Getos Girlfriend Being Absolutely Devastated When He Defects So Shoko And Gojo Make It Up To Her By Fucking

Geto’s girlfriend being absolutely devastated when he defects so Shoko and Gojo make it up to her by fucking her brains out 🥰

18+, minors dni! (being a slut for nanami bc honestly who isn’t)

authors note: hello! this is my first-ever post, i hope you guys enjoy it! (I literally have no idea how layouts work yet, bear with me)

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sugardaddy!nanami who scolds you whenever you feel as if you’re “doing too much,” with all the lavish gifts he gives you. nothing is too much for his angel.

sugardaddy!nanami that asks which jewelry set you like best. emerald or ruby? ah. how about both?

sugardaddy!nanami who you thought would be a joyless, serious man as people portray him. they’re not lying, he really is serious, to people that aren’t you. you’ll witness a soft side of him that only shows the most gentle of smiles.

sugardaddy!nanami who gladly scoops you up bridal style in his arms, walking while you burry your head into his chest.

sugardaddy!nanami who unpacks the gifts he gets you on the countertop after a business trip. “kento, baby, you shouldn’t have.” you play with the polyester ribbon while he simply leans back on the fridge opening up a beverage. “I couldn’t help but have the prettiest woman in the world waiting for me at home. it would be embarrassing of me to show up empty-handed.”

sugardaddy!nanami who for the first few times that you went out with him, meticulously kept track of the things you called “cute” and noted wherever your eyes wandered for a minute too long. the next morning you woke up with everything you ogled your eyes at decorating your room. attached is a note that read, “please forgive me, sweetheart, I didn’t know which you liked best. p.s. my sincerest apologies again, I let my own thoughts get carried away. be good for me and wear this tonight.” your fingers gingerly held onto the note, until your eyes fell on two things you don’t remember looking at when you went out shopping. a beautiful silk gown and an expensive lingerie set.

sugardaddy!nanami who will gladly kneel to strap your heel, placing a kiss on your ankle, after trailing his hand up and down your shin.

sugardaddy!nanami who sends you a monthly allowance for your hair, nails, skincare, and whatever you desire.

sugardaddy!nanami who thinks indulging in materialistic things is futile, but he wants to see you decorated in every fine piece of fabric, clothing, and accessories.

sugardaddy!nanami who acts as if he’s unbothered by you curling up on his lap while he types away on his work computer. you couldn’t even tell how much he adores every second of this as he idly types away. he loves to have you pushed up on him all the time, the minute you slightly move? a strong hand is placed on your thigh or waist to prevent you from leaving.

sugardaddy!nanami who’s only condition is to continue this dynamic until you’re unhappy or want nothing to do with it. (you literally want to marry this man but okay).

sugardaddy!nanami who has a saturday night ritual with you where you buy the most extravagant of desserts and feed it to each other. oh yeah, you have to be sitting on his lap the entire time while you both feed each other from the same fork.

sugardaddy!nanami who places his nose on the nape of your neck while you’re seated on him as he sharply breathes in your scent. “as much as I enjoy eating sweets with you,” he said in a whisper, “they could never mimic your taste.”

sugardaddy!nanami who started off paying your rent, bills, and utilities which he felt mentally, secretly disgruntled by. not because he’s paying (duh) or he has to take care of you, it’s just the fact you haven’t moved in with him yet.

sugardaddy!nanami who considers you under his care and deems your wellbeing as his responsibility. you’re hurt? point to where. your body is sore? lay back down while he massages you. you’re hungry? food is being sent over and here’s money for grocery shopping. you’re upset? he kneels down in front of you as he attentively listens to your sobs.

sugardaddy!nanami who supports your hobbies. he’ll drop off little things that he knows have to do with your interests and only says, “you like this don’t you?” you name drop pilates, cooking, art, knitting, whatever it is, he signs you up for the nearest classes.

sugardaddy!nanami who actually notices if you did something different with your hair, if you wore a new shade of lip gloss. little things.

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sugardaddy!nanami who places the most tender of kisses onto your forehead like he didn’t wreck your shit a second prior. “such a good girl… i’m so so proud. taking my cock in so well.”

sugardaddy!nanami that plays with your body in subtle ways. hands? his big, veiny fingers are stroking yours gently. thighs? constantly getting gripped. your waist? a strong arm wrapped around it. your cheek? a thumb stroking it. shoulders? relieving tension from it. collarbone? rearranging your necklace so it lays properly. guts? fucked out of place. makeup? smeared all across his luxurious bedsheets. lips? blown out from sucking his monster cock and making out.

sugardaddy!nanami who rents out an entire summer beach house with a glorious view of the ocean. partially because he likes the privacy of you two alone, surrounded by nature, and romantic sunset dinners. also because he wants to watch you ride him while he leans back on a beach chair without disturbing the public. (nobody is allowed to see what’s his).

sugardaddy!nanami who actually pounded you into another dimension, your mind still in a haze while he carries you to the running bath. “stay with me princess, i need to clean you up.”

sugardaddy!nanami who makes sure you finish several times before he does. oh poor baby, you’re out of breath? would you like some water? we’re not finished yet. poor nanami didn’t get to cum once, and you so badly want him to use your body to do so.

sugardaddy!nanami who buys you a personal collection of sex toys to play with when he’s not there. he personally studies the way your body twitches and convulses with certain toys, he needs to know how to please his princess. sometimes he chuckles to himself because he knows deep down, nothing– no one, can please you the way he does.

sugardaddy!nanami who sees you stressed or crying over school and work and quickly replaces those tears with ones of joy.

sugardaddy!nanami who will have you folded like a damn lawn chair and only whisper sweet nothings while drilling into you.

sugardaddy!nanami who has a high sex drive but hides it in the beginning like the gentleman he is, making sure you feel comfortable and safe.

sugardaddy!nanami who gives you the car you’ve been wanting forever. you ride the car for a bit with him ecstatic, kissing him over and over, giggling. you both quickly found a new way to celebrate. you’re pinned down over the glove compartment, one large hand gripping both of yours as they’re pinned to your back, and the sounds of skin slapping with your loud moans mix in the air. “ke-n-toooo~ I-I don’t want to ge- uh! It m-messy in h-ere…” “don’t worry darling, I-” a low grunt comes out, “i always cum inside dont I?” he quickens up the pace only to have you screaming like a whore. “t-that’s it. just take it. It feels good, I know,” he mercilessly pounds into you, kissing your temple, “just come undone on me, that’s it. make me proud.”

sugardaddy!nanami who texts you to quickly come to the office and sends you a cab for an urgent “visit.” why? he’s stressed and his favorite method to cool down is your throat expanding around his girthy dick. he'll grip the strands of your hair while cooing at you, "i know angel, i know. but you look so beautiful right now, don't stop."

sugardaddy!nanami who groans from the stressors of his job, turning his attention to you while he pushes himself back on his chair. he looks down on his bulge before sighing and tugging his tie down left and right. “go ahead. come suck me off, i need it and I know you want it too.”

sugardaddy!nanami who does the whole pillow underneath, hand pressed on lower abdomen, with a vibrator wand abusing your clit.

sugardaddy!nanami who has a diet that consists of devouring your pussy on a regular basis. “b-babe… i- ah! s-slow down,” as you elicit a loud dirty moan that fills the room, “pleaaaase.” if only you knew he takes more pleasure out of this than you and you’re the one gripping his hair to the point of leaving his scalp red. he further pushes his nose into you, mumbling, “beg all you want, I’m not done.”

sugardaddy!nanami who is a gentleman, really. who will kill anything within 5 meters if it remotely threatens you. but he can’t help but admire the way your little cunt can’t fully take it the first few times together.

sugardaddy!nanami who never thought much of daddy kinks, but when he hears “daddy” slip out of your precious mouth, his heels dig deeper into the mattress, his massive body weight shifts crushing you, angling his dick in an almost sinful way while pressing you deeper into a mating press. “say it again.”

sugardaddy!nanami who watches you squirm with a vibrator jammed to your clit and his tongue lapping up and down your cunt like any separation from his tongue and your pussy will cause his death. “k-kento s-stop this feeli- ah! I th- oh god! I think I need to pee!” he can’t help but chuckle in his head. his baby never squirted before until now.

sugardaddy!nanami who secretly wants to get you knocked up. man loves fucking his cum into you. he has such a big breeding kink that you catch on.

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【 ꜱʏᴍᴘᴛᴏᴍꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴀᴜꜱᴇꜱ 】 ch. 10

x pairing professor!gojo x med student f!reader (medical au)

x summary he's arrogant, self-centered, and he's your professor. renowned for his brilliance in neurosurgery and infamous for his allure. too bad you have to work with him on this research team. now you're stuck with dr. satoru gojo, delving into the complexities of both the brain and the heart—and of how far you'd go for a love that could destroy not only him but you as well.

x wc 13.8 k (again, i'm insane)

x warnings [18+] this story contains substance abuse/addiction, (rough) smut, mature themes, self-destructive behavior, (heavy) angst, mentions of death / illness / blood / abuse, graphic medical procedures. reader discretion is advised.

x author's note not gonna lie, this chapter's gonna be quite angsty. hope the wait was worth it. i'm DYING to hear your reactions! let's dive in!! & pls repost or comment if you enjoyed, highly appreciated ♡

series masterlist + playlist + ao3 + wattpad

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"Are you going insane?" 

Satoru's question cut through your spiraling thoughts.

You tore your gaze from the rain-streaked window, meeting his impossibly blue eyes. Only now you realized that the nervous gnawing of your fingernails had gone too far. You shoved your hands under your thighs.

"You look like you're about to face a firing squad," he continued.

"Aren't we?"

The words were dry, masking the acidic churn in your stomach.

He finally looked up from his desk, a mountain of half-graded essays teetering precariously. That infuriating smirk curled his lips. "We'll be fine. Trust me, we've got this."

"How can you stay so calm?"

"Drugs, sweetheart. It's the drugs," he said, his focus already back on the student essay covered in red-ink.

At least he was honest.

"Are you seriously grading papers at a time like this?"

"Had a sudden surge of responsibility. Might not last." He didn't even glance up. "Don't worry, it won't take long. Most of these will fail anyway." A thick red line slashed across the page, a brutal verdict. The next paper met a similar fate with a flick of his wrist. Poor students.

Your gaze dropped to his hands. They trembled, just slightly, but it was there. 

You should ask him how he was. About the withdrawal, his last week on opioids, if the fear gnawed at him as it did you, if the thought of regret crossed his mind.

But you couldn't. 

Yeah, you couldn't. 

How selfish.

He was struggling and you could see it. Painfully clear. And yet, all you could focus on was your own pathetic fear. Weak. That was the word, echoing in your head.

The room felt suffocating. 

It was the day of the ethics committee hearing. 

The day your whole future could unravel. 

You gnawed your nails to the quick, the taste of blood barely registering over the adrenaline pounding in your ears. The rain lashed the window, each drop a hammer blow against your composure. 

What would they ask? What would they accuse?

You were prepared. The research was meticulous, the data irrefutable. But this wasn't about cold facts. If the committee sensed even a whiff of impropriety, they'd tear it apart and use the shreds to bury you both. 

They'd target like a shark sensing blood.

And they wouldn't just attack the science—they'd attack him. You. Everyone.

The thought made you want to vomit. 

Out the window, you spotted Geto and Higurama, making their way across the rain-drenched parking lot. Oh, right, there was something else you wanted to drown in the back of your mind. But now, the memory was back, embarrassingly clear as you saw Geto's face.

"Why did you say that?" you asked, turning to Satoru.

He blinked, momentarily distracted from his grading massacre. "What?"

"You know exactly what I mean."

His lips curved into sly smile. "It was a joke. Relax."

"God, I hate you." You turned your gaze away from him, focusing on the way the rain lashed against the window.

Silence stretched.

Finally, you glanced at him once again. "Did you?"

"What?"

"Share...women?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Why, intrigued?"

"You're stupid." You spun away, but a wave of frustration washed over you.

But to your bad, his curiosity was piqued now. 

He rose from his chair, hands braced on the worn oak of the desk. "And you're intrigued. I can't believe you." He moved towards you, his presence filling the room. "My sweet little girl wants a threesome." He paused, tilting his head. "Never thought you'd be into that."

You crossed your arms. "Stop it already."

"No wait, now I think about it," Slowly, his gaze raked over you, a wicked glint in his eyes making your skin crawl. "I totally should have seen that coming."

"What's that supposed to mean?" You managed the words, but your defiance was crumbling as he leaned in closer. 

The heat radiating from him was almost tangible. His scent, with a hint of warm coffee and something distinctly, maddeningly him, clouded your senses, making rational thought impossible.

He reached out, his touch feather-light as he brushed a stray strand of hair from your shoulder. His fingertips grazed the soft skin of your neck. Before you could protest, his hand slid lower, tracing the line of your arm.

