Saturo Gojo X Reader - Tumblr Posts

This chapter is ✨perfection✨

symptoms and causes | ch. 15

pairing — professor gojo x med student reader

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.

word count — 10.9 k

warnings — 18+ ONLY. contains explicit sexual content, substance abuse/addiction, overdosing, dark and mature themes, self-destructive and abusive behavior, manipulation, moral ambiguity, borderline insane behavior by all involved, heavy angst, panic attacks, (family) trauma, anger issues, fire incident, mentions of death, illness, abuse, and blood, graphic injuries and medical procedures. reader discretion is advised.

author's note — hey people, a new chapter yay !! i dont have much to say this time, other than enjoy and thank you for your support and patience. & turn up the music for the second half of the chapter :)

series masterlist + playlist + ao3 + wattpad

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Satoru's hands skimmed over your thighs.

His touch was feather-light as he made his way up to your hips. He gripped them gently, his fingers tracing the faint outlines of the red marks on your skin, making you shiver.

His hands continued their lazy exploration, wandering upwards, tracing the curve of your waist, the dip of your stomach, before ghosting over the bandages around your waist. Each touch was a whisper against the burns beneath his fingertips.

He pulled you closer, your back arching into him as he wrapped a hand around your throat. His grip was gentle but firm, his thumb tracing the line of your carotid artery as he tilted your head back against his shoulder. 

The early morning was quiet, the only sounds were the rustle of the sheets beneath you and the soft, shared breaths that filled the room as Satoru thrust into you. Slowly, lazily. As if he had all the time in the world to savor the feeling of your body against his.

Your hands were still tangled in the sheets, but you managed to free one, reaching up to wrap it around Satoru's neck. You pulled him closer, his lips finding the curve of your neck, his teeth grazing your throat as he moaned against your skin.

You could feel his body straining, his muscles tense as he fought to maintain the slow, lazy pace. His grip on your throat tightened as he pulled you closer still. His moans grew louder, his body stiffening behind you. 

Then, he suddenly rolled over, pulling you with him. It took your sleepy mind a second to catch up, but your body adjusted quickly, your legs wrapping around his hips as you settled on top of him.

Satoru's eyes were still half-lidded, the drowsy haze clinging to his gaze as it met yours. His hands found your hips and guided you into a slow rhythm. He couldn't seem to look away, his eyes locked with yours as he let out a soft, weary moan.

"God, you look so beautiful like this," he breathed.

His hands slid up your body to cradle your face. You leaned down, your hair falling around his face like a curtain. Satoru's fingers tangled in your hair, pulling you closer for a kiss. It was sloppy and messy, your lips sliding against each other in a lazy, wet tangle. 

You began to move faster, your hips rolling in a more insistent rhythm, chasing the high that was building between you.

Satoru's eyes drew together, a moan escaping his lips as he broke the kiss for a second. You pulled back from his lips, a thread of saliva stretching between you before breaking. His head tilted back, his neck arching as he let out a throaty moan.

His hands tightened on your hips, his fingers digging deeper into your skin as he tried to pull you closer. "Ah, fuck," he whispered. "You're so... ah, god." His words were lost in a moan as you picked up speed. 

Satoru's hands slid up to your waist, his fingers tracing the curve of your ribs beneath the soft cloth as he arched into you, his hips meeting yours. His half-lidded eyes never left yours, his gaze smoldering as he watched you move above him.

He then shifted, one hand behind his head, elbow bent as he looked up at you with a languid, sleepy gaze. His pupils were dilated, his mouth slightly parted as his moans filled the air, his chest rising and falling with shaky breaths.

You could feel his body begin to tense, his muscles tightening as he thrust into you, his hips meeting yours. His moans grew louder, more urgent, his head falling back again, his neck straining as he surrendered to the pleasure. 

You felt yourself getting closer, too. 

You leaned back, dragging his cock along your inner wall, your head falling back as you let out a soft moan, your body moving in perfect harmony with his. Your hair cascaded down your back like a waterfall, and Satoru's eyes lazily opened, his gaze locking onto yours as he watched you.

"Fuck, I need you to come on me, love," Satoru breathed, his hand drifting down, fingers brushing against his mouth. He wet them with a quick flick of his tongue before bringing them to your body, finding that sensitive spot. "I need to feel you come on me."

His fingers circled your clit, the touch sending shivers through you. He teased the spot just above where your bodies were joined.

A rush of heat hit you as his fingers worked their magic. "Fuck, Satoru," you moaned, head thrown back, as he continued to circle and tease. His touch was gentle, but it was more than enough to send you spiraling.

You rode him harder, your body moving faster as Satoru's fingers drove you closer to the edge. His eyes were locked on yours, his gaze burning as he watched you. His mouth was slightly open, his chest rising and falling with each deep breath.

"Ah, god," he whispered, his voice barely there. "You're so close. I can feel it. Come for me, love. Come all over me."

His words sent you flying over the edge. 

Heat crashed over you, your body tensing as you came. Your breath caught, a low, keening sound escaping you, echoing through the room. Satoru's fingers kept circling, slower now, his thumb moving just slightly when you twitched, prolonging your high.

As the final waves of your orgasm faded, your head fell forward, your hair cascading around your face. Your hands came to rest on Satoru's chest, fingers splayed out as you tried to catch your breath. You sat like that for a moment, your body trembling.

Satoru slowly sat up, his body shifting beneath you as he pulled you into his lap. You felt him twitch inside you. "You did so good for me," he whispered, his voice husky. "So good and so fucking beautiful when you come."

He leaned in to kiss you, his lips warm and gentle as they brushed against yours. But as he deepened the kiss, his tongue slid into your mouth, hot and wet, sending shivers down your spine as he explored your mouth.

A rush of need hit you once more as Satoru's tongue tangled with yours, his kiss growing deeper and more intense. His hands cradled your face, his fingers gentle as he held you in place. You felt like you were melting into him, your body yielding to his as he kissed you.

Suddenly, he moved. He brought you down to lay on your back, and you let yourself be guided, like water in his hands as he gently lay you down against the sheets.

As you settled into the mattress, Satoru's body followed, his chest pressing against yours as he continued to kiss you. You felt his hands move, his fingers tracing the curve of your body. His touch was gentle, soothing, before he gripped your thighs tightly to push them wide.

And then, he pushed inside you again, his hips pressing against yours as he filled you once more. His one hand was on your thigh, the other coming up near your head to steady himself.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he groaned. "I could fuck you like this all day."

He started to move, his moans growing louder once more, husky and needy, seeming to vibrate through every cell in your body. His eyes were closed, his face contorted in pleasure and concentration as he focused on the feeling of being inside you.

His body was tense, muscles flexed as he moved, his hips rolling in a slow, sensual rhythm that seemed to build with every passing second.

He leaned back on his knees, his body shifting as he draped one of your legs over his shoulder. The other leg was spread wide, your body open and exposed to him.

He looked down at you, his eyes glued to where your bodies were connected. You could see the heat in his gaze, the pleasure of watching himself disappear inside you as he slowly pushed himself deeper and deeper, his eyes never leaving the sight of his cock disappearing inside your body. "Fuck, you're so beautiful."

He reached out with one hand and pressed onto your lower stomach, his fingers splayed out as he felt the low bulge of his cock inside you. He savored the sensation, his eyes fluttering shut as he thrust into you.

And then, with a slow, deliberate movement, he came. His body tensed, muscles straining as he came. But instead of the usual quick, intense release, Satoru's orgasm seemed to be slow and drawn out.

He seemed to savor the sensation, drawing it out as he slowly thrust into you again and again. Satoru's head fell back, eyes closed, brows drawn together, his Adam's apple bobbing as his mouth hung open. 

A bit of sweat ran down his neck and chest, glistening in the dim light of the room as he seemed to milk his high for all it was worth, broken moans spilling from his lips.

You could feel his body trembling, his muscles twitching as he released his load inside you. You moaned, your voice barely audible as you felt his hot cum fill you.

As Satoru slowly came back down from his high, he caught his breath and pushed back his damp hair from his forehead. He looked at you with a lazy, satisfied grin. "Good morning, first-year."

You smiled back at him. "Good morning, professor."

Satoru chuckled, the sound husky. "Mm, I could get used to waking up like this." He leaned down to press a soft kiss to your lips. "Next to you, getting to fuck you like this."

His smile grew wider, eyes crinkling at the corners. He reached down and grasped his dick, fingers wrapping around his shaft as he slowly pulled out of you. His cum dripped out of you and onto the sheets as he pulled back.

Satoru watched for a second before his hand reached down and lazily let his fingers slide up and down your core, gathering his cum before pushing his fingers inside you. You moaned, the feeling on your still sensitive core almost too much.

He leaned down between your parted legs, his mouth lowering to your sex. His tongue flickered out, tasting you. Your thighs immediately clamped around his head, holding him in place as his tongue danced across your sensitive flesh. Your hands flew to his hair, gripping it tightly as you pulled him closer.

Satoru moaned, his breath hot against you as he continued to lick and suck at your clit, his fingers pumping lazily into you. You felt yourself getting wet all over again, your body responding to Satoru's touch like it was made for him.

You felt your body begin to tense again. You were going to come, and you knew it. Satoru's tongue was too skilled, too insistent, and you were too sensitive.

You tried to hold back, but it was no use. Your body betrayed you, releasing a flood of heat as you came again. Satoru's mouth was still on you, drinking in your juices as you rode out the waves of your orgasm.

As you came down from your high, Satoru slowly pulled back, his mouth leaving your sex with a soft pop. He looked up at you, eyes gleaming with satisfaction, as he licked his lips and smiled.

Just then the alarm clock went off. 

Satoru's eyes snapped towards the clock, his face contorting in annoyance and frustration. "Ah, damn it." He quickly reached over to silence the alarm. "No round two then." He groaned, his body flopping back onto the bed as he covered his face with his hands. 

"I don't want to get up," he said, his voice muffled by his palms.

You propped yourself up on your elbows, still trying to catch your breath. A playful smile tugged at your lips as you gently ran your hand up and down his still heavily rising chest. "Come on, professor. You have a class to teach, remember?"

"Don't remind me." Satoru's hands dropped away from his face, revealing a pair of bleary, sleep-deprived eyes. "And you have a class to attend, by the way." He looked at you. "And it's not gonna be easy."

You raised an eyebrow. "Oh yeah? And why's that?"

"Let's just say I'm planning a little surprise exam in neurology today."

"You can't scare me with neurology," you retorted, a playful challenge in your voice. "There's nothing I don't know."

Satoru's grin widened. "Oh really? Then it'll be fun to test your limits."

"Bring it on, professor. I'm not afraid of a little challenge."

"Oh really?" He leaned closer. With a swift movement, he pushed you back onto the bed, his hands reaching for your wrists, pinning them above your head. He leaned down, his face inches from yours. "Good. Because I plan on pushing you."

"I'm ready."

"Let's see about that. Just so you know, fucking the professor of this course is not going to get you extra credit."

"I wouldn't dream of."

He leaned in once more, capturing your lips in a final, lingering kiss. Then, with a reluctant sigh, he pulled away. "We should probably get going," he said. "Or we'll both be late."

─── ·✧· ───

You both scrambled to get ready. 

A quick shower, and then you found yourself in the kitchen, the tangy and bitter scent of coffee filling the air. You stood by the counter, your shirt tucked up under your arm, cradling a steaming mug in one hand while scrolling through the news on your phone with the other.

Satoru stood before you, his touch gentle as he carefully began to unwrap the bandage from your waist. You winced slightly, the fabric peeling away to reveal the tender skin beneath.

"Anything good in the news?" he asked, his attention focused on your injury.

You sipped your coffee, the bold flavor waking you up. "Let's see." You glanced at the headlines. "Some new study about gut bacteria and mental health, updates on solar panel rules..." You paused, a grin tugging at your lips. "Oh, and apparently there's a cucumber shortage in Iceland."

Satoru snorted. "A cucumber shortage? Now that's a real crisis."

"Yeah, something about some TikTok guy promoting cucumber salads," you explained, still scrolling. "Seems it got a bit out of hand."

"People sure find ways to keep themselves busy, don't they?" He looked up at you, his eyes meeting yours, a softness in his gaze. "Your burns are looking way better, healing faster than I thought."

You smiled. "Well, they were in good hands."

"Wow, a compliment from you? I'm honored." Satoru grinned, snatching your coffee mug and taking a sip before handing it back. You rolled your eyes playfully as he continued tending to your burns. "So, how's the stock market looking today?" he asked casually.

"Wait." Switching to a financial news app, you scanned the headlines and charts. "Hmm, looks like the tech sector is taking a hit. Everyone's still nervous about the election and whether the Fed's gonna lower the interest rates. Are you invested in anything?"

"Yeah, a little bit of everything, Nvidia, AMD, Apple," Satoru mused, his fingers gentle on your skin.

"Looks like Nvidia's down again," you noted, holding up your phone for him to see. "Even after surpassing their quarterly goals."

"Huh." Satoru looked at the screen. "People always want more. The company's already overperforming, but apparently not enough to satisfy the market."

You took another sip from your coffee. "Maybe you should diversify your portfolio more, branch out from tech a bit."

"Ah, it's not really important. It's play money anyway," he shrugged, securing the bandage with a final touch. "It's more for fun."

"You're really the only person who would invest in the stock market just for fun." You eyed him wearily. "Do I even want to know how much money we're talking about?"

Satoru flashed a grin. "Probably best if you don't." He reached for his pill bottle, shaking out a single pill. 

One. 

Not two. 

Stable dose. No sedatives. You talked about it. He popped it into his mouth before leaning in to kiss you, the bitter taste lingering on his tongue as it met yours, letting you taste it.

You gave Dog a quick belly rub and a reassuring pat on the head before grabbing your bag and heading out the door with Satoru.

In the car, you donned a pair of sunglasses and a baseball cap, hoping to blend in. Satoru raised an eyebrow. "You know, it's not really sunny today."

You glanced at him over your sunglasses. "It's not about the sun, stupid. Wouldn't want to be caught with my professor right before class, would I?

"Fair enough. But maybe ditch the cap with the giant logo of the university I went to, complete with my graduation year on the back. It's a bit of a giveaway." He paused, a playful grin spreading across his face. "Although, I have to admit, you look rather adorable in it."

You rolled your eyes. "Just focus on the road, Professor. Oh, and can we stop by my apartment later today? I need to get my car."

"Sure," he said easily.

A few blocks away from the university, you asked Satoru to pull over. "I'll walk the rest of the way," you said, stepping out of the car. "Wouldn't want anyone seeing us arrive together."

"Alright," he said, leaning over to give you a quick kiss on the cheek. "Good luck with the exam, first-year."

You smiled, your hand resting on the car door. "Don't be too hard on me, Professor."

"I remember times you liked me being very hard with—"

Before he could finish his sentence, you closed the car door, leaving him with a final wave before turning and heading towards the university building, the morning sun warm on your face. 

─── ·✧· ───

You were already out of breath, when the familiar brick facade of the university building loomed ahead. You'd underestimated the distance from where Satoru had dropped you off. You looked quickly at your phone. Shit. You were so late.

Bursting through the auditorium doors, you scanned the room, your breath hitching in your throat. Relief washed over you as you spotted Maki, Yuta, and Toge huddled together in their usual spot near the back. Yuta waved you over.

You tiptoed down the aisle, your heart pounding. Just as you were about to slide into the empty seat beside Yuta, a smooth voice cut through the air, stopping you in your tracks.

"You're late."

You turned to see Satoru standing at the whiteboard, his back to you as he scribbled something with a pen. His other hand was casually tucked into his pocket, the picture of nonchalance.

"Sorry, Professor Gojo," you said.

You tried to continue your journey to the back row, but he turned around, his gaze pinning you in place. "I hope it was something important."

"Huh?" 

The whole auditorium now looked at you.

"The reason you're late," he fucker said, as if he didn't know exactly why you were late, as if he hadn't just cum in you not 30 minutes ago.

"Really important, yeah."

"Don't make this a habit." He turned back to the whiteboard, leaving you to navigate the gauntlet of curious stares as you finally reached your friends.

That fucker will never get morning sex again.

You slid into the seat next to Yuta, who helpfully pointed to the relevant page in his open textbook. Maki leaned over, her voice barely a whisper. "Someone's a little late for class," she teased, a sly grin on her face.

"I got held up."

"By a certain handsome professor, perhaps?" Yuta chimed in.

You shot him a glare. "No comment."

Maki and Yuta exchanged a knowing look. "Oh, come on," Maki prodded, nudging your arm playfully. "You're living with him now, what did you expect?"

Toge leaned over too. "Hickey."

"Huh?" You blinked, confused, then all three of them suddenly stared at your neck. Your hand flew to your neck, and you quickly pulled out your phone, using the screen as a mirror. Shit. "It's not what you think."

Maki chuckled. "Oh, we know exactly what we think." Just then, a small package of gummy bears landed with a soft thump on her head.

Startled, the three of you snapped towards the front of the lecture hall. There stood Satoru, a wicked gleam in his eyes and more gummy bear packages in his hand.

"Zenin," Satoru's voice boomed through the lecture hall, "perhaps you'd like to enlighten us on the role of the locus coeruleus in the modulation of arousal and attention, and how its dysfunction contributes to the pathophysiology of neuropsychiatric disorders."

All eyes in the auditorium darted to Maki. 

She cleared her throat, a bit flustered but game. "Well, the locus coeruleus is the primary source of norepinephrine in the brain, which is a key neurotransmitter involved in regulating arousal and attention..." She continued to explain, but stumbled slightly when detailing the specific mechanisms of dysfunction.

Another student eagerly raised her hand. "Professor, if I may add..." She proceeded to fill in the gaps Maki had left in her answer.

Satoru nodded, tossing a gummy bear package in her direction. Then he turned back to Maki with a raised eyebrow. "Zenin, it seems your attention might be better focused on the lecture than on extracurricular gossip."

Maki's cheeks flushed a bright pink, and Yuta couldn't help but burst into laughter. She elbowed him in the ribs, but his amusement was short-lived. A split second later, a gummy bear package bounced off his own head.

It seemed Satoru was on a roll, and no one was safe from his gummy bear inquisition. How unfortunate that he was a former basketball player and really good at aiming.

Satoru's voice boomed once again, "Okkotsu, since you seem to find this so entertaining, perhaps you'd care to explain the role of the hippocampus in memory consolidation and retrieval, with a specific focus on the distinction between declarative and procedural memory?"

Yuta's laughter died in his throat as he scrambled to gather his thoughts. 

"The, uh... the hippocampus is crucial for... for memory formation, right?" he began hesitantly. "It helps convert short-term memories into long-term ones..." He stumbled over a few technical terms, but to everyone's surprise, he managed to piece together a coherent, if somewhat rambling, answer.

Satoru raised an eyebrow, a flicker of genuine surprise crossing his face. "Not bad, Okkotsu." With a flick of his wrist, another gummy bear package soared through the air, landing perfectly in Yuta's outstretched hand.

Maki, rubbing her head where the sweets had landed, muttered under her breath, "He's conditioning us, like we're Pavlov's dogs or something."

"You're med students," Satoru suddenly announced to the entire class, his voice laced with amusement. "You're all puppies until you can stand on your own two feet. Until then, I'm conditioning you, yes." His grin widened. "Shall we continue?"

And with that, the relentless questioning resumed. 

Satoru fired off complex questions about neuroanatomy, pharmacology, and clinical cases, keeping the entire class on their toes. Each correct answer was rewarded with a tossed gummy bear package.

You couldn't help but notice he'd been going a bit easy on you. Or maybe he was just saving his hardest for later. You had a feeling it was the latter.

Satoru's gaze swept across the room. "Alright, let's kick things up a notch. Who can explain the potential role of biomimetic nanovesicles in the treatment of brain diseases?"

A hush fell over the auditorium as students frantically flipped through their notes. A few hands tentatively rose, then quickly retreated as the complexity of the question sank in.

Satoru's smile faded slightly. "No one knows this? Come on, people, this is basic neurology."

"Basic neurology my ass," Maki muttered under her breath. "Who the hell knows this stuff?"

His eyes landed on you. You knew that look. He knew that you knew the answer. You met his gaze for a moment before looking up at the ceiling, pretending to contemplate the intricate patterns of the light fixtures.

A grin tugged at Satoru's lips as he tossed a gummy bear package your way. It bounced off your head with a soft thump. Of course.

"You've been awfully quiet today," Satoru's voice boomed through the lecture hall. "First, you're late, and now you're keeping your wisdom to yourself. Care to share your insights?"

You sighed, straightening up in your chair. "Biomimetic nanovesicles, or BNVs, offer a promising avenue for addressing the challenges of drug delivery and diagnosis in brain diseases."

Yuta groaned beside you, dramatically dropping his forehead onto the desk. "Why do you always know this stuff?"

You half-expected another gummy bear package to come flying your way, but instead, Satoru nodded, perching on the edge of his desk. "Go on."

Of course, you thought with a wry smile. "Well, due to the blood-brain barrier, getting therapeutics into the brain is notoriously difficult. But BNVs, particularly endogenous extracellular vesicles derived from cells, have shown an ability to cross this barrier."

"And how exactly do these BNVs accomplish that?"

"They possess unique surface properties," you explained, "that allow them to interact with and even fuse with the cells of the blood-brain barrier, effectively smuggling their cargo across."

Satoru raised an eyebrow. "Their cargo? You mean drugs?"

"Not just drugs," you countered. "They can also carry diagnostic agents, allowing for targeted imaging and disease monitoring. Plus, they can even carry genetic material for potential gene therapy applications."

"Impressive," Satoru said. "And what are some of the specific brain diseases that they could potentially target?"

You launched into a detailed explanation, covering everything from brain tumors and neurodegenerative diseases to cerebrovascular diseases and brain injuries. You laid out the complex ways these diseases affect the brain, and how BNVs could be tailored to fight them.

Your classmates were hanging on your every word, eyes wide. Well, most of them. Yuta was lightly banging his head against the desk in mock frustration, Maki had long since tuned out and was scrolling through her phone, and Toge was probably asleep.

And Satoru? He was watching you with an intensity that either was fascination or he wanted to undress you. Perhaps both. 

When you finished, there was a moment of silence. 

Then Satoru laughed, a low, rumbling sound that sent a shiver down your spine. "I see someone did their homework." He pushed off the desk, reaching for a gummy bear package, but then paused. "One last question. How can we ensure the safety and efficacy of these BNVs in clinical applications?"

"The usual. Preclinical testing in animal models. Understanding their biodistribution, how they're broken down, and any potential toxicity. Careful patient selection and monitoring," you said curtly.

Satoru's eyebrows furrowed slightly. "The usual? You're not considering more specific approaches? You know that BNVs can interact with unintended targets in the brain and cause unforeseen complications?"

"That's a valid concern, Professor. But sometimes, taking risks is necessary. People are dying from these brain diseases every day. Shouldn't we be willing to explore every option, even if it involves some uncertainty?"

Satoru's expression hardened, his jaw clenching. "And who gets to decide what level of risk is acceptable? You?"

You flinched back. "No, I mean—"

He stood up straighter, his voice echoing through the lecture hall. "While your passion is admirable, we must never forget the ethical implications of our actions. It is not our place to play with human lives in the pursuit of progress. Every medical intervention carries risks, and we must always weigh those risks against the potential benefits."

His gaze swept across the room, his words carrying a weight that silenced the entire class. Then his eyes landed on you once more. "We are scientists, not gods. Patients die, no matter how hard we try. The sooner you accept that, the better a doctor you will be." 

The silence that followed was heavy.

The bell rang.

No gummy bear package came your way.

You sat back in your seat. Oh he was clearly never getting morning sex ever again.

─── ·✧· ───

After class, you told your friends to go ahead, saying you needed a quick word with Professor Gojo. They waved, promising to save you a seat at your usual spot. You waited until the last student shuffled out, the lecture hall falling quiet.

Turning back, you approached Satoru, who was still behind his desk, shuffling through notes. You stood across from him, arms crossed, your gaze unwavering.

"You were brilliant today," he said, not looking up. "Not that I expected anything less."

"What was that about?" you asked, your voice sharp.

He finally looked up, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. "What do you mean?"

"The whole 'playing god' lecture."

"It's something I cover every year with my students."

"And you had to use me as an example?"

A hint of a smile played on his lips, but it didn't reach his eyes. "You're the only one who wouldn't burst into tears if the great Dr. Gojo called them out."

"So I was just a teaching tool?"

"Should I have picked on Maki instead?" He rounded the desk, perching on the edge. "You know she takes everything to heart. She'd be agonizing over it for days." He twirled a pen between his fingers, the movement smooth. "Or Yuta? He's got potential, but he's still a bit green. I wouldn't want to shake his confidence. Or Mina? That girl's so eager to please, she'd probably start crying on the spot."

You watched him, the anger slowly fading. It was hard to stay mad when he looked at you with that knowing smirk. He knew you understood his point. He set the pen down, his gaze holding yours.

