tone sharper than you intended. "Just concentrate on the problem, Gojo."

He smirked, leaning slightly closer as if to test your resolve. "You seem a little distracted, though. Should I be the one tutoring you instead?"

You shot him a pointed look, your professionalism barely holding steady. "If you don’t finish this equation in the next five minutes, I’m leaving."

His grin widened, but he picked up his pencil again, finally turning his attention back to the worksheet. Yet, even as he worked, you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was playing a completely different game—and you were already losing.

You tried to keep your gaze on the paper in front of you, focusing on the neat equations you’d written to guide him. But every time he shifted, his leg brushed against yours again—light, fleeting, but impossible to ignore.

"You’re awfully quiet," he murmured, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

"I’m waiting for you to finish the problem," you replied curtly, refusing to look up.

He chuckled softly, the sound sending a strange shiver down your spine. "You sure that’s all you’re thinking about?"

You froze for half a second before quickly masking it, pretending to flip through your notes. "Do you always talk this much during tutoring sessions?"

"Only when it’s fun," he said smoothly. "And you, Miss, are very fun to talk to."

You finally looked up, fixing him with a glare that you hoped masked your growing unease. "I thought you said you needed help with math. Or was that just an excuse to waste my time?"

"Harsh," he said, placing a hand over his chest in mock offense. "But I really do need the help. You’re the only one who can save me, Miss."

"Then stop flirting and start focusing," you shot back, your patience thinning.

His grin widened, and he leaned in closer, resting his chin on his hand. "Flirting? You think this is flirting?"

You blinked, thrown off by the question.

"Relax, Miss," he said, his tone dripping with mischief. "I’m just messing with you. You’re the one making it a big deal."

Heat rose to your cheeks, and you hated how easily he could fluster you. You glanced down at the paper in front of him, desperate to shift the focus back to the lesson. "You’re still wrong. Fix this step," you said, tapping the page with your pen.

"Anything for you," he teased, finally picking up his pencil again.

But as he worked, the smirk never left his face, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were walking straight into a trap of his making.

As the tutoring session came to an end, you let out a quiet sigh of relief. Finally, you were done—for now.

You glanced at Gojo, who leaned back in his chair with a lazy yawn, stretching his arms above his head. His shirt shifted slightly, revealing a sliver of skin that you immediately forced yourself not to notice.

"Was it that boring?" you asked, your tone half-joking but tinged with genuine curiosity.

He dropped his arms and looked at you with that same infuriating smirk. "Not boring, just exhausting. You’re a tough teacher, Miss."

"That’s because you need it," you replied, gathering your materials and shoving them into your bag.

"Need it? Or need you?" he said, his voice dropping just enough to make your heart skip a beat.

You froze for a moment, caught off guard, but quickly masked your reaction by standing up and slinging your bag over your shoulder. "Save the smooth talk for someone else, Gojo," you said firmly, though you couldn’t stop the faint heat creeping up your neck.

He chuckled, standing up as well and slinging his bag lazily over one shoulder. "Whatever you say, Miss. But I think we both know I’m not giving up that easily."

You rolled your eyes, stepping away from the table and heading for the door. "Be on time next time, or this arrangement is over."

"Yes, ma’am," he called after you, his voice teasing as ever.

As you walked out of the library, you couldn’t help but feel a strange mix of frustration and anticipation swirling in your chest. You were supposed to be the one in control, the professional, the teacher. So why did it feel like he was the one leading the game?

—♪°.•✧•.°♪—

You sat back in your chair, trying to enjoy the moment of peace. The warm glow of the cafe, the soft hum of background music, and the rich taste of your iced caffe mocha should’ve been the perfect escape.

But of course, peace was not something you could have for long.

The bell above the door chimed, and you felt it—the sudden presence of someone. The unmistakable, overconfident aura of Satoru Gojo.

You looked up just in time to see him strolling into the cafe, his eyes scanning the room until they landed on you. He grinned, as if he’d just found a treasure chest.

"Well, well, fancy seeing you here, Missy," he called out, his voice smooth and casual, as if you were long-time friends.

Missy?

