Summary: A usually unshakable heart surgeon, Shuntarō Chishiya, learns that nothing tests his composure quite like his adorably unpredictable, pregnant, and wildly emotional wife.
Shuntarō Chishiya x pregnant!reader
Words: 1,8k
A/N: blond or brunette?
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The hospital smelled faintly of antiseptic and burnt coffee, and somewhere in the distance, someone’s shoes squeaked down the hallway. Dr. Shuntarō Chishiya had long stopped noticing either sound. His focus was entirely on the chart in his hands, the lines of an EKG as familiar to him as the back of his own hand.
He was, by all accounts, a man who didn’t feel much — or at least didn’t show it. Even in a hospital full of adrenaline junkies, Chishiya was an enigma: calm, detached, and eerily composed. His colleagues could be shouting, the OR could be a mess, but he’d still be steady, monotone, efficient.
Which was why, when one of the nurses asked with a teasing smile, “So, Dr. Chishiya, how’s married life? Your wife’s due soon, right?” — he didn’t flinch.
He just said, “She’s fine.”
They all rolled their eyes. “You could at least pretend to sound excited.”
He only gave them that small, knowing half-smile — the one that made people unsure if he was amused or just done with the conversation. “I’m a heart surgeon,” he replied. “I see excitement every day. I don’t need more of it at home.”
What he didn’t add was that his wife was literally the definition of excitement lately.
Because while the rest of the world thought Dr. Shuntarō Chishiya was unflappable, only one person had ever seen him break his poker face — you.
And you didn’t even mean to.
It was almost 9 p.m. when he finally pulled into the driveway. His hands were still faintly stained from gloves, the faint scent of soap and hospital disinfectant clinging to him. The house was dark except for a warm glow spilling from the living room.
He exhaled slowly. Home. Finally
When he opened the door, he heard it — the sound of sniffles.
Immediately alert, he dropped his bag near the entryway and stepped out of his shoes. “(Y/N)?”
You were curled up on the couch under a blanket, phone in hand, face red and blotchy from crying.
His pulse kicked up slightly, reflexive concern, trained instinct — until he caught sight of your phone screen. A cat video. A compilation of kittens meowing softly at the camera.
You hiccuped. “They’re so small, Shuntarō.”
He blinked. “...The cats?”
You nodded miserably. “They can’t even open their eyes yet. They just want love!”
He sighed, crossing the room and sitting down beside you. “You’ve watched that same video about ten times this week.”
“I know!” you wailed, wiping your nose with a tissue. “And it’s still sad!”
He didn’t say anything at first, just brushed a strand of hair off your face. Then, with that calm voice that could command an entire OR, he murmured, “You’re crying over happy kittens, love.”
You sniffled. “I’m pregnant. I have feelings.”
That got him, a soft, rare smile tugging at his lips. “Clearly.”
You huffed, crossing your arms. “You’re so mean. You don’t even miss me, do you?”
That startled him. “What?”
“I said, you don’t miss me!” you repeated, your voice trembling as tears started welling again. “You come home so late every night, and I’m just here alone, and I miss you, and you probably don’t even think about me while you’re doing all your— your doctor things!”
Chishiya blinked twice. Then again. Slowly.
He’d faced heart attacks, cardiac arrests, chaotic emergencies — and yet, somehow, this was what truly left him speechless.
Finally, he let out a quiet sigh, leaning closer until his forehead rested against yours. “You’re ridiculous,” he whispered, but his tone was fond. “Of course I miss you.”
You frowned, lip trembling. “You don’t say it enough.”
“Because every time I do, you cry.”
“That’s not true!”
“It is,” he said, brushing his thumb under your eye. “You cried when I said ‘good morning’ yesterday. And again when I said ‘you look beautiful.’”
You sniffed. “Well, maybe if you weren’t so nice I wouldn’t cry.”
He couldn’t help it — he laughed. Not the small, sarcastic chuckle his coworkers heard, but a soft, warm sound that was all for you.
You narrowed your eyes, offended, even as tears still streaked your cheeks. “You’re laughing at me.”
“I’m laughing near you,” he corrected. “Different thing.”
You swatted his arm weakly. “You’re insufferable.”
“And you’re beautiful when you’re mad.”
That earned him a glare — followed by a watery smile you couldn’t suppress.
The next day, when he got home, you were in a completely different mood.
“Hi, baby!” you cheered, running — well, waddling — to the door to greet him. You were glowing, wearing one of his oversized shirts, and clutching a bowl of strawberries.
He blinked at the whiplash. “You’re...happy?”
“Of course I am! You’re home!” You wrapped your arms around him as best as you could, pressing your face into his chest. “Did you eat? Are you tired? Do you want me to run you a bath? Wait, I made dinner! Oh! And I washed your scrubs!”
Chishiya stood there, coat half-off, eyes slightly wide. “Did you nap today?”
“A little!” you said proudly. “Only cried once!”
“Progress,” he murmured dryly.
You didn’t notice the teasing. “And I watched this video where a baby heard his mom’s voice for the first time with hearing aids, and I—” your voice broke off, and he immediately tensed, but you shook your head quickly, smiling again. “—but I didn’t cry this time! Okay, maybe a little.”
He chuckled, cupping your face. “You’re unbelievable.”
You leaned into his hand, eyes fluttering shut. “You love it.”
He did. More than he could say.
Later that evening, you were curled up in bed watching random videos while he read next to you.
Everything was peaceful. You were giggling at some stupid meme, the sound of your laughter soft and contagious. He allowed himself to glance up from his book, just for a second — watching your expression change with each video, your eyes bright and happy.
Then the next video autoplayed.
A slow, melancholy piano began to play. The screen showed a montage of couples growing old together, the kind with captions like “True love lasts forever.”
Your face crumpled instantly.
“Oh no,” he muttered.
You sniffed loudly. “It’s so sweet, Shuntaro. They’ve been together since high school and he still holds her hand even though she has Alzheimer’s.”
He closed his book with a resigned sigh. “Here we go again.”
“She doesn’t even remember him, but he still visits her every day!” you wailed, clutching the pillow to your chest. “That’s— that’s what love is supposed to be!”
Chishiya reached over and gently took your phone, locking it before you could scroll further down the emotional abyss of the internet. “Okay, that’s enough TikTok for today.”
“Hey!”
“You’ve cried three times in one hour. Your tear ducts need a break.”
You frowned up at him, eyes glassy. “You don’t understand, you’re emotionally constipated.”
He snorted. “That’s a new diagnosis.”
“Yeah, and I’m the doctor now.”
He set your phone on the nightstand and leaned in, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You’re cute when you’re bossy.”
“I’m always cute.”
“I won’t argue that.”
That finally drew a laugh out of you — a soft, sniffling one, but genuine.
And that, he thought quietly, was worth more than any successful surgery.
A few days later, one of his colleagues caught him smiling at his phone during lunch.
“Okay, that’s it,” the nurse said, squinting suspiciously. “What’s got you smiling, Dr. Emotionless?”
Chishiya didn’t look up. “Nothing.”
The surgeon next to him leaned over. “Is it your wife again?”
“She sent me a video,” he said simply.
“What kind of video?”
He paused. “…A raccoon washing grapes.”
There was a collective groan around the table.
“Seriously? That’s what makes you smile?”
He shrugged. “She said it reminded her of me.”
The nurse snorted. “Because you’re both emotionally detached and like to wash things?”
He smirked faintly. “Because we both use our hands a lot.”
The entire table groaned louder.
“Gross, Chishiya.”
He only smirked more.
That night, when he got home, you were on the floor, sitting cross-legged in front of the baby crib you’d just assembled.
You looked exhausted but proud, rubbing your belly absently as you admired your work.
“Hey,” he murmured, kneeling beside you. “You actually did it.”
You beamed at him. “I’m nesting. It’s a thing.”
He reached out and steadied your hand, seeing the faint tremor from your effort. “You could’ve waited for me to help.”
“I wanted to surprise you.”
He exhaled softly, then leaned in to kiss your temple. “You always do.”
You leaned your head against his shoulder, suddenly quiet. “You think I’ll be a good mom?”
He turned to look at you — at your soft eyes, your worried frown, the vulnerability that came in waves lately.
“(Y/N),” he said quietly, “you cry because a cartoon dog gets lost and laugh because someone sneezed like a duck. You already care too much. You’ll be perfect.”
You laughed through a sniffle. “That’s not a medical opinion.”
“It’s a personal one.”
You smiled at him, soft and watery. “You’re sweet sometimes.”
“Only for you.”
That night, as you both lay in bed, you reached for his hand, resting it on your belly.
He blinked, startled by the gentle movement beneath his palm.
“She’s kicking,” you whispered. “She does that when she hears your voice.”
He didn’t say anything for a long moment, just stared at your stomach — the faint thump against his hand making his chest tighten in ways he couldn’t explain.
Finally, his lips curved into that tiny, private smile again. “Guess she’s impatient. Just like her mother.”
You giggled, swatting him lightly. “You love us both.”
He didn’t deny it this time. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “I really do.”
The next morning, he left for work before sunrise. You were still asleep, curled up on his side of the bed, wearing his shirt and hugging one of his pillows.
He paused by the door, taking in the sight — the peaceful mess of blankets, your hair spilling across the pillow, one hand resting protectively over your stomach.