"Tell me," he whispered, his breath a warm caress against your ear. "Where would you want him to touch you?"

"Stop it." You pushed his hand away, but your resistance only seemed to fuel his teasing.

"Oh, don't be shy now. Suguru doesn't like that," he said, voice low and laced with a hint of mockery. "Tell me, where would you let him touch you? Would you shiver like this for him?" He leaned closer, his tongue tracing a hot path along your jaw that made you indeed shiver.

Then, the door crashed open, revealing a rain-lashed Geto and Higurama. 

You quickly wrenched yourself away from Satoru, pushing against his chest.

Higurama stumbled straight to the nearest chair. With a groan, he collapsed into its worn embrace, fumbling with the clasps of his waterlogged leather case. Papers and files spilled onto the table.

Geto stripped the rain from his hair, then twisted the dark strands into a fresh bun. His eyes flickered between you and Satoru, a single raised eyebrow his only question. You wouldn't meet his gaze, the floor suddenly fascinating. 

Not now. Not after this conversation.

"Just so we're clear," Satoru's voice suddenly cut through the quiet, "I don't share. Not you."

An angry glare was all you could manage in reply.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Geto asked.

"Where she'd want you to—" Satoru began.

"Anyway," you interrupted, your voice rising an octave in a desperate attempt to drown him out. The sharp sound cut through the room, snapping the heads of all three men towards you. "How about we talk about our strategy for the hearing?"

You approached Higurama, the case files spread before him like grim prophecies. He straightened, a determined look replacing his previous fatigue. "So, should we start?"

Satoru and Geto closed in, their footsteps heavy in the silence. Satoru picked up a paper and perched on the edge of the desk.

"Male patient, 37 years old," he began. "Paraplegic due to a motorcycle accident five years ago. We implanted the prototype neuroprosthetic interface to facilitate control of a biomimetic limb."

He turned to the next page. "All pre-operative assessments indicated the patient was a perfect candidate. No underlying conditions, strong mental fortitude—ideal for testing the new neural link."

"Exactly," Geto said, his gaze locked onto a x-ray scan on the table. "The initial calibration was a success. The patient gained full control of the biomimetic limb, experiencing no rejection or discomfort."

"However," he continued. "Two weeks after surgery, the patient suffered a sudden and massive cerebral hemorrhage. He died shortly after."

The room seemed to shrink, the air thick with tension. 

Your breath caught in your throat, guilt a cold stone in your stomach. The image of the patient flashed through your mind—his smile as he took his first, tentative steps with his new limb, the hopeful gleam in his eyes. 

Now, he was nothing but a name on a file, a haunting statistic.

You stole a glance at Satoru—all traces of amusement had vanished from his face, replaced by an unsettling seriousness.

"There was no physical damage to the implant itself, correct?" Satoru asked.

You took a deep breath. "No. All post-operative scans showed no abnormalities with the device. It's likely a malfunction within the neural interface itself that somehow triggered the bleeding." 

Satoru met your gaze. "I double-checked that," you added.

He mustered a faint smile.

Higurama squinted at a scan, feigning understanding. "So, the issue wasn't with the patient. He was healthy and the surgery went well. It's something within the implant."

Satoru pushed off the desk and started pacing the room. "If that's the case, the engineers are in deep trouble. We're in the clear."

Geto scoffed. "Don't be naive, Satoru. The ethics committee will chew us up and spit us out. They'll scrutinize every detail, every decision."

He didn't have to spell it out—the subtext was clear.

Silence settled.

"He's right," Higurama said after a while said, his gaze flicking between you and Satoru. "They'll dig into your relationship. Got a story ready for them?"

Your response was immediate. "We tell them the truth," you said. "We have a committed relationship. Everyone on the team knows, and it hasn't impacted our work in any way."

"But we only bring it up if they ask," Satoru added.

Suddenly, anger burned through you. You whipped around to face him. "Since when did we decide that?"

Satoru met your gaze head-on. "I decided."

"But you don't get to decide for both of us."

"I'm trying to protect you," he said, his jaw clenching. "The committee will twist this. They'll make it look worse than it is. I won't let them tarnish your reputation. So, if they don't ask, we won't tell."

"And you think, them finding out later will be better? You know they will find out, Satoru. Sooner or later, it'll come out. Then what?"

"Can you stop being so damn stubborn?" he fired back, a flicker of frustration finally breaking through his infuriating calm. "This isn't about us. It's about them and what they might do to you, what they would think of you if they found out."

Your chin lifted a fraction higher, a silent challenge. You wouldn't let him play the protector card, not this time.

Geto cleared his throat. "You want some privacy?"

In perfect, maddening unison, you and Satoru spoke.

"No," you declared.

"Yes," he insisted.

Silence stretched between you like a fraying rope, broken only by the relentless drumming of the rain against the windows. You both held each other's gaze, caught in a silent battle of wills that neither wanted to lose.

Geto and Higurama exchanged a troubled look. 

With a resigned sigh, Higurama gathered up the scattered papers. Then the door shut, leaving you and Satoru alone under the harsh fluorescent glare of the office.

Satoru closed the distance between you. Before you could protest, he reached out and cupped your face with a touch that was both gentle and insistent. His thumb gently brushed the line of your jaw as he forced you to meet his gaze.

"Please," he whispered. "Just trust me on this one."

His eyes, those piercing blue depths, held a desperation you'd never seen before. You longed to surrender, to simply accept the comfort he offered, but you couldn't.

"We discussed this, Satoru. Hiding this—it'll make things worse. They'll question our judgment, our ethics. We have to be clear from the start."

"They don't care about our research, they don't care about our intentions." His grip tightened, not cruelly, but with the urgency of a drowning man. "They care about protecting the institution. Our honesty will be a weapon they use against us."

"But secrets always find a way out, and when they do—" You trailed off, the unspoken threat hanging in the air.

Silence followed. 

His features tightened, the internal war etched across his face with brutal clarity. His jaw worked, a muscle twitching beneath the skin. You held your breath, waiting, hoping.

"Fine." He released your face, the touch lingering for a split second before he stepped back. "Your way." He resumed his restless pacing, a shaky breath escaping him as he ran a hand through his hair.

"Satoru, how are you—"

"Fine," he cut you off. "Manageable."

He was a terrible liar.

Dark circles etched a brutal truth beneath his eyes. His shoulders, rigid as stone, screamed a silent protest against the weight he carried alone. Frustration gnawed at you. "If you keep shutting me out—"

He held up a hand, abruptly cutting you off. "Look, I—it's under control." Forced lightness dripped from his words like acid. "Right now, we have bigger things to worry about than my personal issues."

His fingers twitched, then clenched into fists so tight the knuckles turned white. Fine sweat glistened on his forehead, betraying the effort it took to keep still and not claw at his scars.

A familiar ache rose in your chest. You longed to reach out, to bridge the chasm he insisted on maintaining. But his posture, rigid as stone, and his clenched jaw, sent a silent warning. This was his battle, one he'd fight in isolation—as always. 

To argue now would be a futile cruelty.

Still, it took every ounce of control not to slap sense into him.

"Look," he began, his voice soft now, "I know I'm not—easy to deal with right now. And, damn it, I'm asking too much." His hand found yours, the touch fleeting, hesitant. "I'm sorry for dragging you into my mess."

Why was he saying that?

Anger boiled over at his ridiculous apology. Had he no idea what it meant to love someone? To choose them, flaws and all. The urge to yell at him, to shake some sense into him, grew stronger.

How could he be so brilliant, yet so completely foolish when it came to the heart?

"Don't say that," you choked out, hating how close your voice was to breaking.

"We should probably get going," Satoru said abruptly, sidestepping the moment, and moved towards the door. He paused briefly beside you. Before you could react, he leaned in and brushed his lips against your temple.

"I love you," he said, the words barely audible. "And I'll make it up to you. I promise."

He pulled back, and for a heartbeat a flicker of vulnerability appeared in his eyes before the familiar mask slammed back into place. He turned and left the room.

You stood alone, the echo of his footsteps haunting the silence.

Dread twisted in your gut, a cold knot tightening with each breath. Something was wrong. It clawed at your insides, demanding to be heard.

He was falling apart.

But all you could do was watch.

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Cold air whipped down the corridor as Satoru pushed the door open. 

The room within was just as cold. 

A vast, circular chamber bathed in harsh light, the air thick with the scent of dust and old wood. The committee members sat at a raised, semi-circular table—three figures cloaked in stiff suits and stern expressions. Their backs to you.

The chamber wasn't empty. 

Rows of chairs lined the room, filled with observers. Students, researchers, the curious, and perhaps those hungry for the spectacle of your downfall. Their murmurs were a low hum against the echoing silence as you went into the room.

It was less like a conference room, and more like a courtroom.

Eyes burned into you from every direction. 

As you approached, the committee members finally turned to face you. Your breath hitched, catching painfully in your chest. Time warped, the world narrowing to a pinprick as their faces resolved into sickening clarity.

For there, in the center of the committee, sat Sukuna.

His presence was a jagged shard of ice in your heart, piercing through the thin veneer of composure you clung to. His lips curled into a cruel smile, and a flicker of malevolent glee danced in his eyes.

This was a disaster. 

No, it was worse than a disaster. It was a meticulously orchestrated trap. This wasn't about research, about ethics. It was personal. Sukuna would use this hearing to destroy you, to rip away everything you'd worked for.

Bile rose in your throat, burning and acrid.

Before you could process the horror of the situation, Satoru leaned in. His voice, barely a whisper, held an urgency that cut through the panic. "Change of plan. You say nothing, got me?"

Then, he walked away.

Higurama placed a hand on your shoulder. "Come on," he said, squeezing gently. 

He led you away, along the perimeter of the room towards the other observers. Satoru and Geto continued their march towards the raised platform, isolated beneath a spotlight of scrutiny.

The man to Sukuna's left, a stern-faced figure with wire-rimmed glasses, cleared his throat. "Dr. Gojo, Dr. Geto," he began, his voice dry. "Let us begin."

The hearing started. 

Words were hurled like daggers, each a piercing blow masked in the veneer of clinical inquiry. Yet, you barely registered. You were drowning in a sea of fear and confusion, your senses numbed. 

Technical details, research methodology, surgical procedures—every detail of your work was being scrutinized, dissected under the harsh glare of judgment.

With each probing question, another wave of panic threatened to pull you under. You watched Satoru and Geto, their voices distant and distorted. Each answer seemed to disarm the committee's attacks, yet their success did little to ease the relentless churning within you.

Then, Sukuna spoke.

The mere sound of his voice made you flinch. 

"Dr. Gojo," Sukuna addressed Satoru directly, "your research proposal mentions the involvement of a particularly skilled...assistant. It seems her contribution was essential to this project's success?"

There it was. The first arrow, dipped in poison. 

Satoru shifted slightly in his seat, his jaw tensing.

"That's correct. Our research assistant played a crucial role in both research and surgery. Her work throughout was exceptional."

"Indeed," Sukuna purred, drawing out the word. "This assistant...how did you choose this particular student? Was it solely academic potential that sparked your...enthusiasm?"

Satoru's gaze hardened, meeting Sukuna's with cold fury.

"My research assistants are chosen based on merit. If you find that questionable, perhaps that says more about you than it does about me."

"Of course, merit," Sukuna mocked. "Yet, such enthusiasm for guiding this particular student. Surely there were others equally qualified? Or was there something special about her that made her... stand out?"

Satoru's grip on the table tightened. You saw the vein in his temple throb. "I don't indulge in your insinuations," he said, his voice low. "My student was chosen for her brilliance, her dedication. Nothing more."

"Brilliance and dedication... admirable indeed," Sukuna mused. "But perhaps such qualities inspire a greater degree of devotion in their mentors, wouldn't you agree?"

"If your intent is to waste the committee's time with these baseless accusations—" he began, but Sukuna cut him off.

"Accusations?" Sukuna raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "I am merely exploring the unusual level of support you provided this particular student. Such exceptional one-on-one mentorship. And haven't there been rumors?"

He paused, letting the poison of those words spread through the silence. 

The woman on Sukuna's right scribbled furiously on her notepad, while the man to his left wore an expression of barely concealed disdain.

Your stomach twisted.

This wasn't just Sukuna playing games anymore—this was a calculated act of revenge meant to leave you broken and bleeding.

"Rumors have no place in a discussion of scientific integrity," Satoru said.

Sukuna chuckled. "So protective, Dr. Gojo. Perhaps there's truth to those whispers after all... A hint of guilt, perhaps?"

The insinuation hung heavy in the air, a noose tightening around Satoru's composure. You saw the fury ignite in his eyes, his jaw flexing as he fought to contain it. 

"Those rumors are beneath contempt. Our work stands on its own merit."

"Yet, this particular student," Sukuna countered, "she seems to have benefited so exceptionally from your attention. Late nights in the lab, one-on-one consultations. Such dedication to a student's development is truly admirable."