You furrowed your brows slightly at the nickname, feeling your annoyance spike. You hadn’t exactly invited him into your personal space.

But of course, Gojo had already started making his way over to your table, weaving through the small crowd of customers with that same confident swagger.

He leaned against the back of your chair with a wide grin, not even waiting for an invitation to sit.

"Hey, Gojo," you said, trying to keep your voice neutral, though the irritation in it was undeniable. "What are you doing here?"

His smirk widened, clearly amused by your less-than-enthusiastic response. "What, can’t a guy enjoy a nice cafe on a chill evening? I think it’s fate we ran into each other."

You rolled your eyes, taking another sip of your drink, trying to ignore the fact that he was now standing way too close for comfort.

"You’re seriously everywhere," you muttered, not quite sure if you were talking to him or to yourself.

"Everywhere?" Gojo repeated, feigning offense. "I’m just trying to be in the right place at the right time. Seems like that’s exactly where I’m supposed to be."

You shot him a look, still trying to process the situation. Of course, of all places…

Gojo, oblivious to your internal battle, finally pulled up a chair and sat down across from you without asking. He leaned forward, his elbows on the table as if he’d known you for years.

"So, what’s a pretty lady like you doing here all alone?" he asked, his voice dripping with that signature teasing tone.

You tried to maintain your composure, but his casual demeanor was starting to wear on you. "Taking a break. Is that a crime?"

"Not at all," he replied, his grin never fading. "But I’m starting to think you’re trying to escape me."

"I’m not escaping you," you shot back, your patience already thinning. "I’m just enjoying a quiet moment. Something you seem to have no concept of."

He laughed softly, clearly unbothered by your irritation. "Relax, Miss. I’m just here to keep you company."

You sighed, shaking your head. "You’ve got a strange idea of company."

He just winked at you, as if that made everything okay.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, glancing around the cafe. If anyone from school saw you two here together... The thought of rumors starting made your stomach twist. You had worked hard to establish a professional image, and the last thing you needed was to be caught up in gossip.

Clearing your throat, you leaned forward slightly, lowering your voice. "Gojo, you should sit somewhere else. If someone sees us—"

But before you could finish, he cut you off, his tone casual, almost mocking. "So what?"

His response was so nonchalant, it threw you off for a moment. He was clearly unfazed by the possibility of rumors, as if he didn’t care what anyone thought.

You opened your mouth to argue, but he continued, his gaze fixed on you with an intensity that made your heart race. "Let them talk. Who cares?"

"You're not taking this seriously," you said, feeling your patience slip. "This is a professional setting. I’m your teacher, Gojo."

He leaned back in his chair, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Yeah, and I'm your student. But we both know that title doesn’t really mean much when it comes to us, does it?"

You froze, the weight of his words hanging in the air between you. He was pushing boundaries again, testing you.

"I’m just saying," he added with a shrug, "if someone has a problem with us sitting together, that’s their issue, not ours."

You didn’t know how to respond. You wanted to maintaiqn your professionalism, to stand your ground, but Gojo had a way of making everything feel so... casual, as if none of the rules applied to him.

"I think you should go," you said finally, your voice a little more forceful than you intended. "I’m trying to enjoy some peace and quiet."

Gojo didn’t seem put off in the slightest. In fact, he only smiled wider, his eyes glinting with mischief. "You’re no fun, Miss."

You could feel the tension building again, but you forced yourself to stand up, grabbing your things. "I’ll see you at school, Gojo."

"Of course you will," he said, still lounging in his chair as you walked toward the door. "And don’t worry, I’ll keep my distance... for now."

You didn’t know whether to be relieved or frustrated. Either way, you had a feeling this wouldn’t be the last time you’d see him in places like this.

—♪°.•✧•.°♪—

Gojo watched you walk away, his eyes never leaving your retreating figure. He leaned back in his chair, a smirk tugging at his lips as he mulled over the challenge ahead.

This week was crucial. He’d made a bet with Suguru, and he wasn’t about to lose. Making you his girlfriend in seven days seemed like a joke to most people, but to Gojo, it was a challenge he couldn’t back down from. He didn’t lose. Ever.