For someone who prided himself on logic, Chishiya couldn’t quite rationalize why his chest ached in the best possible way.
Maybe this was the one part of his life he didn’t need to analyze — the one thing that didn’t need to be measured, dissected, or fixed.
Because no matter how unpredictable your moods were — whether you were laughing, crying, or scolding him for being “too pretty to be a doctor” — you were his constant.
And if the hospital was where he fixed hearts, home was where his own finally learned how to beat for something other than survival.
── 🂺 first of all: the relationship begins only because you like him so much. you make your interest quite plain and he allows it. chishiya finds your presence tolerable, at times even pleasant. that’s why when you confess your feelings, he didn’t even look particularly surprised.
── 🂺 he openly admits that being in a romantic relationship is "out of character" for him. and yet, he wants to try it. think of it as a trial run.
── 🂺 your friends assume you are being delusional when you mention your couple status; and their jaws about dropped when chishiya confirms it.
── 🂺 bonds with you by playing mind stimulating games like shōgi. he sets up makeshift pieces with bottlecaps, anything he can find.
── 🂺 something that's also out of character for him is… handholding. something so ordinary, so human, that it kind of embarrasses him how much he enjoys it.
── 🂺 he is not physically affectionate. half the time you wonder if he even considers “this” as a real relationship. still, he allows certain things: your head against his shoulder. your hand sliding into his, without him pulling away. a light pat on your back as if congratulating a teammate. once, after surviving a brutal game that nearly killed everyone, he even wraps an arm around you briefly.
── 🂺 kissing is always on your side. chishiya does not initiate. not once. you’re often unsure, in fear of coming off as too pushy. when you finally lean in, he accepts it without hesitation, his lips stay completely still at first, letting you take the lead, until he finally presses back lightly, and over too quickly.
── 🂺 his idea of reassurance is deadpan and unintentionally cruel. "statistically, you are not a bad bet."
── 🂺 arguments don’t exist. or rather, you argue, he makes observations. chishiya enjoys teaching you through provocation. he makes a claim he knows you will argue with, just to see you fight for your perspective.
── 🂺 he often teaches through questions—never a direct answer or easy handout. if you struggle, he prods you with hints that force you to think. when you finally reach the conclusion yourself, he leans back, satisfied, "there it is."
── 🂺 you talk about the future sometimes. he never says "we." but rather, "when you leave this place, what will you do?" never if. always when.
── 🂺 chishiya never expected it to last. he thought you’d get tired of his evasions and tendency to deflect.
── 🂺 your relationship is his favourite paradox: it doesn’t make sense for someone like him to want it, and yet it’s the one thing he doesn’t plan an exit strategy for.
── 🂺 and if anyone asks, he’ll still shrug, still say it’s "out of character." but privately he thinks it suits him better than anything else ever has.
Summary: you start working as a resident doctor at the sakurazawa university hospital. a certain paediatrician is not very fond of residents, but something about you catches him off guard
Warnings: mentions of hospitals and diseases, chishiya being a smug bastard, there are no explicit details, but some parts are highly suggestive (so I recommend not to read this if you're under 18!)
Word count: ~6.6k
Requested (multiple times)
You had never felt the hallways of a hospital stretch so endlessly before. The bright lights bounced off the spotlessly white walls and polished floors that clicked softly under the rubber soles of your shoes. This was it: your first day as a resident. Years of late-night studying, endless exams, and practicum rotations had led you here, to the paediatric wing of Sakurazawa University Hospital in Tokyo.
You tried to steady your breathing as you clutched your clipboard a little too tightly. The smell of disinfectant and the distant sounds of crying children reminded you where you were and that now, you weren’t just observing anymore. You were here to work.
Your supervising physician, Dr. Kato, greeted you with a warm smile when you found him at the nurses’ station. His kind eyes instantly eased some of the tension in your shoulders. He welcomed you, introducing you to a few nurses and orderlies before starting you on your first round of patients. Dr. Kato's presence was reassuring, like the calm in the storm, and you silently thanked the universe for assigning you to him.
It wasn’t long before you noticed the nurses teasing each other, all while sneaking quick glances towards a man who approached from the other end of the hallway. He didn’t walk so much as glide with effortless confidence, his lab coat swinging slightly with each step. His hair was tied back in a low ponytail and though his expression was impossible for you to read, his gaze was sharp enough to cut through glass.
“Dr. Shuntarō Chishiya,” Dr. Kato explained quietly, noticing your eyes follow him. “One of the best in the department. Brilliant, but… difficult.”
You nodded, though your chest tightened as the man drew closer. You had heard the name before. In fact, everyone had. He was young for his position, a paediatrician already respected for his diagnostic skills, though whispered stories always mentioned his coldness.
When Dr. Kato greeted him politely, Dr. Chishiya’s response was no more than a curt nod. His eyes flicked over you briefly, somewhat impassively, before he continued on his way. That look alone left your stomach twisting. It wasn’t even hostile, just… indifferent. Like you hadn’t even registered as worth his time.
Your first patient was a cheerful five-year-old boy with asthma. You knelt by his bedside, introducing yourself softly, your voice steadier with him than it had been with any of the adults. He grinned at you, asking if you were a “real doctor.” You assured him you were, and the ease with which he laughed warmed you. The nurses smiled at the way you handled him.
But the moment Dr. Chishiya’s voice rang out across the hall, unimpressed as he discussed lab results with a group of doctors, your confidence faltered again.
Later, while recording vitals at the nurses’ station, one of the nurses, a tall woman with a neat bun and warm smile, leaned over. “Don’t let him scare you,” she whispered, nodding subtly towards Chishiya’s retreating figure. “He’s like that with everyone. But you’ll do fine.” You smiled back, grateful for her kindness, even if your chest still ached with nerves.
By the time your first day ended, your legs ached and your head swam with details. But one thing stood out among the blur: Dr. Chishiya’s sharp eyes, that single disinterested glance that made you feel like you were already failing some test you didn’t even know you were taking.
And deep down, you knew this was only the beginning.
When you were finally ready to go home, you already felt a little lighter than you expected. It wasn’t easy, your head was crammed with patient charts and treatment notes, but you hadn’t been swallowed whole.
To your surprise, the nurses had taken to you almost immediately. The younger ones giggled at your clumsy attempts to keep pace with them and the older ones teased you gently, giving advice without condescension. Even the head nurse, a stern woman with decades of experience who was infamous for scowling at new doctors, softened when she watched you crouch down to comfort a crying toddler. Later, she muttered under her breath that you “might turn out all right after all.” Coming from her, you knew it was as good as a compliment.
You hadn’t hesitated to help either, fetching supplies, holding a child steady during a blood draw, even carrying a tray of used syringes back to the disposal room. Most doctors acted as though that work was beneath them, but to you, it just felt natural.
By the time you left, exhausted but buoyed, the nurses gave you small waves and promises of coffee together soon. And finally, you felt welcome and accepted.
The next morning, however, reality came crashing back.
Morning rounds were different from the rhythm of the day before. Instead of the warmth of the nurses or the reassurance of Dr. Kato, you were now among a group of residents clustered nervously in a hallway, waiting. The air was taut with dread.
And then he appeared. Dr. Chishiya moved with the same detached calm as yesterday, clipboard in hand. His presence alone silenced the hallway. Without preamble, he began quizzing the residents as you went from room to room. You quickly realised how much he disliked you all. It was in every clipped question, every sigh of irritation, every unimpressed glance. No answer seemed to satisfy him.
A resident beside you stammered through a diagnosis, her answers all wrong. Another tried to compensate with confidence, but Dr. Chishiya’s flat “No” cut him down instantly. The air grew heavier with each exchange.
When his eyes landed on you, your heart nearly stopped. “Your turn,” he said coolly. You scrambled to recall the case file in your hand, but the words caught in your throat. “I- I think-"
“Speak up,” Dr. Chishiya cut in, his voice sharp but quiet, each syllable laced with disdain. His gaze never wavered and you felt your face heat under its weight.
Embarrassment churned in your stomach, but you forced yourself to breathe. One deep inhale, and you pushed the answer out before you could overthink it. You listed the key symptoms, tied them together, and offered the diagnosis you were sure of.
For a moment, silence stretched between you.
Then Chishiya’s eyes narrowed slightly. He tilted his head, the smallest movement, but unmistakable. His lips didn’t curve, no words of approval passed, but he gave a single nod. His gaze lingered on you half a beat too long before flicking away.
It wasn’t praise. Not even close.
But it was something. And apparently, that something was enough.
You caught the envious glance of the resident beside you, who clenched his jaw. From behind, one of the younger nurses leaned in close and whispered just loud enough for you to hear:
“I think you might have actually impressed him.”
Your chest fluttered with both pride and dread. You weren’t sure which feeling was stronger, only that Chishiya’s nod replayed in your mind long after rounds had moved on.
Your second full day in paediatrics began with relief, you weren’t under Chishiya’s eye again just yet. Instead, Dr. Kato guided you through rounds with a gentleness that made everything feel less suffocating. He asked you questions, but never in the cutting tone Dr. Chishiya used. If you hesitated, he gave you time. If you made a mistake, he corrected you without belittling.
“You’ll get there,” he said more than once, patting your shoulder as though to steady you. “You see things others overlook. I don’t want you to lose that because someone makes you afraid to speak.” You didn’t need him to name the “someone.” You both knew.