"Come here," he said softly, extending his hand.

You hesitated for a moment, but the warmth in his eyes drew you in. You stepped closer, placing your hand in his. His fingers intertwined with yours, his thumb gently brushing the back of your hand. "I'm sorry if I put you on the spot," he said. "But you handled it beautifully, as always."

"You're lucky I'm thick-skinned."

"That you are," he agreed. "How else could you keep up with my antics?" His lips twitched into a smile then. "Besides, someone needs to keep you in check, you know. I think your ego might rival mine by now."

"Oh, please. My ego is nowhere near as inflated as you—"

Before you could finish your sentence, he tugged your wrist, pulling you close until your chest pressed against his. His eyes, now serious, searched yours. "What was that?"

"I said my ego is nowhere—"

He cut you off, swiftly turning you around and lifting you onto the edge of his desk. You gasped as he leaned over you, forcing you to lie back, his hands framing your hips, caging you in. One hand slid up your thigh, pushing your skirt higher.

He leaned in, his face inches from yours, his voice a husky whisper. "That's not how a student should talk to her professor."

"And how should a student talk to her professor?" you challenged, tilting your chin up to meet his gaze.

His gaze dropped to your neck, lingering on the hickey. A smirk played on his lips. "With respect. And perhaps a bit of...admiration."

"And what if I don't feel particularly respectful or admiring at the moment?"

Satoru leaned closer, his lips brushing yours, his fingers tracing the hickey mark gently. "Then perhaps," he whispered, "I'll have to teach you a lesson."

Just then, his phone vibrated in his pocket. With a sigh he pulled away slightly, fishing out his phone. "Hold that thought," he said. He answered the call, his tone shifting to a professional one.

"Hey, Higurama, what is it?"

You remained perched on the desk, beneath his muscular chest, his loosened tie dangling above you. You couldn't resist playing with the fabric, twisting it absently between your fingers.

"Yeah, fine with me... Listen, can I call you back later?" He glanced down at you. "I'm in a bit of a... difficult position right now." You heard a muffled sigh from the other end of the line before Satoru hung up.

"What was that about?" you asked.

"It's about the ethics committee," he said, his voice slightly strained. "The meeting's been moved up to three weeks from now."

You propped yourself up on your elbows. "What did he say?"

"It's fine. Higurama just wants to go over things, make sure we're prepared... in case something goes wrong."

You reached up, cupping his cheek gently. "Nothing will go wrong."

He leaned into your touch, then turned his head to bite playfully into your palm. "With you by my side, of course not." He straightened up, releasing you and adjusting his clothes. "God, I can't wait for this to be over. I miss surgeries." He stepped back and adjusted his pants. "And fuck, I'm hard again, too."

You sat up on the edge of the desk, watching him struggle to rearrange himself. "Are you good?"

He met your gaze, knowing you didn't mean the mess in his pants. "Yeah, I'm good. Just this stupid trial, and then it's over, right?"

"We stick to the plan, right?" you reminded him, your voice firm. "We've been together since the project started, nothing strange happened, we were together before that. And then we split. Nothing's happening anymore."

"Something's definitely happening," he muttered, still fighting with his belt.

"Satoru, I'm serious."

He stopped, his gaze locking with yours. "And so am I."

"We can do this," you said. "And it will be fine. Nothing will happen."

"Just this last fight?"

"Just this last fight," you echoed, even as guilt stabbed at your heart.

His eyes searched your face. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Because you seem like there's something on your mind."

"No," you lied, "it's nothing."

He smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. 

"What is it?" you asked.

"I can't wait to get hurt by you again," he said. "Best fix I can get."

"You're imagining things."

"And you're lying."

"It's nothing important."

"Like your bruises?" His voice was sharp now, cutting through the pretense.

You paused for a beat. "Trust me on this."

He sighed, his shoulders slumping. "One last time?"

"One last time," you echoed.

─── ·✧· ───

The afternoon sun, a pale imitation of its summer glory, cast long shadows across the campus courtyard. A crisp autumn breeze whispered through the trees, carrying the scent of fallen leaves and the promise of colder days to come. 

You lay sprawled on your back atop the familiar half-wall, your head resting on Maki's lap. The worn stone was cool against your skin, contrasting with the warmth of Maki's thighs. She stroked your hair absently, her other hand holding her phone, eyes glued to the screen.

Toge sat beside Maki, his eyes also glued to his phone screen as he played some video game on it. Yuta perched on the wall's edge, his legs swinging idly as he munched on the gummy bears Satoru had bestowed upon him during the lecture.

"Honestly," you groaned, "how many more of those do you have?"

Yuta shrugged, the crinkling of the candy wrapper punctuating his nonchalance. "Plenty. Want one?"

You groaned again. Maybe you were a tad salty about being Satoru's example during the lecture. You didn't even get any gummy bear reward in the end.

Maki chuckled, her fingers threading through your hair. "Someone's a little grumpy today. Didn't you have a great start to your morning?" 

"I'm not grumpy," you protested. "Just... annoyed."

"Same difference," Maki said.

"Gojo was on fire today," Yuta said, offering you a gummy bear. You took it, even though you swore you wouldn't. "Please don't sleep with him anymore if this is what comes out of it."

"Don't worry, not gonna happen again."

"Speaking of Gojo," Maki said, pausing her hair-petting for a second, "what's the plan for Naoya exactly? His party is this weekend, right?"

You slowly sat up, bracing your hands on the wall. "The plan is... we go in, find something, and get out without Naoya noticing."

"That's not a plan at all," Yuta said, deadpan.

"Yeah," Toge mumbled, eyes glued to his video game.

"Well," you sighed, snagging another gummy bear from Yuta's open hands, "the plan is more of a...rough sketch at this point."

Yuta raised an eyebrow. "That's reassuring."

"We know Naoya's hiding something," Maki said. "We just need to find it. And something tells me it'll be fun."

"Easier said than done," Yuta pointed out. "His parties are always packed. How are we supposed to snoop around without getting caught?"

Toge finally looked up from his game. "Split up."

"Yeah," you agreed. "Maybe we can create a distraction, or split up and cover more ground."

Maki's eyes narrowed. "Are you going to tell Gojo?"

You hesitated for a second. "No, I can't tell him. It would hurt him too much."

"You know it's not right to lie to him," Maki said softly.

"I know. But I have to."

Yuta sighed, reaching for another gummy bear and shoving it into your mouth. "I'm sure it will turn out alright. I mean, what's the worst that could happen?"

─── ·✧· ───

Saturday arrived earlier than you expected.

And Satoru, surprisingly, offered little resistance to your movie plans with Maki. He'd raised a curious eyebrow at first, but the sight of the actual movie tickets (for a movie you had no intention of watching) seemed to satisfy him. You mentioned the possibility of hitting up a small bar afterward, adding that he shouldn't wait up.

Before he went for his daily run with Dog (he still doesn't have a name), he pulled you close, his hand settling on the small of your back. He kissed you. Innocently enough, but quickly escalated because, well, it's Satoru.

"Do you have to look so damn good when you're going out without me?"

"You can help me get out of this dress later," you replied.

The day before, you'd retrieved your car from the charred remains of your apartment. Now, you were on your way to pick up Maki and the others. As you pulled up to Naoya's ridiculously pretentious mansion, a wave of nervousness washed over you.

It was time to put your master plan into action. The only problem was that there was no master plan. Not really. More like a vague idea and a whole lot of hope.

The car rolled to a stop a not-so-discreet distance from Naoya's house, which looked like it belonged to a celebrity. You all leaned forward, half your bodies practically draped over the dashboard, staring at the monstrosity.

"Remind me again why this fucker is suing Dr. Handsome for so much cash when he's got a house like this?" Maki asked, her nose practically pressed against the window.

Yuta snorted. "Because he's a rich, whiny kid with too much time on his hands?"

"Probably," Toge and you said in unison.

"Anyway," Maki said, waving off the question. She reached into her bag and produced four tiny, colorful liquor bottles, shoving one into each of your hands. "Bottoms up, bitches. We're about to have a very interesting night."

You eyed the bottle suspiciously. "Maki, this looks like something you'd find in a gas station bathroom."

She grinned. "That's because it probably is. Now shut up and drink. We've got a rich kid to expose."

You unscrewed the cap, bracing yourself, and downed the mystery liquid in one gulp. It burned all the way down, leaving a questionable aftertaste.

Yeah. 

What could possibly go wrong?

─── ·✧· ───

Moments later, you stepped into Naoya's mansion, and it was like walking into a scene from a twisted fever dream. The place was heaving with bodies, packed so tightly you could barely move, and the music was so loud you could feel it vibrating in your bones.

It was like a frat party on steroids, no, acid, with a heavy dose of rich kid debauchery thrown in for good measure. The air was thick with the pungent scent of sweat, alcohol, weed, and God knows what else.

Everywhere you looked, there was something wild and depraved going on. Partygoers swarmed every available surface, grinding against each other like they were trying to merge into one sweaty, writhing mass. A couple was making out so intensely, you were pretty sure they were going to need a room soon. 

In one corner, a group of guys were doing keg stands, the crowd chanting and screaming as they chugged beer like their lives depended on it. 

In another, a gaggle of scantily-clad girls were snorting lines of something off a polished marble table you didn’t want to question further. And was that a fucking live band playing on a stage in the living room?

"Holy shit," Yuta said, his eyes wide as he took in the scene. "This is insane."

"Insane," Toge agreed.

Maki grinned, already bobbing her head to the music. "This is exactly the kind of chaos we needed. Let's go find Naoya's room and see what dirt we can dig up."

You weaved through the throngs of people, dodging flailing limbs and trying not to slip on the spilled drinks that coated the floor. As you pushed deeper into the house, the chaos only grew more intense and surreal. 

You squeezed through the dance floor between bodies writhing and undulating, the strobe lights casting jagged shadows across their faces.

"Okay, if I were a spoiled rich asshole, where would I hide my deepest, darkest secrets?" Maki mused as you climbed the stairs, stepping over a couple making out on the steps.

Yuta snorted. "Probably in a safe hidden behind a tacky portrait of himself."

You couldn't help but laugh at the mental image. "Let's just start with his bedroom and see what we can find."

But before you could even reach the top of the stairs, a familiar face appeared in front of you, blocking your path. It was Aoi, a classmate from your university who somehow seemed to materialize at every party.

"Yooooo, what's good, fam?" he slurred, his eyes glazed and his grin sloppy. "Where y'all sneaking off to? The party's just getting started!"

You exchanged a panicked look with your friends, trying to come up with an excuse on the spot. "We were just looking for the bathroom," you stammered, wincing at how lame it sounded.

Aoi's grin widened. "All of you at the same time?”

Yuta laughed awkwardly, trying to play it off. "Yeah, we're like super close friends.”

You shot him a look, one eyebrow raised.

Aoi laughed. "Forget the bathroom, come get a drink with me first!" He grabbed your arm and Maki's, his grip strong, and started dragging you back down the stairs. Yuta and Toge had no choice but to follow, exchanging helpless looks behind Aoi's back.

Before you knew it, you were in the kitchen, surrounded by even more drunk partygoers. The place looked like a war zone, every surface cluttered with empty bottles, sticky solo cups, and liquids you didn’t want to question.

A group of girls were clustered around the island, doing shots and shrieking with laughter at some unheard joke, their voices shrill and grating.

It was chaos, pure and simple.

Aoi grabbed a half-empty bottle of something dark and potent-looking, sloshing it around with a grin. "What's your poison?" he shouted over the deafening music.

“Anything will do," you said.

"Oh damn, we got a badass over here," he smirked. He uncapped the bottle, which you now saw was rum, and splashed a generous amount into a red solo cup, topping it off with a splash of cola. 

He shoved the cup into your hand, then quickly filled three more for Maki, Toge, and Yuta, the noxious mixture sloshing over the sides. "Drink up!" he said, raising his own cup in a sloppy toast.

You all eyed the hideous mixture, each of you thinking the same thing: this mission was going to be tougher than you thought. But before you could take a sip, a voice cut through the noise of the party. 

"Oh, look who decided to crash my party."

You turned to see Naoya standing in the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest and a sneer twisting his scarred face.

Maki took a defiant swig of her drink, barely suppressing a gag at the burn of the alcohol. "We weren't crashing. We were invited."

Naoya raised an eyebrow. "Really? By whom, exactly?"

Yuta stepped forward. "Does it matter? We're here now, so deal with it."

Naoya stalked towards you, his eyes locked on yours with predatory intensity. "Oh, it matters," he said. "Because I don't recall inviting a bunch of wannabe doctors to my party."

You met his gaze unflinchingly. "At least I've actually been inside an OR as part of the surgical team, unlike you," you fired back, your eyes raking over his scarred face. "I mean, the only time you've seen the inside of an operating room was when you were lying on the table, getting all that plastic surgery to try and fix that mangled mug of yours. Too bad it didn't take, huh?"

Naoya's eyes flashed with rage, the scars on his face, remnants from Satoru's brutal assault, twisting into an ugly sneer. For a moment, the tension was so thick you could've cut it with a scalpel, and you thought he might actually take a swing at you. 

But then he laughed, the sound harsh and humorless.

"You've got quite the mouth on you, don't you?" he said, his tone dripping with venom. "But you're in way over your head here, little girl. I suggest you and your little playmates finish your drinks and fuck off before you start something you can't finish."

You stepped forward. "What, you're not gonna try to roofie me this time, asshole?” 

Naoya's lip curled in disgust, his scarred face contorting into a mask. "Please, I would never fuck you, not even for money."

"Big talk from a guy who has to drug women just to get laid," you said. "I guess when you look like that, you take what you can get, huh?"

Naoya's face flushed an ugly shade of red. "You fucking bitch—"

But before he could finish his sentence, a football came hurtling out of nowhere, spiraling through the air. Naoya's eyes widened in surprise and he instinctively threw up his hands, snatching the ball out of the air just inches from his scarred face.

Then, as if on cue, a rowdy pack of meatheads in letterman jackets came barreling through the crowd, whooping and hollering like a bunch of drunken douchebags.

"Yo, Naoya!" one of them yelled, his words slurred together in a barely intelligible mess. "Nice fuckin' catch, bro!"

Naoya's face split into a cocky grin, his anger momentarily forgotten as he tossed the ball back with a casual flick of his wrist. "You know me. Ain't nothing gets past me."

The jocks guffawed, jostling each other and pounding Naoya on the back with meaty fists. "Yo, we need our boy for the next round of beer pong!" one of them yelled, already dragging Naoya towards the crowded backyard. "Can't have a fuckin' tournament without you!"

Naoya hesitated for a split second, glancing back at you and your friends. For a moment, you thought he might shrug off his pals and continue his interrogation. But then his signature smirk slid back into place, as greasy and insincere as ever.

"Duty calls," he said with an exaggerated wink that made your skin crawl. "But don't think for a second that this shit is over. I'll be keepin' my eye on you little wannabe doctors, so y'all best behave yourselves, feel me?"

With that, he allowed himself to be dragged away by his posse of howling primates, disappearing into the seething mass of sweat-soaked bodies. You let out a shaky breath, your heart still racing.

"Well, that was intense," Yuta said, running a hand through his hair. "I thought for sure he was going to punch you or something."

You shrugged. "Naoya's all talk. He's not going to risk messing up his plastic surgery any more than he already has.”

Maki snorted, downing the rest of her toxic cocktail in one long pull. "Yeah, well, I still wouldn't put anything past that psycho.”

Suddenly, the eardrum-shattering music cut out, replaced by the DJ's over-hyped voice booming through the speakers.

"Alright, alright, alright!" he screamed. "Y'all motherfuckers ready to crank this shit up to the next level or what?"

The crowd roared back in drunken approval, a seething mass of hormones and bad decisions just waiting to be unleashed. The DJ cackled, his gold fronts glinting in the strobing lights. 

"Then let's fuckin' gooooooo!" he howled. "I wanna see every single one of you beautiful people on the dance floor!”

The music kicked back in, the bass thumping so hard you could feel it in your bones like a second heartbeat. The party, already chaotic, descended into pure madness. 

People clambered up onto every available surface, dancing on tables, hanging from chandeliers, even hurling themselves off the balcony into the roiling mosh pit below. Others guzzled booze straight from the bottle, vomiting in corners and grinding against each other.

"We need to get out of here," Maki yelled over the din. "This is getting out of control!"

You nodded, grabbing Yuta and Toge and shoving your way through the sea of flailing limbs and spilled drinks, fighting the current of chaos like salmon swimming upstream. Somehow you managed to break free from the worst of the insanity, stumbling up the stairs on shaky legs.

The second floor was marginally quieter, but that wasn't saying much. 

The dull thud of the bass still pulsed through the floorboards, and the occasional plastered couple would come tumbling out of a room in a mess of tangled limbs and smeared makeup, heedless of your presence.

You started trying doors at random, peeking into darkened rooms, in order to find Naoya’s room. Most were either empty or occupied by people in varying states of undress, too focused on each other to even notice your intrusion. 

But as you reached the end of the hall, you came to a door that refused to budge, the handle rattling uselessly in your grip.

"Check this out," you said, waving the others over with an urgent gesture. "Why would Naoya have a locked door in his own house?"

Maki frowned, crouching down to examine the keyhole. "I don't know, but I bet whatever that scarred freak is hiding in there is something big. Something he doesn't want anyone else to see."

Yuta glanced around nervously, his eyes darting back and forth. "Okay, but how are we supposed to get in there? It's not like any of us have a key to Naoya's secret lair."

Maki's lips curled into a smirk as she fished a bobby pin out of her tousled hair. "Leave it to me.”

Yuta raised an eyebrow. "Since when do you know how to do that?"

“I watched a YouTube tutorial on lock picking once. Figured it might come in handy for situations like this."

"Right, because we frequently find ourselves needing to break into locked rooms,” Yuta said.

Maki bent the pin into a crude shape and started fiddling with the lock, her tongue poking out in concentration. But after several long, tense moments, she let out a frustrated huff and sat back on her heels. "No dice. We're not getting in there with just a bobby pin and a prayer."

Yuta raised an eyebrow. "Wow, really? I'm shocked that your extensive YouTube education didn't prepare you for this moment."

Maki shot him a glare. "You got a better idea? Because I'm all ears."

Toge, who had been quietly contemplating the door with a pensive expression, suddenly spoke up. "Break it down," he suggested mildly, as if proposing they order a pizza.

"Are you insane? We can't just go around smashing doors in,” Yuta said. “That's destruction of property. We could get arrested."

Maki just shrugged. "I mean, with all the noise from the party, who's gonna hear a little splintered wood? We could probably get away with it."

You pinched the bridge of your nose, feeling the beginnings of a migraine throbbing behind your eyes. "We are not breaking down the door. We need to be smarter than that."

"Ooh, I know!" Yuta said, snapping his fingers. "We could climb out the window, shimmy along the ledge, and then break in through Naoya's window!"

You stared at him, wondering if he was joking. But from the eager, puppy-dog expression on his face, it was clear he was dead serious.

"Yuta, we're on the second floor of a mansion," you said. "If we tried that, we'd probably fall and break our necks."

"Not if we used bed sheets as a rope. We could tie them together and—"

"No," you cut him off firmly. "No climbing, no breaking and entering, no property damage. We need to think of a plan that won't get us arrested or killed."

Maki sighed dramatically, tucking her mangled bobby pin back into her hair with a huff. "Well, there goes all my ideas."

Defeated and frustrated, you made your way back down to the main floor, the thumping bass growing louder with each heavy step. As you emerged into the chaos of the party once more, you were immediately engulfed in the crush of sweaty bodies, the pulsing heat and deafening noise.

You pushed your way through the throng, scanning the room for any sign of Naoya or his goons. But everywhere you looked, all you saw were drunk people.

In the living room, a group of guys were taking turns leaping off the couch, trying to outdo each other with increasingly reckless flips and stunts. One of them went crashing into a side table, sending a lamp and several picture frames flying. The crowd cheered, seemingly unconcerned about the destruction.

Then, a familiar voice cut through the din.

"Ahh, there you are!” Aoi crowed, materializing out of the crowd. "I was starting to think you'd gone and ditched me!"

Please. Not him again.

But before you could make a break for it, Aoi had already slung his arm around your shoulders once more. He navigated the madness of the party with infuriating ease, dodging flying elbows and sloshing drinks as he dragged you deeper into the house.

"Where are you taking us?" you yelled over the din of the music, your voice barely audible even to your own ears.

Aoi just flashed you a grin. "To the real party, of course! You haven't seen anything yet!"

He dragged you through the kitchen, where a group of girls were doing body shots off a shirtless guy sprawled across the island. But Aoi didn't even slow down, shouldering his way through the crowd until he reached the sliding glass doors leading to the backyard. 

With a dramatic flourish, he flung them open.

The backyard was equally chaotic. In the center of it all was an enormous pool. Everywhere you looked, people were shouting, laughing, splashing. 

A group of girls were engaged in a vicious chicken fight, shrieking as they grappled and shoved atop their boyfriends' shoulders, sending great gouts of water spraying across the deck.

"Now this is what I'm talking about!" Aoi crowed, snagging a half-empty bottle of tequila from a passing tray and chugging deeply, his Adam's apple bobbing obscenely. "So what do you say?"

“I want to go home,” Yuta said, deadpan.

"Thanks for showing us around Aoi, really," you interjected, trying to disentangle yourself from his grip. "But I think we can take it from here—"

But before you could slip free, a loud splash and a chorus of cheers drew your attention back to the pool. Someone had just done a cannonball off the diving board, sending up a tremendous splash that drenched half the deck and the crowd was going wild.

Aoi shook his head with a chuckle, finally releasing you from his clutches. "Duty calls. Can't let these idiots have all the fun. Stick around, yeah? The night's just getting started."

With that, he dove into the pool, disappearing under the churning water. 

You stood there for a moment, trying to massage some feeling back into your bruised shoulder.

“He seriously needs to learn about personal space.” Maki scoffed, picking bits of confetti out of her hair. "What's the plan now? We need to get into that room. And if it's locked, Naoya must have the key, right?"

Yuta nodded, her eyes scanning the crowd. "He's got to keep it on him. Maybe in his pocket or something."

"So, one of us needs to get close enough to him to retrieve it," Maki mused, her gaze settling on Toge. "I nominate Toge for the job."

"No," Toge replied firmly.

"Come on, Toge," Maki urged, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Take one for the team. We're all counting on you."

"We need a distraction,” you said. “Something to draw his attention away so one of us could sneak up and grab the key?"

"Like what?" Maki asked, raising an eyebrow. "A fire? A fight? In this crowd, it would have to be something pretty major to get noticed."

You bit your lip, your mind racing as you searched for a solution. There had to be a way to obtain the key. But what?

Just then, a commotion near the pool caught your attention. A group of guys were chanting, their voices rising above the music. "Chug! Chug! Chug!"

You craned your neck to see what was happening and your eyes widened. There, in the center of the group, was Naoya. And he was guzzling from a massive beer bong, the liquid flowing straight down his throat.

The crowd cheered as he finished, slamming the cup down and raising his arms in victory. He was clearly wasted, his eyes glazed and his movements sloppy.

An idea started to form in your mind. A risky, possibly stupid idea, but an idea nonetheless.

You turned to your friends, your expression grave. "I think I know how we can get that key. But you're not going to like it."

Maki, Yuta, and Toge exchanged wary glances, clearly bracing themselves for the worst. "Why do I get the feeling I'm gonna regret asking?" Yuta sighed.

"We're going to challenge Naoya to a drinking contest. And we're going to win."

For a long, uncomfortable moment, your friends stared at you in stunned silence. Maki was the first to break it, "Wait, are you seriously suggesting we try to out-drink Naoya? The same guy who just chugged that beer like it was water?"

"Hear me out," you pressed on. "He's already pretty wasted. If we can keep him drinking, keep him distracted, one of us can grab the key while he's not paying attention."

Yuta shook his head. "I don't know about this. Naoya can really hold his liquor. And even if we do manage to get the key, we'll be too drunk to do anything with it."

"He's not the only one who can handle their alcohol," you countered.

“Why does that sound like a threat,” Yuta said.

"Girl, for someone who's supposed to be the smartest one here, you come up with some really questionable ideas sometimes,” Maki said.

You met her gaze, giving her a long look. After a long moment, Maki sighed, throwing up her hands in resignation. "Fine. Let's give it a shot."

With determined strides, you and your friends pushed through the crowd, your eyes locked on Naoya. He was at the beer pong table, laughing and joking with his buddies as he lined up his shot. This was your chance.

But just as you reached the table, a shout rang out over the music, cutting through the din like a knife. "The professors are here! The professors are here!"

Maki frowned. "Huh? What's going on?"

A guy came rushing up to Naoya, his face ashen and his eyes wide. "Dude, you gotta hide the drugs! One of our professors from university is here and he brought other professors with him!"

Naoya's eyes widened, the color draining from his face. "What? How the hell did they find out about the party?"

