#I think my sleep meds are kicking in what the fuck is this

[proudfreakmetarusonikku]

the reason that Mario and sonic at the olympics isn’t a thing anymore is in fact bc eggman and bowser were secretly dating but bowser broke up with eggman bc he was a terrible stepfather to bowser jr and is trying to file for custody of metal and sage. eggman refuses to admit he’s ever failed at parenting and is now insisting bowser's the bad parent and his kids are fine bowser jr is just spoiled and in fact it's terrible parenting that bowser jr was never allowed to torture small animals for fun and wasn’t encouraged to protect his father at the cost of his own life and he should get custody of bowser jr instead. it’s a very messy legal battle and also a very messy battle battle thousands are dead mario and sonic decided that the olympics weren’t worth more bloodshed and cancelled the whole thing.

[staryarn]

Back into the spotlight

[heartshattering]

5 AM

Just me and my overactive mind facing the nighttime again 🙃

[twicedbyhawks]

.

[burningcomputerpersona]

how the fuck are ppl having actual social lives with this amount of courseload. i lose all my hobbies during the semester bc i don't have time for anything besides schoolwork but there are ppl out there hanging out with friends every day and having parties on the weekend. how.

[milo-is-rambling]

Weight talk tw I guess idk how to describe the post sorry im a little high

It’s so weird being around people who talk about weight problems (IOP) and like idk it brings up weird shit in my brain almost anxiety that I should feel bad about myself somehow like I’m doing this wrong being confident idk. Weird self doubt thing that happens when you’ve loved yourself (hmm. Rephrase. I don’t care about being fat. let’s say that.) and then you’re in a room full of people having a group discussion about how they avoid living their life in happy ways because they don’t want to become like you. But you love yourself. But everyone in your life since you were little has been dieting and talking about weight and specific numbers (someone was anxious about gaining seven pounds! SEVEN. If they saw my scale they would shit themselves. I put on seven pounds taking a big bong rip Jesus fucking Christ seven pounds. I wanted to rip my hair out.)

Next time weight issues come up in IOP I’m stepping out of the room. Like idk how to explain it cause it’s like not a trigger but I guess it is ? But it’s just so weird like the way I’m triggered makes me want to cry why does the world hate me for being fat what the fuck !!!!

[getgonebyfionaapple]

.

[umiwomitai]

feeling like doing smth so fucking stupid

[qqweebird]

best oart of adderall is when you go from being fucking dead tired to suddenly feeling your mind clear. like literally a heavy fog lifting from your brain. can actually hold ur eyes open and pay attention

[lostfracturess]

symptoms and causes | ch. 08

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 11.8 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 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 !! ♡ (fanart in the header)

series masterlist + playlist + ao3 + wattpad

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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?

<- prev chapter | next chapter ->

author's note: 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! ♡

🏷️ @sad-darksoul @aerithsthingss @mylovelessnightmare @bbyxxm @musababy @neuviloved @ykehqqy @hexrts-anatomy @fvsm4x @tw0fvced @heijihattorisgf @sadmonke @thatsopanu @sirencholia @sugurusdiscordmoderator @erwinslut @shervinss @certainlysyko @mechalily @purplehallow11 (pls comment on the series masterlist to get tagged in the future!)

[destinationtrekk]

idkk if someone asked this before but how would wesker react to his partner on their period ?? :3

afab!reader, mentions of sex

I think this depends heavily on which wesker you want.

stars!wesker would be a total gentleman. he would go to the store and buy whatever you needed on the way home from work and set you up comfy in bed or on the couch with your favorite snacks and a warm blanket. if you wanted him to, he would sit with you for a while. he will definitely be cooking you dinner, though. he has to make sure you aren't just going to rot away all weekend until you're free from pain

re5!wesker is...less so... it's not that he doesn't care, he obviously wants you to be okay. he's just got a lot going on and he doesn't have time to hang out and baby you. you sort of live on his terms while he's deep in his evil villain plans, so unless you REALLY need help or comfort, he's just going to check in every once in a while. he would absolutely fuck you on your period, blood be damned, he actually kind of likes it

uroboros!wesker (love of my life) would be the best fucking partner you've ever had. he will do anything and everything you ask, because it's the least he can do for you. it's not like every month he turns into a servant, but some periods are worse than others and he knows you can't help what happens. he'll snuggle you and cook for you, and let you have your pick of his clothes to lounge in all day. he stays next to you in bed with his big warm hands cupped over your cramping stomach and lets you hide in his neck to sleep when your pain meds finally kick in. he will ALSO absolutely fuck you on your period if that'll help you. before he 'died' he thought period sex was just kinky and fun in his demented little head, but now he just wants you to feel good, and if three orgasms in a row are what helps then he's all over you

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

Hello beloved maggots of mine. it's past 3 am and the sleep meds have kicked in, but I just want to say that you're all so loved. I know some of you think you aren't. But I love you, and I'm sure that there is so much deep love for you in the world, even if you don't see it yet.