For the most part, he shielded you from Dr. Chishiya, intercepting his questions during joint rounds, offering you tasks Chishiya might have dismissed. It was clear he wanted to nurture your potential before it could be crushed under that man’s cold stare.
Still, Dr. Chishiya’s presence lingered. You caught sight of him often, walking briskly down corridors, conferring with department heads, leaning casually at the nurses’ station while flipping through charts. He was impossible to ignore.
One of the nurses tried very hard to get his attention whenever possible. She was always there, hovering at his elbow whenever she could. You noticed the way she leaned forward just slightly when she spoke to him, the brightness in her smile whenever she handed him something, a chart, a pen, even a cup of coffee she had gone out of her way to fetch.
“Dr. Chishiya, I thought you might want this. Extra strong, just how you like it,” she said one morning, setting the cup beside his papers with a hopeful look. Chishiya didn’t so much as glance at her. He pushed the cup aside, eyes still on the chart in his hand. “I don’t drink coffee during rounds,” he said flatly, his tone making it clear the conversation was over before it began. Her smile faltered. You looked away, pretending you hadn’t seen the flicker of hurt on her face.
The real clash came during a staff meeting later that day. Residents, attendings, and nurses crowded into the conference room. A case was presented and the floor opened for discussion.
Dr. Chishiya’s gaze swept the room before settling on you. “You,” he said coolly. “Your thoughts.” Your pulse jumped. Dozens of eyes turned in your direction. You stumbled over your first few words, your voice quieter than intended. “I- I believe the symptoms suggest-"
“Louder,” Dr. Chishiya cut in, his tone icy. “If you want to be a doctor, you’ll need to learn to speak like one. Otherwise, no one will listen to you.”
Heat flared in your cheeks, but you forced yourself to continue. The diagnosis you gave was cautious but correct, and though Chishiya gave no praise, you saw the smallest flicker in his eyes. Recognition, maybe even approval. Still, his words stung. You couldn’t keep hiding behind hesitation forever.
The afternoon rounds, however, weren’t about you. They became the stage for a different kind of spectacle.
Dr. Chishiya's own resident, the same overly confident young man from the day before, had been strutting around all morning, convinced he could win Dr. Chishiya over with his bravado. He spoke loudly, answered quickly, and threw medical jargon around as though volume could disguise inaccuracy.
By the third wrong answer, Dr. Chishiya’s patience snapped. “Wrong again,” he said, his voice calm but sharp enough to silence the corridor. “Do you ever stop to think before you speak?”
The resident’s jaw tightened. His voice rose. “At least I’m not afraid to answer. You can’t just humiliate people like this every day. It isn’t teaching, it’s abuse.”
The hallway went deathly quiet. Nurses at their stations stilled, pretending to busy themselves while leaning just close enough to hear. Other residents froze in place, eyes darting between the two.
Dr. Chishiya didn’t so much as blink. “Are you finished?” His resident didn't say a word but nodded firmly. Chishiya crossed his arms, "Good. You're fired."
The resident’s chest heaved. “You can’t just fire me for disagreeing with you.” A smirk tugged coldly at Chishiya’s lips. “I can. And I did.”
Gasps rippled through the corridor. The resident’s face drained of colour as he realised the weight of those words. Chishiya turned away, already moving on, as though dismissing him was no more significant than flipping a page in a chart.
No one dared to speak. Not even the nurses.
You felt your stomach twist, both horrified and oddly in awe. In that moment, it became clear just how much influence Chishiya wielded in this hospital. He was untouchable and he was completely merciless.
And though you tried not to meet his eyes when they flicked over the group again, you couldn’t help but feel the weight of them, sharper than ever.
The day after Chishiya fired his resident, the corridors of the paediatric ward was still charged with whispers. No one said his name aloud, but the story passed quickly, repeated in hushed voices behind clipboards and at the nurses’ station: "He really dismissed him on the spot… in front of everyone."
When morning rounds came, it wasn’t Dr. Chishiya at the front. He had withdrawn completely, leaving the responsibility to Dr. Kato. You almost sighed in relief.
Dr. Kato led with his usual warmth, his voice carrying more patience and encouragement than authority. He asked each resident questions, not to shame them, but to make them think. When you gave your answer, firm this time, remembering the sting of Dr. Chishiya’s last remark, he smiled, eyes crinkling at the corners.
“Correct,” he said, pride in his tone. “That’s exactly what I want to hear. See? You know more than you think.”
The praise drew a few envious looks from your peers. It was so different from Chishiya’s cold nods and it steadied you in a way his approval never could.
Still, you noticed things about Dr. Kato you hadn’t before. The way he paused a moment longer than usual between questions. The faint sheen of sweat at his temple though the air was cool. A cough that lingered too long before he cleared his throat and moved on, pretending nothing was wrong.
The next morning came far too early. You were still rubbing the sleep from your eyes when a nurse intercepted you outside the ward. “The Medical Director wants to see you,” she said, lowering her voice as if the message carried weight. Your stomach dropped.
The director's office smelled faintly of leather and old books, the blinds half-closed against the rising sun. He gestured for you to sit.
“Dr. Kato has fallen ill,” he said, his tone even but firm. “He will need to take a leave of absence for several weeks. It’s nothing life-threatening, but he cannot continue working with his current state.”
The words sank like stones in your chest. Your mentor, the one person who believed in you, who protected you, was gone, at least for now.
“You will, of course, need a supervising physician in the meantime.” He leaned back, folding his hands together. “I’ve already made arrangements-"
The door opened without a knock. Chishiya stepped in, his coat unbuttoned, his expression irritated as though he had been dragged here against his will. He crossed his arms, leaning against the doorframe with a sigh. “What is this?” he asked flatly, his eyes cutting between you and the director.
“Dr. Kato is on leave,” the Chief of Medicine repeated, unruffled. “You’ll be taking over his resident.” He nodded in your direction. “For the next few weeks, she will be under your supervision.”
Your heart plummeted. You looked at Chishiya, waiting for some reaction, some sign that he might protest and you weren’t disappointed. He scoffed, pushing a hand through his blonde hair with exasperation. “Wonderful,” he muttered, his voice dripping with disdain. “Another babysitting job.”
Your throat tightened. Horror flooded you as the weight of the decision settled. Out of all the doctors in the hospital, out of anyone you could have been assigned to… it had to be him.
And when his eyes flicked to you, you knew these next few weeks would feel like a lifetime.
The first day under Dr. Chishiya’s supervision felt less like training and more like a trial.
He was cold from the moment rounds began, his tone sharper than the crisp shuffle of charts in his hands. Every question he asked was designed to cut. He didn’t just want answers, he wanted you to stumble, to falter, to break.
At first, you nearly did. Your throat tightened when he fixed his gaze on you. Your palms dampened as he fired the first question. “Patient in room 302,” he said without looking up. “Four-year-old. Fever, rash, conjunctivitis. Diagnosis?”
You forced yourself to breathe. Remember Dr. Kato’s words. You know more than you think. “Measles,” you said, a little too softly. Chishiya’s head tilted, eyes narrowing. “And the complication you should be worried about?”
“Pneumonia,” you replied, this time firmer. He gave no nod, no sign of approval. Only moved on.
The questions kept coming, each one fired like a bullet: “Three-year-old, persistent cough, night sweats?”
“Tuberculosis,” you answered.
“Six-year-old, joint pain, malar rash?”
“Systemic lupus erythematosus.”
“Ten-year-old, swelling around the eyes, cola-coloured urine?”
“Post-streptococcal glomerulonephritis.”
Your confidence grew with each reply. The hesitation that had once choked your voice began to fade. You stood straighter, your tone steadier, your answers faster. The residents around you shifted, some stealing glances, some scowling at how quickly you responded. And though Chishiya’s expression never changed, his eyes lingered a fraction longer each time you spoke.
When the group entered the next patient’s room, the little girl there shrank back against her pillows. Her IV tugged at her small hand and her eyes welled with tears at the sight of the swarm of white coats surrounding her.
You crouched down, softening your voice. “Hey,” you said gently, smiling. “I like your bunny. Does she have a name?” The child blinked, her fear faltering just enough to whisper, “Momo.”
“Momo,” you repeated warmly. “That’s perfect. Can Momo help us check your heartbeat today?” The girl nodded, still timid but calmer now.
Chishiya watched from the foot of the bed, his arms crossed, eyes impassive. When you rose again, he spoke quietly, just loud enough for you to hear: “There's no need for irrelevant bedside fluff.” Your brows knit. “She was scared,” you said, keeping your voice low. “It doesn’t hurt to be gentle every now and then.”
The corridor outside the room went silent. Nurses, residents, even orderlies passing by, all froze at your audacity. No one spoke to Dr. Chishiya like that.
His gaze cut to yours, as though he hadn’t expected resistance. He stayed silent a moment too long, then exhaled slowly, crossing his arms tighter.
Without acknowledging your words, he continued, “Nine-year-old, high fever, sore throat, strawberry tongue. Diagnosis?”
“Scarlet fever,” you replied instantly.
“Possible complication?”
“Rheumatic fever.”