Satoru's knuckles turned white against the polished wood of the table. His voice, when it came, was a barely controlled snarl. "My methods are beyond reproach. The success of the research speaks for itself."

"Perhaps. But even the most brilliant minds can be blinded by, shall we say, distractions?" He leaned in closer, his voice a near whisper. "Tell me, Dr. Gojo, how far would you go to protect this student? To preserve her precious reputation?"

That was it.

Satoru surged to his feet, the sharp sound of his chair scraping back echoing in the deathly silence. He slammed his hands on the table, leaning towards Sukuna, his eyes blazing.

"Enough!" His voice boomed through the room, silencing the whispers. "This farce has gone on far too long. Your accusations are unfounded, and your motivations are sickeningly clear. You will not tarnish my reputation or that of my student!"

Sukuna held his gaze, unyielding.

"Dr. Gojo, please!" The woman on Sukuna's right spoke. "Control yourself. This outburst does little to support your claims of objectivity."

Satoru's jaw tightened, anger flickering in his eyes. But with a visible effort, he reined in his fury. The slam of his hand against the wood was replaced with a heavy silence as he slowly lowered himself back into his seat.

The damage, though, was irreversible. 

The image was planted—the brilliant but reckless professor blinded by his illicit affection, the ambitious student caught in his web. 

Sukuna had won, and he hadn't even needed proof.

The man with the wire-rimmed glasses cleared his throat. "Dr. Gojo, if such allegations held any merit, the consequences would be dire. University policy forbids faculty-student relationships." He paused, the gravity clear in his tone. 

"An investigation would be inevitable. The student would face immediate suspension, possible expulsion. The faculty member—" he shook his head, "termination would be the least of their concerns. And, I hardly need add, the project itself would be called into question."

Each word hammered another nail into your coffin.

"We understand this is sensitive, Dr. Gojo—," the woman beside Sukuna spoke again.

Suddenly, Satoru surged to his feet and began walking towards the door, his footsteps echoing in the suffocating silence. Sukuna watched, his smirk a cruel twist on his lips.

"Dr. Gojo is—indisposed," Geto's voice cracked, a desperate attempt to cover for Satoru's abruptness. "My deepest apologies. Perhaps we could reschedule?"

You watched Satoru go, every fiber of your being urging you to follow. He passed by your chair, so close, yet agonizingly out of reach. The impulse to defy them all, to stand by him, was a wildfire raging within you.

But as you moved, Higurama's hand closed firmly around your wrist.

"Not now," he whispered. "You already look guilty."

His words pierced through the haze of adrenaline. 

He was right.

Damn it, he was right. 

Any protest, any step towards the door, would only be twisted as further proof of the poisonous narrative Sukuna had spun. Despair crashed over you, a suffocating weight that stole your breath.

This wasn't about the research project anymore. 

It was a witch hunt, fueled by Sukuna's poison.

The door slammed shut behind Satoru, the sound a death knell. All eyes in the room were on you now, filled with a mix of pity, condemnation, and a perverse curiosity. 

Your world was crumbling. 

And all you could do was watch helplessly as the debris buried you alive.

─── ·✧· ───

You waited.

You waited for what seemed like an eternity until most people had left the room. Just when you thought you couldn't stand it any longer, you stood up, fast enough that Higurama couldn't stop you. You heard him shout something after you, but you didn't care.

Rounding the corner, his scent of his cologne hit you first. It led you to the men's bathroom. You didn't bother to knock.

The air inside was thick with humidity, the scent of bleach stinging your nostrils. A figure hunched over the sink, the harsh fluorescent light glinting off his damp hair. 

Satoru.

Even with his back turned, his tension was a palpable force.

A man standing next to him, washing his hands, shot you a wide-eyed look. "The hell?"

You cut him off, the words sharp as shattered glass. "Get out."

"This ain't the ladies' room—"

"Didn't you hear me? I said get out."

The man hesitated, then muttered something like 'crazy chicks' under his breath. He cast a final glance your way before shoving past you, the door slamming behind him.

Silence descended, punctuated only by the running water. 

Satoru remained hunched over the sink. He splashed water on his face again, then scrubbed at his hands, the water running faintly pink.

His reflection in the mirror was a stranger. A shuddering breath escaped him as he rested his hands on the edge of the sink, the knuckles whitening with the force of his grip. Finally, he met your gaze in the mirror.

"We're screwed," he stated bluntly.

"We're not."

"You're naive," He turned the water off, the abrupt silence jarring. "Do you even realize what happened in there?"

"I'm not stupid, Satoru."

"We can't do this." He finally turned fully towards you, leaning against the sink. "Sukuna wants to see me burn, and I won't allow you get caught in the crossfire."

"You won't allow me?" You took a few steps closer. "Since when do you get to make that decision for me?"

"Since I'm the one who screwed this up."

"But we're in this together. Remember?"

"Being 'together' is exactly the problem."

You took the remaining steps until you stood before him. "We've been through worse. We can manage this."

"This is different," he insisted, the words strained. "This isn't some paper getting rejected, this is—this will destroy us. You."

"Maybe, but what's the alternative? Give in? Letting Sukuna win?" You tilted your head. "Over my dead body."

"You're so damn stubborn," he said, escaping your gaze and shifting slightly. "You heard what they said in there, if this gets out, you could be suspended from this university. You would lose everything you've worked so hard for."

"And so. I don't care! I won't stand by and see Sukuna ruin you for something we're both responsible for!"

Suddenly, the door creaked open and a man peered in, startled by the scene. You turned your head. "Get the fuck out and find another bathroom."

The man left in an instant.

Satoru met your gaze once more. "I can take the fall. I can handle it. But you—you have a future ahead of you."

The audacity almost made you scream. "Handle it? How? By giving Sukuna exactly what he wants?"

"You don't get it, do you?" he snapped. "You have no say in this matter, not anymore. End of discussion."

His words felt like a physical blow. 

Silence choked the air within the tiny bathroom. You fought for breath, for words, for any thread of understanding to cling to. Your hands trembled, nails digging into your palms until the pain was heavier than the crushing weight in your chest.

"Why do you even stay?" His sudden question a knife to an already gaping wound.

What? 

Why would he say that? 

Wasn't that obvious?

Your heart sank and for a horrifying moment, your mind was a blank canvas, all anger swept away.

"Because you would do the same," you finally managed, the words scraped raw from your throat. "You would stay. You wouldn't leave me."

For one agonizing moment, he simply stared, as if searching for the lie in your words. "You don't know that."

"I do."

Of this you were more certain than anything. Even if he did not see it himself.

"No, you don't." He stepped closer, his presence a looming shadow. "You know what your problem is?" His voice dropped to a harsh whisper, forcing you to meet his eyes. The vibrant blue was gone, replaced by a bleak and turbulent storm.

"You're blind. Naive." His words were like shards of ice, each syllable piercing your already bleeding heart. "You've fallen in love with someone who will break you, and you stubbornly refuse to see it. Refuse to save yourself."

The sheer nerve of it sent a surge of fury coursing through you.

"Yeah, you're right, you're a real pain in the ass." Your voice held a bitter edge. "Most days, I wonder myself why I even stay. But Satoru, hear me when I say—we're not perfect, we never will be. Still, I chose you."

He paused.

His granite facade finally cracked, a flicker of vulnerability in that frozen gaze.

"I don't know if I can do this," he whispered, a broken confession. "I don't know if I can be what you need—what you deserve."

You stepped closer, patience stretched thin, a simmering rage threatening to boil over. 

"And how does that make you feel?" Your voice held a relentless edge. "Knowing, too bad you don't get to decide? That I'm sticking around regardless—even when you try your hardest to push me away?"

His shoulders slumped, and with a shuddering breath, he buried his face in the crook of your neck. "You're killing me," he choked out, the words barely audible against your skin.

"I could say the same about you." 

Your fingers threaded through his hair, felt the tension coiled in his neck muscles. For a few precious minutes, the world outside this bathroom faded away. There was only the warmth of his body against yours, the grounding rhythm of his unsteady breath.

"I can't explain why you don't leave."

"Because you're unworthy of my love?"

"Maybe," he said, burying his face even deeper into your neck. "I don't know."

"Look at me," you insisted. "Satoru, look at me."

"I can't," he choked out. "I'm scared," the confession tore from him, "scared of hurting you, terrified of losing you. You—you make me feel things I've spent a lifetime avoiding, things I don't know how to handle. It scares the hell out of me."

Your heart ached for him, for the vulnerability he so rarely dared to show. "I'm scared too," you admitted. "I'm scared of losing you. So don't push me away, when all I want is to be near you."

Then, slowly, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer. His body trembled against yours. "I don't know what I did to deserve you."

"You don't need to deserve me, Satoru. Love isn't about deserving. It's about choosing each other, again and again, no matter what. And I choose you."

He lifted his head, his gaze searching yours.

"And I choose you," he echoed. 

He leaned down. His lips met yours, hesitant at first, then pressing with growing urgency. Your hands tightened on the short strands of hair at the nape of his neck, feeling the tension seep away under your touch.

His hands tighten around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. 

You leaned into him. 

You sought him like a gasping breath. 

The kiss deepened, still not fiery, but infused with a desperate kind of hunger. It wasn't about pleasure, it was about presence—proof of each other, a lifeline in a sea of doubt.

When he finally drew back, it was the barest of distances, his ragged breath warm against your skin. His gaze searched yours as if for the answer to an unanswerable question.

Suddenly, the bathroom door creaked open.

Geto's form filled the doorway.

"There you are," he sighed. "Well, at least this time, everyone manages to keep their hands where I can see them. 

─── ·✧· ───

Half-unpacked boxes littered your apartment.

Even after six months, you still hadn't found the time to really settle into your new place. You wondered what was taking up all your time?

Yeah, right.

But unpacking today became a pleasant distraction. Tomorrow was the second hearing, and to say you were nervous was an understatement. 

You busied yourself with mindless tasks—sorting through old journals, debating whether to throw away sentimental stuff you knew you'd never look at again. 

Anything to avoid the relentless churn of worry, the scenarios your mind conjured despite your best efforts to banish them.

Suddenly, your phone buzzed. 

Satoru's name flashed on the screen.

"Look out your window," he said.

You crossed to the window, pushing aside the faded curtains. 

There he was, leaning against his sleek black car, the streetlights casting him in an almost cinematic glow. He tipped his head back, his gaze finding yours across the distance.

"So," his voice crackled through the phone, "wanna do something fun?"

"Fun, huh? Don't tell me you plan on robbing a bank and need an accomplice?"

"I don't need to rob a bank, I'm already fairly wealthy, don't worry. Thought of something more destructive."

"Sounds tempting," you said, "but I'm a very busy woman, you know? I've got people to avoid, laundry to fold—"

"If you don't come down in the next few minutes, you're the one getting folded, first-year."

"You're insufferable, you know that?"

"Irresistible, you mean," he corrected. 

"Give me a minute."

You quickly grabbed a sweater and headed downstairs. You stepped outside and saw him still leaning against his car, arms crossed. He straightened up as you approached, that familiar smirk playing on his lips. "Hey there, beautiful."

"Are you single?" he quipped as you approached. His warmth radiated against you, his breath a whisper against your skin. "Cause I think I wanna make you mine." He opened the passenger door for you.

"Sadly, I'm taken," you replied, leaning in seductively. His breath caught for a fraction of a second, before you slid into the plush seat. The familiar scent of leather and his cologne washed over you.

"That man must be damn lucky." He closed the door with a soft click, walked around the car and got in the driver's seat.

"So where are we going?" you asked.

"Ah, that would be telling." 

With a roar of the engine, he pulled away from the curb.

The drive stretched on, the cityscape melting into the soft twilight. The setting sun painted the sky in a fiery canvas of orange and crimson, casting long shadows across the rolling fields. 

You looked over at Satoru. Bathed in the warm glow, he looked so soft—the tousled white hair, the sharp line of his jaw, the mischievous glint in those impossibly blue eyes hidden behind his dark sunglasses.

You watched the effortless grace with which he steered, one hand relaxed on the wheel, the other resting on your thigh. The warmth seeping through the fabric, the subtle pressure of his thumb tracing lazy circles on your skin.

The buzz of the city gave way to sprawling countryside, and then unexpectedly, he veered onto a narrow dirt road. The car raised clouds of dust. Finally, he brought it to a stop, the engine cutting off abruptly.

A sprawling junkyard loomed before you, a graveyard of rusted cars and forgotten machinery. 

"You want to murder me?"

He grinned, already unbuckling. "What do you think of me?" 

Without another word, he slid out, rounding the car to open the passenger door for you. "Come on, this will be fun."

He walked towards the trunk. Popping it open, he reached inside and pulled out two worn construction hammers.

"You really want to murder me, don't you?" 