I get a lot of activity, so I may not be able to respond to everything, but please know that you are heard. I read it all, and I'm so grateful.

This post is all over the place, and I choose to blame my near-asleep state for that, but I don't want any of you lovely maggots to feel unloved or unheard or not enough.

I've spent my life feeling unloved and unheard and not enough. You're not going to. Okay? I want you to know how much you mean to the people who have even brushed across your path.

It's so strange when I come across people talking about me in posts, when I see people knowing me, knowing my name and my quirks and the silly things I've done, when I see people care. It's so strange and it's the most beautiful fucking thing ever. I don't give my real name out nearly ever in real life, I just go with my deadname, because I don't want people to taint what you've all given me. Safety, and appreciation, and love. Even something as simple as you all calling me the Mascot or casually referring to me by my name, Asmi, which is my real name, not the hundred others that people call me in real life. Even that. It makes me feel heard and loved.

Oh, I'm so, so fucking sleepy jesus I'm fighting with my eyelids but yes. I thought I should tell you all.

I'm listening. If you ever need to talk, or freak out over our idiot demon and angel or other things you love, or sit in silence for a while by the side of the road with me before you drive along your way, I'm here, and you will not go unheard.

I cannot offer you much, but I can promise you that.

I love you all. Too sleepy to continue. I'll probably make a better post tomorrow about this? I dunno. Eyes shutting. I'm typing very carefully to avoid errors.

Goodnight xxx

Asmi Your Mascot

[ddejavvu]

What if one Monday after a weekend of crying over her bully!Eddie, he tells her she looks like shit and like she hasn't slept in days and she can't help but tear up so he silently vows to take care of her, and he'd force her to sit on his lap and sleep during lunch and little things like that. He'd leer at anyone who so much as looked her way, he needed her to have a peaceful day. He'd call her his little crybaby and make her give him little kisses as thankyous for taking care of her but she doesn't care, it's better than him pushing her around and smacking her ass in front of anyone who happens to be around.

What Eddie didn't realise is in this constant change of behaviour, he'd conditioned her to need him whenever she's overtired or sad. She'd start calling him in the middle of the night asking for him to come over and help her sleep. He never wanted to- he wanted to tell her no, call her mean names and put her back in her place but he couldn't bring himself to let her down. Every time he would rush to her house, climb through her window and fuss/kiss her until she was so relaxed and cosy she drifted off. He was never there when she woke up but there'd always be a thanku nudey polaroid or magazine in his locker or car as a thankyou for taking care of her

-🐱, sorry if this one is a lil weird- my meds have sent my lil horny goblin brain into mushy gushy subspace, I wanna be babied by a meanie lmao

today is multiverse monday! send me an au you can think of :)

i'll write the second part as a part 2!! it's very cute but i couldn't fit it all in one blurb </3

cw // bully!eddie. nothing terrible, he doesn't ever hurt her or anything, he's just annoying as fuck - don't like don't read

Eddie's grip on your wrist hasn't loosened since you'd walked out of class. Typically, he pushes you around, catching you before you trip and teasing you for being so off-balance. Today, though, he drags you through the doors of the cafeteria, and your stomach drops. Is he going to humiliate you in front of the entire room? Is he going to dump milk over your head, soak your shirt so that it's stuck to your figure? Is he going to shove your face in a plate of mashed potatoes and show you off to the crowd? Is he going to force you to eat something he steps on? Is he going to-

You're sitting in his lap. He's plopped down on a bench, yanking you down by one arm so that you land on his thighs. He has you facing him, your chest pushed up against his as you stare bewilderedly at him.

"Lay down," He demands, pushing his hand against the back of your head so that your face is forced over his shoulder, "You're tired. You look like shit, honey."

Your eyes fill with tears from where you're struggling to fight his grip, and he scoffs.

"Not a bad thing, crybaby. I'm not being mean, I'm being honest. Y'look like you haven't slept for days," He lets the back of your head go, thumbing roughly at the bags under your eyes, "I won't kick you while you're down. That's not really my thing. Just take a nap, get your sleep, so I can go back to messing with you."