He didn’t nod, didn’t praise, didn’t scold. Just kept going. But something about the rhythm had changed. You answered steadily, without falter, as though every word built a shield around you. You thought of Dr. Kato’s smile, his steady voice reminding you not to let fear silence what you already knew.
By the time rounds ended, your throat was dry and your legs ached, but you hadn’t crumbled. Not once. And when Chishiya closed the last chart with a snap, you swore his eyes lingered on you again, not in disdain this time, but in calculation.
The patient who arrived this afternoon was eight years old. A boy with wide, tired eyes and skin that seemed too pale for his age. He had been admitted with a fever, fatigue, joint pain, and a faint rash across his torso. At first glance, it could have been any number of childhood illnesses, but something about the combination didn’t sit right.
Chishiya flipped through the chart at the foot of the bed, his expression flat as ever. “Symptoms don’t line up,” he muttered under his breath. “Not clearly, anyway.”
Tentatively, you spoke. “It could be juvenile idiopathic arthritis. The joint pain and rash-" He cut you off with a glance sharp enough to silence you. “It doesn’t fit.” His tone was clipped. He set the chart down and pinched the bridge of his nose as if warding off irritation. For a moment, you thought he would say it, that cruel phrase he had thrown at the other resident before: observe and learn. But the words never came.
Instead, his eyes returned to the chart, scanning line after line. His brows furrowed slightly, the first visible crack in his otherwise unreadable mask.
“…None of this makes sense,” he said finally. His voice was quieter now, almost reluctant. The admission shocked you more than anything. If Dr. Chishiya didn’t have an answer, then the case was truly unusual.
“Order blood work,” he instructed curtly, scribbling on a slip. “Full panel. Autoimmune markers, inflammatory levels, kidney function. And schedule an echocardiogram. I want everything.”
As he handed the slip to a nurse, you crouched at the bedside. The boy looked anxious, clinging to a toy car in his hands. You smiled softly, adjusting his blanket. “They’re just going to run a few tests, okay? Nothing scary. And I’ll be here to make sure you’re not bored.”
You reached into your pocket, pulling out a small notepad. With a pen, you began sketching a silly cartoon, the boy’s toy car racing along a crooked road with stick-figure drivers waving their arms wildly. He let out a weak giggle, some of the tension easing from his face.
When you glanced up, you caught Dr. Chishiya watching silently. His gaze flicked away as soon as your eyes met, as though he hadn’t been staring at all.
Later that afternoon, work carried on as usual. Charts, patients, rapid-fire questions. Except this time, there was something different in the way he looked at you.
You weren’t stammering anymore. You answered questions with a calm confidence that surprised even you. The nerves were still there, bubbling under the surface, but you held them down and spoke with conviction.
Chishiya noticed. He told himself he didn’t care. That you were just another resident, barely competent, another burden added to his day. But as you stood by the bedside of a toddler with pneumonia, explaining the treatment plan with quiet clarity, his gaze lingered too long on the line of your jaw, the curve of your lips as you spoke.
He caught himself imagining what it might feel like to lean closer than professionalism allowed. The thought irritated him, his jaw tightening as he forced his eyes back to the chart in his hands.
Ridiculous, he told himself. He didn’t like you at all. In fact, he didn’t like anyone. You were a resident, inexperienced, naive, frustratingly earnest. And yet, when you leaned forward to comfort the coughing toddler, your hand resting lightly on the child’s blanket, his eyes drifted where they shouldn't. He felt something coil in his stomach that had nothing to do with irritation.
It wasn’t liking. But it was something else entirely. Something physical and intrusive. Something dangerous. And for the first time in a very long while, Chishiya found himself distracted.
You should have gone home. Your shift had ended nearly an hour ago, your locker already waiting with your clothes neatly folded inside. But when the head nurse pressed a sealed envelope into your hand, the boy’s test results, you couldn’t resist.
“Take these to Dr. Chishiya tomorrow morning,” she said briskly. “Of course. Thank you,” you replied.
But instead of heading to the changing room, you carried the envelope into the empty break room. The faint smell of coffee lingered in the air. You made yourself a cup of black tea, sat at the table, and spread the papers out before you.
You told yourself it was just curiosity. Just a quick glance before bed. But minutes stretched into an hour as you scribbled notes on a pad, cross-referenced symptoms with your textbooks, and muttered possibilities under your breath. Fever, joint pain, rash, cardiac involvement… Kawasaki disease. It fit almost perfectly, yet you hesitated, digging deeper, refining, testing each hypothesis against the evidence.
The rest of the hospital quieted, footsteps fading down the hall. You didn’t notice when someone stopped outside the doorway.
Chishiya had been on his way out, his white coat long discarded, his hair loose. He hadn’t expected to see anyone still around, least of all you.
But there you were, bent over the boy’s chart, brows furrowed in concentration, your pen tapping against the table before you absently slipped the cap between your lips.
He froze in the hallway. Something twisted low in his abdomen as he watched you, a sensation he hadn’t felt in a very long time. He told himself it was nothing, just biology, a simple, physical reaction to a somewhat attractive woman doing something entirely mundane. Still, his eyes lingered, refusing to move. The sight of you tucking loose strands of hair behind your ear, the way your lips pressed together as you scribbled across the page, every small gesture tugged at him in ways he shouldn’t allow.
For a fleeting moment, an image crossed his mind: you looking up at him like that, brows knit in focus, except not over a chart… He clenched his jaw, banishing the thought as quickly as it came. You’re a resident. Nothing more. This is just… relief his body needed. Nothing else.
Finally, he stepped into the doorway. “You should go home,” he said. His voice carried its usual chill, though it came out softer than he intended.
You didn’t react. Pen scratching, tea forgotten, you were too wrapped up in the case.
He sighed, stepping closer until he stood just behind you. He glanced down at your notebook and stilled. Line after line of sharp, deliberate handwriting filled the page: differential diagnoses, cross-checked symptoms, and finally, underlined twice in your neat script: Kawasaki disease.
He blinked. Slowly. You had already pieced it together. Everything he had overlooked in his rush, you had seen it, written it, connected it. A resident, the one he had written off as timid and inexperienced, had essentially solved the puzzle before he had. Chishiya found himself at a loss for the first time. And though his face betrayed nothing, his pulse betrayed everything.
You didn’t even notice him at first. Not until he spoke your name.
Your pen froze mid-stroke. Slowly, you turned in your chair, your gaze rising to meet his. He stood close, too close, one hand resting on the back of your chair, the other gesturing towards your notes. His finger tapped lightly, against the faint words you had underlined: Kawasaki disease. “You solved the case.”
Your breath caught. “I… did?” you whispered, still half-expecting him to dismiss it as coincidence, or luck. But instead of scoffing, his eyes stayed locked on yours.
The tension in your shoulders spilled out in a quiet huff of relief. You looked down at the page again, then back up at him, lips parting slightly as though the weight of the day had finally broken.
Something in that look unsettled him. His grip on the chair tightened until his knuckles whitened. He had seen countless expressions across patients, residents, and colleagues, but the way you looked at him now, equal parts vulnerable and luminous with relief, carved deep into him.
His mind betrayed him with an image, unbidden and dangerous: you on your knees, gazing up at him with those same wide, trusting eyes. Heat coiled low in his abdomen, and his jaw clenched as he forced the thought away, disgusted with himself for even entertaining it.
Still, his gaze burned into you, refusing to let go. “Well done,” he said finally. The words were short, flat as always, but they carried a weight you hadn’t heard from him before. “We’ll talk about the treatment plan tomorrow. Now get some rest.”
Before you could respond, he straightened and stepped back, leaving the break room in sharp, purposeful strides.
You sat there, heart pounding, replaying the two words over and over. Well done. From Dr. Chishiya, that was more than praise, it was a victory.
And while you savoured that tiny spark of validation, down the hall, Chishiya shoved his hands into his pockets, jaw set hard. He kept his face composed, every step as controlled as ever, but it took everything in him not to curse his own body as he adjusted his pace, determined to keep the evidence of his reaction hidden until he was gone from sight.
And when he finally stepped into his apartment, the bulge was still visible in his trousers. But even as he granted his body the pleasure and relief it so desperately seemed to need, he couldn't stop thinking about you, cursing himself for it.
Morning rounds started as they always did: a cluster of white coats and tired faces moving down the paediatric wing like a slow tide. Charts shuffled, pens clicked, children’s cries echoed down the corridors.
But this time, when Chishiya’s eyes landed on you, his question cut sharper than usual. “Treatment plan for the boy,” he said simply, offering no hint, no leading prompt. “You made the diagnosis. What comes next?”
Dozens of eyes shifted to you. The residents, the nurses, all waiting for you to stumble. Your heart pounded, but you steadied yourself, recalling the hours you had spent scribbling notes in the break room. “High-dose intravenous immunoglobulin, administered within the first ten days of illness,” you said clearly. “And aspirin, starting with an anti-inflammatory dose, then tapering to an antiplatelet dose to reduce the risk of coronary artery complications.”
The corridor fell into silence. For a moment, you thought he might dismiss it, or tear into you for forgetting some minor detail. But instead, Chishiya’s eyes narrowed and he gave the faintest nod. "Correct.”
That single word carried more weight than a page of praise from anyone else. The nurses standing near the station exchanged wide-eyed glances.
“You heard that, right?” one whispered, barely containing her grin.
“He actually agreed with her.”