His thoughts drifted to the next move. He’d have to be careful, strategic. Inviting you to his house was too bold, too soon. It might be the perfect move eventually, but for now, he needed something that would bring you closer without pushing you away.

He drummed his fingers on the table, thinking. You were strong-willed, no doubt about that. And you were clearly trying to keep things professional. But that only made the game more interesting.

What would it take to break through that professionalism?

Gojo smirked again, already planning his next step. He wasn’t about to let Suguru win. He’d get to you, one way or another.

"One week," he muttered to himself, determination settling into his voice. "Just one week, and you’ll be mine."

Gojo leaned back further in his chair, letting his mind race with possibilities. He knew he had to be more subtle if he was going to pull this off. If he was too forward, you’d shut him down immediately, and that would ruin everything.

He thought back to the tutoring session, how you’d tried so hard to maintain your professional distance, yet he could see through it. The way you’d flinched when he got too close, how your voice faltered when he teased you—it was clear you were affected, whether you admitted it or not. That was his opening.

But still, there was a line he couldn’t cross too quickly. He’d seen how hard you were trying to hold onto your composure, and that made the game all the more exciting. Gojo didn’t just want to win—you were a challenge, and that was the best part.

He considered the idea of dropping a hint here and there, slowly chipping away at the barriers you’d built. Maybe he could "accidentally" bump into you after school or find an excuse to keep showing up where you were. Slowly but surely, he’d break down your resistance. He had time.

But not much time, he reminded himself. One week.

Gojo’s grin widened, and he pushed himself up from the chair, feeling the thrill of the game. He wouldn’t lose. Not to Suguru, and certainly not to anyone else.

He’d make you his.

—♪°.•✧•.°♪—

The morning air was chilly, a calmness lingering in the school as you made your way to the classroom. It was quiet, the halls still mostly empty, with only a few students arriving early. You were looking forward to a peaceful start to your day, maybe even getting some work done before the chaos of the school day began.

But as soon as you entered the classroom, your expectations were shattered.

There, seated casually at his desk, was none other than Satoru Gojo. He was already there, as if he had been waiting for you. His eyes locked onto you the moment you stepped through the door, and with that signature smirk of his, he waved lazily.

"Hey, Missy!~" he called out, his voice too casual for your liking.

You stopped in your tracks, annoyance immediately creeping into your voice. "What are you doing here so early?" You couldn’t help but sound irritated. Was he always this unpredictable?

Gojo leaned back in his seat, unfazed by your tone, his smirk widening. "I'm always early," he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

You raised an eyebrow, glancing around the empty classroom. Of course you are. You couldn’t deny the fact that you seemed to run into him at the most inconvenient times. Alone, just the two of you. You couldn’t shake the feeling that he was doing this on purpose, trying to make things... complicated.

"Seriously, do we always have to run into each other like this?" you muttered under your breath, hoping he wouldn’t hear. But of course, he did.

"Always, Missy," Gojo replied, his voice light but with a certain edge. "Seems like fate wants us to cross paths, don’t you think?"

You rolled your eyes, trying to maintain your composure. "I’m just here to teach, Gojo. I don’t have time for... whatever this is."

He only chuckled, his eyes glinting with mischief. "You say that now, but I’m sure we’ll have plenty of time for each other, Missy. After all, I’m your best student, right?"

You sighed, already feeling the tension building. Why did everything with him feel like a game?

You shot him a pointed look, not even bothering to hide your annoyance. "You're not."

Gojo only smirked wider, his confidence radiating from him like an unstoppable force. "I know I am. I’m your favorite student," he teased, leaning back in his chair with a cocky grin plastered on his face.

Tch.

You couldn’t help but feel a knot tighten in your stomach, the frustration and confusion swirling inside you. Why did he always have to be so confident, so self-assured? It was infuriating. You hated it, you told yourself. You had to hate it.

But then, why did his smirk seem to send a strange flutter through your chest? Why did you feel a mix of irritation and... something else when he spoke like that?

You shook your head, trying to focus on the task at hand. No. This isn’t about him. You were here to teach, to maintain your professionalism. You weren’t supposed to let him get under your skin.

"Gojo," you said, trying to regain control of the situation. "Stop acting like you own the place."