Without another word he's pushing again at the back of your head, and you let his words sink in while you rest on his shoulder. You shouldn't let him keep you here like this. You should insist on studying in the library, or some other place he wouldn't dare enter. But he's warm, his shirt is soft, and though the smell of weed makes your nose wrinkle, there's musk beneath it that makes your tummy twist. His hand settles on your thighs, just below the hemline of your skirt, and rubs up underneath it, brushing the globes of your ass where they meet your thighs. You shiver, tucking your face into his neck so that you can drown out the noise of the lunchroom.

He gets strange looks when you finally doze off. Jeff sends him a glance that's far from friendly, nose wrinkled in judgement, disgust, and probably a little jealousy. He makes the decision to chuck an apple slice at him instead of an entire apple, which he's sure the man appreciates. Mike takes note of this, and schools his expression to be neutral, as he avoids asking about you like the rest of them.

When the school bell rings you don't wake, instead still lightly snoring against his neck. He thinks he can feel drool there too, and he'd be lying if he said the thought didn't stiffen his cock.

"Hey," He taps at your side, one hand still flush to your ass, "Come on, honey. Time to wake up, nap's over."

Your eyes flutter open, he can feel the lashes against his skin.

"You feeling any better?" He asks as you straighten from his lap, your hands braced against his chest for stability as everyone vacates the room, on their way to their next class.

"You're looking a bit better," He muses, not waiting for an answer. He once again rubs a thumb over the bags under your eyes, but then his fingers slip down to grip your chin. He pulls your face down, ignoring the way your hands tighten in his shirt in alarm.

"Eddie, what-"

"You owe me a thank you," He speaks only centimeters away from your lips, "I didn't have to be this nice to you, y'know. I could have flipped your skirt up like I always do."

You sniffle once, nodding as much as you can while he holds your face to his.

"Well?" His eyebrows raise, "I'm waiting."

"Thank you, Eddie." You mumble, the tip of your nose brushing his own, "I appreciate it."

He scoffs, "Not what I meant," And kisses you firmly. There's no pulling back, not when his fingers are hooked around your chin and tugging you impossibly closer. He backs away after only a moment, leaning back expectantly.

"Your turn," He explains, "Say thank you, crybaby."

Your hands inch up his chest as you lean in, lips parted to capture his lower one in between them. You feel him squeeze at the fleshy curve of your ass when you do, and there's a devilish glint in his eyes when you pull away.

"That's not gonna cut it, honey." He laughs, and then he's moving back for more. You're not sure how many times he does it, relentlessly jamming his lips to yours, but you're not sure you can stand up straight when he finally gets his fill.

"It's less than I want, but it'll do." He decides, patting the bare skin of your ass, now aching from where he'd kneaded it, "You'd better get to class now, honey. Don't be late, or I won't be this nice to you again."

[ayanominitrash]

Stay Awake For Me (Sukuna x reader)

I first posted this on Ao3 here.

**contains cussing and mentions of taking medication One shot where the reader is a sleepy university student and Ryomen Sukuna is the infamous mean frat boy classmate. An encounter in class resulted in him finding out you're taking meds for anxiety.

₊˚ ♡

University certainly kicks ass, and it certainly is incredibly expensive. You try your best to keep up with the never-ending piles of homework and your hectic part-time night shift job at the nearby fast food chain. The pay was shit but you'd do anything to support yourself instead of relying solely on your siblings' money to help you through school.

Unfortunately, you couldn't keep up with it all with your past school schedule, so you dropped one of your subjects and replaced it with one that's a bit later than usual. This is hilarious on your part because after lunch was usually when your sleep-deprived self has caught up with you and you end up dozing off in that class almost all the time.

Today was no different. Your eyelids feel heavy as you take a seat. It wasn't your usual seat but you couldn't care less as your head falls down in your arms as you take a nap while the class was waiting for the professor.

It wasn't long till you were shoved off of your seat and onto the floor, squealing out in surprise as you rub your aching bottom from the fall.

"The fuck you think you're doing sitting on my chair, brat?"

The metal stands of the chair you once sat on grinds against the floor before the tall man takes a seat, looking down at you with a disgusted look on his face.

It was Ryomen Sukuna. He's a notorious frat boy who everyone feared. This wasn't your first time interacting with him so you weren't surprised by his brash behavior.

The same goes for the other people in the class. They stopped in their conversation when you fell, but seeing that it was Sukuna, they weren't surprised and went back to their own thing.

"S-sorry, I didn't know I was sitting at - "

"Well, now you know. Now, get the fuck out of my space." He says as he waved a hand like he is dismissing you.

You quickly gather the stuff that fell with you, scrambling to stand up. You hear something metallic fall out of your bag, to which you seem to notice Sukuna was going to say something about it when the professor finally shows up. You hurriedly find your usual seat at the back and plop down before the scary man can say anything else.