“Maybe she’s the one to finally tame him.” A ripple of laughter moved through the group. But not everyone joined in. The nurse who always lingered near Chishiya, the one who had seemed so friendly at first, grew quiet, her smile slipping as she looked at you.
When the head nurse appeared, sharp-eyed and formidable, the gossip died instantly. Everyone scattered back to their work, files shuffling, keyboards clicking.
Inside the boy’s room, the parents sat anxiously at the foot of the bed. Chishiya gestured to you with a small tilt of his head. “Explain it.”
You froze for half a second, then straightened. Turning to the parents, you repeated the plan calmly, adjusting your tone to be gentle but firm. You explained the IV, the purpose of the aspirin, and the reason for regular monitoring. The boy clutched his toy car, eyes wide, but relaxed as you crouched to meet him at his level, promising the medicine would help him feel better soon. When you finished, the mother’s eyes filled with tears of relief. She thanked you, her voice trembling.
You stepped back, glancing at Chishiya. He said nothing, his expression unchanged, though his gaze flicked briefly to you before moving on.
As you left the room together, you whispered, “Thank you… for letting me present it.”
You hadn’t expected a reply, and you didn’t get one. But as you walked, you could feel his presence beside you, somewhat tense and so very far from indifferent.
Because while his demeanour remained cold, his mind was anything but.
The faint smell of your shampoo when you had turned in the room still lingered in his senses, dragging unwanted thoughts back to the surface. Finding release last night hadn’t been enough. Not nearly enough. His body reacted as though on edge, highly alert, every nerve attuned to you. The sound of your voice, the curve of your lips when you thanked him, the warmth of your shoulder brushing close as you walked side by side. And for a man who prided himself on control, that realisation was more dangerous than any difficult case.
The gossip didn’t fade, it grew. At the nurses’ station, it had become its own current, whispering through every shift change and coffee break. Nurses teased each other with knowing smiles whenever you and Dr. Chishiya walked past. The residents, too, had begun trading snide comments, though mostly behind your back.
“Did you see how he looked at her?”
“Dr. Chishiya never listens to anyone. Except her.”
“Bet she’s the one to break the ice king.”
Most laughed. But not everyone. One nurse, in particular, rolled her eyes every time your name and his were paired together. She had been friendly once, welcoming you on your first day, but lately her smiles had thinned into something sharp. And when the others teased, she said nothing, only pressed her lips tight, her silence louder than words.
It started small with a misplaced file.
You had just handed it over, placing it neatly on the counter with the others before moving to check vitals. But when Chishiya asked for it later, brows drawn tight in irritation, the nurse casually said, “Your resident had it last. Maybe she misplaced it.”
His gaze snapped towards you, sharp and unyielding. You straightened, heat prickling your neck. “I dropped it off here earlier,” you said carefully. “But… I’ll help look.”
Together, you began rifling through the scattered stacks of paperwork on the desk. Charts overlapped, half-signed forms clung together, and somewhere underneath, the missing file waited.
Your hand brushed against his as you both reached for the same folder. You froze. Surely he would pull away, recoil even. But he didn’t. His hand lingered against yours for a beat too long, his skin cool, his presence heavier than the paper between you. The air thickened, neither of you speaking. Across the station, the nurse watched, eyes narrowing.
The moment broke when you pulled your hand back quickly, cheeks warm. A second later, you found the file. Relief rushed through you as you held it up. “Here it is.”
Chishiya took it wordlessly. But when he turned away, his jaw tightened, as though something about that brief contact had unsettled him more than he wanted to admit.
And for the nurse watching from the corner, her plan had failed. Not only had you found the file, but Chishiya hadn’t reacted the way she had expected.
If anything, he had let the touch stay.
Chishiya had always prided himself on control. Control of his time, his patients, his diagnoses, his emotions. Especially his emotions. But with you, control was slipping.
He tried to stay away, tried to keep you at arm’s length, but you were his resident. Wherever he turned, you were there. In the wards, in the rounds, in the break room with your stupid tea. He told himself it was nothing, that the restless coil in his chest was irritation. But the truth gnawed at him: it wasn’t irritation anymore. And the worst part was, you had no idea.
Lunch break found you both in the cafeteria. He sat alone at first, scrolling through his phone, picking halfheartedly at his food. He had no intention of acknowledging you when you sat down across from him.
But then, you cracked the faintest joke. Something dry, almost hidden in your soft voice, a comment about how the hospital served rice so bland it could be used as a neutral control in a lab experiment.
He should have ignored it. He really should have. Instead, without looking up, he muttered back, “Maybe it’s to test who’s already dead inside.”
The corner of your mouth curved upwards. To your own surprise, it was the closest thing to a casual conversation you had ever had with him. And to his surprise, it wasn’t unpleasant.
“You don’t mind if I ask you something, do you?” you said after a moment, setting your chopsticks down. “Medically, I mean.” His brows lifted, intrigued despite himself. “Go ahead.”
You leaned forward slightly, your tone sharper now. “A twelve-year-old with prolonged fever, hepatosplenomegaly, and pancytopenia. What do you suspect?”
“Haemophagocytic lymphohistiocytosis,” he answered smoothly, as though it were a reflex. Your eyes lit up. “And the gold standard for confirmation?”
“Bone marrow biopsy.”
The questions continued, rare conditions, subtle presentations, management plans that weren’t obvious. You asked with a hunger he hadn’t seen in many residents, your pen flicking across your napkin as you scribbled notes, your eyes never leaving his.
Slowly, he slid his tray and chair closer, the space between you shrinking until it felt like you were cocooned in your own little world. He leaned back casually, studying you, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards at the fire behind your questions.
Finally, he switched roles. “My turn.” Your pulse jumped. He leaned forward, voice low. “Seven-year-old with a history of congenital heart disease comes in with sudden onset fever and a new heart murmur. Diagnosis?”
“Bacterial endocarditis,” you said after a beat, biting your lip as you thought through the details.
His eyes dropped immediately to the movement, the faint press of your teeth against your lower lip, and his own lips parted without him realising. Heat pooled low in his abdomen, his body reacting before his mind could stop it. He stared at you too long, far too long, until the air between you felt charged. And then, without a word, he pushed his chair back and stood.
You blinked, startled. “Did I say something wrong?”
But he didn’t answer. His feet carried him out of the cafeteria, his steps purposeful.
Minutes later, he was outside the director's office, hand clenched into a fist at his side. He didn’t even fully understand what he was about to do, only that he couldn’t keep going like this. He could no longer have you as a resident.
Chishiya didn’t bother knocking. He pushed open the door to the director’s office, not even closing it behind him.
“When will Dr. Kato be back?” he demanded flatly, arms crossed. The older man looked up from his papers, surprised by the sharpness in his tone. “Not for some time, I’m afraid. Pneumonia. A severe case.”
“Perfect,” Chishiya muttered with a scoff. “Because I want to get rid of her as quickly as possible.” The superior leaned back in his chair, brows knitting. “Get rid of her? Why? All I’ve heard are glowing reports.” Chishiya’s jaw flexed. He exhaled slowly, as though the words pained him. “Yes. She’s brilliant.”For a second, the admission seemed to hang heavy in the air. “But I’m not a babysitter,” he continued, voice colder now. “I want to focus on my work, not hold some resident’s hand.”
The chief of medicine sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Dr. Chishiya. You’ll manage. You’re more than capable of supervising one resident a little longer.”
“Capable isn’t the issue,” Chishiya muttered, rolling his eyes as he turned on his heel. He left the office without another word, his irritation sharp enough to slice through the quiet corridor. But when he stepped out into the hallway, he froze. You were there.
Arms crossed tightly against your chest, your face pale and stricken. Your eyes, usually so cautious, so soft, burned with hurt. Chishiya cursed under his breath. You are just like a lost puppy. Always there, always listening.
Your voice wavered as you spoke, but the sting in your words was clear. “Why do you want to get rid of me so badly? Why don’t you think I’m worth your time?”
He should have brushed past you. He should have said something dismissive, something that would end this right here. But instead, he sighed sharply, grabbed your wrist, and pulled you into an empty office.
The door clicked shut behind you, the air inside stifling. He pressed you back against the wall, his face far too close to yours, the heat of his breath brushing your cheek. His hand braced beside your head, caging you in, his chest rising and falling faster than usual.
And then it broke out of him, the words he had been swallowing down for days. “I can’t deny it anymore,” he hissed, his voice low but trembling with tension. “I want you. Every second I spend with you is torture because it’s all I can think about. Every damn moment.”
Your heart slammed against your ribs, the nearness of him overwhelming. His eyes burned into yours, pupils dark and wide, his presence suffocating in its intensity. And though his words were raw, his body spoke louder, leaning in, heat radiating, every inch of space between you charged with danger.
You were trapped, not by force, but by the pull between you, impossible to escape.
You swallowed hard, your throat tight as your mind scrambled to process the words he had just thrown at you. Heat rose to your cheeks, but you forced yourself to hold his gaze.
“So…” your voice came out unsteady, “…you want to have sex with me? Is that it?” Chishiya scoffed softly, the corner of his mouth twitching. He leaned back just enough to give you air, but not nearly enough distance to feel safe. His eyes burned into you. He shook his head once, deliberate. “No.” His voice dropped lower. “I want to fuck you.”