He only shrugged, the smirk never leaving his face. "Maybe I do. Maybe I’m just getting comfortable."

You let out a frustrated sigh. How was he always so calm, so unaffected? And why was it always you he had to test like this?

---

You sat down at your desk, trying to focus on your paperwork, but no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t shake the feeling that Gojo was still watching you. It was like his eyes were drilling into your soul, making it impossible to concentrate.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, the silence between you both stretching out far too long. Finally, unable to stand the tension, you spoke up, hoping to break the awkwardness.

"Since you're this early, don't you have anything to do?" you asked, keeping your voice neutral, though a hint of irritation still lingered.

Gojo didn’t even flinch, his gaze never leaving you as he lazily rested his chin on his hand. "Nah, I’m good. I prefer to hang around with you," he said, his tone too casual, almost like he was joking, but there was something about the way he said it that made you question whether he was really joking at all.

You stared at him, trying to suppress the warmth creeping up your neck. "I’m not here for your entertainment, Gojo," you replied firmly, but you couldn’t help the faint hint of frustration that seeped into your voice.

He only grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "I’m just trying to keep you company. You look lonely."

Lonely? You couldn’t help but feel a little flustered at his words, though you quickly brushed it off. "I’m fine, thank you," you said, hoping he would take the hint.

But Gojo, of course, didn’t. He pushed himself off his chair and walked toward your desk, his presence overwhelming. "You sure about that? Because I think you need someone to talk to."

You fought to maintain your composure, keeping your eyes on the papers in front of you. "I don’t need anyone to talk to, Gojo. I have work to do."

But he was persistent, his gaze unwavering as he leaned against your desk. "Work, huh? Sounds boring." He flashed you that trademark smirk again, clearly enjoying the effect he was having on you.

You bit your lip, trying to hold onto your professionalism. Why does he always make everything feel so... difficult?

You sighed, doing your best to ignore him and focus on the mountain of work in front of you. But it was impossible. No matter how much you tried, your attention kept slipping back to him. The way he stood there, leaning casually against your desk, looking like he owned the entire room.

And then, of course, came the familiar, irritating sound of his voice.

"Missy, I’m boreddd," Gojo whined dramatically, stretching the word out as if he were a child who didn’t get his way.

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. "You’re bored? You’re literally in class right now. Do you want me to give you more homework?" you snapped, trying to sound stern, but even you could hear the frustration in your voice.

Gojo grinned, clearly entertained by your irritation. "Homework? Nah, that’s not what I want. I want your attention, Missy," he said with a wink, his smirk widening.

Your heart skipped a beat—no, you couldn’t let him get to you. Not again. You refocused on your papers, hoping he’d take the hint and leave you to your work. But of course, he didn’t.

You could feel his presence hovering just inches away from you, like he was intentionally closing the gap. It made your skin feel warm, your thoughts racing. Focus, focus, focus...

"Gojo, please," you said, your voice quieter this time, but laced with an underlying sense of annoyance. "I have work to do. If you’re so bored, maybe you could go to your next class."

Gojo just chuckled, his voice light but somehow insistent. "But I’m already where I need to be. With you, Missy."

You fought to keep your composure, even as your heart raced. This was ridiculous. He’s just a student, you reminded yourself. A student who’s crossing every line, but still just a student.

"Gojo," you said firmly, though the edge in your voice was starting to falter. "You really need to stop this. I’m not here to entertain you."

But Gojo only leaned in closer, his eyes mischievous, voice lowering slightly. "Maybe you should entertain me, then. Or at least make it worth my while, Missy."

You felt your heart race as he leaned in closer, the tension thick in the air. You quickly tried to compose yourself, but his presence was almost overwhelming. Every part of you screamed to push him away, to maintain some distance, but he was persistent, his smirk never faltering.

"Gojo," you said, your voice shaky despite your best efforts. "I’m serious. You need to stop."

He tilted his head, looking at you with that cocky, knowing grin that seemed to say he knew exactly what he was doing to you. "Stop? But I’m having fun, Missy. You don’t mind, do you?" he teased, his tone playful, but with an underlying edge that sent a shiver down your spine.