Satoru slung the hammers over his shoulder. "Trust me, you'll love it," he said, tossing you a pair of safety glasses. "Don't you want to enjoy our last day before we get suspended?"

"This isn't funny, Satoru."

"Just a bit," he countered.

You approached the towering chainlink gate of the junkyard. Reaching it, Satoru planted a hammer against the bars with a loud clang.

"Choso!" His voice boomed through the desolate expanse. "Open up. I've brought company."

Moments later, a figure emerged from the shadows of a half-collapsed shed. He moved with a surprising fluidity for a man who seemed built of rock and iron. A greasy work overall hung low on his hips, exposing a chest etched with dust and tattoos. Dark hair framed his face.

"Satoru," he drawled, leaning against the gate, "need to let off some steam? And who's the pretty company?" His gaze swept over you.

"Quit drooling," Satoru said. "She's with me."

"Too bad." He gave you another slow, deliberate once-over. "Name's Choso," he said towards you and then unlocked the gate, swinging it open with a rusty creak. "Come in."

The interior of the junkyard was a labyrinth of faded paint, twisted metal, and the lingering scent of oil and gasoline. Sataru strode through with the ease of someone who knew this place intimately, navigating the treacherous terrain with an almost playful familiarity.

"So," you ventured, "how exactly do you two know each other?"

"Old acquaintance," Satoru said. "Went to school together."

Choso laughed. "Worst years of my life. Surgeon here was like a walking force of chaos, dragging trouble in his wake and showing up at the worst possible times."

"Speaking of worst times," Choso continued, throwing Satoru a pointed look, "where the hell have you been, man? Haven't seen you around in a while."

"Been busy," Satoru said.

Choso narrowed his eyes, his gaze lingering on you. "Ah, well, well—now things make a bit more sense."

Choso led you further into the heart of the junkyard, where several battered cars stood. With a theatrical gesture, he swept his arm towards them. "These babies are destined for the scrap heap tomorrow, so have at it."

He then dug into the pocket of his overalls and pulled out a set of keys. He tossed them to Satoru. "Lock up after yourself as usual," he said, already moving away, "and try not to set the whole place on fire, okay?"

Satoru turned towards you, eyes dancing with mischief.

"Safety first," he said, grabbing the safety glasses from your grip and gently placing them over your head. "Gotta protect those pretty eyes."

"Are we seriously doing this now?"

He grinned. "Trust me," he said, before putting on his own glasses and rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. Muscles rippled as he hefted the hammer. "It's fun."

BOOM! 

The first blow from Satoru's hammer echoed through the junkyard. Glass shattered, raining down in glittering shards. Metal shrieked in protest, folding under his relentless assault. Dents bloomed beneath his blows, grotesque and strangely satisfying.

You watched him release all the frustration that must have built up over the past months, it seemed.

Or perhaps he was completely insane now.

After what seemed like an eternity he finally slowed down. His chest heaved, breath coming in ragged gasps. A sheen of sweat slicked his forehead, making his white hair stick to his skin. 

Slowly, he lowered the hammer, knuckles white against the worn wood.

He turned towards you. "Wanna try?"

Wordlessly, you approached. He watched, a hint of amusement playing on his lips, as you took the hammer from his grasp.

With a surge of adrenaline, you raised the hammer and brought it down, the impact resonating through the junkyard. Metal shrieked in protest, a deep crater forming under the blow. The vibration thrummed through your arms, jolting Satoru into a surprised laugh.

"Didn't think you had it in you, first-year," he said. "You still surprise me."

You met his gaze. "Here to talk, or blow off steam?" 

He grinned.

And then, destruction followed.

The hammer felt surprisingly good in your hand. 

With each blow, a wave of satisfaction surged through you. It wasn't just about hitting metal. It was about smashing the frustration out, that had been building up inside you for weeks. It was addictive, the way the world narrowed to just you, the car, and the hammer—

—and it felt damn good.

Minutes later, you paused, taking a breath.

"So," you started, your voice breathless, "why does Sukuna hate you so much anyway?"

Satoru set down his hammer with a thud. "I did some stuff I'm not really proud of in my teenage years. Thought he'd be over it by now, but—guess not."

What's that supposed to mean?

What could he have possibly done to make Sukuna hate him so much?

But then again, did you really want to know every dark detail of his past?

Not really.

You glanced over at him, and somehow something in his eyes told you that you indeed did not want to know. You lifted your hammer, the metal cool against your skin, and smashed the car's side mirror. The glass shattered with a satisfying crack.

Satoru paused, watching you. "You don't want to ask?"

"What?"

"What it was that I did?"

As if anything about this man could scare you at this point. 

But then again, you didn't want to push it.

"Is it worse than your addiction?" Another swing, another satisfying crack as the car yielded further to your blows.

He didn't reply.

You set down the hammer, the metal suddenly too heavy to hold. "It doesn't matter. Your past is your past, Satoru. We all do stupid things when we're young."

His impossibly blue eyes bore into you, sending a strange shiver down your spine. "Besides, if he hates you for being a jerk back then, Sukuna needs a serious hobby."

A smirk pulled at your lips as you slammed the hammer against the car once more, the clang echoing through the tense space. 

Before you could strike again, Satoru's hand closed over yours. With disarming ease, he plucked the hammer from your numb grasp, tossing it aside with a clatter.

The scent of sweat, oil, and his familiar cologne washed over you—heady, intoxicating. He cupped your face, his touch tender even as his hands trembled slightly.

He leaned in, the world narrowing to his electric blue eyes and the quickening of his breath against your skin. "I love you, first-year. Damn it, I love you. I don't care how complicated this gets, I want you."

His lips claimed yours before you could process his words in a kiss that was both desperate and achingly tender. You melted into him, hands tangling in his sweat-dampened hair, the taste of salt and a hint of iron sharp and real on his lips.

Time seemed to bend and stretch. The world outside the junkyard, with all the shit going on, faded into insignificance. All that mattered was his touch, his kiss conveying emotions words couldn't express.

Your hands fisted in his shirt. You pulled him closer, needing the reassurance of his warmth, the proof of this connection amidst the chaos. 

He tilted his head to deepen the kiss, his tongue seeking entry with hesitant urgency. His hands roamed, mapping your familiar curves beneath the fabric of your clothes. 

He broke the kiss, a low moan escaping his throat. Hot, open-mouthed kisses trailed along your jaw before he swept you off your feet, breaking the kiss only long enough to lay you back against the cool metal of the car's hood.

His body followed, pressing against yours. His lips found yours once more, sending a new wave of shivers through you. His hands were rough, long fingers tracing the curve of your hip, thumb brushing against the sensitive skin of your waist, where your sweater hitched upwards.

He kissed you like a man at the edge of a precipice, savoring every sensation, clinging to the fragile lifeline this moment offered. Your fingers tangled in his tousled white hair, holding him close, urging him even closer. 

A moan vibrated against your lips, a testament to the fire you so effortlessly ignited within him.

Then, reality cut through the haze with the sharp buzz of his phone. He pulled back with a gasp, a flicker of frustration crossing his face.

"What's wrong?" you breathed.

"Stupid reminder." A muscle worked in his jaw as he fumbled for his phone. He glanced at the screen. "My pills—"

The words hung heavy in the air. 

Of course. How could you have forgotten? 

Today—today would be the last day he needed those reminders.

As he sat back, you straightened slightly. "You okay?"

He didn't answer immediately. Instead, his gaze swept across the junkyard. With a sigh, he reached behind him, pulling out a plastic blister pack. One final pill starkly visible in its faded foil casing.

"Last one." He held it up for you to see. "Forever."

"Are you—" You couldn't quite bring yourself to ask if he was afraid, but the question lingered in your eyes, unspoken.

He finally met your eyes, and the vulnerability there took your breath away. "Terrified," he admitted. "But also—"

He hesitated. "Alive," he finished. "For the first time in a damn long time, I actually feel like I'm living."

Satoru's eyes flickered to your lips. Without a word, he leaned in, his movements laced with a new slowness that somehow made him seem even more dangerous. 

His lips hovered mere inches from yours as he guided you back until you lay upon the cool metal of the car hood once more.

Above you, the fading twilight painted the sky in hues of violet and indigo, the first stars shimmering to life. Time seemed to dissolve, leaving only the warmth of his body against yours, the grounding rhythm of his breath. 

"Satoru, what—?"

His eyes locked with yours, the intensity in his gaze both thrilling and unsettling. He pulled the last pill from its faded packaging, holding it between his fingers. "Open your mouth."

And without hesitation, you did.

His breath ghosted over your skin as he leaned close, placing the pill on your tongue. Your heart hammered against your ribs, the bitterness of the pill barely registering.

Satoru simply watched you for a moment, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. "Shame I have to get clean, you look so pretty like that."

Before the pill could dissolve, his lips found yours. With a gasp, you felt him sweep the pill with his tongue into his own mouth.

The kiss that followed was deep, searing, all-consuming.

It was both a goodbye and a beginning, whispered against your lips with the lingering tang of bitter medicine.

You clawed at his back, nails leaving their mark as he tightened his grip, pulling you impossibly closer. Heat pooled low in your stomach, your whimper swallowed by another hungry kiss of him.

Suddenly, teeth grazed your bottom lip, a sharp sting that blurred the line between pleasure and pain. Each flicker of his tongue sent shudders through your limbs, each nip of his teeth left you craving more.

His hand slid beneath your shirt with a roughness that stole your breath. You moan against his lips, your body arching instinctively towards his touch.

He pushed one of your legs up, his fingers trailing along the back of your thigh with a firm, insistent touch. Blazing kisses seared along your jawline, the warmth a stark contrast to the cool night air.

Your hands fisted in his shirt, feeling the desperate echo of his need mirrored in your own ragged pulse. The relentless rhythm of his breath, the feverish touch of his skin—it was an intoxicating chaos that threatened to consume you.

And then, abruptly, he pulled back.

"You give in too easily." A teasing smile played on his lips. "You don't really want me to fuck you on this hood, right?"

"God, I hate you," you muttered, sitting up and brushing your hair back. It was a half-hearted insult, lacking its usual bite.

"Yeah, as if," he countered, the smirk widening. He offered you a hand. "Come on, first-year. We're not done here. Gotta let out some more of that pent-up frustration, right?"

─── ·✧· ───

Back in Satoru's apartment, reality intruded with a gritty persistence.

The remnants of the junkyard clung to you like an unwelcome second skin. Your hair was a tangled mess, your face streaked with grime—a stark contrast to the pristine white tiles of Satoru's tidy bathroom.

"Got you something to change into later." Satoru's voice sliced through the steam, drawing your attention. You turned, water running down your body, and met his gaze. 

"Thank you."

He stripped off his shirt, exposing his defined chest. Then, he reached for his belt, his movements slow. "Takeout later?"

"Sounds good." Your gaze fixated on him as he continued to undress, shedding layers of clothing until he stood bare before you.

He stepped into the shower, joining you beneath the steaming spray. The water, hot as it had been before, suddenly felt scalding against your sensitized skin. His gaze roamed over you with such boldness that it sent a shiver down your spine.

"What are you planning, Professor?"

His hands found your waist, drawing you impossibly closer, eliminating the last sliver of space between your bodies. The water cascaded over you, washing away the grime of the day. He leaned closer. "Maybe we should finish what we started earlier, don't you think?"

His hands, rough yet tender, traced a path along your damp arms, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

"Oh, what? You're leaving me hanging earlier and now you want it?" 

"Oh love, I would've fucked you dumb on that hood if I didn't know Choso has cameras all over the place." He trailed kisses down your neck, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you closer still, crushing your water-slicked bodies together. His boner already pressing against your back. 

"Don't want him to see you all messed up, crying and screaming out my name."

"You're too confident for you own good," you protested weakly, though the words melted into a sigh as his lips continued their assault, trailing along your shoulders and up your neck. 

He brushed your hair aside to give himself free access, before sinking his teeth into the tender flesh of your throat. Hard enough to leave a mark but not break the skin. You gasp. 

"Still think I can't make you scream?" He teased, as he continued to tease your neck with his teeth and tongue. His grip tightens around your waist, grinding himself against you in slow, deliberate strokes.

"Not quite convinced yet," you said, yet your knees betrayed you, threatening to buckle under the intensity of the heat. But his strong arms held you steady, keeping you grounded as he devoured you with his kisses.

"Oh, looks like you are already on your knees."

"Keep dreaming." Another bite, this one sharper than the last, elicits another moan from deep within your throat. Then, he turned you around to face him. 

Without missing a beat, his lips crushed against yours. Tongues intertwined, grappling fiercely for dominance amidst the clash of teeth. He wrapped his hand tightly around the back of your neck, drawing you ever closer to his greedy lips.

You struggled to catch your breath. Still, you needed more, needed all of him. All you wanted was to surrender completely, to let yourself be consumed by him entirely.