The bluntness of it sent your pulse hammering in your ears. The air felt too thin, your head dizzy from the sheer intensity of his stare. You tried to regain focus, tried to claw your way back to solid ground.
So you huffed, crossing your arms tighter against yourself. “You could have asked me out on a date first.”
For a split second, his lips curved into something that almost resembled a smile, but it was too sharp. A breathy sound escaped him, halfway between a laugh and a sigh. “That’s the point,” he murmured, tilting his head slightly, studying you like he always did. “I don’t do dating. And you-" his gaze swept over you deliberately, “you don’t exactly strike me as someone who’s into casual things. Not to mention…” His voice dipped steadier. “…it’s highly inappropriate. You’re my resident.”
You inhaled deeply, trying to steady yourself, then leaned forward just slightly, close enough that he could feel the defiance radiating off you.
“Then get your shit together, Dr. Chishiya.”
And with that, you brushed past him, pulling open the door and stepping back into the corridor, leaving him alone in the suffocating silence of the office.
Chishiya stood frozen for a moment, jaw tight, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. Then, with a frustrated growl, he slammed his open palm against the wall, not hard enough to hurt himself, but enough to feel the sting.
His breath came shallow, his teeth gritted. Because as badly as he wanted to keep control, all he could think about was dragging you back into the room and silencing that sharp mouth of yours in the most inappropriate way possible.
Continue to: Anatomy of Desire
A/N: I lost count of how many spicy doctor chishiya requests are waiting in my inbox. I got you! This was one of my favourite things to write. And yes, there will be a part 2 (and yes, it will have dominant! chishiya)
I love your writing, so could I ask for a Chishiya imagine where he meet reader in the borderland, and when he wakes up in the hospital he meet reader again and they both remember everything? In a romantic way please! Have a good day love you bye!
you and me found love / lost under the shade
(gn reader / comfort / 927 words) after the meteor hits tokyo, chishiya has an unlikely reunion in a hospital cafeteria
you rub elbows with a lot of people everyday. CHISHIYA SHUNTARO knew this better than most. he had learned to keep his head down; he never spoke of his personal life, only offering snarky comments as they came to mind. he threw himself into his studies, desperate to meet the expectations of a drunken father. it had worked - mostly.
the world had gone dark in the blink of an eye. chishiya had been walking home just after getting off a shift at work. the hospital, as dreary and depressing as it was, felt like home after a while. he had traded the traditional white coat for a thinner cardigan, wandering across the shibuya crosswalk as he made his way home.
then it happened.
in the blink of an eye, everything went dark. the ground shifted beneath chishiya’s feet, trembling beneath its own weight. buildings swayed. people screamed. the sky lit up in a fiery, golden glow. and chishiya stood on the street, right in the middle of it.
chishiya glances up when a hand gently knocks against the glass doors. his curtains had remained drawn since they had transferred him into this room, but he knew who it was. he never received any visitors, anyways.
“how are you feeling today?” the nurse - arakawa - asks with a sweet smile. her long, black hair has been pulled back into a tight bun, bangs tucked behind her ears. she takes a few steps into the room, reaching to grab his chart from the foot of his bed. “did you sleep okay?”
“fine,” chishiya murmurs. he shifts slightly, pushing himself up onto his elbows. arakawa glances up at the movement but doesn’t say anything when he tosses his leg over the side.
“that’s good,” she hums. she reaches up, pushing her thin, purple glasses further up along the slope of her nose. she peers at him from over the top of the glasses, flashing chishiya another smile. “your vitals look good today.”
he simply nods in response. arakawa slides the binder back into its cubby before stepping to the side, watching as chishiya hesitantly stands. the hospital-provided slides were only slightly larger than his feet. his balance had remained unsteady but the ache in his hip had reduced from a stinging pain to a dull ache.
“thank you,” chishiya says, offering arakawa a curt nod. he wraps his hand around his iv pump, careful not to lean too much of his weight against the device. its incessant beeping haunts him as he drags it alongside him, slowly making his way towards the doors.
she bows slightly, leaving the doors slightly ajar when she takes her leave. “i’ll see you later, chishiya-san.”
despite his circumstances, the hospital had proven to be a comfort. here, he didn’t have to worry about going home to a cold, empty apartment. people checked in on him frequently, even if nobody called. the sterile smell reminded him of a simpler time - one where he was still a bright-eyed med-student observing his first ever volunteer shifts.
the cafeteria was the loudest part of the hospital. it bustled with more people than usual. patients sat at the tables with their families, telling jokes over their bland meals. occasionally, doctors wandered past, stealing a bottle of water or a snack from the nearby vending machines. but to chishiya, it was nothing more than an excuse to get out of bed and eat his lunch. it was supposed to be routine. today, however, was different.
chishiya’s eyes scan across the tables, searching for the one closest to the exit. sitting near the edge made it easier to slip away once he finished his meal. he briefly considers the empty table nearest to the line. but then, he freezes.
chills creep up chishiya’s spine. his breath catches in his throat. unease settles deep into his stomach. deja vu, maybe? he’s not sure. all he knows, is that he sees you. and you see him, too.
time seems to stop in its tracks. for just a few moments, the bustle of the hospital stops around you. chishiya stares at you with wide, unblinking eyes, trained on your gaze. you mirror his expression. your lips are just barely parted, chopsticks balancing in your hold.
chishiya moves first. he crosses the cafeteria in a daze, only stopping once he reaches the seat across from you at your table. he blinks, awkwardly shifting his weight between his feet. for once in his life, he doesn’t know what to say.
“chishiya?” his name is little more than a breathless whisper when it leaves your lips. tears brim at the edges of your wide eyes, still staring up at him. he sets the tray down on your table before shuffling closer. his iv monitor drags on the tiles behind him. “you… you’re here?”
“i’m here,” he nods. you’re scrambling to your feet, now, pushing everything aside to get to him as soon as possible. chishiya stiffens when you wrap your arms around him. the feeling is foreign. butterflies swarm throughout his stomach and his heartbeat feels like it’s beating out of his chest.
you bury your head into the crook of his neck and shoulder, keeping your bodies pressed impossibly close. chishiya hesitates for only a moment before he’s following your lead, wrapping his arms around your waist and leaning his weight against you as well. “i’m here,” he repeats, whispered into your ear. his lips ghost against your temple for only a moment. you tighten your grip in response, letting out a shaky breath. “it’s okay now.”
notes: please leave feedback if you enjoyed!! honestly i'm not super happy with this, i wasn't really sure where i was going with it but i think it turned out okay, decided to leave it kind of ambiguous that they remembered the borderlands, there's a reference in there for cool hot people, thank you so much for requesting!! i hope you enjoy :)) title from pierce the veil - falling asleep on a stranger
if you enjoyed this fic, please consider leaving a like, comment, or rebloging !! and if you want to support me, check out my aib masterlist <33
When you ask Chishiya for a simple favor, neither of you are prepared for what follows. tldr: you ask Chishiya to teach you how to kiss.
genre/notes: fluff, borderline smut, ooc-ish!Chishiya x fem!reader
rating: mature (smut implied but not explicit)
word count: 2k
You weren't sure when you had worked up the courage to ask Chishiya such an outrageous favor. Maybe it was the late nights spent together, both of you perched on the worn-out couch, his arm thrown lazily along the backrest, fingers sometimes brushing against your shoulders in a way that sent shivers down your spine. Or maybe it was those fleeting moments when his gaze lingered on your lips, and you couldn’t help but think – wish, even – that he wanted this too.
It was a quiet evening, and you could feel your heart pounding in your chest as you glanced up at him, his calm expression giving you just enough confidence to take a leap of faith.
“Chishiya,” you started, your voice barely above a whisper, as you fiddled with the hem of your shirt. “Can you teach me how to kiss?”
His eyes flicked up to meet yours, the smallest lift of his brow the only sign of his surprise. For a long second, you thought he might laugh or brush it off as a joke. Instead, he tilted his head to the side, the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
“You want me to be your first kiss?” he asked, his voice soft yet edged with curiosity.
You punched his shoulder playfully, trying to mask your nerves. “Maybe I just want more practice! What makes you think I haven't kissed anyone?”
Chishiya chuckled, the smile on his face growing. “I know you better than anyone,” he said, his tone teasing but laced with a warmth that made your heart flutter.
You nodded, a blush creeping up your cheeks, unable to meet his gaze for too long. It felt ridiculous, embarrassing, but this was Chishiya – the person you trusted most. There had always been something there between you two, something neither of you dared address until now.
You decided to distract yourself from the growing tension, a teasing smile forming on your lips. "Actually, I've kissed a few people, you know. There was Niragi..."
Chishiya's lips twitched, his response immediate. "Too boring."
You rolled your eyes, continuing, "And then there was Kanato."
"Too short," Chishiya replied dryly, his tone making it clear he wasn't impressed.
"Okay, but what about Yuki? She was—"
"Too much of a know-it-all," Chishiya cut in, shaking his head slightly.
You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest. "You just have something to say about everyone, don't you?"
Chishiya gave you a small, amused smile, his gaze softening. "I just know you better than anyone." You pressed your lips together and averted your eyes.
As the tension hung between you, his gaze softened, and he slowly shifted closer.
“Okay,” he said, and that one word held so many layers. Your eyes widened at his answer, his expression colored with acceptance, understanding, and a promise that this moment would stay between the two of you.