The guy shook his head. "I don't know, man. But they're here, and they don't look like they're planning to leave anytime soon."

Naoya swore under his breath, then started barking orders. "Hide everything! The booze, the weed, all of it! And someone turn off the damn music!"

The backyard erupted into chaos. 

People were scrambling in every direction, shoving bottles and bags under couches, into planters, anywhere they could find. The music outside cut off abruptly, but the heavy bass from inside the house continued to throb through the walls.

You turned to your friends, panic written all over your face. "We know who that might be," Yuta said.

You were pushing your way back into the house, your heart pounding in your chest. "Fuck," you muttered under your breath, trying to navigate the sea of dancing bodies. The news of the professors' arrival had spread like wildfire, but most of the partygoers were too drunk or too oblivious to care.

As you weaved your way towards the front entrance, you collided with a girl, sending her drink splashing up her shirt. She gasped, looking down at her drenched top in shock.

"I'm so so sorry," you quickly apologized, your hands hovering uselessly as you tried to figure out how to help. The girl looked up at you, her initial surprise giving way to a faint smile. "It's okay—" she began, but you were already moving past her, your focus solely on getting to the door.

And then you saw him.

Satoru was strolling inside, looking completely at ease as he greeted students with casual handshakes and claps on the back. His smile was genuine, his demeanor relaxed. He looked like he belonged here, like he was just another guest ready to enjoy the party.

Behind him, you spotted Suguru, Nanami, and a handful of other professors from your faculty. They were all dressed casually, blending in with the crowd.

You stood there, frozen, as Satoru's gaze locked onto yours, his eyes burning with a fierce intensity that seemed to strip you bare. 

He was disappointed, you could tell.

As he approached, your mind raced, desperately searching for an explanation, an excuse, anything to justify your presence here. But the words caught in your throat, choked by the lump of guilt and fear in your throat that grew with each step he took towards you. 

His smile was warm, but it did little to mask the tension simmering beneath the surface, the unspoken accusations hanging heavy in the air between you.

"I'm sorry, I must be in the wrong place. I was looking for my wife, but she told me she'd be at the movies tonight. You wouldn't happen to have seen her, would you?"

"What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing." Satoru quirked an eyebrow as he leaned in closer, his arm coming up to rest on the wall beside you, trapping you in place. The heat of his body seeped into yours, making your skin prickle. "Isn't this supposed to be a university party?"

You frowned. "For students!"

"Well, I was a student once." Satoru's grin widened. "But I must say, I'm a little hurt you didn't invite me to be your plus one. I thought we were closer than that."

Just then, another student appeared from behind you, giving Satoru a high five and a drunken grin, completely oblivious to the tension between you. "Yo, Prof! What's good? Didn't expect to see you here!"

Satoru returned the high five with an easy smile, his eyes never leaving yours. "You know me, always full of surprises. Just thought I'd drop by and see how my favorite students are spending their weekend."

His tone was light, almost cheerful, but you could hear the underlying current of displeasure, the unspoken accusation in his gaze. The student, however, remained blissfully unaware, laughing and patting Satoru on the back before stumbling off into the crowd.

You watched the exchange, the knot of guilt in your stomach tightening with each passing second, your palms growing clammy as you braced yourself for the inevitable confrontation.

"You should leave.”

His expression sobered, his eyes locking with yours. "And leave you here alone with Naoya? I don't think so."

"Satoru, just because I'm a woman doesn't mean I can't protect myself."

He shook his head, leaning in even closer. You could feel his breath on your skin, the heat of his body. "I'm not protecting you because you're a woman," he said, his voice low. "I'm protecting you because you’re my woman. And my woman has a real fucking problem with lying to me and putting herself in stupid, reckless situations."

Your breath caught in your throat at his serious tone. 

Satoru held your gaze for a long, tense moment, his jaw clenched and his eyes hard. Then he pulled back. "We'll talk about this later.” 

Then, as quickly as it had come, the intensity was gone. His signature smile was back on his lips, charming and carefree. He straightened up, looking around the room. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I think I need a drink."

With that, he pushed past you, leaving you standing there in the entrance.

Fuck.

This was bad. 

This was so, so bad. 

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author's note: hello again, still don't have much to say, other than don't only invest in tech okay, diversify your portfolio, don't do what dr. handsome does (he's stupid). also, i'm pretty busy these days, so sorry for the sparse updates, but i appreciate all your friendly interactions, they really brighten my day whenever i see them <3

i know that this story is getting quite long and i have noticed a decline in interactions with it, which i totally understand with the spare updates i can provide, so thank you a thousand times to everyone still sticking around and patiently waiting for updates. i try to do my best to somehow crave out the time to continue this story. have a nice day y'all :)

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I think, I‘m in love!!! The concept, the writing, the creativity, the pacing… everything is perfect 😍

symptoms and causes | ch. 01

ღ pairing professor gojo x med student reader

ღ 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.

ღ wc 13.1 k

ღ 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.

ღ author's note so exited to start this series!! dive in and let me know what you think—i love hearing your thoughts! & pls like or repost if you enjoyed, it means the world !! ♡ (fanart in the header)

series masterlist + playlist + ao3 + wattpad

next chapter ->

"Who's that?"

Every gaze in the room turned towards you.

"She's my student—," Dr. Geto responded, a trace of amusement twisting his lip. He didn't have to follow Dr. Gojo's stare to know its target. "—a first-year medical student."

A murmur rippled through the group of students, their eyes stinging like needles in your neck. You were acutely aware of your position—the youngest, the least experienced, an outsider among those who had studied for years.

"What?" Gojo's voice sliced through the air. He turned his scrutinizing gaze towards Geto. "You brought a fucking first-year into my operating room?"

Ouch.

Geto chuckled. "Relax, Satoru. She's good."

Gojo's expression tightened. He turned back to you, those unnervingly bright blue eyes raking over you from behind his surgical glasses. It made your skin crawl. "You, first-year. Bypass, endovascular, or direct microsurgical approach?"

The air in the operating room was thick.

Dr. Geto and Dr. Gojo had been circling the issue for at least half an hour, dissecting strategies as if the patient weren't laid skull open before them, the aneurysm a ticking time bomb in the patient's brain.

None of the students dared to move, too terrified to even breathe. It was a test. But hesitation wasn't in your vocabulary.

"You should do a hybrid approach. Start with endovascular coiling to reduce the risk of rupture. Parallel prep for a bypass, using intraoperative Doppler for flow assessment. Stabilize, then microsurgical clipping. Definitive closure."

Silence filled the room. Somehow the eyes of the other students stinging even more now. Your boldness given such a complex situation was either brilliance or audacity—perhaps both.

Geto's laughter broke the tension. "I might've forgotten to mention—she's my best student."

Gojo's gaze lingered on you, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. "That's some complex shit you suggest. The endovascular coiling has to be precise to reduce the risk of aneurysm rupture, and then we switch to microsurgery in an already compromised field."

"Complex, yes, but you have no other choice. The endovascular phase provides stabilization, making the surgical field less treacherous for clipping," you countered.

"And the risk of thrombosis?" Gojo pressed.

"Could happen."

"Could happen?" Gojo repeated. "That's your statement on that?"

"It's either the hybrid approach, or the patient is dead anyway," you said, maintaining his unyielding gaze.

"Is this woman serious?" Gojo murmured, almost inaudibly. His gaze shifted to Geto, seeking perhaps a silent judgment or agreement. Geto, following the exchange with an unreadable smile, seemed more amused than concerned.

"So?" Geto prompted.

Gojo's gaze snapped back to you, his eyes raking over you as if searching for a flaw in your logic. His silence stretched taut between you, a wordless evaluation. Finally, the verdict, "Let's proceed with the hybrid approach."

You exhaled sharply, only then realizing you'd been holding your breath.

A flurry of activity erupted as the nurses prepared for the surgery you'd proposed. You watched closely as the surgeons moved with practiced precision around the patient's exposed brain tissue—both undoubtedly the best neurosurgeons in the country.

"Your name," Dr. Gojo demanded, his focus still on the task at hand. "What is it?"

You gave your name in response.

He repeated your name, as if testing how the name felt. "Do you always approach problems with such boldness?"

"If the situation demands it."

Something in his masked face shifted, a subtle expression that might have been a smile. Whatever it was, it seemed out of place.

"Interesting."

─── ·✧· ───

The corridors of Tokyo Medical University were bustling with life, echoing the footsteps and chatter of students. Lost in a sea of unfamiliar faces, you stood somewhat disoriented in front of the map of the University. Finding your way to your anatomy class felt like an impossible task, especially with less than four minutes on the clock.

It was your first day.

And already the middle of the semester.

Definitely not a good start to come late.

The university you used to attend was half this size, and somehow you already missed it. But who would turn down the opportunity to study at the country's most prestigious medical university? Especially with the chance to learn from the most renowned neurosurgeons teaching there?

So here you were.

Two minutes left.

All of a sudden, someone ran into you, causing you to fall to the ground.

"Whoa, sorry! I'm so sorry!" You looked up to see a guy with tousled black hair and noticeable dark circles under his eyes. He quickly extended a hand to help you up. "Are you okay?"

Brushing off your clothes, you nodded and accepted his hand, feeling a surprising strength as he easily pulled you back to your feet.

"You new here?" he asked, studying your face. "You seem a bit lost."

The subtle irony in his comment almost coaxed a smile out of you, especially considering his own worn-out look. "Yeah, it's my first day, and I'm already running late. I'm trying to find Dr. Ieiri's anatomy class."

"No way, that's my class too! Come on, I'll show you, but we need to make it quick," he responded, already moving ahead with a sense of urgency. You hastened to keep pace with his swift strides.

"I'm Yuta Okkotsu, by the way," he introduced himself as you weaved through the bustling corridors. "So, what's the story behind your mid-semester transfer?"

"I was at a different medical school, but then got this offer to transfer here."

Yuta's eyes widened slightly. "An offer to transfer? That's pretty impressive. You must be quite talented."

"I'm not so sure about that, I think I just got lucky."

Yuta led the way through the bustling corridors, his familiarity with the campus evident in every confident turn he took. Finally, you arrived at the large doors of the auditorium where Dr. Ieiri's anatomy class was supposed to be held. Pushing the doors open, you both slipped inside, but there was no sign of the professor yet.

"Made it," Yuta gasped, a grin spreading across his face despite the shortness of breath. "With, uh, time to spare!" He glanced at his watch. "Okay, maybe not."

Yuta, still catching his breath, gestured towards a group sitting near the back. "Come on, you can sit with us. My friends are cool, I promise."

As you followed, you noticed a girl with striking green hair. She was leafing through a thick textbook with an expression that suggested she found the content less than challenging. "That's Maki," Yuta whispered to you. "Don't let her scare you—she's actually really nice."

Maki looked up as you approached. "New student?"

"Transfer student actually," Yuta corrected. "Is Inumaki also running late?"

Before Maki could respond, the doors swung open. But instead of Dr. Ieiri, Dr. Satoru Gojo stepped in, his presence as commanding as when you first saw him.

No way.

The room fell into an instant hush. Dr. Gojo sauntered to the front of the auditorium, his silver hair gleaming in the gentle sun.

"Good morning, class," he began, his voice effortlessly filling the hall. "Dr. Ieiri is unavailable today, so I'll be taking you through the nervous system."

He scribbled his name on the board, one hand nonchalantly tucked into his trouser pocket. Turning back to face the class, he rolled up his sleeves, his captivating blue eyes even more striking without the barrier of surgical glasses.

As his gaze swept across the students, it abruptly landed on you. For a split second, his confident demeanor wavered, replaced by a flicker of surprise crossing his features.

"The first-year?"

Following his gaze, all heads turned towards you—dozens of stabbing eyes.

Fantastic, center stage yet again.

You locked eyes with Gojo for a heartbeat, maybe a minute, maybe a year. Heat spread all over your skin. His lips parted slightly, as if he was about to say something, but then he cleared his throat and regained his professional poise.

"As I was saying," he turned his attention back to the class, "—since Dr. Ieiri isn't here, we'll dive deeper into the nervous system. So listen well."

His eyes met yours one more time before he launched into the lecture.

─── ·✧· ───

As the lecture came to an end, the students began to gather their belongings. You also began to pack up your notes, still processing the intense lecture Dr. Gojo had just given. It was clear—he was not a professor who took it easy on his students.

"Should we grab a bite? We've got a few minutes before the next class," Yuta suggested, glancing at both you and Maki as you made your way towards the exit. But just as you were about to step out, Dr. Gojo's voice halted you in your tracks.

"Not you, first-year."

The remaining students cast curious glances your way as they continued to file out of the auditorium. Yuta paused, his gaze shifting between you and Dr. Gojo.

"I'll catch up later," you said to him. He nodded before disappearing with the last of the students.

Turning back, you found Dr. Gojo leaning nonchalantly against his desk with his arms crossed. His intense gaze was focused on you. The room quickly emptied, leaving only the two of you.

"I'm curious, what brings a first-year into an operating room?" he finally broke the silence.

"Dr. Geto invited me to observe."

"Dr. Geto?" he echoed, pushing himself off from the desk and taking a few steps closer. "How did you come to know him?"

"He invited me to transfer here," you explained. "He's overseeing a research project that I'm a part of."

"You what? You mean you're working with him on the neuroprosthetics?"

"Yes," you simply said.

He paused for a moment, then let out a chuff before taking a few deliberate steps closer. "Tell me, what did it take for you to get into this university? To become part of Suguru's team as a mere first-year student?"

Your brows furrowed slightly. "Are you insinuating something, Dr. Gojo?"

His lips curled into a half-smile, his approach halting just a breath away from you. "Oh, I wouldn't dream of suggesting anything untoward, like a student getting ahead by... unconventional means. That'd be highly inappropriate, wouldn't it?"

The air around you seemed to thicken as he loomed closer, his tall frame nearly casting a shadow over you against the backdrop of the window.

"I didn't know you were even Suguru's type," he continued.

Was he for real?

He knew nothing. 

Nothing about the countless hours you'd poured into your studies. Nothing about the sleepless nights spent devouring research papers. Nothing about the relentless drive that had earned you recognition in the scientific community despite your young age. And here he was, accusing you of fucking your way up the ladder.

"Why? Are you jealous?" The words slipped out before you could think.

Gojo's eyes narrowed. His jaw clenched. "I can see why Suguru took an interest."

The intensity of his gaze was unnerving, yet you found yourself unable to look away. It was as if he was trying to read your very thoughts, peeling back layers with nothing but his piercing blue eyes.

For a moment, his gaze drifted downward, lingering on your lips. Your pulse quickened, a rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins. "Too bad, I'm on the neuroprosthetics team too," he remarked. "We'll be seeing quite a bit of each other, it seems."

Suddenly, he stepped back, breaking the intensity of the moment. "Make sure you live up to the expectations, first-year. I won't go easy on you just because you're a rookie."

With those final words, he turned away, leaving you standing in the midst of the empty auditorium, your mind racing.

Was he for real real?

─── ·✧· ───

"Ugh, I hate that guy!"

Geto looked up from his desk, a single eyebrow raised in response to your dramatic entrance into his office. "That guy?"

"I mean Dr. Gojo," you clarified, pacing the room. "I can't keep up with his arrogance."

He leaned back in his chair, regarding you with a calm, measured gaze. "He's not as bad as you think. You just need to get to know him better."

Know him better?

Yeah, that was the least you wanted to do.

"He just accused me of sleeping with you to get into this university!"

The words tumbled out of your mouth, more bluntly than you intended. Your relationship with Geto had always been somewhat informal, feeling more like a friendship. But this level of frankness was a step further than usual. But the anger and frustration boiling inside you made it impossible to hold back.

Geto couldn't suppress a laugh. "Sounds like something he would say," he mused, interlacing his fingers behind his head.

You stopped pacing the room and turned to face him. "Ha?"

"Listen," Geto began. "Gojo is a good man. He's always worked hard, so it might be a little irritating for him to see someone new get the recognition he's worked for years to get."

"But I've worked hard too," you countered.

"I know," Geto leaned forward, his elbows resting on the desk. "That's why I invited you here, to be part of my research team. He'll see your potential sooner or later." A warm smile played on his lips.

"So I just have to wait for his approval?"

"It looks like it," Geto shrugged.

Great.

"Besides we need him on this project, so it's best if you two find a way to get along. You'll learn a lot working with Gojo," he added.

You sighed. "I'm not so sure about that."

"Gojo is not easily impressed. But I have a feeling that you made quite an impression on him with your boldness in the operating room the other day. Not many students would suggest such an approach as you did."

"Is that a compliment?"

"You can take it as one, yes," he replied with a chuckle. He then stood up and began packing his bag. "Oh, and also, we're starting work on the project tomorrow, right after your last class."

Fantastic.

"Tomorrow?"

"Yes," he confirmed, nodding. "I think it's best we dive right in. Gojo will be there too, of course. It'll be a good opportunity for both of you to start fresh." His smile widened, a glint of amusement in his eyes.

You couldn't help but feel he was somewhat enjoying the situation.

─── ·✧· ───

The air was filled with the sterile scent of preservatives.

Anatomy class was in full swing, the only sound being the quiet murmur of focused students. You stood at your desk next to Yuta, Maki, and Toge, each of you meticulously dissecting and examining organs under the microscope. But your mind was elsewhere, lost in a blur of thoughts about the research project starting later that day.

As you sliced an organ in half with a practiced hand, your gaze drifted unfocused, the image under the microscope blurring. A wave of nausea washed over you. Perhaps it was the onset of the flu, or perhaps it was a convenient excuse to avoid facing Gojo later.

"Hey, you okay?" Yuta's voice pulled you back to the present. You realized you had been staring blankly at the tissue sample for longer than necessary. 

"Yeah, just thinking about the project later."

Maki glanced over, her eyes sharp behind her safety glasses. "With Dr. Gojo, right? That's going to be—interesting."

You paused. "What do you mean?"

"Dr. Gojo, well, he's notorious for being an ass," Maki said, her focus still on her own dissection. "He's undeniably a genius, but he's also—brutal. He has a way of pushing students to their limits, often too far."

Fantastic. 

Just what you needed to hear.

Your stomach churned. "I had a feeling about that."

"His standards are high, and he's not exactly gentle in his criticism. If you don't meet his expectations, he'll let you know, and not kindly," she continued. "He's made more than a few students question their life choices."

"Yeah, I've heard similar stories. You either meet his expectations or you're pretty much done," Yuta added.

The thought of working with Dr. Gojo was getting more fun by the minute. 

Maybe you should call in sick.

Toge contributed his one-word insight, "God complex," which seemed to perfectly sum up the mood of the conversation about Dr. Gojo.

"But—," Maki interjected, finally looking up, "—he's still the best in his field. If you can handle the pressure, he's undoubtedly the one to learn from."

Yeah, but what was the price for that?

You let out a tired sigh. 

Returning to your task, you carefully aligned the organ under the microscope. Gojo was intimidating, no doubt, but you had worked your ass off to reach this point. You weren't going to back down just because he was a dick. After all, Geto was also working on the project, so how bad could it possibly be then?

You glanced up from the microscope to adjust its focus. However, you couldn't help but notice Yuta. He glanced at Maki over his microscope with this look—that certain look.

Interesting.

─── ·✧· ─── 

"Your idea is just ridiculous!"

"Oh really? Yours is just shit!"

You didn't know how it ended up like this. It was barely two minutes into the discussion about a critical aspect of the research project, and here you were, shouting at each other. The entire lab had gone silent, all eyes glued to the heated exchange. Geto, leaning against a counter, watched the scene unfold with an amused smile playing on his lips.

"Your approach could compromise the entire neural interface integration," you argued. "It's too aggressive and doesn't take into account the potential for neural tissue damage."

Gojo was standing so close, that you could see the flecks of color in his eyes, feel the heat radiating off him. And could probably spit in his face.

Maybe you should do that.

His approach was risky—dangerous even. How could he not see that? 

"It's necessary," Gojo countered. "—playing it safe doesn't always work."

Yeah, you know that. But not in this case, not with this patient. It was borderline reckless.

"There's a fine line between a breakthrough and recklessness," you shot back.

"You're so naive," he retorted, stepping even closer. "You don't understand when it's time to take some risks."

You stared at him. "Taking risks? No, you're just being insane!"

"You—" he started but Geto quickly intervened. 

"Alright, that's enough for now," he said, placing a hand on each of your shoulders, physically creating space between you and Gojo. "Let's take a break."

But Gojo's eyes never left yours, unbroken even as Geto gently shoved him backwards. You stood there, your breath ragged, your heart racing. Around you, the lab slowly came back to life as the others resumed their tasks, occasionally stealing glances in your direction.

"Could you get us some coffee?" Geto asked, pressing a few bills into your hand.

Yeah. Sure.

You nodded. The unexpected surge of adrenaline that had coursed through your veins didn't leave you needing caffeine, but hell, you took anything that would get you away from him. As you made your way out of the lab, you could still feel his gaze on you.

Taking your time, you wandered to the cafeteria. Okay, maybe you just didn't find the way. But you didn't really care. The university was already empty at this hour. The moonlight streamed through the windows, casting long shadows that danced along the walls.

By the time you returned to the lab, the coffee had grown cold in your hands. Geto immediately perked up at your return, pushing himself away from his desk and walking over to you. "Ah, great," he said with a smile, taking a cup from your hands. "Thanks."

Your gaze shifted to Gojo, who hadn't moved an inch, his attention seemingly absorbed by the computer screen in front of him. Without a word, you placed his cup on his desk.

The rest of the evening was a blur of lab work, discussions, and planning.

You were focused on analyzing a blood sample to identify specific markers and genetic predispositions to determine if a patient was eligible for research. Normally an easy task, but your concentration began to waver.

Glancing at the clock, you noticed that it was well past midnight. The lab was quiet, most of the equipment was turned off, and the only light was the dim glow of a few workstations. Geto had left some time ago, urging you to do the same, but you stayed. It would take longer to continue your work tomorrow than to finish it now.

However, each test you ran seemed to produce inconclusive or erratic results. You rechecked the protocols, ran the tests again, but the results were still the same. Exhaustion was clouding your judgment, leading you to make mistakes you wouldn't normally make.

After yet another failed attempt, you let out a sigh and rubbed your tired eyes.

How was this so fucking hard all of a sudden?

"Let me help you," said a voice from behind you. It was Gojo. You thought he had already left, or maybe you were just so focused on your own task. You felt his presence close behind you as he leaned in to examine the blood sample results on the screen.

"See here," he said, so close you could feel the warmth of his breath. He reached around you to steer the controls, his arms encircling you. Your skin heated. "The centrifugation speed and time must be precisely calibrated. It affects the separation of cellular components, which is critical for accurate marker identification."

You nodded slightly, even though you already knew that. Somehow, you were now a bit ashamed of your own sudden stupidity. As the sample was prepared and placed for analysis, his presence remained close, his body heat and the soft cadence of his breathing a constant distraction. The results started to display on the screen, this time showing the definitive patterns you had been seeking.

"No need to thank me," Gojo said, straightening up—giving you some much-needed air to breathe. "You should go home, it's late."

You glanced at the clock on the wall. Yeah, you should really go home.

As Gojo moved towards the door, he paused briefly, his hand resting on the handle. "Burning out won't do you, or the project, any good."

You watched him for a moment. Somehow, in the dim light, his features softened the usually sharp lines of his face. "Are you concerned?"

"Concerned that you mess this project up," he said with a grin on his lips.

You let out a tired sigh. "Of course."

─── ·✧· ─── 

Another day. Another fight.

The tension in the lab was palpable as you and Gojo stood across from each other. The issue had resurfaced. So had the friction between your methods. Your opposing views seemed like an insurmountable chasm.

"You're not considering the long-term implications of your approach," you insisted, your voice tinged with frustration. "We need to think about patient recovery, not just the immediate results."

"The primary goal is to ensure the success of the procedure. Your 'cautious' tactics might compromise the project's objectives," Gojo retorted.

You bristled at his words. "It's not about being cautious—it's about being thorough and responsible. We can't afford to overlook potential complications."

The debate intensified, each point you made met with a sharp rebuttal from Gojo. As the argument escalated, he took a step closer, his blue eyes locked on yours. "Your method will not work, first-year. Playing it safe will kill this patient."

His proximity was overwhelming, and for a moment, you lost your train of thought, caught up in the intensity of his gaze. "My method will keep him alive," you managed to say, trying to regain your composure.

Before he could respond, you glanced at the clock on the wall and realized with a start that you were late for your class. "I have to go," you said abruptly, the urgency of the situation breaking the tension.

"We're not done with this discussion," Gojo snapped.

"Yeah, whatever," you said as you hurried out of the lab and rushed to your class. 

Gojo let out a low hiss under his breath. As you left the lab, Geto approached him, his expression serious despite the hint of a smile on his lips. Some might say he looked scary.

"Satoru," Geto began. "Can we talk for a minute?"

Gojo turned, his posture stiffening. "About what?"