You fought the urge to take a step back, to put some space between the two of you. "This isn’t a joke, Gojo," you replied, trying to steady your breath. "I’m your teacher, and you’re crossing lines."

Gojo just laughed, the sound carefree and maddeningly confident. "Crossing lines? Come on, Missy, you’re just not having fun. I can tell. I think you’re starting to enjoy this," he said, his voice dropping lower as he leaned even closer.

Your mind raced. No, I’m not enjoying this. You were frustrated. Annoyed. You hated how he made you feel this way, how his teasing seemed to break down all your walls. You were supposed to be the one in control here, the professional, but Gojo was making it impossible to stay composed.

You quickly pulled your chair back, putting some distance between you. "This is inappropriate, Gojo. You need to leave," you said, your voice firmer now, though your pulse was still racing.

He looked at you for a moment, his expression unreadable, but then, as if he were finally getting the message, he pushed off from the desk with a sigh. "Fine, fine. I’ll go," he said, though the smirk on his face never wavered. "But I’ll be back later, Missy. You can’t get rid of me that easily."

As he walked away, you couldn’t help but let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. Your hands were shaking slightly, and you could feel the heat creeping up your neck. What is wrong with me? You asked yourself, trying to regain some semblance of control.

But deep down, you knew this was far from over. Gojo was going to make sure of that.

As the minutes ticked by, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was lingering in the air. You tried to refocus on your work, but the image of Gojo’s smirk, the weight of his presence, kept distracting you. You were sure your thoughts were running in circles, but you couldn’t help it. He had a way of getting under your skin like no one else.

The classroom slowly started filling with students, each one settling into their seats as the bell for the next class was about to ring. You glanced up, knowing that Gojo would be walking in any second. And sure enough, as the last student took their seat, he strolled in with his usual casual confidence.

His eyes immediately found you, and without hesitation, he gave you that trademark smirk. "Hey, Missy," he said, his voice carrying across the room like it was just another casual greeting.

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, keeping your expression neutral. Focus, you reminded yourself. You’re here to teach.

But even as you mentally prepared yourself, Gojo's presence seemed to fill the room, and it made everything feel… different. The usual rhythm of your class was now overshadowed by his gaze, the weight of his attention on you. You couldn't avoid him now, and worse yet, your class with him was just about to begin.

"Alright, everyone," you said, trying to sound as professional as possible. "Let’s get started."

Gojo, however, had other plans. He leaned back in his chair, his gaze never leaving you, as if daring you to maintain control. The entire class could feel the shift, and you knew it wasn’t just you. You could practically hear the whispers starting already.

As always, Gojo and Geto were whispering to each other, their heads leaned together in what seemed like a never-ending conversation. You could hear bits and pieces of their banter—Gojo’s obnoxious voice and Geto’s more subdued replies. It was almost like a background hum to your lecture, one you were growing far too used to.

Despite the distractions, you did your best to maintain your focus. You kept speaking, your voice steady as you went over the day’s lesson. But every so often, your eyes would drift toward them, and you’d catch Gojo's smirk or see Geto's unimpressed expression. You couldn’t help but feel the weight of their attention, even though they clearly weren’t taking the lesson seriously.

"Gojo, Geto," you said, your voice sharper than you intended, trying to regain some control. "If you're done with your... conversation, I’d appreciate it if you focused on the lesson."

Gojo’s head snapped up immediately, and that trademark smirk spread across his face. "What? You want us to stop talking? But Missy, I thought we were just getting to the good part," he teased, his voice laced with amusement.

Geto, on the other hand, just gave you a bored look, as if he was used to this routine. "Gojo, stop," he muttered under his breath, but it was clear he wasn’t interested in helping you either.

You clenched your jaw, trying not to let them get under your skin. "I’m not asking for a conversation, Gojo," you said, keeping your tone professional despite the growing frustration. "I’m teaching a class, and I expect my students to respect that."

Gojo’s grin only widened, and he leaned back in his chair, clearly enjoying the challenge. "Respect? Oh, Missy, you know I respect you... in my own way," he said, the double meaning in his words hanging in the air.