You felt him move closer, his presence warm, the scent of him familiar and comforting. He paused, his eyes meeting yours, and his voice came out in a soft whisper, "Can I touch you?"
You nodded, your breath catching as his hand found its way to your cheek, gently tilting your head towards him. He studied you, his eyes soft, searching yours for hesitation. When he found none, he leaned in, and you closed your eyes, letting the world slip away until it was just him.
His lips met yours softly at first, a brush of warmth that sent a shiver down your spine. He was gentle, deliberate, as though he wanted you to savor every second. Your heart pounded, nerves giving way to an all-consuming warmth as your hands instinctively found the front of his shirt, clinging to him.
Chishiya was careful, patient – letting you find your rhythm. His lips moved against yours, slowly coaxing you to respond. It was sweet at first, like a promise, a reassurance that there was no rush. And then, slowly, you felt the shift. His other hand moved to your waist, pulling you closer, his fingers splayed against your back. The kiss deepened, and a soft sigh escaped you, surprising even yourself.
It was like a spark ignited, and suddenly the air between you two changed. What started out as slow and explorative quickly grew more intense, the hesitancy fading as you both gave in to the want that had simmered for so long.
You pulled away slightly, your breath shaky as you looked into his eyes. "Chishiya, what... what do I do?" you asked, breathless.
“You’re doing amazing,” he sighed with a gentle smile, his thumb brushing your cheek. "Put your hands here," he said, guiding your hands to rest on his shoulders. You followed his lead, feeling the warmth of his skin through the fabric, grounding yourself in the closeness. Slowly, your fingers began to drift, brushing against the side of his neck, feeling the soft skin beneath your touch. He shivered slightly at the sensation, and you hesitated for a moment before your hands came up to gently caress his face, your fingers tracing along his jawline, feeling every detail.
"And what about... my tongue?" you whispered, feeling the blush deepen on your cheeks.
He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours before he spoke. "Follow my lead," he murmured, his voice low and comforting. He tilted his head slightly, and then he demonstrated, his tongue gently parting your lips, coaxing yours to respond. His hand slipped behind your neck, fingers threading into your hair as he deepened the kiss, moving slowly to let you mirror him.
You hesitated for a moment, then tentatively moved your tongue against his, feeling a rush of warmth as he responded with a quiet hum of approval. His hand guided you closer, his lips moving more insistently now, urging you to follow his rhythm. Your fingers tightened around his shirt, the fabric bunching between your knuckles, and you felt him smile slightly against your lips, as if proud of how quickly you were catching on.
His teeth grazed your bottom lip, a gentle nip that made you gasp against his mouth, and his hand slipped lower, cupping your jaw tenderly as if grounding you in the moment. Your heart pounded, heat pooling in your chest as you clung to him, feeling the intensity build between you.
Chishiya’s breath was shaky as he pulled away for just a moment, his forehead resting against yours, his eyes still closed as he whispered, “Is this okay?”
You nodded, unable to find words, your cheeks flushed and your lips tingling. It was more than okay – it was everything you had imagined and more. You leaned in, capturing his lips again, and he responded immediately, a quiet groan escaping him as he pulled you impossibly closer, your bodies pressed together as though to make up for lost time.
His kisses became more urgent, his lips parting against yours, his tongue brushing yours in a way that sent sparks down your spine. You were lost in it, in him – his warmth, the way he held you as if you were the most important thing in his world. You could feel his heartbeat against yours, a steady reminder that this was real, that it was Chishiya who was here with you, giving in to what you both had kept hidden for so long.
And in that moment, you didn’t care about anything else. Not the nerves that had gnawed at you before, not the fear of what this could mean. All that mattered was the warmth of his body pressed against yours, the feeling of his heartbeat steady beneath your palms. The way his fingers threaded into your hair, his lips moving with a desperation that spoke of everything neither of you had ever said. He kissed you like you were the air he needed to breathe, like letting go was simply not an option. His hands began to wander, one sliding down your back, pressing you closer, while the other moved to your waist, his fingers slipping beneath the hem of your shirt, brushing against the bare skin of your side.
A shiver ran through you, the sensation of his touch both electrifying and comforting. He pulled back just slightly, his lips hovering over yours as he looked into your eyes, his gaze dark and filled with emotion. "Do you want to keep going?" he murmured, his voice barely audible, yet filled with a raw intensity that made your heart skip a beat.
You swallowed, nodding, your breath catching as you whispered, "Yes." His lips curved into a small smile, and he leaned in, capturing your lips once more, his kisses growing more heated, more insistent. His hand traveled up your side, fingers grazing your skin, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. You felt your own hands move, sliding up his neck, your fingers brushing through his hair, tugging him closer.
The world seemed to narrow to just this – his touch, his breath, his body against yours. The way his hand slipped under your shirt, his fingers splaying across your back, pulling you impossibly closer. You could feel his heart pounding against your chest, each beat echoing the intensity of the moment. His lips left yours, trailing along your jaw, down to the sensitive skin of your neck, and you tilted your head, giving him better access, a soft sigh escaping you.
His breath was hot against your skin, his lips gentle yet possessive as he pressed open-mouthed kisses along your neck, his teeth grazing just enough to send shivers down your spine. Your hands tightened in his hair, your body arching into his touch, the warmth between you growing, consuming.
He whispered your name, the sound sending a thrill through you, and then his voice came again, softer, more vulnerable. "You have no idea, do you?" he murmured, his lips brushing against your skin between words. "How long I've wanted this... wanted you."
Your breath hitched, your heart pounding at the confession. You pulled back slightly, just enough to look into his eyes, and you saw it there – the emotion he'd kept hidden for so long. The walls he always put up were gone, leaving nothing but raw honesty. "Chishiya..." you whispered, your voice trembling.
He cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing your cheeks. "I tried to pretend I didn't care, that I could just be your friend. But I can't. I need you... more than anything." His eyes searched yours, a mixture of fear and hope in his gaze. "Tell me you feel the same."
You nodded, tears welling in your eyes as you whispered, "I do. I've always felt the same." A smile broke across his face, and he leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that was filled with everything he'd kept locked away – all the love, the longing, the need. It was intense, consuming, and you kissed him back with everything you had, your heart swelling with the overwhelming truth of it all: you loved him, and you always had.
His hands roamed down your body, his fingers tracing the curve of your waist before slipping beneath your shirt, the touch searing against your bare skin. You gasped into his mouth, the sensation both thrilling and comforting as he pulled you closer, as though trying to erase any distance between you. His lips left yours, trailing down your jaw to your neck, where he pressed kisses that were both gentle and possessive, each one drawing a soft moan from your lips.
Chishiya's breath was ragged against your skin, his voice a whisper. "I want you," he murmured, the words sending a shiver down your spine. His hands moved upwards, brushing against your ribs, his thumbs skimming the edge of your bra. He paused, his eyes meeting yours, seeking permission, and you nodded, your heart pounding.
He kissed you again, deeper this time, his hands exploring with a tenderness that made your heart ache. Your own hands moved over his chest, feeling the defined muscles beneath his shirt, before slipping it up, your fingers grazing the warmth of his skin. He broke the kiss just long enough to pull his shirt over his head, tossing it aside before his lips found yours again, more urgent now, more desperate.
You felt his skin against yours, the heat of him enveloping you as his hands moved to your back, unclasping your bra with practiced ease. He pulled away slightly, his forehead resting against yours as he whispered, "You're perfect," his eyes filled with adoration. He slipped your bra off, his gaze never leaving yours, and you could feel the intensity of his desire, the way he looked at you as if you were the only thing that mattered.
His lips found yours once more, his hands now exploring every inch of your bare skin, his touch setting your nerves alight. You were lost in him, in the way he made you feel, every kiss, every caress pushing you further into a haze of warmth and need. His mouth moved down your neck, his teeth grazing your collarbone before he pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses along your chest, his hands holding you as if you were something precious, something he never wanted to let go.
His hands moved lower, tracing every curve, his fingers brushing the waistband of your pants as his lips continued their journey down your body. You arched into him, a soft moan escaping as he paused, his gaze meeting yours again, his eyes filled with an unspoken question. You nodded, your breath coming in shallow gasps, and he gave a small, tender smile before continuing, his hands slipping beneath the fabric, sliding them off slowly, deliberately, his gaze never leaving yours.
His touch was everywhere, his lips following the path his hands traced, leaving you trembling beneath him. The intimacy of it all, the way he looked at you with so much care, made your heart swell, the love and desire blending into something overwhelming. He murmured your name, his voice thick with emotion, and you responded with a whisper of his, your fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer, needing him in every possible way.
Chishiya's movements were slow, careful, his hands and lips guiding you through every sensation, until there was nothing else – just the two of you, together, everything else fading away. His breath mingled with yours, his body moving with yours as he brought you closer, each touch and kiss filled with a promise, an unspoken vow that this moment was yours, and he was yours, completely.
Afterward, as you both lay tangled together, breaths mingling and hearts still pounding, Chishiya looked at you with a smirk tugging at his lips. "I dropped so many hints, and you missed every single one," he teased, his voice soft but laced with amusement.
You let out a laugh, nudging his side playfully. "You were just as bad!"
He raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "Elaborate?"