₊˚ ♡

It was finally the end of class and you managed to stay awake this time. The incident probably helped you stay alert. The class said their goodbyes to the professor and you were quick to gather your things and walk out the door. During the class, Sukuna keeps on looking back at you with a quizzical look on his face. You don't know what this means but you certainly aren't going to hang back after class to find out. For all you know, the man was thinking of different ways to murder you.

It was either he was fast as hell or you were moving too slow because he caught up to you in the middle of the hallway, pulling you by the back of your collar to stop you.

"Brat, stop walking so fast. Geez." Sukuna says as you turn around to look up at him.

"L-look, it was a little mistake. I didn't notice that it was your chair -"

"Shut up." He simply says before his hand reaches something from his pocket. "You dropped this, genius."

One look was all it takes before you immediately grabbed the metallic item from his hand. You quickly looked around to see if anyone saw the thing before sighing in relief.

"That some kind of birth control or something?"

"W-what?! Do I look like someone who has an active sex life for that kind of thing?!" You say, cheeks and ears turning pink at the ludicrous statement that left the tall man's lips.

He simply shrugs. "The fuck is it then?"

"I-it's my... .my prescription meds. F-for my anxiety. Please don't tell anyone."

"Oh," He has the same quizzical look he was giving you in class, but this time, it was more thoughtful. The tall man suddenly smiles widely. "So you're a psycho or something, then? Crazy?"

This was something that may seem normal for anyone, like off-handed teasing but this was a sensitive topic for you and something in you snap. Suddenly, you weren't afraid of the man in front of you anymore. You throw him a stormy look on your face, the best that you can muster that he actually looks a bit surprised. Without saying anything, you turn around to speedwalk out of the hallway, trying to get a good distance away from the prick.

"Woah, woah, there. What's the matter, struck a nerve?" Sukuna quickly caught up beside you. With him being taller than you, it was an easy few strides for him to fall in step beside you despite your efforts. "It was a joke, you silly fuck. Don't get all emotional on me, yeah?"

You didn't look back at him, your brows still furrowed and your eyes glued to the ground. Suddenly, he puts a hand on your head and ruffled your hair, much to your surprise.

"C'mon, let's have lunch together." He says in a soft voice that you were caught off guard a bit. "I'll try to make sure you don't fall asleep on your food."

₊˚ ♡

Ryomen Sukuna, the frat boy feared by everyone, wouldn't stop bothering you after that. He would follow you in between classes, hands in his pocket. Pestering you until you two fall into your usual banter, throwing insults just for shits and giggles. People were raising eyebrows about how Sukuna treated you. He was still being a prick but he's more mellow when it comes to you. Although he was starting to get annoyed at how you're always knocked out whenever he goes out looking for you.

"And here he comes," Your batchmate, Maki, says as your friend group watches Sukuna approach your table outside the schoolyard. This is where you, Maki, and Nobara hang out whenever the three of you have a free period. "And look, he even bought her a drink."

Nobara wiggles her eyebrows, "Wonder if that's the only thing he'll do to keep her up."

"I can hear both of you bitches." Sukuna says as he reaches the table.

He clicks his tongue when his eyes land on you, passed out on the table. There was a slight pool of saliva where your cheek met the table. It was gross but Sukuna secretly finds it adorable, with your hair matting against your forehead with your sweat.

"Now, whatever shall you mean? All we heard was the sound of love birds chirping in the air!" Maki teases, nudging Nobara with her elbow.

"Leave or I'll spill this drink on both of you."

Nobara puts her hands up as if to surrender. "Okay, okay. We'll leave you both to it. Y/n, your boyfriend's here!"

She nudges you lightly in an attempt to wake you to no avail. They leave the both of you as they make their way back to the University entrance.

Sukuna places the can of energy drink near your face as he takes a seat across from you. He looks at your sleeping face for a bit with a soft look in his eyes before shoving you harshly, almost falling off your seat like the last time.

"Stop sleeping, brat. Anymore sleeping and you might start missing me."

You wipe the drool off your cheek and raise an eyebrow at him. " Oh? Isn't it the other way around?"

"Why would I fucking miss you? I practically see your ugly face every day."

"Yeah, cus you keep following me. You even bought me an energy drink just to keep me awake, huh?." You cup the said beverage in hand, grateful that it's still cold.

"Don't feel too fucking special. Someone from my fan club bought that for me. I'll give it to you since I already had one."

"Liar," a smirk playing on your lips.

Opening the lid of the can, you take a sip from it as Sukuna watches you. You don't know when the two of you had gotten so close that you'd end up like this but you don't mind.

"Hey, why are you being so nice to me anyway?" You say as you settle the can back down the table.

