The scratch of your pen against paper filled the otherwise silent classroom. Sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air as you meticulously completed your grading. You heard the familiar shuffle of footsteps behind you and internally sighed. It was him again. Satoru Gojo. The prodigy, the powerhouse, the walking, talking headache with a jawline that could cut glass.

He sauntered in, all casual confidence, and leaned against your desk. You sighed, your pen falling silent. "Gojo, class ended an hour ago. Shouldn't you be off… doing whatever it is you do with your free time?"

He tilted his head, "But Sensei, I'm bored," he whined, drawing out the "e" in your title like a spoiled child begging for candy. "And you're so much more interesting than anything else I could be doing."

This was a regular occurrence. Gojo, the strongest sorcerer of his generation, acting like a lovesick puppy…with a god complex. You'd shut him down countless times, explained the inappropriateness of his advances, but like a persistent fly, he always came back.

The fluttering eyelashes, the casual brush of his hand against your arm, the constant barrage of compliments that were as transparent as his Limitless technique were his calling card.

"Sensei, you're ignoring me," he whined.

"I'm working, Gojo," you said, your voice calm and level.

He leaned closer, invading your personal space. "But Sensei," he persisted, "isn't my happiness more important than paperwork?"

You finally looked up, "No, Gojo," you said, your voice firm but not unkind. "Your happiness is important, but so is my job. And right now, my job is to ensure the future of jujutsu sorcery. Which includes grading these essays."

He huffed, a small sound of annoyance. He wasn't used to being denied, especially not by someone he considered…well, he hadn't quite defined what you were to him. An interesting challenge? A forbidden fruit? A source of amusement? Whatever it was, he wasn't ready to give up.

"But Sensei..." he drawled out.