Geto crossed his arms, leaning back against a lab table. "Could you please stop pissing off my precious student?"

"Ha?" he said, raking a hand through his hair. "Are you seriously siding with her?"

"I am," Geto confirmed. "I wanted her on this project because she and I are on the same page."

"Of course you are."

"Satoru, I don't want to throw you off this project, so please try to find a middle ground with her. Give her a chance."

Gojo exhaled sharply, the lines on his face softening slightly. "Your approach is too cautious. It won't work."

Geto maintained his calm demeanor. "We'll see."

"Fine," Gojo finally conceded. "I'll try to—work with her. On one condition."

"And what's that?" Geto asked, raising an eyebrow.

"We do it my way if your approach doesn't work," Gojo said.

"Fair enough."

Gojo looked away, his gaze settling on the empty space where you had stood moments before. There was a brief pause, his mind racing.

"Suguru, what exactly do you see in her?" Gojo asked after a while.

"Hm?" Geto looked at Gojo thoughtfully. "She has potential, wouldn't you say?"

"Yeah, potential," Gojo echoed, his voice trailing off slightly.

Geto tilted his head.

─── ·✧· ───

The sun streamed through the windows of the anatomy classroom, casting a warm glow across the rows of desks. Despite the bright light, your eyelids felt heavy, the endless fights with Gojo replaying in your mind and robbing you of much-needed energy.

You sat beside Yuta, Maki, and Toge, struggling to focus on the lecturer's words. 

"Rough day?" Yuta whispered.

You propped your head up with one hand, blinking rapidly in a vain attempt to clear the fog of fatigue. "More like a rough week."

"You look like shit," Maki remarked.

"Thanks."

As the lecturer continued discussing the intricacies of human anatomy, your thoughts drifted back to Gojo. Despite all the arguments you had with him, all you could think about was the memory of his intense gaze, his closeness, his soft voice, even his scent. It made it impossible to concentrate on the lecture.

Yuta nudged you gently when you almost nodded off, your head dipping forward. "You really should get some rest after this."

Suddenly, an announcement woke you up in an instant.

"Now we'll do a quick test." Dr. Ieiri announced. "It's crucial for your upcoming exams."

A collective groan echoed through the class. You froze, your heart sinking. A test was the last thing you needed right now.

Yuta turned to you. "You got this," he said, trying to offer some encouragement.

You weren't so sure. 

As the test papers were distributed, you stared blankly at the questions. Your mind, usually sharp and focused during exams, felt sluggish and unresponsive. One by one, you read through the questions, trying to recall the knowledge you knew was hopefully buried somewhere in your tired brain.

Fuck.

It was all questions about something like skin, bones and that shit. You could recall every little detail about the brain, but bones? Fuck, you really should have paid attention in that class.

Panic set in as you realized that you might actually fail this test.

─── ·✧· ───  

1:07 AM.

You were still wide awake.

Tossing and turning, you found sleep elusive. Everything that had happened lately was replaying in your mind. You had barely been in Tokyo for a few weeks and your life was already so different. You barely had time to fix up your apartment, the moving boxes still there, waiting to be opened. And then the anatomy test—

You needed a distraction, something to focus on that wasn't your own disappointment.

So you decided to head back to the university lab. Maybe immersing yourself in work would help clear your head. The quiet, empty streets at this hour were oddly comforting as you drove to the campus. Upon arriving at the lab, you were surprised to see the lights already on. You pushed the door open, stepping into the familiar space.

No way.

"What are you doing here?" you asked, unable to hide your surprise.

Gojo hunched over a microscope, deeply engrossed in his work. He looked up, his expression one of mild annoyance. "I could ask you the same," he replied.

Nice.

Even in the lab, it seemed you couldn't escape his presence. He was always there, haunting both your mind and your reality.

"You shouldn't work so late. You're still a student," Gojo remarked.

You glanced at him. "Yeah, you've already told me that. But I want this project to work just as much as you."

Gojo looked your way, his striking blue eyes catching the dim lab light. "Don't you ever take a break? Go out? Maybe party or so?"

You observed him for a moment. His hair was disheveled, giving him a more relaxed, approachable look than usual. "I'm not really into the party scene," you admitted.

"I guessed as much," he responded, a hint of a smile playing on his lips as he returned his focus back to his work.

"What's that supposed to mean?" you asked, somewhat hurt.

"It's not a criticism, just an observation."

Setting up at a nearby workstation, you began reviewing some data on a patient you were about to perform surgery on. He was the first to receive a transplant directly into his cerebral cortex, hoping to bypass the damaged spinal cord and allow direct brain control of a prosthetic limb.

It was the first time such an operation had ever been performed. And Geto would be the one to do the surgery. Gojo would have normally, but he refused. He was still convinced it was the wrong approach. Even though all the data showed otherwise.

Sipping from your coffee, you glanced over at Gojo, finding a strange comfort in his presence. He worked with a focus and intensity that was almost mesmerizing.

3:23 AM. 

Exhaustion weighed heavily on your eyelids as you completed the final analysis. Now all you had to do was wait for the results. You rested your head on your hand, sinking lower and lower until your head touched the cool surface of the desk. Maybe a short nap wouldn't hurt.

Time passed unnoticed until a gentle touch caressed your cheek. It jolted you from sleep. You flinched slightly, your eyes fluttering open. Your gaze slowly traveled up, finally locking with Gojo's eyes. He stood beside you, his thumb lingering just a moment longer on your skin, stroking lightly over your cheek.

"You hungry?"

You straightened up, pulling back a little. Suddenly conscious of the close proximity. A warm flush spread across your cheeks.

Gojo pulled up a chair, turned it backwards and faced you. He unwrapped a small meal he had brought from a nearby bakery, the scent of fresh pastries filling the air. 

There was a casual ease to his movements. Like everything he did. Whether he was slicing through a brain or just existing. He always seemed so unbothered. As if he knew he would never fail at anything anyway.

Blinking tiredly, you rubbed your eyes, trying to shake off the lingering veil of sleep. As you moved, a jacket slipped from your shoulders. His jacket. He must have draped it over your shoulders while you slept. It smelled like him.

"Keep it," he said before you could part your lips. "The body cools down after sleep."

"Always the doctor, aren't you?" you replied with a hint of a smile, pulling the jacket back around your shoulders. "Thank you."

Reaching for the pastry he had brought, you became acutely aware of his gaze. The intensity in his eyes that sent shivers down your spine.

"Tell me something about yourself."

"What do you want to know?" you asked, taking a bite of the pastry.

"Everything."

You chuckled. "That would take a while."

"I've got time."

You hesitated for a moment, feeling his gaze still intently on you.

"Tell me how Suguru found you," he continued.

"Back in my hometown, I was already in medical university, working on a research project about a specific type of brain tumor called glioblastoma multiforme. My mentor at the time encouraged me to publish a paper on my findings. It seems that Geto stumbled upon my work. That's how I ended up here."

"Impressive," he said. "Why this specific type of brain tumor?"

A lump formed in your throat. "Because my father died of it."

Gojo paused, his eyes searching yours, as if trying to read your thoughts.

"My father was a neurosurgeon, too. I practically grew up in operating rooms," you continued.

"Why did he die?"

The directness of his question caught you slightly off guard. You took a deep breath, gathering your thoughts. 

"The tumor was too aggressive. The surgery was useless, he knew that, but he wanted it anyway. They tried a radical surgery to remove as much of the tumor as possible while preserving vital brain function. But it failed. My father was just dead meat breathing after the surgery. My mother never got over that loss. I think she lost her mind."

The gruesome edge of your words surprised him, his eyes widening slightly. You looked away, unable to maintain eye contact with Gojo as his stupidly handsome blue eyes seemed to pierce your soul.

Silence stretched between you two.

"I'm sorry," Gojo said eventually.

"It's okay. He's long gone," your eyes lingered on the pastry. "It's what drove me to neurology," you continued, gathering the courage to look up at him. "I wanted to contribute to something that might change outcomes for people like my father."

"Is that why you want to go for the safe approach with the patient in our neuroprosthetics project?"

You thought about it. But it wouldn't help to lie anyway. "Yeah, that's probably it."

Gojo ran his fingers through his hair, releasing a weary exhale.

"Tell me about you now," you said, changing the subject.

He paused, then offered a brief, wry smile. "Not married, no girlfriend, no kids."

"That's not really what I meant."

"Sure?" he teased, the corners of his mouth turning up in a playful smile.

"Why not?" you asked him. This was indeed interesting. He was handsome. Tall. Barely in his thirties. A famous neurosurgeon. He was basically the whole package. Except—

"No time, I guess," he said.

"What a lame excuse," you retorted, leaning back in your chair. You stretched your arms above your head, trying to relieve the tension that had built up in your muscles. A slight smile lingered on your lips as you added, "I guess you're just too much ego for any woman to handle."

"Oh, sweetheart," Gojo replied, the nickname rolling off his tongue with a natural ease. "I suspect you have just as much ego as me."

Suddenly, Gojo stood up and closed the distance between you. You remained seated, looking up at him, your heart rate quickening. For a moment, he just stood there, looking down at you. The intensity in his gaze was palpable, and you found yourself caught in it, unable to look away. The room seemed to shrink, the space between you charged.

Then, leaning in, Gojo brought his face close to yours, his breath a whisper against your ear. The proximity sent a shiver down your spine. "Bad for you," he murmured softly, his voice a low rumble, "I do like arrogant woman."

Before you could respond, he straightened up. "Good night," he said. "You should get some sleep."

With that, he turned and walked out of the lab, leaving you sitting there. The air seemed to shift back to normal as the door closed behind him. 

─── ·✧· ─── 

Your legs hurt. Your back hurt. Your hips hurt. Your neck hurt.

Everything hurt.

You stood on the sidelines of the operating room for nearly 6 hours. Standing still on the same spot. You'll never get used to that. It's the worst part of the job. But it was still a privilege to witness Geto and Gojo in surgery, right?

The room was filled with the sound of beeping monitors and the low murmur of the assisting surgical team. From your vantage point, you had a clear view of the procedure and the surgeons. They worked together with a quiet efficiency that was fascinating. 

However, as you watched, something about Gojo caught your attention. His movements seemed slightly off. You started noticing it about an hour ago. But no one said anything. His hair was drenched in sweat and clung to his forehead. You could see the slight trembling in his hands, almost imperceptible.

Something was definitely off.

Your gaze lingered on him, studying his every move.

"First-year."

Gojo suddenly paused and looked up, his eyes meeting yours. You flinched slightly, as he caught you starring at him. "You want to try the next part?" he asked, his voice cutting through the hum of the operating room.

Was he serious?

Before you could reply, Geto interjected, "Satoru, are you joking? She's still a student."

Gojo's gaze didn't waver from you. "I know. But you said she's your best student," he replied his lips twitching with a smile. "I want to test that."

"You've done aneurysm surgery before, back in your hometown, right?" Gojo asked you.

Did he google you or what?

"Yes," you replied.

"Then step forward," he said.

You hesitated. Your gaze drifted to Geto for confirmation. Geto hesitated, then gave a slight nod.

Heart pounding, you stepped forward to the operating table. A rush of adrenaline surged through you. You took the offered surgical tools with a steady hand from Gojo, his eyes locked with yours. "We're going to work on clipping the aneurysm now. You've done it before, right?"

"Yes," you replied, your voice steady despite the racing of your heart.

"Good." He moved closer, positioning himself so he could guide you while still giving you control. "Start with an incision here," he instructed, pointing to a specific area on the patient's brain with his own instrument.

You could feel his gaze over your shoulder; the warmth of his body near yours. As you made the initial incision, Gojo moved even closer. "Now, carefully dissect the tissue to expose the aneurysm," he continued.

Your hands worked around the fragile brain. You did surgery before. Yes. But this was another level. Every eye of every nurse and doctor in the room was on you. Geto was monitoring the patient's data. He glanced at you from time to time, his expression unreadable. But you were at least three inches deep into a human brain, so there was no way out anyway.

After that, you would certainly have to vomit from the adrenaline.

At one critical point, your hands hesitated. Your heart almost exploded. In that moment, you could either kill this patient or save him. "Calm down," Gojo said, so low and close to your ear that only you could hear it. Gojo's hand cupped yours gently. "You're doing fine. Trust yourself," he murmured. His touch was brief, but it was enough to ground you for a moment.

Sweat trickled down your forehead as you isolated the aneurysm and prepared it for clipping.

"Good," he whispered.

Finally, as you placed the clip on the aneurysm and secured it, a wave of accomplishment washed over you. Hell, you really did it.

"Congratulations, an excellent clipping," Gojo said, his lips forming a smile. "You can step back now."

"Thank you, Dr. Gojo," you whispered. As you stepped back, a wide smile spread across your face, hidden beneath the mask but undeniable in the sparkle of your eyes.

Gojo took the lead again to close up the patient. But his gaze shifted to you every now and then.

Geto's eyes narrowed.

─── ·✧· ───

"You did a good job in there."

Gojo glanced in your direction as you both washed up in the scrub room after the operation.

"Thanks," you replied, meeting his eyes.

"I may have underestimated you," he said, his lips curving into a teasing smile.

Wait? Was that a compliment? From him?

Before you could respond, the door to the scrub room burst open. Geto stormed in, his face flushed with anger. He tore off his scrubs and threw them into the trash with a thud that made you flinch.

"We need to talk, Satoru," he said sharply. His intense gaze was fixed solely on Gojo, as if you weren't even there.

Shit.

Gojo calmly turned off the tap and reached for a towel, drying his hands with deliberate slowness. His face was an unreadable mask. He gave you a brief glance before following Geto out of the room.

"Don't you dare fuck my student," Geto hissed before the door had even fully closed behind them. But it didn't matter anyway, you could hear their voices through the thin walls.

Gojo leaned back against a table. His arms crossed over his chest. "What are you getting at?"

"Don't try to fuck with me, Satoru. I've seen the way you look at her."

"I supervised her, so that she wouldn't kill the patient. That's all you saw."

"Supervision?" Geto's voice was sharp. "Since when do you let a student handle such a crucial part of a surgery? What's gotten into you? What if she had screwed up?"

Gojo's eyes narrowed. "What's your problem? She's proven herself capable, and she performed brilliantly today, don't you think?"

Geto advanced a step, closing the distance between them. His frustration palpable. "This isn't like you, Satoru. You're blurring lines that should remain clear. She's a student. You're supposed to be her mentor, not—not whatever you're turning this into."

The room went silent.

"Your concern is noted, but misplaced," Gojo said. "My interest in her is purely professional. She has potential, real potential, and it's my job to support that."

Geto's expression hardened. "That's right, she has potential, and you're risking that if you can't keep your hands off her."

"What?" Gojo pushed away from the table. "Because you want her for yourself?"

"I can't believe you'd go there," Geto snapped back. "I brought her here because she's damn good at what she does, not for any other reason."

Gojo's face tightened, a muscle twitching in his jaw. "You should know me better, Suguru. I was giving her a shot to show her skills, that's all."

In a sudden move, Geto closed the distance and grasped Gojo's shirt, pulling him forward. Their faces were just inches apart. "Listen, Satoru," Geto said. "I'm dead serious. One wrong step, one slip, and you could ruin everything—her career, the project, your own reputation. Don't think I'll stand by and watch that happen."

Gojo's eyes met Geto's, unflinching. He placed his hands on Geto's to release his grip. "I hear you, Suguru," he said. "But you're wrong. My interest in her is purely professional."

"Make sure it stays that way," Geto warned. He released his grip and stepped back.

Geto then turned and left the room. Gojo turned his head to look at you through the small window in the door that separated you. Your eyes briefly met his before he also left, his footsteps echoing down the corridor.

Great.

─── ·✧· ───

This day couldn't get any better.

You stood at the exit of the hospital. It was pouring.

Resigned, you decided to wait near the exit, hoping the rain would stop soon. Minutes passed, but the rain showed no signs of stopping.

"Waiting out the rain?" a familiar voice called out from behind.

You turned to see Gojo appeared. He had changed out of his surgical scrubs and was now in his regular clothes. His muscular arms and broad shoulders visible even under his loose button-down.

"Yeah, it looks like I'm stuck here for a while."

Gojo opened his umbrella. "Come on, I'll walk you to your car."

You hesitated for a moment.

"Suguru already left, don't worry," he added, as if reading your thoughts.

You frowned slightly. "That's not what I was concerned about."

"Then why are you hesitating?" He took a step closer, the umbrella now over you both. He stood at least a head taller than you, looking down at you with heavy eyes. You studied the tired lines in his face, the slight dark circles under his eyes.

"You look tired."

"Do I?" Gojo's voice was deep, his gaze lingering shamelessly on your lips. "Perhaps I am. I've been thinking about you all night."

"Bold statement, especially after Geto's warning."

"I'm not afraid of Suguru."

"Is that why you let me operate today? To piss him off?"

He leaned forward. "I let you operate because you can operate. Suguru is hesitant. He likes to play safe. With me, you'll have more challenge—more fun."

"Are we still talking about surgery?"

"Of course, sweetheart," he replied with a grin. "Come on, It's been a long day. I insist."

"Okay," you finally relented. "Thank you."

You stepped out into the rain together. The umbrella shielded you both as you walked side by side. You walked in silence, the only sound being the gentle drumming of raindrops. Gojo subtly shifted the umbrella, ensuring you were completely covered. His shoulder got wet.

When you reached your car, you turned to him. Somehow you stood so close now. His breath hot against you skin. Your stomach turned slightly, but you tried to brush the feeling off. "Thank you," you said softly, "—for everything today."

"Can I ask you for a favor?" He asked suddenly.

"Sure."

"Can you help me with a project?"

"Another project? Besides the neuroprosthetics?" you asked.

"It's a private one. I could use your assistance with processing data."

"Let me know when and where."

He smiled. "Perfect."

Gojo smoothly opened the car door for you, still holding the umbrella over your head. "Take care," he said gently, his gaze lingering on you a moment longer than necessary. You both remained frozen. The world outside the umbrella a blur.

"You too," you finally replied, breaking the moment. As you got into your car, you were acutely aware of his eyes still on you.

He closed the door for you and turned.

─── ·✧· ───

"Sorry in advance if this hurts."

You tried to insert the needle, your hand less steady than usual. The needle missed the vein, making Yuta wince. "Sorry," you wiped sweat from your forehead. Then tried again, quickly changing the needle.

A week had passed since the fight between Geto and Gojo. Since then, Gojo hadn't visited the lab. You didn't know what to make of it. But perhaps it was for the better. Less fighting after all. Gojo still didn't approve of your approach.

Still, you couldn't force your mind to stop racing. Perhaps it was the immense workload you had. The research project, not to mention Gojo's personal research project, and inevitably, Gojo himself.

You were in practical class, sitting with Maki, Yuta, and Toge, focusing on a seemingly simple task—practicing drawing blood. But you failed every time.

Yuta gave you a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, you've done this a hundred times."

Yeah. Not really, but you should probably not tell him that right now.

You took a deep breath and tried again. Failed.

"It's alright, give it another go," Yuta said, even after you had stabbed his arm too many times to be comfortable.

The needle slipped again and missed the mark. "I'm sorry, Yuta. I don't know what's wrong with me today."

"Pressure?" Toge asked.

"Yeah, I guess it's a lot lately."

Suddenly, Dr. Kento, the instructor for this practical lesson, appeared behind you. His stoic demeanor sent a shiver down your spine without you having to see it.

"You're really not good at this," he commented bluntly, not really befitting a professor. But it was true.

Forcing a smile, you turned to face him. "Just a bit off my game today."

Dr. Kento's expression remained impassive. "Drawing blood is a basic skill. You should be able to do it in your sleep," he lectured. "But you look like you're torturing your patient."

"Ehh—," you began, turning back to Yuta and only then noticing his pained expression. All color had drained from his face. 

Oops.

Dr. Kento's gaze then swept across the room, capturing the attention of the entire class. "Everyone needs to master this," he continued. "I expect you to be able to do this by the end of the week."

You kidding, right?

It was already Thursday. He basically meant tomorrow.

As if on cue, the bell rang.

You and your friends began to gather your belongings. As the room buzzed with the chatter of students packing up, Yuta brought up a topic that immediately drew everyone's interest.

"Hey, about the sports festival, which team should we join?"

"Sports festival?" you echoed, feeling slightly out of the loop. Your focus on the lab work had left you missing everything else that happened on campus.

Yuta nodded. "Yeah, it's a big event. Every year there's a sports festival in the summer with a bunch of team sports events and competitions."

Toge, usually reserved, showed a flicker of excitement. "Basketball."

"Yeah, the professors usually form a basketball team against the students. Should we join?" Yuta asked.

Maki already scrolled through her phone, looking up the festival details. "We should register then, hmm ... oh the professor team is already full, and .. oh Dr. Gojo and Dr. Geto are in the team."

"I bet they are just as competitive on the court as they are in the OR," Yuta added.

"Join?" Toge asked.

"Sure," Maki commented, scrolling through her phone for more details.

Out of curiosity, you asked, "Does anyone here even play basketball?"

Yuta, scratching his chin thoughtfully, replied, "Well, I've played a bit. And Maki's naturally good at anything, so—" he paused, seemingly realizing what he just said. His face turned a shade redder. "Ehh, I mean, you've played basketball before, right, Maki?"

Maki just shrugged, a confident smirk on her face. "He's not wrong."

"So, are we doing this?" you asked.

Everyone nodded in agreement.

Great.

Now you had to learn how to play basketball too.

─── ·✧· ───

Later that day, you found yourself outside Gojo's office, clutching the stack of papers you had prepared for his research project. Taking a deep breath to steady your nerves, you knocked softly before entering.

"Dr. Gojo, I've finished the analysis you requested," you said, placing the papers on his desk.

"Thank you. I'll check these later," he said, not looking up from his computer.

You turned to leave. But just as you reached the door, Gojo's voice halted you.

"Wait."

You paused, turning back to face him.

"Wash your hands. There are syringes and needles in the drawer on the bottom right."

"What?" you asked, not sure what he wanted from you.

He looked up from his computer. "You're embarrassing me," he said bluntly. "You know what Kento said to me earlier? He said, and I quote, 'Are you stupid? How can you let a student operate on the brain who can barely get a needle through skin?'"

You felt a knot forming in your stomach.

"It was just not my day, really," you stammered, trying to defend yourself, though your voice lacked conviction.

"How many times have you done that before?" he asked, his gaze intimidating.

You were lost for words.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," he said, more to himself than to you. He stood up from his desk and rolled up his sleeves.

Before you knew it, you found yourself sitting next to him, wearing gloves and poised with a needle in hand. Gojo's arm was outstretched towards you, the veins visible beneath his skin. You stared at his arm. Somehow your mind now completely blank.

"Aren't you going to tie a band around my arm to make my veins more visible first?" he asked, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

"Oh, right," you muttered, your cheeks flushing. You wrapped the band around his arm and secured it tightly. Your fingers trembled slightly as they touched his firm skin. The contact felt unexpectedly intimate. It made your heart race.

He watched you, his expression softening slightly. "Easy now," he said in a more encouraging tone. "It's not hard. Just focus."

Taking a deep breath, you tried to steady your trembling hands. The needle hovered over his vein, and for a moment, you were acutely aware of the silence in the room, punctuated only by the sound of your own erratic heartbeat.

You hesitated.

"Use your little finger against my arm to anchor your hand," he said.

Following his advice, you rested your finger against his skin, feeling a surprising steadiness in your hand.

"And angle the needle slightly," he added. "It's about finding the right entry point—not too steep, not too shallow."

You adjusted the angle of the needle accordingly, aiming for the vein. The tip pierced the skin, and this time, it slid into the vein smoothly. You let out a heavy exhale.

"Good," he said. "Now, draw the blood gently."

As you carefully drew the blood, you could feel Gojo's eyes on your hands, monitoring your technique. Once the procedure was complete and you carefully removed the needle. "Much better," he rolled down his sleeve, a slight arch of his eyebrow. "How is it that you've never really done that before?"

"I don't need to draw blood if I'm operating on the brain," you said with a shrug.

Gojo watched you, a stunned expression flickering across his face.

"The nurses usually handle that anyway," you added, hoping to clarify your point.

There was a moment of silence as he processed what you just said. Finally, he shook his head slightly. "I'm just going to ignore what you just said," he replied.

Changing the subject, he leaned back in his chair. "By the way, I saw your name on the list for the students' basketball team for the upcoming sports festival."

You raised your eyebrows, peeling off your gloves. "Oh, you did?"

"Yeah," he said, a playful glint appearing in his eyes. "I didn't know you played basketball. But I have to admit, I'm curious to see if you're as good at basketball as you are at clipping aneurysms."

"I haven't really played much before, so you might want to lower your expectations," a small smile tugged at your lips. "Have you played before?"

"I used to play pretty regularly when I was in universtiy," he said.

Great.

If he was anywhere near as good at basketball as he was at surgery, you were fucked.