Your hands roam over his slick, muscular form, tracing every curve and contour of his abs. His skin hot against yours. You could feel his length swelling even further against your skin, throbbing with need and begging to be buried deep within your core.

Chills ran along your spine, coiling tighter and tighter with every kiss, until you could barely contain yourself any longer. You wanted to feel him inside you, filling you completely. 

But he seemed determined to take things slow, to draw out every moment as long as possible. 

So you had to push him a little harder. 

"Still not impressed, Satoru."

"Oh, really?" His teeth bit into your lower lip, coaxing a moan from your lips. "Then let me show you just how good I can make you feel."

He grabbed and spun you around, pressing you firmly against the cool tile wall. His hot breath ghosted across the sensitive skin of your neck, making you shiver in anticipation. Your body arched, offering itself up to him completely.

His teeth grazed your skin, leaving a trail of marks and bruises along your shoulders. He grinded himself against your backside, the friction setting your entire being on fire. You moaned softly, the sound muffled by the steady stream of water.

Without warning, his hand slipped between your legs. Two fingers slid effortlessly into your depths, curving upwards to hit that sweet spot that made your head spin and your legs tremble.

He paused for a second, savoring the way your muscles clenched around his fingers as he delved deeper. "God, love—you're shaking already?" 

Then, he began to pump his fingers in and out, each thrust drawing forth a soft moan from your parted lips. 

"It's because of your insufferability. I don't enjoy this at all," you protested weakly, barely able to keep your footing as he fucked you with his fingers. But there was no mistaking the way your hips bucked eagerly beneath his hands.

A cry escaped your throat as he pushed his fingers deeper into you in response. "You're quite loud for someone not enjoying it."

"Shut it and make me cum, Satoru." 

"Always so bold, first-year, make sure you don't regret it later."

With each thrust, you felt more and more lost in the sensation of his touch. Your body trembled and convulsed beneath his skilled hands. Each gasp and whimper from your lips was met with a low moan from him, encouraging you further towards release.

His fingers curl and twist inside you, hitting all the right spots until you think you can't take it anymore. But just as you feel yourself starting to tumble over the brink, he withdraws his fingers, leaving you trembling and gasping for air. "Wha—what?"

"Not so fast, love." Before you can protest, he spins you around once more and lifts you up, pinning you against the wall. Your legs wrap around his waist, your hands digging into his broad shoulders for support.

"I want to feel you cum around my cock." 

Then, he pushed inside slowly, savoring every inch as he filled you completely. He still stretched you every damn time, even though you had fucked before. Still, it was every fucking time overwhelming again—in the best possible way. 

He slowly withdrew and pushed forward again. "Still not good?"

"Could be better," you gasp, clawing at his back, pleading silently for more.

"You know, I love a good challenge."

You cried out, your voice echoing off the tiles as he began to thrust into you. The angle is perfect, deep, maybe too deep, hitting all the right spots as he pounds mercilessly into you. Each thrust sent shock waves through your body, threatening to overwhelm you.

"Fuck, you feel so good. So damn good." He let out a low moan, tilting his head back to let the water run down his face and neck.

You responded with a whimper, your whole body tensing as he delved deeper into your core. Each time he hit bottom, you bit down on your lower lip, fighting to keep quiet to not give him the satisfaction.

But it was in vain as his thrusts became more urgent, more desperate, driving you both closer and closer to the edge. With each thrust, your moans grew louder, echoing throughout the bathroom, mirroring his own desperate moans that escaped his parted lips.

"God, yes—right there—" You feel yourself losing control, your legs shaking as you struggle to maintain your balance against the force of his movements, the sound of running water blending with the slick slapping of skin against skin filling the room.

Suddenly, the grip of his hands on your ass tightens, pulling you even closer against him as he continues to drive into you hard and fast. Your breath quickens as you realize that you're close—so incredibly close. He feels it too, as always. He knows you inside and out.

"Cum for me, love. Don't hold back."

That was it. 

You throw your head back, crying out his name as you feel your entire being consumed by the intensity of your orgasm. He feels it too, every muscle tensing as he drives deeper into you.

"Fuck, you drive me insane." His voice was hoarse, his breathing uneven, and you knew without a doubt that he wouldn't last much longer either.

His movements grew harder and faster, desperate for release as he thrust into your still convulsing core. You arched your back, meeting his every thrust as you felt him near the edge, his cock throbbing inside you.

"Shit," he cursed. He buried himself once more with a hard thrust before he emptied himself inside you, filling you completely. His cum dripped down your legs, blending with the hot water running down the drain.

His head fell forward, a curtain of snow-white hair veiling his heavy-lidded eyes. "God, you feel so fucking good," he moaned, his words a breathless confession amidst ragged gasps.

You wanted, to get out of his grasp, to regain your footing but he held firm. 

"Not so fast," he breathed. Then, he starts to thrust into you again, slow this time, making sure his cum stays where it belongs—deep inside you.

You found yourself growing increasingly sensitive, every new thrust overwhelming your senses as you writhed in his grasp. "Satoru, stop," you gasped, clutching his shoulders tightly. "It's too much."

"I know you can take it, take it for me like a good girl for me." 

His words echoed in your ears as he thrust deep and slow into you, sending shivers through your entire being. You dug your fingernails into his arms, desperate for purchase as he plunged deeper.

"You're such a bitch," you whined. Despite your protests, you were dangerously close to another orgasm.

"Always so fierce." Satoru felt you being close and continued to push you until you screamed his name again. "Good girl. That's it. Come all over me."

Eventually, exhausted and completely spent, he pulled out slowly, wincing slightly at the raw sensitivity of his member. He set you back on the floor, holding you tightly as your legs threatened to give way beneath you. 

"You did so well for me, love." His lips found yours in a tender kiss, lingering there for several long moments before finally breaking apart.

"I hate you," you whispered weakly against his lips.

"Hate me already?" His lips curled into a smirk, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Then you'll hate me even more now because we're not finished yet."

Before a word of protest could escape your lips, his arm snaked around your waist, pulling you close. With surprising strength, he hoisted you off the ground, flinging you over his shoulder.  

Water droplets scattered everywhere as he strode out of the bathroom, carrying you away like some prized possession.

"Wh—What are you doing?"

Before you knew it, he threw you onto the bed. The sheets beneath you were soaked in an instant.

"Now, where were we?" He crawled onto the bed, his body settling between your parted legs.

You swallowed hard, the rapid beating of your heart echoing in your ears, drowning out the distant sound of the still running water from the bathroom. "Satoru, I can't—I'm spent," you managed, your voice a breathless plea.

"Oh, I'm sure you can." His eyes locked on yours with an unwavering intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. With a smirk that twisted his lips into a wicked grin, he lowered himself between your trembling thighs.

Without hesitation, he delved into you with his tongue. You took a sharp inhale, as you felt his tongue move within you. "Dammit Satoru, why are you like this?"

You grasped tightly onto his hair, trying to push him back, but his grip on your thighs only tightened.

"Oh, love, you're so cute when you fight it," he mused against your core. His movements were slow and deliberate, teasing you mercilessly with every flick and thrust of his tongue. Then, he licked and sucked at your clit, swirling his tongue around it in lazy circles. 

Despite your resistance, you found yourself writhing beneath him, surrendering completely to his will as you felt your core to tense and convulse under his touch. 

Maybe, just maybe, Satoru was right—maybe you weren't quite done yet.

But just as you were about to reach the peak, he stopped. 

His mouth left your trembling core, and you couldn't help but let out a whimper of frustration. He licked slowly over your sensitive flesh, his gaze fixed on your eyes, his intent clear. "Beg for it."

God, this fucker always knew how to rile you up.

"I'll fucking spit in your face later, Satoru," you retorted, your frustration bubbling to the surface.

"Oh, don't bother yourself, I might enjoy it," Satoru replied, a wicked smirk playing on his lips as he continued to torment you with his tongue. "So should I stop?"

"I won't give in to you."

"Is that so?" he challenged, sliding one finger inside you with deliberate slowness. "I think we both know how much you need this."

"You're insufferably arrogant," you muttered, gripping the wet sheets beneath you. You bit your lip, trying to hold back the moan threatening to escape. 

"Maybe" He slid another finger inside you, curling his fingers inside you to find that spot that made your breath catch. "But let's see if you can resist me for much longer."

He thrust his fingers deep into you, hitting bottom with his long fingers, sending your head spinning. "Please," you gasped. "Don't stop."

"That's it." Satoru's smirk widened as he watched you unravel before him. "Let go for me, love."

His mouth descended on your clit again, his fingers thrusting into you with a relentless rhythm that drove you over the edge. With a loud moan, you felt yourself shattering under his touch, your entire body tensing with another orgasm.

"How much I love that feeling of you coming undone around me," he said, his voice husky, as he continued to slowly thrust his fingers into you, savoring the sensation of your walls clenching around him. "So perfect."

With deliberate slowness, he withdrew his fingers. A satisfied smirk graced his lips as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and licked his fingers clean.

Moving up your body, his dark eyes bore into yours, their intensity cutting through the haze that clouded your vision. His hand snaked around your throat, his touch gentle as he stroked his thumb over your rapidly beating pulse. 

"You know, you can bring a few things here, if you want."

"Huh?" was all you could manage before you felt him slowly, agonizingly slowly, beginning to enter you once more. 

Inch by inch, he filled you up, stretching you wide until you were certain you couldn't take any more. But still, he kept pushing, burying himself deeper and deeper inside you until he was fully seated.

"Did you just fucking ask me to move in?" you breathed, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart. It was a maddeningly slow pace as he began to thrust into you, each thrust driving you wild with longing.

He closed his eyes, savoring the sensation, resting his forehead against yours, his warm breath mingling with yours. "I mean, if you want to."

You wrapped your legs around his waist. "You can't just ask me to move in while we fuck, Satoru." 

"Why not?"

"Because—" The words caught in your throat as he suddenly picked up the pace, thrusting hard and deep into your already overly sensitive core. Leaving you gasping for air with each forceful thrust.

A moan escaped your lips as he found that perfect spot inside. "Oh god, right there!"

"Oh, love, I know that you like that," he growled, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "I always know exactly what you need." His head dropped to your neck, teeth grazing the tender skin there.

God, you hated him—hated him for being so damn right and knowing you inside out.

"I hate you and your fucking god complex." Your nails dug into his shoulders, leaving marks as you held on tight.

"What did you just say?" He suddenly tightened the pressure on your throat, cutting off your air enough to make your head spin.

You struggled to catch your breath. "That you have a fucking god complex."

He smirked, continuing to move inside you with a fierce intensity that left you reeling. "And yet, here you are, begging for more." Each word was punctuated by a deep, powerful thrust that made your whole being tremble. 

You cried out, unable to form any meaningful response save for a series of desperate moans and whimpers. He picked up speed, driving deeper and harder into your core with each passing second. 

"Like that, huh?" 

You wrapped your legs tighter around his waist, holding onto him like a lifeline as he carried you higher and higher toward release. "Yes, don't stop."

He leaned close to your ear, his breath hot against your skin. "Oh, I won't, sweetheart," he whispered. "Not until you come all over me."

You tightened your grip on his shoulders, digging your nails in deeper. You could feel the muscles in his back flexing under your fingertips. Your eyes fluttered shut, overwhelmed by the growing sensation within you. But they snapped open as he gripped your jaw. 

"Open your eyes," he commanded. "I want you to look at me while you cum."

His hand found your throat again. His fingers fit so perfectly around your neck, so terrifyingly perfect. "I want you to see exactly who's making you feel this way."

Without warning, he lifted one of your legs over his broad shoulder, changing the angle—making it even better. Your skin grew hotter as he increased his pace, thrusting into you with such force that you would have slid up the bed if not for his firm grip on your throat.

You watched him through glassy eyes, taking in every detail of his flushed face, the damp hair that clung to his forehead.  His lips parted as low moans escaped his lips before he bit down on his lower lip.His moans were high-pitched and needful, punctuated by sharp intakes of breath as he struggled to maintain control.  The sight alone enough to make you cum, right here and now. "Fuck, I'm gonna come."

"Cum for me, love" he encouraged, his thrusts becoming erratic as he neared his own release. 

Your mind was so hazy from all the sensations that you didn't even register what you were screaming as you rode out your fourth orgasm of the night. Your body convulsed as he continued to thrust into you, barely noticing what he hissed as you felt him fill you up again.

You felt him shudder against you. Then, he collapsed, his weight pressing against your body as he supported himself with his hands on either side of your head.

His breath mingled with yours, warm and heavy against your skin. He gazed down at you with a look of sheer adoration in his eyes.

With a gentle touch, he brushed a stray strand of hair from your heated face, his fingers lingering against your skin. Slowly, he lowered his lips to yours, kissing you with a tenderness that was so different to the way he just fucked you.

"So, what about moving in now?" he murmured against your lips.

"I'm not answering that now."

─── ·✧· ───

Later that night, you were jolted awake.

