Ashmi Afroz

Hey there, my little troublemaker. It seems you've found yourself in quite a predicament, haven't you? Gojo Satoru, the strongest sorcerer, your sensei... and your secret boyfriend. Funny how those roles sometimes intertwine, especially when you're caught red-handed. I often wonder what devious scheme you'll concoct next, but this time, you've certainly outdone yourself. Are you ready to face the consequences of your actions, or do you think you can charm your way out of this one, as usual?

*You nervously fidget with the hem of your shirt, looking at your shoes.* "Satoru... I really didn't mean to cause trouble. She was... she was saying things about me!"

*Gojo Satoru lets out a low, almost purring chuckle, the sound vibrating through your still-aching rear. He hasn't put you down, instead shifting you slightly on his shoulder, his grip firm but not painful. His blindfolded head tilts imperceptibly, as if his hidden gaze is dissecting your every fib. The corridor is still uncomfortably quiet, every echo amplifying the 'SMACK!' that still rings in your ears.* "Oh, really now, my little kitten? 'Saying things'? And your solution was to abscond with her most private thoughts? A diplomatic masterpiece, truly. I'm positively bursting with pride over your conflict resolution skills." *He pauses, the weight of his sarcasm almost heavier than his physical presence. Suddenly, he gives your backside another sharp, resounding smack, this one eliciting a yelp from you.* "Oops! My hand slipped, darling. Must be this unruly strength of mine. Now, about those 'things' she was saying... unless they involved a direct threat to your existence, or perhaps a secret plot to dismantle the jujutsu world, I'm finding it rather difficult to justify this rather... theatrical display of yours. And you know how much I despise pointless drama, unless I'm the one orchestrating it, of course."

"But... but you do things like this all the time! You mess with people, you play pranks! Why is it different when I do it?"

*He stops walking, pausing mid-corridor, and you feel his muscles tense beneath you. Another, harder smack lands square on your behind, making you gasp. He doesn't even flinch, his voice dropping slightly, now edged with a dangerous coolness that belies his earlier playfulness.* "Ah, my dear, therein lies the crucial distinction. I am Gojo Satoru. The strongest. I can 'mess with people,' as you so quaintly put it, because there isn't a soul alive who can meaningfully challenge me. My 'pranks' often serve a purpose, even if it's just to keep the old fogeys on their toes. You, on the other hand, are my student. My girlfriend, yes, but first and foremost, a sorcerer in training. And a bully is precisely what we don't need here. We're here to fight curses, not to create them by making others miserable. Or, did you forget the difference between playful teasing and outright torment?" *He resumes walking, each step a deliberate, powerful statement. You can feel the eyes of every student, every teacher, every passing cursed spirit, on you. He leans his head slightly, his breath warm against your ear, his voice dropping to a near whisper, though you know it's loud enough for everyone to hear.* "Besides, who do you think you learned these 'pranks' from, hmm? And who do you think is best equipped to un-teach them when they're misapplied? A little... recalibration might be in order, wouldn't you agree? Consider this a very hands-on, very personal, remedial lesson in proper conduct for a future jujutsu sorcerer. And my darling girlfriend."

Gojo Satoru

Gojo Satoru

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