"You should teach me then," you quipped, not quite meeting his gaze. As the words left your lips, you immediately realized the implication. You turned to him, a blush coloring your cheeks. "It's just a joke."

His smile widened. "Oh really? Too bad, I'd have liked that."

The room fell into silence.

You found yourself staring at him, and he returned your gaze.

His silver hair had a few strands that were slightly out of place. Your eyes studied his face as if seeing it for the first time. The typical intensity in his blue eyes had softened, replaced by an almost gentle expression. His sharp jawline moved slightly, as if he were pondering something.

Breaking the silence, you finally spoke, your voice softer than intended. "I wonder what you were like back in your university days."

"Why do you ask?"

"It's hard to imagine you not being the controlled surgeon you are now."

"You think I'm controlled?"

"No, that's not what I meant," you hurried to clarify. "I mean, you're always so focused, so—precise, and—"

Before you could finish, he leaned in closer, his intense gaze holding you captive. The world around you seemed to fade into a blur, leaving only the two of you in sharp focus. You could feel the warmth of his breath, barely a whisper away from your skin.

Gojo reached out, his hand gently cupping your chin. He lifted your face slightly, ensuring your eyes met directly.

"If you keep looking at me like that, I might lose my control sooner than you'd expect," he said, his thumb lightly brushing your jawline.

After a moment that seemed to stretch on, he slowly withdrew his hand and stepped back, breaking the connection. He turned away from you and walked back to his desk. "Thank you for your work. You can leave now."

─── ·✧· ───

The late afternoon sun cast a warm glow over the university's outdoor basketball court. Maki, Toge, Yuta, and you had gathered for practice, despite the lingering summer heat.

"I can't believe we're actually doing this," you said, dribbling the basketball on the sun-baked concrete. "None of us are exactly pros."

Maki, tying her hair back, grinned. "Speak for yourself. I've got some hidden talents." She effortlessly caught the ball and shot it toward the hoop, scoring a basket. "See?"

Yuta laughed and retrieved the ball. "That's just beginner's luck, Maki. Watch and learn." He took a shot, but the ball bounced off the rim.

"Practice," Toge said.

"Yeah, we really need more practice," you finished his sentence.

"Hey, watch this!" Yuta called out, attempting a fancy dribble move, only to lose control of the ball. It rolled away, and Toge scooped it up and passed it back with a short, "Focus."

"You're one to talk," Maki teased, swiping the ball from Toge and lobbing it towards the basket. It swished through the net effortlessly. "I still got it!"

You caught the ball and wiped the sweat from your brow. "I never thought we'd be practicing basketball as medical students."

Maki turned to you with a curious look. "Speaking of training, how's the research going? You've been spending a lot of time with Geto and Gojo."

You began to dribble the ball, more or less. "It's intense, but I'm learning a lot. Dr. Geto is incredibly intelligent, and well, working with Dr. Gojo is—an experience."

"An experience, huh?" Maki said with a grin "Is that code for 'Dr. Handsome has some unique ways of teaching me'?"

You flinched. Yuta quickly snatched the ball from your unfocused grip and shot it through the net.

"Dr. Handsome?" you echoed.

Maki opened a bottle of water. "Don't tell me he's not good-looking—they both are."

"I mean, they both definitely have their—charm, I guess."

"Charm, huh?" Maki teased, taking a sip of her water. "I've seen the way Dr. Gojo looks at you. There's definitely something."

"It's not like that," you protested, though your defensive tone might have suggested otherwise. "He's just an incredible surgeon to work with, that's all."

"He did let you operate with him, though. That's all I'm saying," Maki added.

"Aneurisym," Toge chimed in.

Yuta, bouncing the ball beside you, added, "Yeah, he let you operate on an aneurysm with him, which is pretty crazy."

You rolled your eyes. "Can we focus on the festival game instead of me?"

Maki laughed. "Alright, alright, we'll drop it. But seriously, how's the project going? I mean, besides the whole Dr. Handsome thing."

Yeah, where to start on that.

Taking a deep breath, you told them more about the research project. 

─── ·✧· ───

As the sun began to sink lower in the sky, painting the horizon in shades of orange and pink. You were still on the basketball court, practicing your shots. The others had already left. The court was quiet, except for the rhythmic bounce of the basketball and the occasional swish of the net.

Suddenly, a familiar voice cut through. "Hey, First-year."

Startled, you turned to see Gojo approaching the court. He was dressed in athletic attire—a black, skin-tight t-shirt and shorts that looked criminally good on him.

"Dr. Gojo," you said, a bit surprised to see him there. "I didn't expect to see you practicing."

He picked up a basketball and began dribbling with ease. "I like to keep my skills sharp," he said, shooting a casual glance in your direction. "And I heard there was a new challenger on the students team."

You let out a tired sigh. "I'm just trying to make sure I don't embarrass myself too much at the festival," you admitted.

"Have more confidence in yourself, first-year. You're operating on brains, there's no room for doubts." Gojo shot the ball towards the hoop, scoring effortlessly. "And by the way, stop calling me Dr., just Gojo is fine."

"Alright, Gojo," you said.

Gojo passed the ball to you with a casual flick of his wrist. "Come on, first-year. Show me what you've got."

A cold shiver ran down your skin. Oddly, having to demonstrate your non-existent basketball skills felt more intimidating than clipping an aneurysm in front of him.

You positioned yourself at the three-point line, bouncing the ball a few times to find your rhythm. With a deep breath, you aimed and threw the ball, but it bounced off the rim and rolled away.

Gojo walked over to retrieve the ball. "Yeah, you'll definitely embarrass yourself if you play like that."

Ouch.

"Can you do anything besides brain surgery?" he probed further.

Ouch.

"You know that hurts," you said.

"It's all about posture and precision," he said, closing the distance between you two. He halted just before you. "May I?"

With a nod, you consented. He moved in closer, positioning himself directly behind you. His presence enveloping you in a comforting warmth. He smelled like sweat, but oddly, you found it rather attractive. 

You could feel the light touch of his hands as they gently guided your shoulders, aligning your stance with the hoop. His closeness was suffocating, and you found yourself acutely aware of every movement he made.

"Bend your knees a bit more," he advised, his voice a soothing whisper near your ear. You could feel his breath, warm and steady, against the side of your neck, causing your heart to beat faster. His hands moved down to adjust your arms. His touch warm against your skin.

You tried to focus on his instructions. But the closeness of his body, the gentle pressure of his hands on your arms, made it damn hard to concentrate on anything other than him. 

"Now, when you shoot, focus on a fluid motion," he added.

As you prepared to take the shot, Gojo's hands rested lightly on your hips, steadying you. You should have pushed them away. Touching you like that was far beyond appropriate. But you didn't. You wanted him to touch you even more in that moment.

With his guidance, you took the shot, and this time the ball sailed through the net with a satisfying thud.

"You see? You have it in you," Gojo said, leaning back slightly but still close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from him.

You turned to face him, meeting his gaze. Your heart immediately dropped.

Even in the waning light you could see it clearly.

"Are you high?" you asked, a slight frown creasing your forehead.

For a moment, Gojo seemed taken aback by your question. He quickly masked his expression with a casual smile and stepped back, creating some distance between you. He began to dribble the basketball, his movements fluid and practiced, yet there was a hint of unease in his actions.

"It's nothing," he said, focusing intently on the ball rather than meeting your eyes. "Just a small injury during practice."

"And you decided to what? Throw in an opioid for that small injury?" you pressed.

He stopped dribbling and faced you, his expression becoming more serious. "No, of course not," he replied with a hint of defensiveness. "It's just a minor strain. I didn't take anything strong for it."

You couldn't believe what he just said. He—a surgeon—a doctor—out of all people.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Look, it's been a long day, and I might have pushed myself a bit too hard. But I'm fine, really."

You studied him closely. "You expect me to believe that?" you took another step closer. "What did you really take? Codeine? Morphine?"

A flicker of something undefinable passing through his eyes. "You're crossing a line," he replied, his tone firmer this time.

"Me? Crossing a line?" you countered. "Since the first day we met, you've been pushing boundaries, and now you say I'm the one overstepping?"

Gojo's expression hardened. "I appreciate your concern, but I assure you, I am perfectly fine." His words were steady, but the slight tightness in his jaw suggested otherwise.

You didn't buy anything he just said. The feeling that something was off clung to you, refusing to be dispelled. His usual clarity seemed clouded, his sharpness dulled. His eyes slightly red. His skin paler than usual. It was unsettling to see him like this.

After a brief pause, he picked up the basketball and held it loosely at his side. "I think we're done here," he said. "You should go home."

You watched him for a moment longer. But then you decided to turn and walk away, leaving him alone on the court. As you made your way, his words replayed over and over in your mind. 

Was something wrong with him? 

Should you be worried?

After all, you worked together. And also—naturally—you were worried about him, right? Like any student would be worried about his professor, right?

The evening air suddenly felt so cold.

─── ·✧· ───

The lab was quiet except for the occasional hum of machinery and the soft clinking of your tools as you worked. You were deep in concentration, analyzing data for the upcoming neuroprosthetics project, when the door opened with a soft click.

"Ah, there you are," Geto said as he stepped in. "I've been searching for you. We've finally got the green light for our surgery. Everything's lined up and ready to go."

You straightened up, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. "Really? That's great. When?"

Geto walked over to your workstation, a subtle smile on his face. "In two weeks. Are you excited?"

"More like nervous."

"Ah, that's natural. But don't worry, it will work. You've done an excellent job."

You felt a swell of pride at his words. "Thank you. I'm glad I could help."

Still, there was a question on the tip of your tongue, something you had been pondering since last week. Hesitantly, you opened your mouth, but then stopped. Words failed you.

"What is it?" Geto asked, knowing you too well.

"Is something wrong with Gojo?"

He leaned against the table and crossed his arms. His expression shifted slightly. "Don't worry about him. He's just stressed lately."

Somehow you didn't buy it.

"Even so, you shouldn't get that close to him."

"I'm not—" you wanted to interject, but he cut you off.

"I'm not blind," he said firmly. "You have a bright future in science. Don't risk it by getting too involved with him. Satoru is a brilliant surgeon, but his personal life is a mess."

What should that mean?

You looked away, unsure how to respond.

Geto then changed the subject. "By the way, I have some more news for you—good and bad. Which would you like to hear first?"

"The good news, of course," you replied.

"Here," Geto said, handing you a journal. As you took it, the bold lettering on the cover immediately caught your eye. It featured an article written by Gojo.

You opened the journal, your heart racing as you skimmed the pages to find the article. And there it was—a comprehensive meta-analysis that you, too, had worked on.

"No way," you murmured, your eyes scanning the text in disbelief.

Below the article was your name, listed alongside Gojo's, credited for your pivotal role in the data analysis and interpretation.

"He mentioned me." 

Geto nodded, a hint of pride in his expression. "That's a pretty big deal."

You were momentarily speechless. Being credited alongside someone as renowned as Gojo was insane.

"Now for the not-so-good news," Geto began.

You looked up at him from the Journal, your eyes still sparkling.

"You failed your anatomy exam."

─── ·✧· ───

The sports festival was in full swing.

Cheers and laughter filled the university campus. The summer heat beat down relentlessly. You already felt a little nauseous that day, and the sun only made it worse. Yeah, you weren't really cut for the heat. At least the bleachers were partly shaded.

You sat quietly besides with Maki, Yuta, and Toge, watching various events unfold on the field. Despite the lively atmosphere, you couldn't bring yourself into the festive spirit. Your mind was elsewhere.

Maki nudged you gently. "Still thinking about the exam?"

You sighed. "Yeah, I have to pass the next one, or I'll have to do this year again."

Yuta leaned over. "You'll go it, I'm sure. Plus, you got mentioned in Dr. Gojo's paper—that's huge!"

"Huge," Toge said again to underline it even more.

You managed a small smile. "I hope you're right."

Maki patted your back. "Dr. Handsome will sure put in a good word for you."

You sighed again. "Not this topic again."

Suddenly, the announcer's voice boomed over the loudspeakers, announcing that the basketball match between students and professors will begin shortly.

Yuta turned to you and the others. "Looks like it's our turn. Let's start getting ready."

You nodded, through a wave of nausea washed over you. The heat of the sun was merciless, more intense than you'd expected, and it seemed to be draining your strength by the minute.

Maki stood up. "Alright, team, let's show them what we've got!"

Should you vomit now, or later—or both?

Having changed into your sports attire, you joined your teammates on the basketball court. You began to warm up your muscles, even though the heat made that almost unnecessary. You felt your face burn. Nausea churned in your stomach. 

You paused, closing your eyes for a moment, hoping it would pass.

Then, the professors' team made their entrance onto the court. Among them were Geto and Gojo. They began dribbling and passing the ball between them, occasionally doing stretches that showcased their well-built bodies.

They looked confident.

You calculated the odds of how badly this match might go for your team.

Why did you even sign up for this?

Your gaze inadvertently met Gojo's across the court. For a fleeting second, your eyes locked, sending a wave of unease through you. You haven't spoken to him since. Quickly, you averted your gaze and focused back on your stretches.

As Gojo and another professor continued their warm-up, they passed the ball back and forth, aiming for the net. Then a shot from Gojo missed its mark, sending the ball rolling your way. 

As if he ever missed a shot.

The ball stopped at your feet, and before you could react, Gojo was there, sprinting up to retrieve it. He halted right in front of you. "You don't look good," he said, his voice so low that only you could hear it.

"I'm fine," you said. "I think it's just the heat."

Gojo reached out, his hand cool against your forehead. "You're overheating."

You quickly pushed his hand aside. "You might want to keep a professional distance, don't you think?" The words came out sharper than intended.

Gojo frowned slightly. "You should sit this one out."

"I appreciate your concern, but I assure you, I am perfectly fine," you responded, mirroring his words back at him.

He took a step closer. "You're stupid, you know that?"

Before you could respond, Geto's voice called out from across the court. Gojo turned at the sound. "Coming!" He gave you a last look before quickly walking away. You watched them do a stupid boyish handshake as Gojo rejoined Geto.

At least he was not high today, you thought.

The crowd was already roaring with cheers and applause as both teams lined up. They all here to witness my downfall, you thought, struggling against the nausea that threatened your focus. 

Right off the bat, Gojo weaved through your team's defense, fluid and precise. He flicked the ball to Geto, who faked left and then took a clear shot, scoring the first basket of the game. The crowd erupted.

Yuta sprinted down the court and dribbled past Gojo. He passed the ball to you, and you took your chance at a three-pointer. The ball arced beautifully, but it rimmed out at the last second. 

At least you tried, right?

Not missing a beat, Toge snagged a pass from a professor and pivoted into a counterattack. He found Maki open. She didn't disappoint, scoring a layup to tie the game. Your team was holding up surprisingly well, mostly thanks to your friends' efforts.

Then, Geto feinted, passing to an open Gojo. With a swift move, Gojo scored another point, eliciting a fresh wave of cheers from the spectators. But Yuta was quick to follow, dribbling down the court. He passed to Maki, who nailed another crucial basket, closing the score gap.

In the final minutes, the game was deadlocked. Gojo had the ball, expertly evading your teammates defensive efforts. He made a break for the basket. Yuta, determined to block him, overreached and stumbled backwards, heading straight for you.

You barely had time to brace yourself.

The collision was inevitable. 

Yuta crashed into you, and both of you went tumbling to the ground. The game halting abruptly to the sound of a sharp whistle.

"Are you okay?" Yuta blurted out.

Why was Yuta always running you over?

You rolled over to your side, feeling the heat of the ground beneath you. Everything spun, nausea swirling with pain. "I might need a minute," you managed to say, the world tilting around you.

Almost instantly, Gojo was there, kneeling beside you. "Don't move." He began to examine you for any immediate injuries, his hands tenderly scanning your exposed skin. "You feeling dizzy?"

Your response was a pained sound, a clear sign that you were far from okay. "You might have a concussion. We need to get you checked right away," Gojo said.

"I'm fine," you started to protest, but Gojo had already lifted you into his arms in one fluid motion. He held you close to him. Instinctively, you clung to his neck, feeling the pounding of his heart against your own. It made your stomach clench.

"I'm fine, really," you said again as he carried you off the court.

"Ah shut up, I know you're not." His eyes fixed on you, as if you were the only person who mattered at that moment. "You're really stressing me, you know that?"

─── ·✧· ───

The room felt so small. 

His presence filled the whole space.

"There," Gojo said softly as he inserted the needle into your arm. "This should help with hydration and ease any nausea."

You watched as he secured the needle in place. He adjusted the flow of saline, his eyes meeting yours, a playful smile on his lips. "So much for not needing to handle a needle, huh?"

You rolled your eyes.

Then he cupped your chin and tilted your head back slightly. "Watch the light," he instructed, flicking a small penlight on and off before your eyes. His fingers warm against your skin. "Good," he said, his gaze lingering on yours for a moment longer than necessary.

"Maybe you should stick to brains, instead of sports," he added.

You smiled weakly. "I'll never touch a basketball again in my life, I guess."

His smile widened.

"Thank you," you said quietly.

"No need to," he replied. "Just do me a favor and stop making me worry about you all the time. It's draining."

Your stomach tightened. Gojo turned away and removed his gloves, tossing them into the trash. As the saline drip worked its magic, you began to feel better, the nausea and dizziness slowly receding.

"You mentioned me in your paper," you spoke up, breaking the silence.

Gojo turned to face you, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "I did."

"Why?"

"Why wouldn't I? You've done most of the analysis." 

"You could have done it without me."

"I know, but I wanted you to be a part of it."

Knowing that the analysis of such an important issue would get a lot of recognition, he should have added.

"Why?" you asked again, already knowing the answer.

"Because I want to support you."

"But I'm just a student, and you're—" You trailed off, feeling a sudden tightness in your chest. His crystal blue eyes seem to pierce right through you.

"And I'm what?"

He stood up and closed the distance between you, his hands coming to rest on either side of you on the bed. The nearness of his body made your breathing hitch in your throat. The warmth of his presence enveloped you, the subtle scent of his cologne blending with the sterile air.

His face was so close, his lips almost grazing yours. Your heart raced, pounding so loudly in your chest you were sure he could hear it. 

You hesitated, the words catching in your throat. "—my professor."

"Too bad, isn't it?" he whispered hoarsely, his voice a velvet caress that sent shivers down your spine.

Your mind raced with a thousand thoughts, a thousand reasons why this shouldn't happen, why you should push him away. But your body betrayed you, leaning into him, closing the distance, seeking the touch of his lips against yours.

"We shouldn't be doing this," you whispered.

"Tell me to stop, and I will."

Your core heated, turning molten. Your lips parted slightly, surrendering to the moment. 

You could tell how much self-control it took for him to not kiss you. You could see it in the way his jaw was set, his brow subtly furrowed, his eyes glued to your lips. Yet, he waited for your consent. 

His lips were a mere breath from yours—so cruelly close. Every fiber of your being yearned for him to close the gap, for him to lose against his self-control.

Suddenly you heard your name and a knock at the door.

The door swung open abruptly. Gojo flinched back, the spell between you broken. Regaining his composure, he stepped back, putting a professional distance between you two. You straightened quickly, trying to hide your flushed face.

You wished desperately that he'd kissed you.

Geto stood in the doorway, his eyes flickering between Gojo and you.

You could tell what he was thinking.

next chapter ->

author's note: thanks for reading and feel free to leave your thoughts !! if you want to be added to the taglist, pls comment on the series masterlist ♡

OMG MASTERPIECE

【 ꜱʏᴍᴘᴛᴏᴍꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴀᴜꜱᴇꜱ 】 ch. 8

x PAIRING professor!gojo satoru x f!reader (medical!au)

x WORD COUNT 11.8 k

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. (this sounds more fluffy than it actually is, it's more angsty and emotional damaging lul).

x WARNINGS + NOTES this story contains substance abuse/addiction, smut, mature themes, self-destructive behavior, angst, mentions of death/illness, graphic medical procedures. you can also read it on ao3 or wattpad. pls like or repost if you enjoyed ♡

x AUTHORS'S NOTE just wanted to shout out a big thank you to everyone who reads and support my story! your support seriously means the world. thanks for sticking around, and i hope this chapter was worth the wait. dive in and let me know what you think—i love hearing your thoughts! ♡

♫₊ ♪ playlist

➸ ch 1; ch 2; ch 3; ch 4; ch 5; ch 6; ch 7

Sunlight sliced through the thin gap in the curtains, painting stripes across your heavy eyelids. It felt warm, comforting—almost like an unspoken apology for the reality it foreshadowed. The plush hotel bed clung to your body, and for a blissful moment, you'd almost forgotten where you were.

Almost.

Until the steady rhythm of breathing beside you brought you back to reality. Satoru's arm was draped casually over your waist, his body moulded tightly against yours.

You wanted to stayed forever like that, suspended in the lazy lull of the morning, the world outside momentarily forgotten. But then, your gaze drifted across the room, landing on the digital clock.

The bright red numbers screamed it was far later in the morning than it had any right to be.

Fuck.

Panic slithered through your veins.

Today was the day of the lecture, the reason you were here in this sun-drenched coastal town, in this hotel, in Satoru's arms. And you were oversleeping.

You propped yourself up, elbow digging into the soft sheets, and turned to the white-haired man beside you. "Satoru." You nudged him, gently at first, then with increasing urgency. "Wake up."

No response.

"Satoru," you repeated, a little louder this time.

Still, nothing. Not even a twitch.

His features remained serene, his breathing steady, as if the world beyond his dreams didn't exist. His white lashes rested softly on his cheeks, his mouth slightly parted. He looked so peaceful. It almost hurt to wake him. But only almost.

With the clock ticking menacingly, reminding you of every second slipping away, gentleness was no longer an option. You drew your leg back and delivered a swift kick to his side. "Satoru!"

With a startled yelp, Satoru rolled off the bed and landed with a thud on the plush carpet below. He was immediately jolted awake by the cold floor against his skin.

"What the—," he sputtered, propping himself up on the edge of the bed, a look of utter confusion crossing his face. His hair was a mess, sticking out in every direction.

"We overslept!" You throw off the covers and scramble out of bed. "The lecture, Satoru! We're late!"

For a moment, he just stared at you, blinking away the remnants of sleep. Then, realization dawned on him, his eyes widening. "Shit!"

"Yeah, shit." You were already rummaging through your belongings for something suitable to wear. The lecture was in less than thirty minutes, and you had yet to prepare yourselves, let alone rehearse the final points of your presentation.

He sighed. "Maybe we should just skip it."

"Come on, Satoru, we don't have time for this." You tossed a pair of trousers at him, which landed on his head. He yanked them off, looking slightly bemused.

"So you're deciding what I wear now?"

"It matches my outfit." 

As the two of you scrambled to get ready, the room turned into chaos. Clothes were hastily thrown on, shoes mismatched in the rush, all while you tried to rehearse the presentation.

"Satoru, have you seen my laptop?"

"Check under my bag." His voice muffled from the bathroom where he was attempting a speed-shave. "And remember, the key point on slide seventeen is the statistical improvement in patient recovery rates."

Finding your laptop and opening the presentation to quickly recall everything you tossed another question back at him. "What about the potential side effects? How are we addressing those?"

"Slide twenty-two, we're emphasizing ongoing research and monitoring," Satoru called back, emerging from the bathroom with a small cut on his jaw, but otherwise looking more like the composed professor he was supposed to be today.

The flurry of preparations continued unabated as you both sifted through documents, gathered laptops and chargers, and double-checked that the USB with your presentation was safely in your bag.

You turned to see Satoru fumbling with his tie, his hands shaking slightly.

"Let me." You closed the gap between you, the scent of his aftershave sharp and familiar. You unwound the tangled mess he'd made and started afresh, draping the silk fabric neatly around his neck before proceeding to tie it. "How are you holding up today?"

His hands reached up to smooth down your hair. "I'm managing. But you're here. That's all I need."

You looked up briefly to meet his gaze, a smile forming on his lips. "Regarding the Q&A, we shouldn't overlook the upcoming clinical trials," you reminded him while adjusting the knot of his tie to perfection.

Satoru nodded. "Right. And if anyone asks about the implant's durability, you'll take that question. You know the technical specs better than I do."

Once the tie was neatly in place, your hands lingered on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingertips. His gaze was heavy on you, and when you finally met it, his eyes held a tenderness that made your breath catch. 

He looked at you as if you were the only person in the world, as if the very sight of you filled him with an awe he could hardly believe.

His thumb traced the curve of your cheek, a touch so light it was almost a ghost against your skin. Time seemed to pause as you both lost yourselves in each other's eyes.

But just as quickly as the moment had enveloped you, reality came crashing back. With a jolt, you remembered that you were indeed late for the lecture.

"Let's quickly run through the opening of the presentation once more." You broke the stillness and resumed the morning's hurried pace. "I'll begin with an introduction to the progression of neuroimplant technology, followed by your detailed discussion of our research findings."