Not from a sound, but the suffocating weight on your chest. 

Satoru's grip around you was a vise, the pressure sharp against your ribs. His breaths rasped in your ear, harsh and uneven, like each inhalation was tearing something loose inside him. His body twitched against yours.

"Satoru?" You tried to shift, to ease the weight pressing you into the mattress, but his hold was unyielding.

"Satoru," urgency clawed at your tone. "Hey, wake up."

His response was a strangled groan, followed by a string of words that were almost impossible to decipher. You clawed at his arms, panic rising as the air squeezed from your lungs. Still, he held on. Your blood turned to ice.

"Satoru, please wake up."

Somehow you managed to wrench yourself free. The cool air on your skin was a shock after the heat of his body. 

You cupped his face, the stubble rough against your palm, forcing him to meet your eyes. "Satoru, wake up," you pleaded. "It's just a dream."

His eyes snapped open. Even in the dim moonlight filtering through the curtains, you saw the fear in them. His pupils were dilated, swallowing up the vibrant blue with an alarming blackness. A sheen of sweat made his skin gleam like he'd been doused in icy water.

His hand shot out, fumbling for yours with a frantic desperation that made you gasp. His fingers clamped around you like cold iron, his grip bruising. 

"No—they can't—" His voice was a strangled rasp, the words barely coherent. "Can't let them—" Each word seemed etched with pain, a fresh wound torn open with every syllable. His grip tightened, his fingernails digging into your skin.

"Can't what?" You flinched slightly under his grip. "Satoru, please, look at me. You're safe. You're here with me."

A flicker of awareness broke through the terror in his eyes, his gaze finally landing on you. But the intensity was staggering. It was as if he were seeing you for the first time, fear still clinging to him like a shroud.

"It's okay," you soothed, gently running your hand through his sweat-soaked locks. "Just a nightmare, Satoru. Nothing but a bad dream."

He sat up, the sheets sliding away from his bare chest. You caught a glimpse of his ribs, the rise and fall of his breaths ragged. He ran a trembling hand across his face. 

"Sorry—" His gaze flickered over you, the panic fading just enough for him to register the mirroring fear twisting your features. "God, I'm so sorry."

"It's okay. It was just a bad dream."

His eyes swept over your arm, tracing the red marks left by his bruising grip. "Did I hurt you?" His hand reached out, hesitating just short of touching you, then traced the path of the bruises on your skin. "Fuck, love—did I do that?"

"It's okay," you said again. "I'm fine."

It was a lie, but you couldn't bring yourself to admit how the lingering ache made your skin crawl. Not now.

He fisted his hand in his hair, fingers digging into his scalp, threatening to rip the sweat-dampened strands out. "Sorry," he said again, then he leaned in, his lips brushing your temple with a surprising gentleness.

But it didn't soothe. 

It felt like a desperate plea for forgiveness he feared he didn't deserve.

He swung his legs out of bed. His bare feet hit the threadbare carpet with a muffled thud. He didn't turn towards you, his back a rigid line against the faint light filtering through the window.

Unease prickled your skin. "Satoru, what's—?" You sat up, the warm blankets pooling around your waist. 

You watched as he moved to the dresser, grabbing a pair of shorts and a shirt.

"Satoru, what are you doing?" 

He hesitated as he pulled the shirt over his head. For a heartbeat, he was still, as if caught between the urge to flee and a desperate wish to explain. But when he turned, the mask was firmly in place.

"Just need some air." He didn't turn towards you, didn't offer a glance. You couldn't even tell if he was truly seeing you. "I'll be back." 

His hands were a blur of motion as he laced his running shoes. You watched, a knot of fear twisting in your gut. "Satoru, please—talk to me."

"I can't." His response was sharp, tinged with a defensiveness bordering on panic.

Your heart ached. Your mind clouded.

You didn't know what was right anymore, letting him go or holding him back. Somehow it seemed you were always wrong.

His fingers twitched. You saw the moment his control frayed. Nails raked against skin, then his hand closed into a fist, fingers digging into his palm until the knuckles turned white.

He moved toward the door, halting in the frame. "I'm sorry." He slipped out, leaving the door ajar. You didn't follow him.

The silence he left was cruel.

The darkness of the room suddenly so heavy.

Your heart was a shattered mess in your chest, each shard scraping against your ribs with every ragged breath. 

The urge to sink back into bed, to burrow into the sheets, was overwhelming. But you couldn't. Bare feet met the cold floor. Reaching the window, you peered out into the moonlit night.

Below, his figure stood bathed in the pool of light cast by a flickering streetlamp, his form stark against the cracked pavement. As you watched, he fiddled with his smartwatch, likely starting some sort of running program.

His head lifted and his gaze found yours. His surprise was a knife in your already battered heart. Even from this distance, you saw the tightness of his jaw, the hollows beneath his eyes carved even deeper by the pitiless streetlight.

For a breath, an agonizing heartbeat, you saw a plea flicker across his face. But then, he turned and began to run. Each stride was a brutal reminder of how far away he was slipping, how powerless you were to stop it.

"You're so stupid, Satoru."

How could you ever sleep now?

How could you ever sleep again without him by your side?

Strange, how you can love someone so deeply, so all-consuming, that sometimes it scares you how involuntarily raw and vulnerable you are at his mercy.

But the truth was, loving him also meant accepting the ragged edges, the parts of him that were sharp enough to draw blood.

Of that, you were painfully certain.

─── ·✧· ───

Sleep had been a fitful, fleeting thing. 

Each shallow breath was a struggle against the dull pain in your skull. When morning finally bled through the curtains, it felt less like waking and more like surrender. 

Then, the jolt—his weight pressing down, his familiar scent sharp against the stale air.

Satoru. 

He'd slipped back into bed beside you. He smelled like sweat and something acrid—cigarettes. 

He tightened his grip around you, pulling you close underneath the sheets. Yet, even with his warm body flush against yours, there was a coldness in the space between you.

"You smell like smoke."

He stirred, burying his face in the crook of your neck. You felt his hair, slightly damp with sweat, against your skin. "Was with Suguru," he mumbled, his words muffled.

Should you be angry with him that he went to Geto instead of staying with you?

Probably.

But right now, you had really other concerns.

Or perhaps you were too tired to even try at this point.

You turned in his arms, squinting against the dim light filtering through the curtains. The exhaustion carved into his face was stark, the shadows beneath his eyes pools of bruise-purple. 

He looked younger, fragile. 

It was a sight that ached in your chest like a newly-bruised rib.

"Satoru, what's going on? Why did you run?"

He sighed, a long, weary exhale that seemed to drag something out of him. He shifted, burrowing deeper into the curve of your neck, as if seeking both comfort and a shield against your questions.

"Don't know," he finally admitted. "Was just—too much."

You knew better than to push. 

Instead, you shifted in his embrace. 

You let your hand rest against his chest, his heartbeat a frantic, uneven rhythm against your palm. It was too fast, too erratic, and despite the warmth of his body, a shiver traced its way up your spine.

"You know, today is the second hearing," you muffled against his chest.

"Yeah, I know." His grip on you tightened. For a long, agonizing moment, you simply lay together. The scent of smoke hung heavy in the stillness.

"We'll get through it," you whispered. "As long as we stay together."

His only response was a soft exhale. 

His body shifted, molding against yours. His breaths deepened, the frantic edge fading. You felt his body loosen, the rigid tension seeping out of him. His heartbeat began to slow beneath your palm.

You shifted slightly, settling comfortably into his embrace. You stared out the window, the first tendrils of dawn painting the sky a muted grey, and listened to the uneven rhythm of his sleep.

Perhaps you should hate him just a little. 

Perhaps that might make all of this a bit easier.

─── ·✧· ───

Morning arrived with a harsh finality that mirrored your own restless night. Sunlight pierced through the gap in the curtains, a cruel, accusatory beam that cut through the lingering shadows.

Yet, there was no time for dwelling.

No room for the exhaustion that throbbed behind your eyes.

"Satoru," you whispered, shaking his shoulder. "We have to go. Now."

He stirred with a groan, momentarily disoriented. Then, a flicker of urgency replaced the sleepy confusion in his eyes. 

Right. 

The damn hearing. 

It all came rushing back, cold dread coiling in his gut.

"Fuck," he muttered, scrubbing a hand over his face. "I overslept."

You sat already fully dressed on the edge of the bed. Your gaze met his, your brows furrowed in a silent echo of the questions burning on your tongue.

But for now, you shoved them aside. There would be time for that later, time to tear down the walls he'd built between you.

"Come on, you need to get ready."

The drive to the hospital was a blur of rushed movements and strained silence. The looming hearing hung in the air like a storm cloud, every mile bringing you closer to the inevitable clash. 

Your stomach churned, waves of nausea threatening to overwhelm you. It was a battle to keep the rising fear from twisting your face, a battle you weren't sure you were winning.

Why all of a sudden? 

Why did it suddenly feel like your whole world was falling apart?

You'd been so sure you would make it, that you'd get through it together. With Satoru by your side, nothing could happen.

But that certainty was crumbling into dust. 

One glance at his pale face, the blood drained from his skin, and fear clung to your throat. You didn't dare ask what was going on inside his head, but his silence was an answer in itself.

Upon arrival, the sterile meeting room felt more like a prison cell. 

Geto and Higurama waited, their expressions grave. You met Geto's gaze, a silent exchange passing between you. He knew. He knew, that you knew that Satoru spent the night at his place. But you shoved this thought aside as well. There would be time later.

"Glad you could finally join us," Higurama's voice held a sarcastic edge.

"Sorry, overslept," Satoru said.

"We don't have much time," Higurama cut in. "I spoke with the committee."

"And?" You prompted.

"They're not happy." He met your gaze. "They're questioning everything—your story, your... relationship."

"They suspect you acted recklessly with the surgeries," Geto added addressing Satoru. "That your judgment was clouded, that you let her operate because of an inappropriate interest."

"Of course, that's what Sukuna wants them to believe," Satoru said.

"Listen," Higurama interjected. "I've talked to the woman in the committee. Even if Sukuna wants chaos, the others are more focused on damage control. They want to bury this, protect the research, and avoid scandal. So, it's best if you just come clear now."

"So, what are we waiting for?" you asked.

Higurama met your gaze, a flicker of something like pity in his eyes. "Even if they're willing to sweep this under the rug, there'll be consequences. Suspension, likely. For both of you. You understand, right?"

"And so," you said, the words like shards of ice. "If it means this is finally over."

The words hung heavy in the air. 

You glanced at Satoru, expecting his usual pushback, his sense of protecting you, some flicker of anger—but there was nothing. A deep frown creased his brow, his gaze locked on the floor. He scrubbed his arm with unnecessary force, leaving a raw, red mark on his skin.

Then, Satoru and Geto exchanged a fleeting glance, a silent communication that sent a chill down your spine. There was something off, you knew it. The silence stretched, and the pity in their eyes as they turned to you began to curdle into a sickening dread.

Finally, Satoru spoke. "Let's do it then."

His surrender was a cold slap, sharper than any open defiance could have been.

"We don't have much choice, do we?" he added.

Higurama rose, a thin folder tucked under his arm. "Then, let's go." 

Higurama and Geto moved to leave the room. Geto briefly rested a hand on your shoulder. "We'll wait outside."

The door clicked shut leaving Satoru and you alone.

Satoru stared at the polished mahogany desk, his jaw working, as if he were trying to swallow a pill made of sandpaper and broken glass.

Something within you wanted to scream. To rip that flimsy facade of calm from Satoru, to shake him until the truth rattled out of him. Yet, the words died in your throat, strangled by the knowledge that it wouldn't change a thing.

Satoru's gaze flicked toward you before he pushed himself away from the desk. He walked over to you.

"You know I love you, right?"

The words should have been a balm. Instead, they were a razor blade against raw skin. "Don't you dare do anything stupid in there," you warned.

A bitter smile twisted his lips. "Come on. They'll be waiting."

Your legs felt like lead as you followed him out of the room.

─── ·✧· ───

The hearing room held an oppressive chill.  

The chill wasn't just the temperature, it seeped from the sterile walls, the unyielding chairs, the weight of judgment hanging in the stale air. It was not a place designed for truth, but rather a tribunal designed for condemnation.

One by one, the committee members entered. 

The familiar ache of dread curled in your stomach when Sukuna's gaze found you.

"Only Dr. Gojo is required today," one of the judges intoned.

You met Satoru's gaze. He smiled faintly, somehow it looked so cruel, so sad. You wanted to scream, to tear your way to his side. But Geto's hand held you back.

He guided you to the seats reserved for observers. To be forced into silence, into watching him getting torn to shreds under Sukuna's assault—it felt like a betrayal worse than any accusation they could hurl.

Your hands clenched into fists, nails biting into your palms. The pain a bitter focus.

Sukuna watched the proceedings, that smug half-smile plastered across his face. 