Your mind raced, but you refused to give him the satisfaction of showing how much his words affected you. "Focus on your work," you said firmly, redirecting the class back to the material.

For a moment, Gojo didn’t respond. But then, in a voice that was far too casual for your liking, he muttered, "Alright, Missy. Whatever you say."

You turned back to the whiteboard, determined to finish the lesson without letting him derail you again. But you knew—this was only the beginning. Gojo wasn’t going to make it easy for you.

You were furious. The way Gojo talked to you, so casually, so disrespectfully—it was as if you were just another peer to him, not his teacher. It infuriated you how he always acted so unseriously, as if everything was a game. You hated how easily he got under your skin, how he made you feel small, like your authority didn’t even matter.

The way he smirked at you from across the room only made your frustration grow. You hated that you couldn’t control your reactions, hated how he could make you feel this way. It was as if nothing you did had any effect on him. You were just another obstacle for him to toy with.

You clenched your fists at your sides, forcing yourself to breathe. Calm down, you told yourself. Don’t let him get to you.

You took a deep breath and continued the lesson, but it was hard to focus. Gojo’s presence, his gaze, everything about him was a constant distraction. You kept your eyes on the board, determined not to give him the satisfaction of seeing you crack.

The students seemed to notice the shift in the air, the tension growing thicker in the room. Even though Gojo wasn’t speaking, you could feel his attention on you, like a weight on your shoulders. You hated it.

"Alright," you said, trying to push through the discomfort. "Let’s move on to the next section." You wrote a few problems on the board, your handwriting sharp and quick as you focused on the task at hand.

But even as you continued to speak, you couldn’t help but feel Gojo’s gaze following you, lingering like a silent challenge. Focus, you reminded yourself again. Don’t let him get to you.

You could feel the weight of his eyes, the way he was always watching, always waiting for you to break. And deep down, you knew—you hated that he was winning.

The rest of the lesson dragged on, your every attempt to stay focused constantly interrupted by Gojo’s presence. His gaze never wavered from you, and you could feel it like a weight pressing down on your every move. It was maddening. Every time you glanced over at him, he was lounging in his seat, looking far too comfortable, that smug grin still plastered on his face. He didn’t even try to hide the fact that he was watching you, studying your every reaction.

It felt like a game to him. He was enjoying this—making you lose your composure, making you feel like you were out of control. You hated it.

"Alright, class, we’ll go over this together," you said, trying to steady your voice, trying to act like you were still in charge. You walked to the whiteboard, writing out the next problem, but your mind was elsewhere. How were you supposed to keep teaching when Gojo was making it so difficult?

You could feel his eyes following you, even from across the room. It was almost as if he was waiting for you to slip up, to show any sign of weakness. But you weren’t going to give him that satisfaction. You were a teacher, and you weren’t about to let a student—especially Gojo—distract you.

You cleared your throat and continued the lesson, your words coming out with more force than you intended. "This is an important concept. You need to understand this if you want to move on to the next level. Are we clear?"

The class nodded, but Gojo’s smirk never faded. He leaned back in his chair, arms folded behind his head, as if he was completely at ease. The audacity. The way he treated you as if you were just another student. You could feel your irritation building up again, but you refused to let it show.

The bell finally rang, signaling the end of class. You let out a quiet sigh of relief, though you knew it was just a temporary escape. You gathered your things, ready to leave, but as always, Gojo wasn’t done with you.

"Hey, Missy," he called, his voice lazy, casual, as if he hadn’t just spent the entire class throwing you off balance. "Same time tomorrow, right? You know, for our tutoring session."

You turned to face him, feeling a mix of frustration and something else—something you didn’t want to acknowledge. "We’ll see," you said, keeping your tone cool, but the heat in your chest was undeniable. "And keep it down next time. I’m not your friend."

Gojo raised an eyebrow, his smirk only growing. "Of course, Missy. Whatever you say." He winked, and for a split second, you thought you might actually lose your composure. But you kept it together, turning on your heel and walking out of the classroom.

As you left, you couldn’t help but wonder how much longer you could keep up this facade. How much longer you could pretend that Gojo’s presence didn’t affect you. Because deep down, you knew it was only a matter of time before everything you were trying to hold back came crashing down.