Satoru shook his head, as if snapping back to reality. "Sounds like a plan." He picked up the room key and led you to the door. "I'll conclude with our study's implications for future research and potential applications."

Just as you were about to hurry out, Satoru's voice halted you. "Wait."

You turned to find him stepping closer. In a seamless motion, he bridged the distance between you, his hand gently cradling the back of your neck. He leaned down, and his lips met yours. The kiss was sudden but tender, a moment of calm amidst the morning's frantic rush.

He pulled away reluctantly, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. "For luck."

Satoru grabbed his suit jacket in a swift motion before you left the hotel room.

"Sure you'll need it? It's going to be a scorcher today."

He smirked. "I have a feeling I might."

As you entered the auditorium, the sheer scale of the event stole your breath. 

The room was packed beyond capacity. Every seat taken, attendees sitting on the floor and along the stairs, every face—hundreds of them—turned toward the stage in anticipation.

You squeezed through the crowd, Satoru's hand a steadying presence at your back. You made your way to the front of the room, the eyes of the audience following your every move. The podium felt like a different world, a spotlight that left no room for mistakes.

As you set up your presentation, your gaze inadvertently swept across the faces in the crowd, searching, scanning until it landed on him—Sukuna.

Your heart pounded against your ribs. His eyes met yours for a fleeting moment, a smirk playing on his lips. Your stomach twisted.

Satoru, sensing your tension, leaned closer. "Deep breaths. Eyes on me," he whispered. "Forget him. You know this material better than anyone. You're brilliant, and today, everyone else will see that too."

You nodded, drawing a deep breath.

As Satoru began to speak, his voice carried across the room, clear and confident. The initial nerves faded away, replaced by the passion for your subject that always fueled you as you took the stage. The presentation flowed from introduction to in-depth analysis, from new research to potential implications for the future.

The audience was captivated, their attention unwavering as they followed along. The content you had both worked so hard on was being received with the enthusiasm and seriousness it deserved.

By the time the final slide flickered onto the screen, the room erupted into applause. You looked over at Satoru, finding him already looking at you. He smiled.

As the applause died down, the room transitioned into the Q&A session. Hands shot up one after another, questions being fired at you and Satoru with eagerness and curiosity. The exchange was lively, with both of you addressing each question with detail and clarity.

The scheduled time for the session quickly passed, yet the audience's thirst for knowledge seemed unquenchable, with more hands remaining raised, more questions waiting to be asked.

Suddenly, Sukuna raised his arm, his mere presence commanding attention. The room instantly fell silent, all eyes turned to him. He cleared his throat, his eyes fixed on you.

"I must admit, your presentation is both ambitious and promising," he began, his voice carrying across the packed auditorium. "However, I can't help but wonder about the long-term risks. How do you propose to overcome the inevitable immune response that will reject the implant? Or is the plan just to pump patients full of immunosuppressants until their bodies give out?"

Oh, he was such a dick.

"And another thing," Sukuna continued, not giving you a chance to respond to his first jab, "how do you plan to maintain the efficacy of the neural interface when the brain's neuroplasticity will likely render it obsolete in a few years? Or hadn't you thought that far ahead?"

Oh, he challenged you. You could clearly see it.

Satoru opened his mouth to respond, but you were quicker. Without hesitation, you stepped forward and cut Satoru off.

"Thank you for your interesting questions," you began, the edge in your voice mirroring his, "it seems you don't understand the scope of our research. As for the immune response, we don't rely on brute force immunosuppression. Instead, we're taking a new approach using biocompatible materials designed to integrate seamlessly with human tissue."

"And as for neuroplasticity," you continued, locking eyes with Sukuna, "our interface is designed to adapt as the brain changes, using algorithms that learn and evolve. We're not talking about a static piece of hardware, but a dynamic system. But perhaps the concept of adaptive technology is new to you?"

It was disrespectful, to say the least.

Bold. Stupid. Risky. All of the above and worse. No student should ever speak in such a dismissive tone to an experienced professor, let alone the head of the university who had specifically invited you to give this lecture, but God, you had had enough of his arrogance.

The room fell silent for a moment.

Then, Sukuna started to laugh—a shrill sound that filled the space. "Thank you," he said, his laughter fading into a smirk. "That was a truly refreshing lecture."

The audience erupted into applause once more.

Satoru strolled over to you, giving you a reassuring smile. In the moments following the lecture, as the last of the attendees began filing out of the auditorium, Satoru turned to you. "You were incredible out there," Satoru began, his voice carrying a warmth that made your heart flutter. "I'm proud of you."

"I couldn't have done it without you."

Satoru stepped closer and reached out, his hands finding your waist, drawing you into him. You tilted your head back, your gaze on his lips as the distance between you dwindling to mere inches. Just as his lips were about to meet yours, a familiar voice interrupted the moment.

"Quite the performance," Sukuna's voice intruded. His eyes, locked on yours, held a predator's gleam. "You have a sharp tongue, woman. I like that. Keeps things... interesting."

Satoru's hand tightened briefly around you before he let go. Satoru then casually shrugged off his suit jacket, wrapping it neatly over his right hand.

"Thanks for having us," you replied as Sukuna made his way over to you.

"I'm sure my colleagues would like you both to—," Sukuna begann but was quickly shut silent when Satoru's jacket-wrapped fist met his face. The sound of the impact echoed through the empty auditorium.

Oh, great. Another lawsuit.

"So much for wanting to 'talk' about it," you said dryly.

Satoru turned to you, a beam of satisfaction in his eyes. "I wrapped my hand in my jacket so I wouldn't get hurt. Didn't want you to have to patch me up again," he said, a hint of pride in his voice.

That's nothing to be proud of. Still, you appreciated his thoughtfulness.

Turning back to Sukuna, who was rubbing his jaw, Satoru added, "You should be thankful that I didn't do it in front of your students. Now we're even."

Sukuna's laughter filled the room, a sound of genuine amusement. "You haven't lost your old charm, Toru," he said, rising to his full height. "Still a man for dramatic gestures."

With a step forward, Sukuna enveloped Satoru in a tight hug. "Just like old times, eh?" he said, clapping Satoru on the back.

What was going on here. Was this normal?

Satoru chuckled. "Exactly like old times. But let's not make a habit out of it."

You stood there. Stunned. Speechless.

You had questions, a million of them.

Sukuna took a step back. "Well, I shouldn't keep you. I heard you have a long drive ahead," he said, his gaze lingering on you for a beat too long. "I do hope you'll consider coming back to give another lecture in the future."

"We'll think about it. And thanks for the hospitality, Sukuna," Satoru said.

"Always a pleasure to have you here. Safe travels back." With that, Sukuna turned and left the podium, leaving you and Satoru alone in the now-empty auditorium.

"Ready to head back?" Satoru then asked, extending his hand towards you.

You took his hand, your fingers intertwined with his. "You have really strange friends, Satoru."

"Sent another one off yesterday," Maki sighed, the ice clinking in her empty cup. "Feels like I've exhausted every hospital within a thousand-mile radius."

"It'll pay off. You're brilliant, remember? They'd be fools to pass you up."

The city pulsed with life under the lazy afternoon sun. 

You and Maki navigated the crowded sidewalks, the scent of roasted coffee beans and fresh pastries swirling in the warm air. Laughter bubbled up from overflowing cafes, their cheerful chatter a counterpoint to the impatient honks of taxis. 

The cool condensation on your iced coffee cup was a sweet relief against the prickle of sweat forming on your skin. But your conversation carried a weightier theme: Maki's internship applications.

Maki huffed out a mock-dramatic breath. "Well, if all else fails, there's always plan B: becoming a professional medical drama consultant."

"Medical drama consultant? Is that... a thing?"

"Think about it," Maki explained. "I'd be the go-to person for TV shows and movies to ensure their medical scenes are accurate. I'll be the one yelling at the screen, 'That's not how you do CPR!' or 'Nobody wears high heels in the ER!'"

"Yeah, why do they always wear heels on these shows? It makes no sense—" you began, then your phone buzzed, cutting you off. You couldn't stop the smile from spreading across your face as you read the message.

[5:12 PM] Satoru: Got any plans later? I might have something in mind for us.

Maki's eyebrows shot up. "Who's that? Making you smile like an idiot in the middle of the street?"

"Nothing, just—"

But Maki was faster. With a flash of her hand, she snatched your phone. "Let me see."

"No, wait—" you protested, but it was too late.

Maki's jaw dropped as she glimpsed the name at the top of the chat history. "Satoru Gojo?" she breathed, her surprise quickly morphing into something bordering on glee. "The Satoru Gojo?"

Maki's eyes flicked back to the screen, scanning messages with lightning speed. An audible gasp escaped her lips. "And what's this?" she read aloud, her voice barely a whisper, "'I'd rather have you wear nothing'?" Her eyes glittered with mischief. "Oh my god!"

"Maki, it's nothing really." You tried to reach for the phone, but she danced out of reach, her eyes still glued to the screen.

"You and Gojo, huh?" Maki finally looked up from the phone. "Why didn't you tell me? How long has this been going on?"

You sighed, knowing there was no point in denying it any longer. "A while now. But it's complicated."

"Men are always complicated," she said, her fingers already tapping out a reply.

"Wait, what are you doing?"

"Texting your man back," she said with a wicked grin.

Before you could stop her, she snapped a photo of the lingerie store you were standing in front of. She hit send, adding a caption that made your heart leap to your throat.

[5:15 PM] You: Thinking of you.

The deed done, Maki handed back your phone with a grin. "There, now he knows what he's missing out on."

Your phone buzzed almost immediately, Satoru's response popping up. Both of you leaned in.

[5:15 PM] Satoru: Don't tease me, you might regret it later. 

[5:15 PM] Satoru: You should come over after your shopping trip and show me.

Maki raised her eyebrows. "Oh, he's good."

"He's an idiot." You locked your phone, shoving it deep into your pocket.

"So, spill it," Maki began, her eyes wide. "How serious is it?"

You sighed. "It's somewhat serious."

Maki's eyes narrowed. "You know what they say about him, right? He's a brilliant surgeon, and an even better heartbreaker. Are you sure he's not just playing his usual game?"

"I just know." The words ringing with a conviction that surprised even yourself. "He might be a bit of a mess, but there's something about him. When I'm with him—" You trailed off, searching for the right words. "He gets me."

Maki's gaze softened, the sharp concern replaced by a familiar, almost sisterly look. "I'm not judging," she said. "Gojo's—well, he's intense," she added with a wry grin that almost made you laugh. "But don't forget who you are in all of this."

Maki squeezed your hand. "You've got this amazing research project, a brilliant career ahead of you—don't let any man, not even Satoru Gojo, mess that up."

Yeah, it was far too late for caution, wasn't it?

Before you could answer, Maki's attention was drawn to a shop across the street. "Ooh, let's check this place out!" She darted off before you could protest, giving you time to answer Satoru.

[5:25 PM] You: 8 pm?

[5:26 PM] Satoru: I'm impatiently waiting for you.

When you arrived at Satoru's apartment, the door was slightly ajar. Pushing the door open, you stepped inside, calling out his name. You immediately noticed the flavors of thyme and ginger in the air and the soft lo-fi music coming from the kitchen.

Rounding the corner, you found Satoru in a scene you never thought you'd witness. He stood over the stove, tossing vegetables in a pan with practiced ease, humming along to the music playing softly in the background. The sight was so unexpected it stopped you in your tracks.

"You hungry?" he called out.

You moved over to him, and leaned against the kitchen island. "You're—cooking?"

Satoru glanced up at you, a smirk playing on his lips. "Why does that surprise you so much?"

"I didn't think you knew how to cook."

Satoru and cooking were two concepts you'd never thought to pair together.

"Why not? I'm living alone, what did you think?"

"I don't know, that you live off delivery service."

"Ah, the misconception strikes again." As if to prove his point, he gave the pan in front of him an expert toss, sending its contents flipping neatly in the air before landing back with a satisfying sizzle.

"What are you making?"

"Ah, that would be telling. You'll just have to wait and see," he teased, the button-down shirt straining slightly across his broad shoulders as he reached for a spice jar.  A kitchen towel was slung over one shoulder, like a damn real chef.

The light from the setting sun filtered through the window, casting a warm hue that highlighted the sharp angles of his jawline, the concentration in his eyes as he tasted a sauce, and the small smile that played on his lips when he was satisfied with the flavors.

Your gaze drifted to his forearms, where the veins were subtly pronounced against his pale skin. Your mind wandered to how his skin felt against yours—smooth, yet with a hint of roughness. You imagined the touch of his long, perfect fingers, their gentle caress—

"So, how did your shopping trip go? Found something?" Satoru's voice pulled you from your daydreams, his eyes crinkling at the corners with amusement as he caught the distant look on your face.

"I wasn't the one who sent that message, just so you know."

He raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk forming. "Figured. You're not usually so straightforward with your flirting. So, who knows now?"

"Maki knows."

"Maki Zenin?"

"Yes."

"I see," he hummed, stirring the pot thoughtfully. 

"She won't tell anyone," you added.

"You know, I wouldn't mind if people found out about us," he commented casually, sending a playful glance your way.

You scoffed, pushing yourself away from the counter. "You're seriously too laid-back for your own good, Satoru."

You wandered into the living room, the warm, spicy scent of his cooking clinging to you.

"Still haven't answered my question, love," his voice came from the kitchen.

"And which question would that be?"

"Did you find anything interesting on your shopping trip?"

"Ah, that would be telling. You'll just have to wait and see," you mirrored his words back to him, casting a glance over your shoulder to catch his gaze.

Your attention then shifted to a shelf beside the TV in the living room. Medical textbooks and dusty journals formed a stoic wall, interrupted only by a somewhat abandoned plant gasping for water. But your attention settled on the gleaming basketball trophies nestled between them.

Polished silver and gold surfaces reflected the warm light, each etched with names and dates, whispering stories of past matches. You couldn't resist. Your fingertips glided over their cool smoothness, tracing the inscriptions, a faint metallic tang lingering on your skin.

Meanwhile, Satoru's voice announced from the kitchen, "This will need a bit to simmer properly," followed by the sound of a lid sealing the pot and the soft thud of a towel carelessly tossed aside. 

He appeared behind you, a familiar warmth radiating from his body as he wrapped his strong arms around your waist, pulling you close. The spicy scent of the cooking clung to his shirt, mingling with his own clean, masculine fragrance. His chin rested gently on your head.

Curiosity piqued, you asked, "Which one means the most to you?"

He guided both of you towards a shelf to the right, his hand leading yours to a particularly well-worn trophy, its surface already dulled. "This one is from our last match at university."

You traced the engraved plate at the base of the trophy, listening intently.

"It was against our biggest rivals," he began, his voice laced with a hint of nostalgia. "And honestly, we were the underdogs. First half was brutal, we were falling behind, and morale was low."

He paused, and you could almost hear the silence of that locker room, the taste of despair in the air. "But then, halftime hit. Suguru... he gave that speech. I don't remember the words, but it was something else. Somehow, he always knew exactly what to say."

You glanced up at him, your curiosity piqued by the sudden softness in his voice. You watched as a smile crept across his face. "After that, we just clicked. Everything fell into place, and we played like never before. We caught up, and in the final seconds, Suguru passed me the ball."

You leaned closer. "And?"

"And I took the shot," he said, a laugh bubbling up. "And it went in. Just like that, we won." He sighed, his gaze returning to the trophy. "That's why this one means so much. It was the end of an era for us, a perfect closure before we all went our separate ways."

"But you and Geto stayed close, you even did your residency years together. And Kento's still around."

"I know," he murmured, a shadow flickering across his face. "But things were never quite the same."

Before you could delve deeper, his phone began to ring, slicing through the moment. He reluctantly let go of you and picked up the phone, a slight frown forming as he glanced at the caller ID.

"Sorry, I need to take this," Satoru said, the warmth in his voice replaced by a hint of tension.

"Everything okay?"

"Yeah, just a call I have to answer."

He quickly excused himself, moving towards his study with brisk steps. "Won't be long," he called over his shoulder before slipping through the door and softly closing it behind him.

With Satoru momentarily gone, you wandered through the living room, each step echoing slightly in the spacious area. Eventually, you stepped out onto the balcony, the cool evening air a welcome caress against your skin. The setting sun painted the sky in breathtaking shades of red and orange, a canvas of fiery hues that seemed to set the world ablaze.

After a few minutes bathed in the dying light, you glanced back over your shoulder, expecting to see Satoru returning. But the door remained closed.

Each minute stretched longer than the last, the beauty of the sunset gradually giving way to the twinkling lights of the city below. As you lingered on the balcony, soaking in the last hues of the sunset . Then, a sharp, acrid scent suddenly sliced through the air, pulling your attention away from the serene view.

Wrinkling your nose, you realized it was the unmistakable smell of something burning.

You hurried back into the apartment. At the same time, Satoru emerged from his study and hurried into the kitchen to turn off the stove. You stood behind him, trying to peak over his shoulder on your tiptoes to see what was left of the evening's meal—but the food was beyond saving, a blackened mess at the bottom of the pot.

He let out a heavy sigh, a boyish smile playing on his lips as he turned to you. "So, what type of takeout do you want?"

Leaning back on your heels you tiled your head. "Pizza sounds good."

"Then pizza it is," he declared with a chuckle, already reaching for his phone to place an order. "Sorry for that, the call took longer than I expected."

"Who was it?"

"Just hospital stuff," he mumbled, his eyes flitting away for a moment. "Nothing important."

"Really? Because you seemed a bit stressed—" you prodded gently. But just as you touched on the subject, the pizza place picked up his call, cutting the conversation short.

"Ah, hey, I'd like to place an order," Satoru said, turning slightly away.

You exhaled, frustration rising within you.

You stepped back onto the balcony, the lingering scent of smoke clinging to the air. Leaning against the railing, you watched the people weaving through the streets below. Streetlights flickered to life, painting the streets in a garish orange glow as the evening deepened into night.

His footsteps broke the silence before you felt his arms encircle you. The warmth of his body drove away the chill of the night. He rested his chin on your shoulder, his breath lightly brushing against your cheek as you both looked out over the cityscape.

"You've got this really huge balcony, but there's practically nothing on it. It's like you just moved in." You turned slightly within his embrace to gaze at the unused space, which indeed seemed unused, almost stark in its emptiness, except for the vast view it offered. "How long have you been living here, anyway?"

"You probably don't want to know." Then, a spark of something new flickered in his tone. "I have an idea."

His sudden shift startled you. "What?" You turned to face him, your back now leaning against the railing but he already wandered off.

He hurried inside, his movements a blur as he vanished into the living room and then the bedroom. Moments later, he reappeared, arms laden with pillows and blankets. He tossed them onto the cold stone floor. In an instant, the balcony was a sea of softness and warmth.

"What's all this for?"

Without skipping a beat, Satoru plopped down onto the blankets, patting the space beside him with a wide grin. "Come here."

You hesitated only for a moment before joining him, the softness of the blankets enveloping you. You leaned back against Satoru, finding a perfect nook between his outstretched legs, his arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer into his embrace. His lips found the crown of your head in a tender kiss.

Enveloped in the soft embrace of blankets and cushions, with the city's lights below mirroring the starlit sky above, you found yourself sinking deeper into his embrace. The warmth of his body, the rhythmic beat of his heart—it felt like coming home.

Satoru's hand moved then, fingers brushing against your arm, as it seemed the traced the very veins beneath your skin. Surgeon's hands, you thought. Hands trained for precision.

His hand found yours then, carefully intertwining your fingers with his. His hands, large yet so slender, bore the faintest marks—tiny stitch scar here, few freckles there.

"It healed well," you murmured, thumb tracing the mark on his hand where you'd stitched a cut, after he punched that student weeks ago. "Barely a mark left."

His fingers grazed your cheek, then cupped your face, his touch surprisingly gentle. "Because one of the best surgeons took care of it." He tilted your chin upwards him, his eyes searching yours. His lips were inches from yours, a promise hanging in the air.

Then, the doorbell rang, a harsh, jarring sound that shattered the moment.

"Damn," he muttered under his breath. "Pizza's here."

He eased away, leaving the warmth of his touch as an imprint on your skin. Moments later, he returned, pizza boxes in hand. As you settled back into the cozy nest of blankets, the scent of melted cheese and herbs filling the air.

Midway through your slice, Satoru's voice broke the silence with a question that felt like a thunderclap on a clear day.

"So, when do I get to meet your mother?"

You nearly choked on your bite. "My mother?" you repeated. "You know she's... well, not exactly the conventional type. She's a bit out there." Understatement of the century, you thought. 

"Can't be any more 'out there' than mine. Besides, she's your mom. I'd like to get to know my future mother-in-law."

"What?"

"Aren't we there yet?"

"Where? What are you talking about?"

"What, is the thought of you marrying me so absurd?"

"Kind of, yes."

"I'll just pretend I didn't hear that," he replied, undeterred.

"Are you serious?"

"I am serious." His tone softened, his eyes locked with yours with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. "I mean, isn't that where this is heading? Us, together, for the long haul?"

Your heart raced.

How could he just blurt something like that out and act like it was nothing?

He dropped the idea of marriage as casually as suggesting a trip to Ikea next weekend—as if marrying him wasn't just a possibility—it was a given—as if being together with him—like forever—like until death do us part—was the most natural thing in the world.

Of course you're getting married, didn't you know?

Like, in his mind, marrying you was as natural and inevitable as the sun rising each day. He wasn't just proposing a future together. He was stating it as a fact, something he'd considered a done deal from the beginning and he'd simply been quietly waiting for you to catch up.

The silence stretched, heavy with the weight of everything unsaid.

"Or are you planning to dump me once the new semester starts?" he added.

"If you keep saying things like that, then yes."

In response, he closed the gap between you, his presence overwhelming. "Fine, then let me be clear—I absolutely do not want to marry you. In fact, I really can't stand you," he moved closer with each word, his tone dripping with sarcasm, "seriously, marrying you? Sounds like an absolute nightmare."

"Very funny, Dr. Gojo. Can't you ever be serious?"

His blue eyes held yours, the smile on his lips a shade bolder. "Dead serious." 

His lips hovered just inches from yours, a promise of a kiss hanging in the air. "I'm merely contemplating the perfect moment to ask my future Mrs. Gojo to marry me. Or perhaps you'd like to keep your last name?"

"You're impossible," you breathed, the word barely a whisper.

"But that's why you love me, isn't it?"

His words were barely audible, drowned out by the frantic pounding of your heart, his lips so cruelly close. But just as the distance between you was about to disappear, a harsh, jarring sound shattered the moment once again.

Satoru froze, a frown marring his handsome features. He glanced at his phone, the annoyance evident, before pulling away with a resigned sigh. "I'm sorry, I need to take this."

"It's okay, go ahead," you said, despite the disappointment that fluttered in your chest.

Satoru offered a strained smile before stepping away to answer the call. You watched him as he moved to a quieter corner inside his apartment. The ease and warmth that had enveloped you both just seconds ago were replaced by a sudden chill of distance.

As you waited, the unease settled in again, heavier this time. You watched him, he paced the room, seemingly distressed. When Satoru returned, his expression was unreadable, a mask that gave nothing away.

"Everything okay?"

"Yeah, just work stuff," he replied. "Where were we?" He leaned in, attempting to recapture the lost spark, but the interruption had fractured something.

You frowned slightly. "You're hiding something."

He paused, a mere heartbeat away, his gaze lingering on the curve of your lips. "Nothing to worry your pretty head about."

"So there is something," you pressed.

Then, with a deliberate slowness, he closed the distance, his lips finding yours in a slow, deep kiss. Satoru's lips were warm and soft, his breath mingling with yours as he deepened the kiss. His fingers traced your jawline, a feather-light caress that belied the urgency in his eyes.

"It's nothing important," he murmured against your lips.

Your heart raced, matching the rhythm of his own. The heat in my stomach flared to life, a familiar, treacherous heat that threatened to drown out your doubts.

Slowly, his tongue slipped past your lips, parted them, and then licked along your lower lip.

"You're really testing me with your secrets," you breathed into his mouth. Yet, you parted your lips further for him to claim.

"You're really testing my patience with your stubbornness," he said before claiming your mouth once more. His hand slid down your neck, tracing the outline of your collarbone before venturing south. His fingertips danced over the fabric of your shirt, sending shivers up your skin.

You clung to him, wanting more of his kiss, feeling yourself falling deeper under his spell. Satoru responded in kind, his hand venturing lower, sliding beneath the fabric of your leggings. "I wouldn't be so stubborn if you would just tell me."

"But stubbornness suits you, sweetheart." His fingers moved further down, pushing aside the already damp fabric of your underwear. "It adds to the thrill." As his fingers brushed against your sensitive skin, a soft moan escaped your lips and the treacherous heat in your stomach flared higher.

"Has anyone ever told you you're impossible?"

"Has anyone ever told you that you never stop talking?" he countered, before sliding a finger inside you, eliciting a moan from your lips. You closed your eyes, biting down on your lip as he added another finger, and then a third. "That's how you like it, right?"