He didn't care about the rules—about your lives. 

This was all a cruel joke to him, a twisted play where he was the puppeteer, and you were the tangled marionette forced to dance to his tune. 

This wasn't about the research—it was about breaking you, breaking Satoru, proving that all your defiance was nothing against his terrible will.

Then, Satoru sat before the judges.

"Mr. Gojo," the woman on Sukuna's left began, "we have reason to believe that your relationship with your students might be inappropriate. That it goes beyond the bounds of a teacher-student dynamic."

Wow, they didn't even bother to ask anything else today.

For a long moment, Satoru didn't move. He seemed frozen. His gaze found yours, and it was as if the whole world narrowed down to that single connection. The intensity in his gaze so sharp it was like a shard of ice against your skin.

Here it was, the crossroads. He could tell them.

Tell them the truth—that you were in a committed relationship. That his decision to include you in the project was made from a place of trust and respect for your capabilities, not an affair.

It was better than the alternative – Sukuna twisting everything into a salacious tale of a reckless professor and his eager student, jeopardizing the entire research project.

A flimsy shield, yes, but a start. A chance for the truth to fight back.

He inhaled sharply, and for that split second, the world hung suspended. Then, with a jaw so tight it might shatter, he turned back to the judges.

"If my actions have been perceived in such a way," he began, "then it is entirely my fault. I have perhaps overstepped certain boundaries. I will take full responsibility for my actions."

No.

No.

Satoru, why?

For fuck's sake why?

A wave of nausea washed over you, bile burning the back of your throat. Your hands clenched into fists, the short nails digging into your palms with enough force to draw blood. The pain didn't register.

"All actions were initiated on my end. There is no wrongdoing on her behalf, and any suspension would be unfounded," he added.

The lips of the woman beside Sukuna pursed, the words beginning to flow in a blur of accusations and coldly calculated legalese.

You didn't hear her. 

Didn't hear anything anymore.

Didn't hear anything over the roaring in your ears, the frantic, uneven thud of your heart trying to claw its way out of your ribcage. The room spun, the judges' faces blurring, the sterile walls tilting inward. Your vision tunneled. Your breath ragged.

The full weight of it crashed down—not just Sukuna, but this new catastrophe Satoru had brought crashing down around himself. His life, meticulously balanced on the razor's edge was about to collapse.

Reputation, career, everything—and all because of a sacrifice as pointless as it was heartbreaking.

Satoru's response cut through your panic like a gunshot. "I am aware of the consequences. And I take full responsibility."

The words were a death knell. 

The enormity of it all crashed down on you. 

Your breath caught, a strangled gasp clawing at the back of your throat. Fingers clawed at the back of the chair in front of you, wood creaking in protest. You lurched forward, a futile escape from the crushing weight. 

Your heart hammered against your ribs like a caged bird battering itself against a prison of flesh and bone. Voices blurred. Your breathing shortened. Your fingers, still gripping the chair, were turning numb.

"Suguru—" Your voice was a ragged plea. "Out—get me the fuck—out of—" The rest of the sentence choked in your throat.

He didn't wait a second.

With a surprising gentleness, he pried your fingers from the chair, the wood creaking beneath your white-knuckled grip. Your legs were leaden weights. He helped you stand, every step was a battle against the dizzying blackness encroaching on your vision.

The room seemed to tilt as Geto steadied you.

The judges, Sukuna, they all blurred into grotesque shapes in the periphery of your failing sight. Everything was too loud, too bright, too much.

Satoru watched you leave in silence.

<- prev chapter | next chapter ->

author's note: oh boy, oh boy! so much happening, so little fluff. i'm so sorry—but remember the story will have a happy ending, just have to come up how that will happen ehehe. next chapter will dive back into satoru's unhinged brain, because i love writing from his pov.

thank you SO MUCH for your unwavering support! this story's going to be a bit of a ride, and i'm so thankful you're here for it. your comments absolutely make my day! next chapter might take a little longer due to a university assignment, but i'll be back to writing like a maniac as soon as i can. thanks for understanding! ♡

wishing you a great day or night and an awesome week ahead! ♡

🏷️ @sad-darksoul @aerithsthingss @mylovelessnightmare @bbyxxm @musababy @neuviloved @ykehqqy @hexrts-anatomy @fvsm4x @tw0fvced @heijihattorisgf @sadmonke @thatsopanu @sirencholia @sugurusdiscordmoderator @erwinslut @shervinss @certainlysyko @mechalily @purplehallow11 @kendall0111 @bloopsstuff @therealestpussyeater @louoi7 @whereflowerswenttodie @billiondollarworth @deluluforcarlos55 @starrynight-777 @vina21 @michelleeveline @boba-is-a-soup @cre8inghavoc @love-jelly @daimiyu @d0nk3y-k0ng @mo0nforme @smolbeanzzz @oneiricals @ynishalee (pls comment if i have missed anyone!)

It is CANON there are NO gay characters in jjk and there NEVER will be.

hi bestie! guess what?! go fuck yourself 🥰 if you’re going to trash other people’s opinions on tumblr you should probably get the FUCK off this app in the first place.

YOU KNOW WHAT ELSE ISN’T CANNON? JUST ABOUT EVERYTHING ON THIS FUCKING APP, SHIT A BRICK ANON IDGAF

Also, get the FUCK out of my inbox!!

sukuna forcing uruame to record your sex tape

Halo bby! <3

Do u perhaps take request? I have been thinking about husband!gojo who feels offended after wife!reader told him about how men can only ejaculate 3 times a day after after she saw it on facebook :3 So Satoru had to cum in wifey more than what she believes because the truth is better than rumours, right? 🤔

hi anon! my inbox is always open for requests (it just might take me a little to finish them lol)

Sorry I’ve been working on this for like 3 weeks lol, I am going to take a break from writing Gojo for a little after this though (:

I didn’t proof read this my apologies

MDNI

cw: smut lmao, handjob, 69, riding, missionary, doggy, daddy kink (oops), shower sex, etc.

—

You scroll through your Facebook feed, when an article from Cosmopolitan magazine pops up called “How To Make Your Man Orgasm Better”. You read through some of it, not really absorbing much until you see an actual doctor’s name listed as research for the article. I mean of course if there’s a penis doctor listed in this article it must be legit!

‘Generally, a person with a penis can orgasm no more than 3 times a day. It can become painfully overstimulating the penis after that I’m afraid. In fact over 80% of this study shows that the person with the penis could not go longer than one orgasm, and 95% could not continue after the second one. That leaves just 5% of the population able to orgasm a third time in a day. There is the possibility for an asymptote - a line that never actually reaches zero although approaching it rapidly after the number 3.’

After reading through the article you decide to scroll through the comments, reading about middle aged women’s sex lives and how their husbands are rather bad at being intimate.

But oh, you could not relate.

After all, you are married to the Satoru Gojo. As a newer married couple with no kids, the two of you fuck at least once a day, usually after work or before bed. You like to get a little more creative on weekends, with morning sex, shower sex, kitchen counter, couch (and just about any surface in the house he can bend you over he’s already fucked you on). You guys can have sex for hours, pulling multiple orgasms from you, but the most he’s ever came in a day is three! So that doctor must have been right.

Just then, your lovely husband Satoru comes home to your beautiful little house, strolling in with a smile on his face like usual. He sits his bag down and takes off his blindfold before making his way over to you and kissing the top of your head where you sit on the couch.

“Hi baby, how was your day?” he asks

“Good, I was just reading a medical article!” You giggle mischievously, getting up to join him in the kitchen with your phone in hand.

“You can read?!” He sarcastically responds, pretending to be shocked before coming up behind you to hug you. This time he kisses the side of your head near your temple, smelling your freshly done hair and you can smell the remnants of his cologne that he sprayed before leaving this morning. “What were ya reading baby?” He kindly asks, not joking this time.

“Well this doctor says guys can cum at most three times a day! And I was thinking about it and even when we stay in bed all day on the weekends having sex the maximum you’ve hit is 3 so it must be true!”

Your husband breaks out laughing, a truly angelic sound, but you’re not quite sure what he’s laughing at. He breaks your hug turning you around to face him with his hands on your shoulders.

“Oh. You actually weren’t joking.” He says reading the expression on your face.

“No babe. Here read it!” You shove your phone towards him with the article pulled up. He reads the same paragraph as above and makes a mental note of the doctors name and credentials and thinks about how he’s going to contact him once he proves this theory wrong.

“Oh, interesting babe. Since you’re so into these ‘medical’ articles you find on cosmopolitan, why don’t we test this theory for ourselves?”

You giggle and blush at his sentiment, still getting shy when initiating sex even after being together for 5 years! You close the distance between your bodies, wrapping your arms around your husbands neck and pulls him down for a kiss.

“Yes please” you whisper against his lips. Satoru deepens the kiss, taking control over you like always. He continues kissing you and backing you up until your back reaches the refrigerator. He plants kisses all over your face before moving down to your neck.

“Y’know, I think we’ll have to make me orgasm all different ways for it to count. Something about a control variable.” Satoru mumbles against your neck.

You’d protest but your pretty little head is thinking about the way his mouth is on your sensitive spot, too horny to shut him up. He pats the back of your thighs for you to jump into his grasp, and you do wrapping your legs around him like a koala. The two of you continue your passionate make out before heading to the bedroom.

Leading you to the gorgeous master bedroom satoru closes the door behind you even though nobody else is there. He begins unbuttoning his jacket and throws it on the floor followed by his undershirt and black jeans. He lays back, his stiff member pulling his boxer briefs tight as he looks over to you expectantly. You waltz closer to the bed, only wearing your matching silk tank top and short set that satoru bought multiple of and loves so much.

He bought every pastel color and loves when he can see your somehow always hardened nipples through the silky fabric. Today’s outfit was baby blue, which happened to be his favorite. Being Satoru’s housewife really isn’t so bad, he makes good money and takes care of you in every way. You just can’t help but be submissive to him when he asks you to wear certain things or cook a certain food. For this man, you threw feminism out the window, and oh how he knew that.

Satoru pulls you onto his lap, looking up at you with those stupidly beautiful eyes as he gently squeezes your hip. “Cmon princess let’s start this experiment,” he winks at you before helping you take off your tank top.

While yes, you play a submissive role in your relationship, he doesn’t always dominate you in the bedroom.

That being said, you roll off satoru so you are laying beside him, leaning to him to resume your steamy make out session.

“Mmm.. I love making out with you, we need to do this more,” he mumbles against your lips. You “mhm” in agreement before proceeding to enter your tongue into his mouth. One hand grips into his white locks while the other reaches down to rub his erection through his boxer briefs. He moans at your touch, reaching his slender arm around you and firmly grabs ahold of your ass, as if you would run away. Satoru takes over the kiss a little more, but as you’re still trying to be in control you stick your hand inside his underwear, rubbing your thumb against his slit.

You break the kiss so he can lower the underwear, before spiting on your hand to lube his shaft as your soft hand runs up and down. He shudders and rolls his eyes back, putting both of his hands behind his head, showing off his sculpted physique completed by the tufts of white hair on his armpits.

You try your best to talk dirty to your lover, being shy in bed like usual is not going to work if you want to make him cum more than 3 times.

“Such a pretty cock belonging to my pretty man”

Satoru knows he’s in for a wild ride when you start to talk seductively. It doesn’t happen often because while you’re vocal in bed… it doesn’t usually include words or full sentences. 😉

You keep eye contact with your lover while you rub your thumb in circles against his sensitive spot, on the back side of the shaft where it meets the head. He lets out a mixture of a whimper and moan while closing his eyes. You add the dripping precum to the tip of his cock will you rub him up and down just like he had shown you previously. He likes when you start towards the middle and rotate up and down, not too fast and not too slow, but not too much pressure and not too light of a touch. He openly told you before that you weren’t very good with the whole handjob concept even though you’re basically professional at everything else, and so he went into great detail, and now you can really make the man quiver.

You sit up, moving so you can use both hands, because his balls look just a little too neglected. You straddle his left leg, allowing him to feel your bare soaking pussy against him. He grunts at the new feelings, getting to be too much for him to handle.

“Baby please make me cum,” he whines as you start to grind yourself on his leg, matching the rhythm that you’re stroking his length. Your other hand gently caresses his full sack, you know he will be cumming so much tonight and you cannot wait.

“Satoru, baby, please? Cum for me?” You let out a small moan as he rubs his leg against you for some extra friction, which simply sends him over the edge. Looking into your big sweetly innocent eyes he shoots his seed all over his abs. Neither of you even look at his cock when he cums, too mesmerized by the lust contained within the eye contact.

Finally, you let go of his penis as he catches his breath with his eyes closed. You want to give him some time to recover but not too much, because it will mess up the variable data!

“My sweet, are you ready for more?” You ask innocently already devising a plan for what you’ll do to him next.