As you walked down the hallway, your mind was a mess. Thoughts of Gojo, his constant teasing, and the way he seemed to effortlessly break through your walls, kept swirling in your head. You tried to push it all aside, focusing on the task at hand, but it was impossible to ignore the growing tension every time you were near him.

Get it together, you told yourself. You’re a professional. He’s just a student.

But as the weight of his gaze, his words, and his presence hung over you, it was harder than ever to convince yourself of that. Every time you tried to draw a line, Gojo seemed to find a way to erase it, leaving you more confused, more frustrated than before.

You reached the exit, your hand on the door, ready to escape to the calm of your own thoughts, but as you turned the handle, you felt a sudden pull—an overwhelming sense that things were only going to get more complicated. You glanced over your shoulder, the echoes of his teasing words still fresh in your mind.

And just like that, you knew: this wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

You stepped outside, the cool air hitting your face, but even it couldn’t cool the heat building inside you. This was just the beginning.

Previous chapter!

A/n- hope you liked this chapter! Feel free to drop your thoughts, and they're definitely gonna get so close next chapter!♡🤭

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #gojo x reader #gojo #knotted desires #chapter 3

28 notes · View notes

fanficsbysteve · 3 days ago

Text

Chasing Shadows

Note: So this was an interesting chapter to write. I wanted to do a first kiss kind of scene, but I also figured that Tommy would freak out a bit over it, being in the closet and all that. So this is what you get. I also wanted some silly car dancing. So you get this chapter.

This comes from an idea that @weewoo911 put out into the universe and it latched into my head. The title comes from @verschlimmbesserung

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

***

Tommy was exhausted. It was a busy day, they ended up getting called to 3 four alarm fires, as well as two vehicle rescues. Evan was following along the entire time, “You… do that… everyday?” Evan gasped as he flopped onto the bench in the changing area of the 118.

“More or less,” Tommy said, “There’s a reason we always seem to be at the gym when we aren’t rescuing people. It can be exhausting work. But it’s worth it when you save someone.”

Evan smiled up at Tommy, “Seeing their… faces when you pulled them out of that car was really cool… to see,” Evan stripped the top of his uniform off, “So what do we do now?”

“Well, I go home and have a nice shower before passing out in bed,” Tommy said, “I’m not sure what you end up doing. I’m not aware with what celebrities do in their off time.” That was a complete lie. Tommy knew well what Evan was prone to doing during his off time. It usually involved alcohol, women, and lots of sex, at least that's what the tabloids and fan sites said.

“Want to come get a bite to eat with me?” Evan said to Tommy, “As a thank you for everything today.”

Tommy choked a bit on his saliva, “D-Dinner with you?” Tommy got flustered at the thought. Evan was still stripping off his clothing until once again, Tommy was standing in a room with Evan Buckley, the man of all his fantasies, with him only in his underwear.

Tommy could see all Evan’s tattoos, each one probably had a hidden meaning that Tommy could only imagine, his muscles were toned, his thighs lightly furry with hair. Tommy couldn’t help himself imagining things with this man. But he was straight and Tommy, even though he was new to accepting himself as being gay, he knew that you should never fall for a straight man because that would always end in heartache, “Well you’ve shown me so much in just a single day,” Evan said as he looked at Tommy, “And I want to say Thank You for this.”

“Well, you will be here for the next few months,” Tommy stuttered his words out, “So you’ll learn lots from all the other firefighters here. Hen and Howie are both very skilled as well. And let’s not forget about -.”

Tommy was cut off by a set of lips pressed against his. He hadn’t noticed Evan walking towards him. Tommy melted into the kiss. Evan’s lips were soft and felt amazing. He had a slight amount of stubble on his face, the amount you usually grew over the course of the day. There was a hand along the side of Tommy’s face, gently caressing him. Tommy was in heaven. Was this what kissing another man felt like? He could get used to this if it were.

Evan broke the kiss, a slight gap between their mouths. Tommy had closed his eyes, his breath coming deep and purposeful, “I have to say,” Evan said quickly, “I have wanted to do that all day.”