Sukuna leans his head in his palm with a bored look. "I'm not being fucking nice to you. Who said?"

"I mean, you're clearly harsher with everyone else. So why am I different?"

"Exactly. Why are you different?"

You hit him with a deadpan and he just grins at you. "There's nothing much to it, brat. I'm just bored and I got nothing else to do."

"Mmhmm."

"And well," He continues, his eyes looking away from you. "My younger brother, Yuji, is on the same meds as you. So in a way, you kind of remind me of him."

"Do you happen to want to kiss your brother, by any chance?"

He scoffs, "Shut up smart mouth. Who says about anyone wanting to kiss you?"

"Just had a hunch, is all." You wiggle your eyebrows at him to which he just scoffs again, not missing the slight twitch of his lips.

Silence falls between the two of you for a while, engulfed in both of your own thoughts. You smiled at him suddenly, to which he lifts his brows in both question and surprise.

"Thank you for being nice to me." You say in a small voice.

He quickly looks away and you note that the tips of his ears turn pink.

"Fuck off, brat. You just think I'm nice to you because you're too busy sleeping to know how I really act."

⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

(❀❛ ֊ ❛„)♡ reblogs and comments are appreciated//do not repost my work anywhere

//

another mid plot and writing but i wrote this when i first started drinking antidepressants just to cope and to feel comforted

i hated it and stopped drinking it after a while tho ://

[actual-changeling]

i wish i could say something smarter but i have watched this scene so many times my brain is literally fried plus my sleep meds are kicking in hard

just. look at his reaction when crowley says you idiot, we could have been US. for the first time during that entire conversation, possibly for the very first time ever, he realizes what exactly crowley means by that.

the entire time they have been talking past each other and misunderstanding what the other is saying. but now? after crowley brought up the nightingales? told him we could have been us like it means something, like it's everything - and it is. to him, it is everything. aziraphale is everything.

all his anger just fades away completely for a moment when the realization hits.

he is looking straight at him, and while he can no longer see crowley's eyes, he still knows him. he can still read him. the pain is so clear in everything crowley is saying, written across his face and practically dripping from his voice.

it's the cliche oh moment. it's the you love me? me? that's what you have been saying all this time?

and while crowley has had a lot of time to come to terms with that fact, aziraphale is still struggling with their entire presence on earth and who they are, deep down. he is overwhelmed, he doesn't know what to say, fuck, he practically gave up on crowley and was ready to let him walk away after running after him the first time.

the tears in his eyes hurt me and once again michael sheen can be written down as my cause of death because this is a handful of frames carrying so much MEANING it kills me.

then he turns away, turns to his LEFT where crowley should be, trying to hide his face and tears in the emptiness he left behind because that's all he has now - his shadow. a gaping hole where his crowley should be, and for the first time he clearly understands what it means to be his and to have someone else.

i love you. that's what he was about to say.

i love you. i love us.

and then there's the part neither of them says because they are too caught up in what they don't have to take a proper look at what they are.

i have loved us this entire time.

they have never needed anything but each other but both think they're not good enough for the other the way they are, that they need to fundamentally change to be worthy of that love.

and once more, they are both wrong.

[missdaytonawrites]

MEN & MDNI!!! 18+ content!!! dark!abs n' full fledged dub-con below the cut!!!

and as i sit here... getting all ready for bed... just cleaned my room and changed the sheeeets! also just took a shower and shaved my legsss!! i can't help but think about my very special dark!abby coming home late from work finding a very squeaky clean and pretty-smelling r! in bed and then sneaking in next to you and rubbing one out while her free hand grazes your soft skin.

AHGABSJAHBSSKJ and of course it wouldn't be dark!abs if she didnt take some of her spend and and swipe it across your lips, even in your unconsious state your lips part and you happily accept her fingers (mary, ik i would i am so orally fixated its CRIMINAL!) she would so casually roll over to spoon you while you keep her fingers in your mouth.

she absolutely cannot fall asleep until shes fucked you.. so the removal of her fingers from your mouth causes you to wake, and she just so mercilessly takes you right there. surely past the hour of 2:00 AM by now, you're not there enough to really process whats happening. just happy to see your abby, you wrap around her and let her handle her business.... i am so fucking siiiiick

you'll most likely knock out again, quite literally being fucked back to sleep while she snarls and rocks above you. before you know it, her weight drops down beside you and her arm has snaked around your waist. you barely register it,,, but she leaves you with a "good night cherry.. ✨💖😽👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩😌" and crashes herself.

just a short somethin' i'm sittin' here thinking about while i wait for my sleeping meds to kick in lol, nightie night.