“Whatever you want princess,” he breathes out finally opening his eyes when he has caught his breath.

You try to remain confident as you shift your weight off of his leg and swing your body around.

“Can I sit on your face please baby?” You ask again sounding way too innocent for the words coming out of your mouth. Satoru lets out a moan at the unexpected question, his cock growing hard again.

“Please, fuck yes, please let me make you feel good,” Satoru begs, grabbing your legs to help you get adjusted.

“No baby, I want to face the other way.”

“Oh,” Satoru breathes out, knowing what is coming next.

You get adjusted, your warm soaking cunt hovering over your husbands mouth, thinking about how long it has been since you’ve done this position, surely it won’t take him long to reach peak number 2.

Satoru wastes no time diving in like a starved man. That is the thing about your husband, is he loves pleasuring you almost more than he likes being pleasured himself. Seeing and hearing and feeling you feel good drives him crazy, being the reason he loves sixty-nine so much.

Pulling out all the stops tonight you lean down, licking a strip down Satoru’s abdomen, the exact line where all of his previous cum was. You lick from the bottom of his pecs down the whole way until you reach the base of his dick, proceeding to lick a stripe up and wrap your lips around his tip.

“Oh my fucking god baby that was the hottest thing ever”

Now he really starts eating you out with a passion, tongue circling your clit before plunging in your hole. You attempt to match the bobbing of your mouth on his cock but he simply goes too fast. You come off his cock to let out a guttural moan of his name, which only eggs him on further.

“I’m - I’m not going to last long - ahhha - if you keep that up S’toruuu”

“Mhmmm,” he hums against your clit, knowing how good the vibrations feel for you.

You close your eyes before going back down on his cock, feeling him twitch as you messily tongue his tip.

“-m sensitive hmm” a muffled Satoru says but you don’t care. Using your previously covered in cum hand, you run up and down his shaft while moving down to suck on his balls. This sends toe curling electricity through his body, and he reaches his arm around your thigh so he can access your tight hole with his thumb. Sucking and licking while you feel his thick thumb being sucked into you. Being as turned on as you were, a first orgasm is almost instantly ripped from you, catching both of you off guard but you moan against Satoru’s balls. The combination of feeling you convulse against his thumb plus the sensitive state of his dick in your hand sends Satoru over the edge, but he at least gets to give you a warning.

“Cummin for ya again baby please take it all,” he says barely coherent being so overtaken by pleasure. You attach your lips back to his tip and finish sucking him off until you feel cum stop coming out. You try to get off of him as gracefully as you can, moving to lay down for a minute to give you both some air. You look at the lower half of his face as he licks his lips, and you hold out your tongue showing him you swallowed all of it.

“Cmere pretty girl,” he murmurs, wrapping his right arm around your shoulders and pulling your sweaty bodies close.

“Don’t get too comfortable my baby were only half done, at least,” you smile up at him and watch as he realizes you really weren’t kidding earlier.

Once you’ve recovered from your orgasm, you crawl back on top of Satoru, but this time straddling his pelvis, his semi-hard cock under you. He still looks a little out of breath, but you’re going to do all the work so he doesn’t need to worry right?

You grind your soft wet folds against his growing erection, “can I have it in my sweet pussy this time baby?” You ask doing your best to give him puppy eyes. His eyes roll to the back of his head, humping his hips up a little to give more friction.

“You can have anything you want Princess, you’re being such a vocal good girl t’night,” he sounds out of breath, whiney, and desperate as he watches you reach your hand down to line him up with you. You smile as you playfully rub his tip on your clit.

His hands cover his face, “please. Please stop teasing me, please baby,”

Without further notice you slip him inside, slippery from the previous orgasm Satoru ripped from you.

“Fuckfuckfuckfuck,” he whispers before a porn like moan courses through him, “y/n I’m so sensitive, I don’t think I can do it!”

You slowly ride and grind up and down his shaft, one hand on his chest to support you, the other rubbing at your clit. “Please, daddy… for me?” You emphasize that word, knowing being called that drives your husband crazy.

Satoru’s large skinny hands find the squishy sides of your hips and he squeezes hard. Not that he meant to, but there will definitely be 10 small oval bruises on your ass and hips tomorrow.

“Say it again…” he moans.

“Say what again?” You smile innocently, batting your eyelashes. With that he lifts one hand off your hip and lashes out a spank on your ass check, making your tight hole clench down on him more.

“You know what I meant.” God, something just slightly feral comes out of Gojo when you play so innocent but also act so seductive for him, especially when he hears that word from your lips.

“Daddy, I need two more orgasms from you, please?” You whine as you find a particularly good spot that his cock is rubbing inside you. It’s like your words revived Satoru’s stamina, firmly grabbing your hips again before helping you lift off and on him at almost inhuman speed. Each thrust goes so deep in you, you think you feel it in your stomach. A few more hard thrusts and he is pulling you off of him, and pushing you straight back so your back is on the bed now. He hovers above you, reclaiming his dominance, before pushing back into you with both legs dangling off his shoulders. You know he is holding out as long as he can, but he’s going to want you to cum first so he can feel you clench around his cock and push him over the edge. He leans down kissing your lips, forehead, and cheek before whispering seductively, “such a good girlll,” while emphasizing the last two words with two particularly rough thrusts. He continues his praises inbetween licks and sucks on your neck

“You looked so pretty on top princess but I just had to have my way with you,” before he leans down to suck which will surely leave a hickey. When he comes back up for air he breathlessly groans,

“And you just taste so good and your throat knows my cock so well!” You think he may be slightly going insane and wonder if orgasm numbers 3 and 4 are necessary. Moaning with him, he knows you love his dirty talk because he can feel you squeeze his cock without trying.

Satoru fucks into you with relentless speed, causing your chest to bounce up and down, and all you can do is grip onto his shoulders and let your toes curl from pleasure.

“Mmm, daddy, g’na cum for you,” you barely breathe out, getting closer to the edge as your back arches off the bed. At this he puts your legs together and pushes them back towards you, knowing exactly how to hit your favorite spot in this position.

“Come on princess, cum for daddy, that’s it,” he groans, temporarily forgetting about his overstimulated cock while being so focused on your eyes rolled back and mouth hanging open in pleasure. Just a few more thrusts and he has you squeezing his dick so tight, he knows he won’t last much longer. Your orgasm hits you, not even able to control the beautiful sounds coming out of your mouth, face red, tears threatening to spill from pure bliss. Satoru slowed his pace to let you finish your orgasm before pounding into you harder than before

“Sa-tor-u” his name comes out of your mouth broken up not being able to catch your breath.

“I-I’m gonna - toru!” Being fucking into overstimulation has made you squirt all over Satoru’s cock and lower abdomen, which puts him over the edge, two more hard thrusts before he pauses, spilling his third load of the evening into your throbbing cunt.

His breathing heavy, sweat making his usually fluffy white hair stick to his forehead and his whole body seems to be glowing from the shine of sweat covering him. God you feel so bad for him but also do you really? As he’s said before “your pussy is heaven” so like it’s not really bad that you’re giving it to him…

“Let’s get you in the shower hun,” you whisper next to his ear, having plans for how you can get at least one more orgasm out of him. Still huffing, he gets up and his glorious skinny body looks so beautiful you feel yourself getting horny again. At least you weren’t as tired as your husband!

You set out 3 fluffy clean towels from the linen closet and turn the shower on a good temperature. Satoru has his arms wrapped around you from behind as you both wait for the water to warm up. “I love you,” he says, kissing the top of your head.

“Love you too, Toru” you smile up at him, turning around in his grasp. You kiss him sensually slowly at first, on your tippy toes gently rubbing your fingers along his cheek and neck. You deepen the kiss, knowing exactly how your husband loves it. He reaches down, each hand grabbing each ass cheek and squeezing before giving you a light spank, causing you to giggle.

“Naughty girl, still haven’t had enough?” He asks down to you. Without responding you gently wrap your had around him and pull him into your beautiful giant shower. The water is perfectly hot , making your eyes roll back in relaxation. You pull Satoru under the water taking care of him first. He turns into your big baby, leaning down to let you shampoo his hair and wash his body. When you get to clean his pelvis area you gently lather his soft penis with soap. He whimpers just from you touching it, but you have to clean it! Next you fondle his balls, massaging the soap in. His erection slowly starts to grow again and you know orgasm number 4 won’t be too far away.

“My turn,” you say looking up at him and turning around so you ass rubs up against his hardening member.

Satoru pumps a generous amount of your fancy smelling body wash onto your pink loofa, his frontside still pressed up against your backside. His long arms maneuver around your smaller frame, using all his energy to make sure he washes you in every hard to reach spot, only detaching himself when he had to wash your back and ass. He ignores the boner that impossibly came back after cumming 3 times already, and thought you didn’t notice.

He opts to hang the loofa back up and uses his hands to sensually rub the soap in, starting with your tits, although they needed no extra attention. Your nipples have always been sensitive in the best way, so when he starts rubbing them you can’t help but feel your core heat up again.

“Spread your legs hun,” he whispers, barely able to hear it over the running water. You do as satoru tells you, and he runs his hands down from your chest to your folds, making sure the area is soapy and clean. Your eyes close, leaning your head back against his chest while he massages your slightly tender pussy.

You take this opportunity to reach behind you, grabbing your husbands hardened shaft, and lining it up with your slick cunt.

“Baby…” he groans, voice laced with concern.

“Shhh, it’s okay I’m going to take care of you,” you answer back and with that, push yourself back onto his cock. You both moan in unison at the connection, like a melody between the differences in your voices. You can tell Satoru is tired by his rather lazy thrusts, so you hold onto the shower wall in front of you, fucking yourself back onto him. He is back there whining and groaning uncontrollably, being such a trooper for letting you do this experiment on him.

He puts his hand over yours on the wall, while snaking his other around your waist and under you to rub at your swollen clit. Immediately when he touches it you gasp, not realizing just how sensitive it was from this evening’s fun.

“-hmygod, don’t squeeze me like that,” Satoru whimpers, you turn your head to the side to see his eyes squeezed shut, a blush covering his whole face and chest, and his abs flexing over and over.

Seeing your hot husband so worked up is just the ammunition you needed to finish this last round. You ask him to sit on the little stone bench you have in the shower, which the two of you don’t utilize enough. He sits and you turn around, reverse cowgirl, and bounce up and down with as much energy as you can.

You didn’t even realize how loud your own moans had gotten, his hands on your waist, with yours resting on his knees.

“Please Satoru, let go for me, cum for me please,” you babble and moan with your head empty. Satoru is completely pussy drunk and fucked out in a way you’ve never seen him before.

“Love you ‘Toru,” you moan out as you reach your last peak and the combination of words and friction send him over the edge. He nearly convulses, gripping your hips to the point it actually kind of hurts. No moans, whimpers, or grunts can even come out of his mouth at this point, his jaw is just slack and eyes pressed shut.

You still on his lap, he leans forward and presses his head against your shoulder, and you think you may have made him pass out.

“Babe, cmn, let’s get you out of the shower.” You stand up turning around to see your husband in all his glory, looking half dead on the shower bench with his cock softened and red. You give him and yourself one more rinse over to get the last rounds residue off and turn the water off. You help Satoru stand, although nearly a head above your height, he wraps his arms around your shoulders and lets you guide him out. You wrap his fluffy extra large towel around him and he slowly grabs the edges, just standing there letting water drip off and making no attempt to dry himself. You wrap your hair in a towel, and quickly dry your body off, tired yes, but not nearly as worn out as your husband.

You look over to him, head thrown back, holding onto the towel. You decide to pamper him for the rest of the evening, drying him off, putting his usual hair product in for him, helping him put on a clean pair of boxer briefs and crawl into bed. It’s not even 8 pm and the sun is just starting to set, you giggle but he hasn’t eaten dinner since being home from work. For christs sake he hasn’t had dessert either. He rolls onto his side scrolling through his phone as you get yourself dressed and brush through your hair.

You kiss his forehead and he tiredly smiles up at you. “Thank you babe,” you whisper, “you helped me prove that article wrong.”

His eyes roll jokingly, “well thanks to your damn article I don’t think my dick is going to work for a few days, so who’s loss is it really?”

You ignore his question, “do you want takeout babe? Are you hungry?”

“Can I just have ice cream..?” He squints up at you like a kid asking their parent to have dessert without finishing their vegetables.

“I guess..” it’s your turn to roll your eyes at him, “stay here I know how you like it.” That brings a smile to his face, snuggling into your cozy bed.

You leave the room to head to the kitchen and Satoru goes back on his phone. He googles the doctors name from the article that he noted to himself earlier and finds the email address.

Dear Doctor Yeager,

Please note that my partner and I experimented after reading your article, and I would like to inform you I am an outlier, and finished four times before nearly passing out. If you would like to do any tests on me please let me know.

- world famous Satoru Gojo

he pushes the send button as you walk back in with his ice cream.