As if slapped, Tommy’s eyes opened and he saw who was standing in front of him, “Oh god,” Tommy looked left and right, trying to make sure that nobody saw him, “Oh god,” Tommy ran from the room as fast as he could. Not bothering to get his bag or change. He just ran. Ran to his truck. Ignoring the calls from behind from Evan. Tommy had to get away. He couldn’t let anyone see. He needed to get away.

Once Tommy got into his truck he sat there and stared at the steering wheel. His breathing was shallow, borderline hyperventilating. What had just happened? And why did he like it so much? Why did he want it to happen again? He knew he was gay, but he wasn’t THAT gay right? He was an ‘occasionally check out a hot man and move on’ kind of gay. Not a ‘full-fledged fantasy life with a man who just kissed him’ kind of gay.

Tommy managed to get his breathing under control. Just as he took a single deep breath, he heard a gentle knocking on his truck window. Standing there sheepishly was Evan, holding up Tommy’s duffel. Tommy closed his eyes and took a deep breath before rolling down the window, “You forgot this inside,” Evan said. He was blushing a bit, “I’m sorry if I misread the signs,” Evan passed the bag into the truck through the window which Tommy accepted.

Evan turned around to walk away, and Tommy worked up every bit of courage that he could muster in that moment, “Didn’t you want to go have dinner?” he asked. He shocked himself with how forward he was about that. He threw his bag into the back of his truck and motioned for Evan to get into the front.

“Don’t you need to change?” Evan asked as he walked to the other side of the truck.

“I’ve gone to eat more times in my uniform than out of it,” Tommy replied, “I think people forget what I look like without it honestly.” Tommy smiled as Evan got into the front seat, “You get to control the music.” Tommy held his iPod out to Evan. It was connected up to the trucks sound system.

Evan smiled as he looked at the playlist, “You have some pretty fun songs on here,” Evan scrolled and then put on a song, “I love this song,” Evan started to dance in his seat while Tommy drove, swaying to the song. Tommy was just having fun vibing, telling himself that this was just him going out for a drink and maybe a bite to eat with someone who is just as fun as he was. But he also couldn’t get that kiss out of his mind. That powerful, wonderful, life changing kiss. He needed to talk to someone about that kiss. He also needed to kiss Evan again. Taste his lips again. Feel those perfect full lips pressing against his. Tommy decided at once that maybe he needed to stop denying that he was gay in real life situations. Maybe Hen would have some helpful insights.

Tommy pulled into a place called Micelli’s, “This is my favourite Italian restaurant in the entire city.” Undoing his seatbelt, Tommy made to jump out of the truck, “Hope you like it as well.”

Tommy watched as Evan got a silly smile on his face, then he jumped out and they went inside to hopefully get a seat. Tommy was starting to feel more comfortable with Evan. Tommy also started to feel something deep in his stomach whenever he looked at Evan. He definitely needed to have a private conversation with Hen as soon as possible.

***

Note: Behold!!! Chapter 3!!!! If you haven’t figured it out, I’m posting this on Sundays, around Noon MST (UTC-7 for those who need a better time estimate). As I finish writing a chapter, I edit it, then I schedule it to post at Noon on Sunday. I feel this kind of schedule gives me time to get the chapter to a standard that I enjoy. Please ignore any inconsistencies while you read, I have a writing style that is basically I start and just write what comes into my head as I go along and sometimes while editing I miss things. If you notice any inconsistencies, let me know and I'll make an effort to address them either in another chapter, or make an edit to this one.

Let me know if you would like to be tagged in the new chapters. I should also probably reblog previous chapters so that they get more traction but I’m also lazy and don’t tend to remember to do that haha.

Tag List is as follows so that you all know that something has been posted: @thedyingwriter @all-the-feelss @justahumblecabbagemerchant @figuringitoutaloud @neverstopschanging and I'm adding on @jamieroyjamieroy even though she hasn't asked for it cause she's the one who usually tags me in the Make Me Write tag games that go around.

#bucktommy #tevan #evan buckley #tommy kinard #buck x tommy #bucktommy fanfic #chasing shadows #chapter 3

21 notes · View notes