His fingers moved with deliberate slowness. Each teasing touch sent shivers through your body, eliciting moans that escaped your lips uncontrollably. Your hips arched towards him, seeking more of his touch. Satoru smirked, sensing your surrender. "Good girl. Let me hear those pretty little sounds."

This man.

This fucking man, did always know how to play you, how to make you weak, how to make you forget all your good reasons, leaving you desperate for his touch. He was a dangerous addiction, and you craved another hit, consequences be damned.

But can anyone blame you, when fucking Satoru Gojo's fingers were in you?

"You can't just fuck your way out of every argument," you protested, though your voice wavered.

"Oh really?" With a subtle grin, his movements intensified, his fingers delving deeper and faster. You grasped at his shoulders, tugging him closer as the pressure built inside of you. "I might want to try it anyway."

Suddenly, he withdrew, pulling down your leggings to reveal a new pair of lace underwear. "So you did buy something?" he remarked with a playful smirk.

"I never said I didn't."

Satoru's eyes gleamed as he admired the delicate lace accentuating your pretty curves. His fingers traced lightly along the edges, grazing over the fabric that barely concealed the allure of your skin beneath. "You look so fucking hot in that, what a shame I have to get you out of it."

"Then I should just keep it on, don't you think?"

His lips twitched into a half grin. "Just how I like it."

With a swift movement, Satoru pulled you onto his lap. He drew you close as his lips sought yours once more, deepening the kiss, pulling you closer until there was no space between your bodies. You reached up, your fingers tangling in his silvery hair as you pressed your lips against his.

His hands roamed restlessly across the hemline of your shirt. With a quick, eager tug, he pulled the fabric upwards, exposing your chest to the cool night air. A shiver ran through you, goosebumps rising along your arms.

He smiled wickedly, his teeth flashing white against the darkness as he took in the sight of the delicate lace of your matching bra. "You really have good taste."

"I know." Every inch of your skin tingled under the weight of his gaze as you closed the distance between you once more, your lips eagerly seeking his. Satoru pulled you tight against his chest, his lips devouring yours with fervor.

His hands wandered over the intricate pattern of your lace bra, exploring every curve and contour. His touch was both gentle and possessive, eliciting a soft gasp from your lips as you pressed your breasts against his hand, craving more of his touch.

His lips left yours, trailing a path of fire down your neck. His tongue teased over your collarbone and then down over your breasts as he worshiped every inch of your skin with fervent devotion.

His hand deftly pushed aside the thin lace to reveal your bare skin. His tongue traced circles around the sensitive nipples, causing you to gasp aloud.

"So, where's that attitude now?" he teased.

"Still here," you managed to breathe out.

"Then I'll just have to work harder."

With a sudden surge of energy, he pushed you back, pinning you down onto the soft bedding below. One hand closed around your throat, applying just the right amount of pressure to send a thrill through you. The other hand wasted no time and was already between your legs.

Without hesitation, he slid three fingers slow and deep inside you, filling you completely. His grip on your throat tightened with each inch he buried his fingers deeper.

Your breath caught in your throat, a mix of pain and pleasure wracking your senses. Yet, somehow, it felt right, exactly how you needed him to be in that moment. 

"You like that, don't you?"

"Fuck, yes," you moaned as he began to move his fingers within you.

As if reading your mind, Satoru shifted his attention to your nipples again, caressing them hungrily with his tongue. The contrast of the roughness of his grip with the velvety softness of his caresses left you dizzy with excitement, your body responding eagerly to his every move.

Your mouth fell open, unable to contain the moans that escaped freely from your lips. You didn't care if someone could hear you. Someone must definitely hear you, how loud you were. 

With each passing second, your breath grew shallower, your heartbeat faster as you lost yourself entirely to him. With each stroke of his fingers, he coaxed another sigh, another whimper from your throat. Every inch of your skin tingled with heightened sensitivity, urging you forward towards release.

"You have anything to say now? Or did I find a way to shut you up?" he teased.

"You're such a dick sometimes."

With those words, his lips found their way back to your ears, breathing hotly against your skin. "Maybe," he whispered, "but remember how that 'dick' can make you feel."

He suddenly intensified his rhythm, each thrust deeper and more forceful than the last. Your hands found their way to his shoulders, pulling him towards you, and you opened your mouth wide beneath his.

"Tell me," he breathed against your lips, "how bad you want to cum?"

You moaned deeply into his mouth. "I don't."

What a lie.

"So stubborn." He broke from your lips to trail feather-light kisses down your jawline and neck. His teeth grazed lightly over the pulse point at your collarbone. You gasped, your body arching toward him. He looked up at you with a wicked grin, knowing full well how close you were now. "Seems like someone's pretty close for not wanting to cum."

"Shut up and finish what you started, Satoru," you demanded.

"You're not the one in command here." His grip on your throat tightened, sending a jolt of excitement through you. For a moment, you struggled against his hold, desperate for oxygen. Then, just as abruptly, he released you, allowing you to catch your breath.

"Now tell me, how bad you want to cum?" With swift movements, he descended lower, planting wet kisses over your chest, his tongue flicking teasingly over your skin.

"You're such a bitch," you gasped, but your defense was wearing thin as you sensed that you couldn't hold it in any longer. "Fuck—Make me cum, Satoru," you begged, your fingers tangling in his hair, urging him closer.

"Yeah, that's what I thought."

Your heart raced as his fingers increased the pressure. His thumb found your clit, pressing firmly and beginning to rub in slow, deliberate circles. He pushed you closer and closer to the edge, until you rolled your eyes back in your head, screaming out his name in sheer pleasure.

As you lay gasping for breath, your limbs heavy with satisfaction, he moved closer, pressing his lips to yours in a tender kiss. Your mouth fell open, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps as his fingers, still buried deep inside you, coaxed out every last bit of your orgasm.

"Good girl," he whispered against your lips, "all messed up and so pretty for me."

"I hate you."

"I'm sure you do." He withdrew his fingers, which were soaked up to his knuckles. Bringing them to his lips, he licked from his knuckles upwards to his fingertips, savoring your taste. "So, what were we arguing about just now?"

"I know exactly what we were arguing about," you said, a sudden surge of energy coursing through you. You wrapped your legs around his waist and rolled over, pinning him beneath you.

His hands found their way to your waist, pressing you down against his already hard bulge. "What's with the sudden power play?"

Your hands slid under his shirt, exploring the contours of his chest, eliciting a shudder from him beneath your touch. "Shut up and take off your shirt."

Without hesitation, he straightened up and pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it aside, his lips hovering just before yours as he did so. "Trying to take charge, are we?" His gaze was fixed on your lips, anticipation evident in his eyes.

With his shirt discarded, you placed a hand on his chest and pushed him back down.

"So, are you going to tell me now?" You began to rock back and forth against him, grinding your hips into his groin, leaving him gasping for breath beneath you. He let his head fall back, his eyes fluttering shut as he surrendered to the sensation, his mouth falling open in a silent gasp.

"Didn't we already go over this?" he breathed out, his voice strained with the effort to maintain control amidst the overwhelming pleasure engulfing him.

"You're dodging the question."

Leaning forward, you pressed your body flush against his, trailing soft kisses down his neck, savoring every inch of his heated skin. Your breasts pressed firmly against his chest, and he responded eagerly, his fingers clutching at your curves hungrily.

As you ground deeper against him, your movements became more intense. He let out a raspy moan, unable to hold back his noises any longer. "Please... Please, just keep doing that," he begged, his hands gripping your hips tightly as if trying to anchor you to him.

"Still avoiding my question," you persisted.

"You really can't enjoy a single night without having to start an argument," he countered, drawing his brows together. His chest rose and fell with each deep breath, his body consumed by the intoxicating sensation of your touch. "Ah fuck, right there."

"You're a real pain in the ass," you gasped, though your own moans betrayed the words as his trousers rubbed against your core, the sensation of his hard length pressing against you sending shivers down your spine. Your gaze fixated on his lips, still glistening from your kisses.

The sight of him beneath you was both thrilling and intimidating—his muscles flexed and rippled under your touch, his skin sheened with sweat. Drops of moisture formed at the corners of his eyes. "I told you there's—ah, fuck—nothing to worry about, just let me—ah—handle it," he strained to articulate, his words punctuated with moans.

You weren't sure if you wanted to punch him or admire him for his persistence.

"I swear, you're going to kill me with this," he gasped, his fingers digging into your waist as if anchoring himself to reality amidst the overwhelming sensation. "But damn it, keep doing it anyway."

You trailed your fingers down his chest, marveling at the play of muscles beneath his skin. As you grazed your nails across his chiseled abs, you noticed a subtle tremble in the muscles beneath your fingertips. They rippled and contracted, revealing the urgency that radiated from him.

"Fuck, I can't hold back any longer. Let me fuck you already, or I'll cum in my pants," he groaned.

"Oh, you want to cum?" you tilted your head, a smirk playing on your lips. "Then tell me, what's going on?"

"God, damn it. Leave it be, and let me fuck you."

You abruptly stopped grinding on him, releasing your hold and leaning back slightly. "No telling me, no fucking me," you declared, standing up and moving away.

"Ha? Wait, what?" Satoru's eyes shot open immediately, frustration evident in his expression as he watched you retrieve your leggings and cover the lace underwear you had worn just for him. 

Popping himself up on his elbows, his heart pounded in his chest as he struggled to control his breathing. "Are you fucking with me?"

"Apparently not." You tossed his shirt onto his chest as you walked past him. "How about a movie?"

Your hands were under the steady stream of water once again.

The familiar adrenaline rush was there, but less this time. It was already your sixth surgery. Everything went well. No complications. No problems. 

Each time, it felt just a little easier to breathe.

The sterile quiet of the washing room was almost comforting, except for the distant echo of pacing from the hallway outside. You glanced through the small window, seeing Satoru's silhouette through the frosted glass.

He moved restlessly, a phone glued to his ear. Even from this distance, the tension in his shoulders was palpable. Every now and then, he'd run a hand through his hair.

Then, the door swung open with a jarring noise, and Satoru stepped in, filling the small space with his presence. You turned off the tap and dried your hands, watching him closely. 

He moved to the sink beside you, his steps a touch too heavy. The tap screeched under his grip as he wrenched it open, the water spilling in an almost violent rush. The scrub brush trembled in his grip, his knuckles white as bleached bones against the harsh fluorescent lighting.

"Satoru, what's wrong?"

A muscle jumped in his jaw before he forced a smile. It stretched his lips but didn't touch his eyes. "Everything's fine," he said, the words coming out a bit too quickly, a bit too rehearsed. "Just hospital bureaucracy, you know how it is."

You didn't believe him. Not one bit. 

"Really? Because you seemed pretty stressed just now. And we're about to perform a rather complicated surgery in a few minutes."

He turned off the tap, his back to you for a brief moment to dry his hands that felt like an eternity. When he faced you again, the smile plastered on his face was a poor mask. 

"I'm fine, really. But thanks for asking," he replied, his tone softer now. "How are you feeling? Ready for this?"

"You know, it's getting annoying to hear the same lies over and over again."

He cut you off, a little more sharply than intended. "I said it's nothing. Let's focus on the surgery, okay?"

He's in withdrawal.

He's in withdrawal and there's probably something going on that you don't know about.

He's in withdrawal and there's probably something going on that you don't know about and he's not ready to share it yet—to protect you or whatever stupid reason he has.

He's in withdrawal and there's probably something going on that you don't know about and he's not ready to share it yet—to protect you or whatever stupid reason he has.You had to remind yourself of that to keep yourself from stepping up to him and fucking spitting in his face.

Still—

His words cut deep.

As Satoru made to leave the room, he hesitated momentarily beside you, a silent struggle evident in his stance. "I'm sorry," he whispered, the words barely audible. "Let's talk about this later, okay?" With a gentle kiss on your temple, he made his exit, his presence fading along with the scent of his cologne.

You followed him into the operating room. A knot formed in your stomach, the weight of silence a heavy cloak between you.

But professionalism took over as you both slipped into the practiced rhythm of your teamwork. Each movement was precise, a result of hours of practice and the deep understanding you had developed of each other's methods and thoughts.

The silent communication between you, carried by mere glances and subtle shifts in posture, made the complex procedure flow smoothly. As usual.

For a time, everything progressed as planned.

The humming of the equipment and the occasional soft command from Satoru were the only sounds that broke the concentration in the room.

Then, without warning, the steady rhythm of the operation was shattered. A sudden hemorrhage began in the brain. Blood, crimson and shocking, bloomed on the screen. The calmness of the procedure was replaced by a sudden urgency.

"We have a bleeding," Satoru's voice remained steady, his focus unwavering on the operative field.

Fuck.

Fuck.

This shouldn't happen.

This couldn't happen.

Panic clawed at your throat. 

Breath... where was it?

Each gasp a futile fight for air that never came.

Your hands, slick with sweat inside the gloves, fumbled like a stranger's. 

The room tilted, the harsh ceiling lights blurring into blinding white. 

Do something—why can't I think—was it my fault, my fault, my—

"Hey, hey, it's okay," Satoru's voice cut through like a lifeline, commanding your attention. "Focus on my voice. Just my voice, can you do that for me?"

You met his gentle gaze, the slight furrow in his brow softening as he looked at you. "You're not alone in this, just follow what I'm saying, okay?"

Fuck, get your shit together.

You weren't alone. You had him.

You nodded, taking a deep, shuddering breath.

"I need you to apply direct pressure here," he said, pointing with his instrument to the bleeding vessel. Your trembling hands fumbled for a moment before you grasped the sterile gauze, positioning it with painstaking care over the spot Satoru had indicated.

"Good. Hold it there while I cauterize the vessel. We need to stop the bleeding without compromising the surrounding tissue." Satoru took the bipolar forceps and skillfully maneuvered it around the critical area. 

"You're doing great," he said, his voice calm but focused as he worked to seal the bleeding vessel. "Just hold steady."

After a tense few minutes, the bleeding was controlled.

Satoru took a moment to assess the situation, ensuring that the bleeding had indeed stopped and that the patient remained stable. "That should do it. You can release the pressure now."

You slowly released the pressure, your hands betraying a slight tremor. 

You hated it.

Hated how weak and powerless you felt in those moments.

Hated the fear that had momentarily choked you.

"Do you need a moment?" Satoru asked.

You wanted to say yes, to let the tears of relief roll down your cheeks, but something held you back. "No, I'm okay," you replied. But you both knew you weren't.

His gaze held yours, his concern evident. He wasn't fooled by your bravery, seeing the tremor in your gloved hands, the slight tightening of your jaw. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice softer now. "It's okay to step out if you need to catch your breath."

"No," you insisted. "Let's finish this."

Stepping away from the table, you took a deep breath, trying to dispel the lingering fear. With a determined shrug, you forced a smile. Satoru returned the smile and together, you dove back into the task at hand, closing up the patient with practiced precision.

The rest of the operation proceeded without incident. With each suture placed, with each step that brought the procedure to its close, the unease that had gripped you began to recede, inch by painstaking inch.

Relief washed over both of you as the final sutures were placed, sealing the wound and marking the end of the surgery.

Later, you found yourself in the observation room, awaiting the results of the CT scan on the patient with the bleeding. You wanted, needed, the scan to be flawless, a clean slate erasing the memory of trembling hands and breathless fear.

A tense silence suffocated the observation room, broken only by the rhythmic hum of machines and Satoru's relentless fingers tapping impatiently on the wooden tabletop. Your eyes glued to the CT machine through the window as you waited for the images to appear.

Satoru's gaze then flickered to you, concern etching lines on his brow. "You look pale," he observed quietly. "Are you okay?"

You forced a smile, the gesture feeling brittle. "Yeah, just the adrenaline, I guess. Long day." The lie tasted bitter on your tongue.

Satoru studied you for a moment, his silence more telling than words. 

He always saw too much.

"I'm starting to think I might not be cut out for this," you admitted, the words tumbling out before you could stop them.

His reply was immediate. "That's not true. You're stronger than you give yourself credit for."

"I almost panicked back there. If you hadn't—"

"So what," he interrupted gently. "That's perfectly fine. You're still learning. Believe me, I messed up way more when I was starting out."

"Hard to imagine."

"Don't get down on yourself," he said. "You're doing great."

A flicker of doubt sparked in the back of your mind. Were you? 

After a moment, he added softly, "Look, I know I've been asking a lot of you. If you need to take a step back—"

"No," you interrupted, the word sharper than intended. "I don't want to give up."

"Taking a break isn't giving up," he said gently. The concern in his eyes made you want to squirm.

His offer, meant to be supportive, struck a nerve—chipped away at your carefully constructed armor. No, you couldn't accept that. Couldn't face the echoing void it would leave, the fear that without this, there was nothing. You were nothing.

The pressure built—an unseen weight crushing your chest.

So, you did what any rational human being would do in that situation, right?

You pushed back.

"When will you stop shutting me out?"

"Can we not do this now?" There was a weariness in his voice that you hadn't heard before.

"So when, Satoru?" you pressed. "When is the perfect time to tell me what's going on?"

His jaw clenched, a muscle ticking in his cheek. "This isn't the time or place," he insisted, his voice tight. "We need to focus on the patient."

"You're impossible!" The accusation hung in the air. "How can you stand there, acting like nothing's wrong, when it's so obvious something is?"

He held your gaze, the storm in his eyes mirroring your own. "I know what I'm doing," he said, each word clipped. "But you—what's happening with you right now?"

As if on cue, the door opened, and Geto stepped inside. 

"Heard there was a bit of excitement in surgery," Geto remarked, his breezy tone a stark contrast to the lingering anger in the room. "What happened?"

Satoru tore his gaze from you, reluctantly shifting his focus. "Not sure yet. We had an unexpected bleeding. We're waiting on the pictures to get a better idea."

Geto's eyes flickered to you, a hand coming to rest on the back of your chair. "You look pale. How are you holding up?" he echoed Satoru's earlier observation.

Were you really that pale or what?

"I'm fine, just tired."

Satoru's phone suddenly vibrated, the jarring sound cutting through the already strained silence. He glanced at the display, his expression hardening. "I need to take this."Without another word, he stepped out of the room, leaving the door slightly ajar behind him.

He was gone, but the tension lingered, a suffocating presence in the small room. Geto watched Satoru's retreating form, a sigh escaping his lips. He turned to you, settling into the chair Satoru had just vacated.

You couldn't quite meet his gaze. It was clear he sensed the unease that hung in the air.

"Is everything okay between you two?" he asked, his voice gentle.

"I don't know." You scrubbed a hand over your face. "I'm stupid, Geto."

"Why that, pretty?"

"It's just... there's something off, and I'm not making it any easier for him to talk about it," you said, the words barely a whisper. "I feel like things are getting worse again."

"Makes sense. He's been cutting down his meds too quickly. It's no surprise he's in heavy withdrawal."

"Cutting down one milligram every two weeks isn't too fast," you said, slightly offended that he questioned your perfect withdrawal plan. "That's standard protocol."

Geto's reply was blunt, cutting through your denial like a knife. "One? He slashed his dose in half. That's reckless, even for him."

"What?"

"Huh?" Geto's brow furrowed, surprised by your reaction.

"What did you say?"

"That he reduced his dosage by half, hasn't he? Like, he went from ten milligrams down to five."

The room felt smaller, the air heavier.

"You didn't know, huh?" Geto's voice was soft now.

Admitting it out loud felt like unraveling a tightly wound string. "I didn't. He mentioned six milligrams—" Your voice trailed off, a sickening feeling spreading through your chest.

Geto's expression softened. "He's good at hiding things."

"And there's something else," you said, sinking deeper into your chair. "Something he's been hiding ever since that we got back from that coastal university."

A slight smile flickered across Geto's face. "Heard you managed to put Sukuna in his place in front of everyone."

"Sukuna's insufferable. I can't believe Satoru ever saw him as anything close to a friend."

"Friends? No, they were more like enemies drawn together by their shared taste for self-destruction rather than real friendship."

"Yeah, I saw as much."

Geto leaned in slightly. "But Sukuna... he was a particularly bad influence on Satoru. It was better for both of them when their paths finally split. After all, Sukuna was the reason for Satoru's addiction."

"What?"

"Sukuna was the one who introduced him to that whole scene. Kept him well-supplied until they both got hooked."

The revelation hit you like a physical blow, the air knocked from your lungs as the pieces fell into place.

"You didn't know that either, huh?" Geto observed.

Silence stretched between you, heavy with the weight of everything unsaid. 

Finally, Geto spoke again, his tone weary. "Look, it's how he's always been. Walls up before anyone gets too close, pushing people away because—" he paused, a flicker of pain crossing his face, "—because he's convinced that deep down, he's broken. That if anyone truly sees him, they'll run for the hills."

A bitter laugh escaped you. "For someone who warned me to stay away from him, you sure are making it awfully hard to hate him, you know?"

"You two are like a car crash you can't take your eyes off. And honestly? Trying to separate you is pointless. I'm just trying to make it less painful for me to watch, because Satoru—," he trailed off, shaking his head, "—Satoru sure knows how to screw things up."

His words stung, but there was truth in them. 

You both knew Satoru's tendency for self-sabotage.

Geto paused, searching for the right words. "Thing is, back then, Satoru was different. Restless, always trying to prove something. Sukuna saw that vulnerability and played on it. Offered him what he thought was friendship. But it was all just a trap, a slow poison."

He shifted in his seat, "Satoru lost himself to that addiction before he even realized how deep he was in."

He leaned closer, making sure you were listening. "But you? You're good for him, whether you see it or not."

"Hard to believe that right now," you mumbled.

Geto's reply was immediate. "The fact he's opened up to you at all, about this?" He shook his head, a flicker of admiration in his eyes. "Hell, you survived meeting his mom. That's unheard of."

"Has Satoru ever actually dated anyone?"

"Not seriously," Geto shrugged. "He's always been too good at sabotage, pushing people away before it gets real."

Your mind lingered on a seemingly offhand comment. "Wait, what's the deal with his mom?"

"Lovely woman, isn't she?"Geto leaned back in his chair, his gaze on you suddenly darkening. He pulled out a cigarette, the click of his lighter cutting through the tense silence.

You raised an eyebrow. "Seriously? Smoking here?"

"Ah, come on, don't start," he retorted, a wry smile playing on his lips as he inhaled deeply, the smoke curling toward the ceiling. "Satoru's upbringing was intense, to say the least. Top surgeons, generations of them. The expectations were sky-high."

"What about his father?"

Geto exhaled a cloud of smoke. "Absent. Barely even speaks to his mother now."

Your head spun, piecing together fragments of Satoru's past.

Must feel exhausting.

Must feel suffocating.

Must feel cruelly lonely, growing up in a family devoid of love, chasing a lifelong search for validation in a family that valued success above all else.

Must feel even more cruelly lonely when you can't even talk about it, can't open up to anyone about it. Maybe it was easier for him to give in to his addiction.

Talk about a vicious cycle.

Then suddenly the pictured of the CT scan appeared on the monitor, reminding you that you were still in charge of a patient. Geto leaned in, studying it with practiced eyes. "Looks like Satoru managed to control the bleeding, everything's looking stable."

"Good work, both of you," he added as his gaze flickered back to you.

His praise fell flat. You mustered up a weak smile in response.

As you sat there, a sudden vibration from your phone broke the tense silence. You glanced at the screen, seeing Satoru's name flash across the top. The message was brief, almost curt.

[3:31 PM] Satoru: Had to go somewhere. Don't wait for me. Go home.

A lump formed in your throat. "It's Satoru."

Geto leaned over to glance at your phone screen, his eyebrows knitting together as he took another drag from his cigarette. After a moment, he exhaled deeply, his hand absentmindedly massaging the back of his neck.

Standing up, he flicked ash into a nearby trash. "I'll take you home."

You looked up at him. "But, the patient... I should stay."

"I'll ask one of the residents to keep an eye on things."

"But—"

"Don't," Geto cut in gently. "You've done enough for today."

You knew he was right.

With your mind all over the place, it was probably best not to keep an eye on a patient fresh from brain surgery. Not without Satoru. You wanted to do nothing without him.

You nodded, the fight draining out of you. "Okay."

Later that day, under the amber glow of the setting sun, you stood at Satoru's door.

Maybe you were stupid. Maybe you were just in love. Maybe both. 

Anyway, after a moment's hesitation, you pressed the doorbell. Its chime seemed overly loud. The door creaked open, revealing Satoru.

The spark you always adored, the one that danced in his eyes, was dimmed. Fatigue etched itself onto his features, a heavy cloak weighing him down. He appeared genuinely taken aback to see you standing there, a momentary flicker of confusion crossing his face.

"Why are you here?" he asked.

The question wasn't accusatory—it seemed more like he was genuinely confused, as if the concept of someone showing up at his door unannounced was a puzzle he couldn't quite solve in his current state.

"I messaged you," you started, holding up the bag of sushi takeaway as if it were a peace offering. "Thought you could use a decent meal."

"Sorry, I've been..." He trailed off, a hand running through his unkempt hair. "I haven't checked my phone."

Without waiting for further invitation, you pressed the bag of sushi into his hands and pushed past him into the apartment. 

Inside you were greeted by a chaotic mess throughout the living room. Papers spilled across the living room floor like fallen leaves, medical journals and crumpled notes forming chaotic constellations on every surface. The sight stopped you in your tracks. 

"What's all this?"

Satoru closed the door and followed your gaze around the room, as if seeing the mess for the first time.

"Been trying to make sense of what happened today in the OR." He sounded tired, the weight of his concerns evident in the slump of his shoulders. "I feel like I'm missing something—it's driving me mad not knowing."

He moved to clear a corner of the coffee table, the papers scattering under his frantic hands. You watched him, a knot forming in your stomach.

"Let's take a break," you suggested, settling down on the floor in front of the couch. You began to clear more space on the coffee table, making space for the sushi.

Looking up at him, you saw that he just stared at you, as if unsure if he was even allowed to sit at his own table next to you. "Come on, Satoru, sit down."

He sank down opposite you, papers rustling beneath him. Your chopsticks snapped with a harsh crack, the sound jarring in the strained silence. "The CT scans came back clear," you began, "the bleeding was fully stopped. No further complications."

"Good to hear," he said with a snap of his chopsticks.

"What do you think went wrong?"

He paused, his brow furrowing in contemplation. "Hard to say. Everything was textbook until it wasn't. Maybe it was some anatomical abnormality we missed, or perhaps it was just one of those unpredictable factors that remind us we're not as in control as we think."

"Isn't that how it always is? Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose. You taught me that."

He sighed. "That's just something we teach young doctors, so they'll not lose their minds. In the end, we can't control shit. It's just an illusion we comfort ourselves with to keep from drowning in our own insignificance."

"Is that how you see things?"

He looked up, his eyes meeting yours. "I don't know... I'm talking nonsense," his voice trailed off, "I just feel like today was one of those days that reminds you how fragile everything is. How quickly things can change, despite our best efforts. Makes you wonder... what's the point?"

"There is no point, neither in life nor in death." His eyes widened slightly as you continued. "But you can either cry about the whole meaninglessness of the world or try to find meaning in it, to do something that gives meaning to life."

"Is that how you see things?" He reached for a sushi roll, fingers hovering for a moment, then lowered the chopsticks back onto the table. "Doesn't that drive you insane?"

"Perhaps, but still more sane than you."

He huffed, a faint smile gracing his lips. "Fair point."

Silence enveloped you as you simply gazed at each other.

His eyes, that captivating shade of blue, held yours with unwavering intensity—demanding nothing and offering everything—a silent conversation where words were unnecessary.

It felt like drowning—looking in his eyes felt like drowning—strangely, yet in the best way possible.

No fear. No need for rescue.

This man.

God, this man is it.

Even with all his stupidity and flaws.

A flicker of warmth spread through you as you traced the faint stubble on his chin, the scar at his temple—imperfections that made him all the more beautiful in your eyes. Every detail seemed newly etched, like you were seeing him for the first time.

In that stretched thin slice of eternity, a thought pierced through your mind, terrifying in its clarity. If his love were a sharp blade aimed at your heart, you'd gladly embrace its piercing edge, for what is love if not the sweetest pain?

His breath caught, a tiny hitch, and his eyes softened, the sharp edges melting away. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips, tentative at first, then widening. 

You couldn't help but mirror him.

Then without warning his voice, low and rough like velvet rasping against stone, shattered the silence.

"I love you."

Ha?

"And I got sued."

Haaaa?

─── ·✧· ───

➸ part nine is coming... I just need to figure out what happens next.

x a/n:  first, a huge THANK YOU to everyone reading and supporting my story! it seriously means the world. hope you loved this chapter, and i can't wait to hear what you think!

also, i'm considering writing the next chapter from satoru's pov to delve deeper into his rather messed up head, so that should be fun. hopefully, it'll finally make sense why he does… well, everything.

quick note about the reader's doubts, i know it might feel sudden so i want to clarify that a bit more. essentially, she grew up with a highly skilled surgeon as a father, so death wasn't something she dwelled on much and she never really questions herself until things happen.

but with this new approach to surgery, where there's no blueprint and every procedure is high stakes, doubts start creeping in. not to say that satoru is a terrible surgeon, he is indeed the best in his field, but you get it, right?

there is more potential for some unexpected things to happen during surgery and also the reader is unlike in her past along side satoru responsible for the outcome and not merely assisting. plus, the overall stress that comes with being around pain-in-the-ass satoru gojo.

speaking of satoru, i wanted to add that he never really learned how to communicate or articulate love in any form of relationship, neither to his family nor to a potential partner. so he's very clumsy with it, despite being quite sure about his feelings towards the reader. i think that adds a fun touch to the story but also makes the reader lose her mind.

regarding his upbringing, which was pretty much filled with emotional neglect and high expectations, it left him feeling pretty much unlovable unless he excelled at everything he does.

this eventually led to his addiction, which started innocently with ritalin to focus during exams, as mentioned in chapter nine, to meet the high demands of his family but at the same time he used it also to numb deeper pain. and eventually everything spiraled out. a vicious cycle indeed.

so yeah, there's a LOT going on under the surface! i'm excited to explore it more, i just love troubled humans omg. what do you think so far? does his character make sense (or am I totally crazy here)?

okay that was much text. thanks again for reading! love you all! ♡

➸ taglist: @sad-darksoul @aerithsthingss @mylovelessnightmare @bbyxxm @musababy @neuviloved @ykehqqy @hexrts-anatomy @fvsm4x @tw0fvced @heijihattorisgf @sadmonke @thatsopanu @sirencholia @sugurusdiscordmoderator @erwinslut @shervinss @certainlysyko @mechalily @purplehallow11

I need a commercial (or private) pilot! Gojo x stewardess! Reader !!!! With tensions and like protective gojo !

this during godspeed 🤣🤣 (im sad )

i will

˚𝜗𝜚˚notes ➵ satoru x reader. fluff! sfw! showering together. inspired by i will by mitski. not proof read. sleepy toru ;(

you had just arrived back from a mission, deciding to stop by your husband's office. satoru hadn't responded to any of your messages, so you figured he fell asleep at the school again. you walked in, seeing him asleep in his chair, his legs spread and arms resting lazily in his lap. "satoru?" you said softly, rubbing his shoulder to coax him awake.

"mmmh.." satoru groaned softly. his blindfold was still on, so you couldn't tell if he was awake or just making noises.

"satoru." you repeated a bit louder.

"'m up, 'm up..." he responded groggily. you ran your fingers through his hair, satoru humming at the feeling. "you're back?" his voice was deep and raspy from just waking up.

"yeah." you leaned down to place a soft kiss on top of his head. "let's go home, kay?"

"mhm..." he stood up and immediately wrapped his arms around you, hugging you tightly.

"oh-" you muttered, his sudden act of affection taking you by surprise. you wrapped your arms around him and rubbed his back. he kissed your hairline before resting his chin on top of your head. his embrace was tight, and you felt like you were going to fall backwards due to the amount of weight he was putting on you. "you okay?" you asked softly, your hands sliding up the back of his shirt to rub his skin.

"yeah, 'm fine. can't hug you?" he replied. "jus' missed my baby, s'all" he muttered.

"mmh...missed you, too." you said, pulling back to place a tender kiss on his lips. when the kiss broke you spoke again, "we really gotta go, ijichi's waiting."

"okay, okay." satoru said as you untangled yourself from his embrace. he intertwined his fingers with yours as the two of you walked to the car.

"when's the last time you were home?" you asked, looking up at your husband.

"not too sure...so many back-to-back missions n s'much paper work...not enough time to go home." he opened the car door for you before getting in behind you.

"probly haven't slept much then, huh?" you asked.

"yeah, but 'm fine." he said. you sighed when he tried to brush it off. you grabbed his hand and rubbed it, leaning your head against his shoulder. he rested his head on top of yours and exhaled softly. after a few minutes, you arrived back at you and satoru's shared penthouse.

the two of you went to the bathroom together, beginning to brush your teeth. you glanced over at the clock in the bathroom. it was early, thankfully, 12:34 am. you finished up and turned to satoru.

"'m gonna shower." you said, causing your husband to groan.

"noooo, just come to bed." he whined.

"no, i'm dirty. n you should probly shower too." you said, walking over to him and taking off his blindfold. you could see the exhaustion on his face, his eyes slightly red and faint dark circles visible under his beautiful cerulean eyes. you turned on the water and began undressing. "c'mon, you gonna join me?"

"yeah, 'm comin'..." he said softly, taking off his clothes as well. the two of you stepped into the shower, satoru sighing as the warm water hit his back. he looked down at you and cupped your cheek. "you're so beautiful." he said quietly before kissing your forehead. "i love you."

"i love you too, toru." you replied gently. you pulled away to begin shampooing your hair, watching as satoru sighed and leaned against the shower wall. he looked so tired, though he'd never admit he was.

"want me to wash your hair f'you?" you asked him softly.

"hm? oh. um...could you?" he replied quietly.

"mhm. come here." you said gently. satoru complied. walking over to you and leaning forward. you got more shampoo and began massaging it into his scalp.

"mmmh...feels nice." he murmured. you continued to massage his scalp for a little while longer before rinsing it out. you rinsed your own hair before applying conditioner to both of your hair. you grabbed the soap and began to lather it onto his body. "you don't have ta do that f'me" he said lazily.

"you're barely awake, baby. just let me take care of you, okay?" you replied, massaging the soap into his tense body.

"i'm fine, really." he tried to sound serious, but he sounded more tired than anything.

"shhh" you hushed him before rinsing him off. you washed and rinsed your own body before grabbing two towels to dry off yourself and satoru. the two of you finished up in the bathroom before walking into your shared bedroom. satoru immediately got into bed, not bothering to put any clothes on.

"please...lay w'me." satoru said lazily. you did as he asked, laying down with him. he scooted closer to you nuzzling into the crook of your neck. "thank you f'takin' care of me.." he murmured.

"you're welcome." you replied softly, rubbing his back before placing a gentle kiss on his shoulder. "i love you." you murmur to him.

"love you too" he muttered half asleep. the two of you fell asleep quickly, content in just holding each other as the night went by.

Y/n: How am I gonna tell your family and friends I'm pregnant?

Gojo: Don't worry, I got you.

*Later at dinner*

Gojo's dad: *chokes at dinner*

Gojo: Oh no! Grandpa needs

water!

Gojo's mom:

Gojo's dad:

Nanami:

Megumi:

Yuuji:

Nobara:

Shoko:

Geto:

Y/n:

The whole jujutsu world:

Gojo Saturo headcanons

Y'all be like "Gojo is manwhore" in every fucking fanfic but tbh I think he was that kinda guy who would be nervous around y/n. He'd be stuttering wherever he tries to make a convo or causally talk to y/n. He make such a big deal about that his crush (y/n) talked to him to Geto(when in reality y/n just asked him for directions)

He'd be a blushing mess if y/n complimented him for example:

Gojo: I'm an idiot!

Y/n: A cute one at that;)

Gojo: *red as tomato*

He is quite possessive when it comes to y/n but he is totally down for threesome if it's w/ Geto or Nanami

And when (y/n) and Gojo finally get together. He- this man would cherish her- no scratch that he'd worship her. Whenever he is out working overboard, he'd send (y/n) pics of anything and everything.

Cheating. Noway like he know no-one else can tolerate his manchild ass.

Gojo loves it when you are the one in control and he wouldn't even deny it.

He'd do matching profiles.

If you two got in an argument, I can see him crying and begging u to forgive him even if it was your fault.

TW: Irrational jealousy

"Here. You left this at my apartment"

Stealing your gaze from the book, you look at your boyfriend who's holding a wine red lacy bra in his hands, stretching it toward you. Unlike his usual attitude, GOJO doesn't look much lively at the moment. In fact, he looks somewhat... meticulous, like he's operating a very dangerous experience and is about to witness the outcome of his efforts.

Having your eyebrows knotted together, you wordlessly take the bra in your hands, the base of your fingers gently but painfully rubbing against the soft fabric. Gojo tries his best not to let his smirk break out when you give him a quizzical look and squeeze the lingerie in your hands.

"This isn't mine"

There it is. Victory. The awaitened result of his brilliant plan to give you a taste of your medicine.

Gojo cups his mouth while expanding his fingers to give you a better look of his fake gasp through the gap between them, humming abruptly. He carefully takes a second look at the bra, then begins to mutter in a not so low voice.

"Ah— well, this is awkward" He looks at your bewildered expression from the corner of his eye and continues. "I didn't want you to find out. Not this way"

The logic behind this clever act was easy to understand. You chose to spend your day offs with your stupid, lame old friend from college instead of your incredible, handsome, mind blowingly gorgeous boyfriend, and this is your punishment. Your reasoning was too dumb and made up. Huh, how could you even look him in the eye and say you're doing this because he's just gotten back from Austria and needs you to show him around town and introduce him to your colleagues? You should've just shoved a dagger in his aching heart and told him that you dont love him anymore. So yes, you deserve this; and as they all say, revenge is a dish best served cold.

"But you see, I'm not the only one to blame in this. You are too. You were the one who left me in the dark hanging to go on a romantic getaway with that good for nothing punk"

"Satoru—"

"Let me finish. I know that it was just for three days and you did nothing but work together, but I'm a man y/n! A proud, strong grown man who has his own needs"

"Satoru—"

"I'm not an animal y/n, but how do you expect me to close my eyes and pretend like nothing's wrong? Because it is, and since I'm also an honest man, I couldn't bare with the feeling of getting abandoned by my own woman. You and I were supposed to rule the world, but you never wanted what we were—"

"Satoru!!"

Gojo grits his teeth and looks at you with slight irritation, wondering what's so important that has to interrupt his dramatic show; but his liveliness and acting power vanishes in a glance when his eyes land on the part of the bra you're pointing at while holding it up.

"There's a price tag on this"

Oh.

The small, round label is linked to the inside of the bra, which is probably why Gojo had forgotten to remove it. Yes, it was totally that; not because he was too focused on his dialogues that he forgot to even check the bra out.

Gojo stares at your jumped up eyebrows and annoyed expression, flashing you one of his most charming smiles; Only this time he can't make it as shameless as it usually is.

"Eh, I guess this shows how much I actually love you and care about you"

"You bought this two sizes bigger than mine you asshole"

"My bad, I kinda got carried away"

Today I'll offer you Gojo manspreads and his long.... maybe legs 😈😈😈

Just look at those legs, look at those biiiiiig.... i mean hands, Mappa knows how to play with our minds 🥵🥵🥵

He could be my new chair 🥵🥵🥵

yeah, the author is crazy again 🤣🤣🤣

Dollhouse

Satoru gojo x f!reader x Suguru geto

warnings: 18+ mdni, smut, unprotected sex, teasing,  bondage, face slapping, praise kink, messy relationships (nobody is dating anybody), creampie, multiple orgasms, cunnilingus, fingering, Satoru is a jealous fucker, and so is Suguru, a non-consensual photograph is taken, let me know if I missed anything, based on the song Dollhouse by The Weeknd, currently working on part 2 of this.

It was a constant battle between Suguru and Satoru. Both of them competing for your love and attention. It was hard not to be annoyed by their antics and remarks laced with venom but disguised as innocence, and as much as you hated being the reason for their often childish behavior, today was a different case.

“Satoru?” You called out, breaking the silence that had engulfed the room. Gojo remained quiet as he stared at your naked body, your hands cuffed to the bed, and his blindfold settled on your eyes instead of his.

You were growing anxious with each passing moment, anticipating his moves, as he hadn’t touched you or said a word since he restricted your movements.

Suddenly, you felt the bed dipping under his weight as he crawled on top of you. His hands roamed over your body, tracing every curve and committing it to memory. You gasped when his hand reached your bare cunt and cupped it. 

“You look so beautiful like this.” Satoru finally spoke. You subconsciously clenched your thighs around his hand and started grinding yourself slowly against it, desperate for some friction, but he held you down with his other hand. “Needy.” He said tauntingly.

“Gotta be patient if you want me to fuck your pretty brains out.”

“Please,” you whimpered, hearing him chuckle at how pathetic you sound. “Please what?”

“Need you, ‘toru.” Your desperate whines were like music to his ears and he couldn’t wait to hear how you’d sound with his cock pounding into you.

“How bad?” He teased, knowing you were slowly going crazy from the lack of pleasure. “So bad, please. I- i need you. Need you to fuck me.”

“Hmm. I’m not convinced yet. Beg me a little more.” Satoru grinned down at you. Had the circumstances been different, you would’ve scolded him for being so mean.

“Please, please i need…to feel you inside me. Please!” You couldn’t take it anymore, he was driving you insane, and any shred of dignity you had was tossed out the window when he laid his hands on you.

“That’s more like it.” Gojo finally made a move by pushing two fingers into you. “Fucking hell…you’re so wet.”

“Is this all for me?” He asked and you could hear the smirk in his voice. “Yes, yes, all for you!” Satoru added a third finger, and sped up his pace.

“I’m- mmh… close.” You moaned as you felt his thumb start rubbing your clit. “Already? Haven’t even put my dick inside you and you wanna cum like the little slut you are, huh?”

“‘Toru, please, i-“ you were so close to finally having some release but it was all taken away as he pulled his fingers out of you, sucking on them to savor the taste of you. “So sweet.”

He looked up at you at the sound of you sniffling and reached out to cup your face. “You cryin’?” Saturo mocked you as the tears fell from your eyes, dampening the blindfold. “Need you, please… please.” You don’t think you’ve ever felt this desperate in your entire life before and a small part of you should’ve cared but you couldn’t for whatever reason.

Maybe it was because you harbored a great deal of feelings for him, or maybe it was because you knew that the more he teased you, the harder he was going to fuck you and you had been going at this little game of his for about an hour now.

“You ready for me, sweets?” Satoru beamed at you as he pumped his thick cock in his hand. You nodded your head vigorously “Mhmmm.” 

He started pushing the tip in slowly, placing his hands on either side of your head. You whimpered at the feeling of him stretching you out. No matter how many times he’s fucked you, you could never get used to the feeling of him slipping inside.

“Still as tight as the first time i fucked you.” Gojo groaned at the sensation of your warm cunt sucking him in. He stopped his movements as he filled you up to the brim, letting you get used to the stretch.

You pulled at the cuffs which signaled for him to start moving. Satoru set a steady pace, pushing in and out of you.

“Faster…” you said, your voice barely audible to him. “Gonna have to be louder than that.” He grabbed your face. “What do you want, hmm?”

“Want you to fuck me harder.” You whined and frowned when you heard him laughing. “Too fucked out to tell the difference between faster and harder? Which one do you want?” He asked. “Both.”

“Manners.” He simply said, lightly slapping your face. “Both, please…” 

“Good girl.” Satoru praised and your pussy clenched around him upon hearing that. “Aww, you like it when I call you that?” You shook your head, your eyes rolling to the back of your head even though he couldn’t see it.

He started pounding into you faster, fucking you deep into the mattress and you constantly pulled at your restraints, desperate to touch him. “S’good…” He wrapped his arm around your head, feeling incredibly small under him as he kept you in a headlock.

“Don’t stop.” You begged, an all too familiar sensation bubbling up inside you. “Fuck…can feel you squeezing me tight. You gonna cum for me?” Satoru groaned.

“Yes- yes…fuck! I’m so close!” The sound of skin slapping on skin was nothing short of obscene as he fucked into you harder. “Beg me to make you cum, pretty.”

“Make me cum, please, ‘toru, wanna be a good girl and cum all over your cock- ahh!” The knot in your stomach needed one more tug to come undone. Satoru was abusing that sweet spot inside you repeatedly. “Fuck, cum for me, sweet girl.” He drawled out and that was all your body needed to fall off the edge.

“‘M cumming- hah- you’re- fuck!” Your mind went blank as he fucked you through your orgasm. “That’s it. Cum all over me.” He cooed at you, your pussy clenching around him tightly. Satoru kept an unrelenting pace as your pleasure turned into overstimulation. “It’s too much! Please…can’t take it anymore!” You whined, tugging at your restraints. 

“Stop being such a whiny baby. I know you can take more than that.” Satoru bullied his cock into you deeper, the bed shaking from how hard he’s fucking you. The pain soon contorted into a heavenly feeling, and your mind, including any thoughts in it, started to float away as you let him have his way with you.

“Satoru! Fuck, right there! Oh god it’s so- fucking good!” You moaned loudly into his ear and it took everything in him not to cum right then. “Yeah? Right here?” He said the words in between each hard thrust. “Yes, fuck!” Gojo did his best to not cum until he pulled another orgasm from you.

And he did exactly that, squeezing your perfectly round tits, as he sucked at your neck, making sure to leave his mark on you. He pulled away from your neck for a few seconds, “You gonna cum again, sweets?”

“Uh…huh- I’m clo-“ your words were cut off as you came, the pleasure rocking through you for a second time. “God- fuck! I’m cumming again!” Your entire body felt incredible, while Gojo kept pounding into you.

The feeling of floating soon diminished when he pulled out of you, your cunt clenching around nothing, desperate to be full of him again. “No! Please!” You cried. 

“Want you to cum again. On my mouth this time.” Satoru said, sliding down so that his face was mere inches from your pussy. He licked a long stripe from your aching hole to your clit, giving it a quick suck before repeating the previous action once more. You squirmed under his hold, trying to grind against his tongue.

He stops his movements altogether, earning a whimper from you. “Stay still or you won’t cum.” Gojo says plainly, and you’re forced to obey when his tongue feels so fucking good on you. “Good girl.”

Satoru resumes his assault on your pussy, inserting his middle finger into you, while his thumb and tongue rub and lick at your clit. He adds another finger, increasing his pace as you tighten around him again. “Close- ‘m so fucking close!” You sob, wishing with everything in you that you attain some sort of superhuman strength and break out of the cuffs.

“Cum.” He commands, and you do as he says, cumming on his tongue and fingers. Satoru licks you up greedily, making sure to not waste a single drop of your sweet juices. “So fucking good.” He grunts, your moans leading him to involuntarily grind his cock against the mattress.

He gets on top of you again, holding his cock in his hand, as he lines it up with your entrance once more, sliding in much easier this time. “Ahh-” Gojo starts pounding into you without warning, sighing into your neck, mumbling words you can’t hear, but you can feel the way his lips move against you.

“Can he fuck you like i do?” Satoru startles you with the question and it takes you some time to decide how you want to answer that, opting to play dumb even though you know he knows about your…thing with Suguru. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” And he slaps you on hearing the words leave your lips. “Now’s not the time to put on the dumb little slut act. You know exactly who i’m talking about.”

“He-“ your words are cut off by Satoru speeding up his thrusts, you felt like you were on cloud nine as you came for a fourth time. “Again.” He tries to coax the answer out of you. “Ohh, come on, don’t tell me i’ve fucked you dumb that you can’t even answer my question.” Try as you might, your brain couldn’t form the words it so desperately wanted to.

He grabs ahold of your face, squeezing your cheeks tightly. You finally manage to say something. “Ngh- no…fuck! No one fucks me like you.” And you hear him huffing at your answer. “Not good enough. Try again.” He squeezes tighter. “Does he fuck you as good as i do?” 

“No! Oh- fuck! Suguru doesn’t fuck me as good as you do, Saturo!” You feel his dick twitching inside you at that and his thrusts start getting sloppy.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Satoru spills out curses from his lips as he dumps his load of hot cum inside your exhausted body.

He pulls out of you and gets up from the bed. You hear him shuffling around the room, and in your hazy state, you completely miss the sound of a camera shuttering.

Satoru reaches for the nightstand, grabbing the keys to the handcuffs and unlocks them, eliciting a heavy groan from you, as you rub at your now red and achy wrists. Gojo then moves to take off the blindfold as well and you squint your eyes, adjusting to the light. 

His body flops down beside you and he pulls you close to him, giving you a quick peck on the forehead. “Did so well for me.” He softly says, completely contradicting his behavior from a few moments ago.

He waited till you were fully asleep, before grabbing his phone and sending the lewd picture of you, blindfolded and tied to the bed with his cum leaking out of you, to Suguru.

It’s sometime past midnight when Suguru’s phone vibrates on his nightstand. He had been tossing and turning in his bed, unable to fall asleep.

He reaches for his phone and he frowns upon seeing the notification from Satoru. What could he possibly be telling him at this hour?

Suguru physically feels the air get sucked from his lungs as he stares at you. His blood practically boils, feeling jealousy coursing through his body. “Fuck.” He curses when he reads the text sent after the photo.

“Made her cum four times.”

“Maybe it was your fate to be dragged through dirt and then purified by the same hand that dragged you through it?”

this life changing quote had no right being in a fucking gojo x reader fan fiction. i remember staring at it for like 5 minutes and i was speechless.

@tawus you’re insanely talented.