You rolled your eyes, a playful grin on your face as you propped yourself up on your elbows. "Like that time I kept asking you to help me study for that class I already had an A in, just because I wanted an excuse to spend time with you. Kuina walked in and saw us sitting way too close, and she said, 'If this is your idea of tutoring, Chishiya, you’re not even trying to be subtle.' And you just smirked like it was nothing!"
Chishiya's smile softened, his fingers brushing a strand of hair away from your face. "Maybe I was just waiting for you to say something first."
You shook your head, a smile tugging at your lips. "And here I thought you were supposed to be the genius."
Chishiya smirked, tilting his head slightly. "What about when I made sure we ended up paired together for every group project? Or that time I walked you home in the rain and conveniently 'forgot' my umbrella so you'd have to share yours?"
A flush crept your cheeks. "You did that on purpose?"
"Of course," he said with a soft chuckle, his tone teasing but his gaze warm. Pulling your closer, his lips brushed your forehead. "I guess we were both pretty clueless." He paused, his gaze meeting yours, sincerity shining in his eyes. "But I'm glad we finally figured it out."
You smiled, your heart swelling with affection. "Me too."
And as you lay there, wrapped in each other's arms, you knew that whatever came next, you would face it together–no more doubts, no more hesitations, just the two of you.
note ;; i’m so fucking horny for chishiya omG. I LITERALLY JUST FINISHED WATCHING AIB (10/6/24) IM SORRY IM LATEE.. also this is my first uhhh post evevrvrrrr :))))))) thehrheh this is mostly a test and people are probably not gonna read this sooooo~~~ ^_^
also i’m sso in love with nijro and i’m sooooo happy he’s doing better now oml bae had me so stressed i had to redownload tikcock to fucking find updates on him. he’s still my bbg okay idfc what he looks like rn he’s my princess. ｡ﾟ(ﾟ´ω`ﾟ)ﾟ｡
♤ after he saved your life in a game you had no idea on how to play, you had to repay him. so you couldn’t wait any longer the moment you both arrived at beach and into a room.
you drag him towards the bed and push it him down from his shoulders, he didn’t even have time to react. just a small gasp and a unchanging expression with his eyebrows slightly raised.
“nngh right there dear…nnfh…” chishiya whispered breathlessly, you continue to bop your head up and down, looking up at him as he covered his face with his forearm. “gonna make me cum already baby..” he whimpered, his hand gripping the edge of the bed. “..’ust like that.” his head throwing back a bit.
your pretty mouth licking him off, your hands on his knees. humming and moaning softly on his cock. he’s mostly quiet besides his quiet groans. “mmh, mmff—ggghhn” you gag, trying to continue going fast. the blood splatters on him really added that bit of spice to his now flustered expression.
“shit—! mmgh…” he murmured, “fuck, keep going,” he couldn’t help himself, you felt so good around his dick, your tongue wrapped sloppily. it’s like you’ve been waiting for this moment the entire time. his hips thrusting up, needing to chase that sweet high.
“slow down, yyeah?” his hand suddenly on your head and pushing you down, he lightly tugs on your hair. he wanted you to slow down but you just kept speeding up. his body twitching a little, he was becoming louder. his breathing became more shaky and now both of his hands on your head, pushing down and also tugging. “gonna-…shit- gonna…”
you had to make to make him finish, moving more faster. he couldn’t even get words out from your fast pace.
“gonna—nnghh!”
oh, how good he felt, pushing your head down as your eyes roll back. savoring him. he gasps and finally let’s go of you. he pants softly and gives his usual smug grin. “you’re so good..” his cum spilling in your mouth and down your throat, you promised yourself to swallow everything, not to waste a single drop.
‘thank you for this delicious meal’ you thought as you looked up at him with your big doe eyes that were filled with tears. you swore to make him feel good as payment for your stupidness in a life or death game.
dawg ermmm idk how i did i hope i was decent enoighhhh….arghhhkkk
also i wrote this and edited the borders and pictures and shit while watching white chicks and mall cop with my dad 🫡🫡 idk what else to add LMFAOOOO ik it’s short it’s my first time guyssss please i’m a virgin 😓😓😓😓😓 (/hj)
ALSO!!!!! IMPORTANT NOTE!!
this prompt…idea…??? shit?? was inspired by @//aliceinborderlandsquidgame ‘s Reward - AIB Boys HCS IT WAS GOOD I LOVED UTTT OMGG!!!1!1!1!1!1!!1 anywyd yes yeses i’m not original like fuck me idc but half of this credit/idea goes to them!! it’s linked so please check them out!!
anyhow thank youuu for reading!! please reblog?? like? idk how this shit works kk byebye love uu
ー brckendollette ♡
(10/9/24)
, edited
,,, edit: edit: 1.17.26 WHY DID THE NAME CENSOR?? LMFAOOOO I forgot ehqt its dalled too...umm oops...whatever man
Twin I NEED more aib fics 😛😛😛 literally anything bro 😛😛
𝝑𝝔 dating headcannons for aib — arisu, chishiya, niragi
director's note: will do! i miss the aib hype, should've written when s3 came out 🥹, non-borderland au!
arisu ♡ loves you like his coffee, light on the bitterness because overall he just wants to be loved too.
arisu is quite a clingy partner (if you couldn't tell already), but gosh was it amazing to feel appreciated every once in a while.
he is also very much so into praise & encouragement, loves to hear you tell him he's doing a great job, gives him the energy to keep going!
takes you out to fancy restaurants & begs his dad for the money to do so (father gives in due to... i guess the fact his other son got a partner before his eldest did.)
if you play games, trust that he will gift you things on the regular; it's just his thing. loves to see people call you an absolute money spender when they see you and your boyfriend's matching skins...
spoiler alert he paid for all your matching sets and it very blushy about it.
might not seem like it, but is the yapper of the relationship. loves to nerd out so much please he'll fall even harder if you listen (or even nerd out with him!)
has glasses with prescription but stopped using them due to getting bullied, if you like him with them on, best bet you'll find him tomorrow with them on while cooking you breakfast
(eggs and bacon, yes he was lowkey scared of the oil)
makes you guys do the classic couple trends that concern games to post on social media
chishiya ♡ loves with small smiles, hand gestures, and nudges rather than words. he does not speak too much, but he speaks enough.
chishiya loves silently, like his words are very much not needed with him, not with the many gifts he gives whenever he gets to (which is most probably all the damn time.)
his job always makes sure that money is never a problem not with him, and it never will be. so if ever you buy anything with your own card he's already sending you more, just check your balance!
you don't even have to ask, but he'd much rather you drain the hell out of his pockets than make you lift a finger. genuinely hides your wallet in a cabinet too tall for you to reach so he gets to pay when you guys get to go out on a date.
always waves to you, even after you two date because hey, he loves knowing you stay with tradition. yes waving is his way of saying i love you to you, and only to you.
the only person to ever physically touch him like hugs or whatever without being immediately being elbowed in the guts is you, he never liked it until you both started to cuddle.
literally does all the corny couple shit to make you fluster because... he feels like it. no deeper reason than that, no easier place to do it if not in private.
chishiya is an acts of service man, no doubt about it :)
niragi ♡ found it hard to accept that he actually liked- no, loved you at first. yeah he's liked a person or two before, but no one was quite like you, good was he insanely in love with you, he hated himself for it.
lets absolutely no one touch you but him. hates whenever he's just getting you two something to eat and all of a sudden prince charming over here thinks you're single?
very touchy to add on, has an arm around your waist, or on your lower back at all times! cannot handle not getting the point across to people who believe they could have a single chance.
he knew your favorite flavors like the back of his palm, actually, he knew your favorite... everything. flowers, flavor of ice cream, where you loved to hang around, animal, just ask him and he'll answer, but not without a scoff leaving his throat. "not like i care" or whatever that bullshit is.
has a huge thing for kissing your body. not even to suggest, he kisses your knuckles to greet you, and pecks your collarbone to drop you off safely at your doorstep.
also, can i just headcannon really quick: i believe he still is a nerd by heart, and the main reason why he fell in love is the kindness that still shines from you within when he talks about his interests.
you're asking questions? asking what he likes about it? what got him into it in the first place? he will propose right now with your favorite album in hand.
summary: Chishiya is forced to teach a class of medical students. The class is incredibly hard but lucky for you, the professor agrees to tutor you. A dream come true if only he wasn't so distracting
warnings: smut (minors dni), swearing, pwp pretty much, reader has a fat crush on chishiya, she also seduces chishiya for a good grade lol, tension, dom!chishiya, he kinda has a thing for being called professor, dry humping, fingering and oral (fem receiving), y/n is called "good girl" once, unprotected sex + creampie
word count: 5,209
a/n: I'm just horny for Chishiya :D this shit is soooo ooc without proper buildup, but he would be such a sexy professor.
Minors...get out of here
Sakurazaka University Hospital had grown quiet, the rush of the day giving way to the low hum of machines and the occasional echo of footsteps down sterile hallways. Most doctors had already gone home. The lights in their offices had flicked off one by one, leaving only slivers of fluorescent glow through the narrow windows of doors.
But not his.
Inside, Dr. Chishiya sat hunched over his desk, sleeves pushed back, pen gliding across paperwork with unhurried precision. He should have gone home hours ago, but no doctor’s work was ever truly finished. His office smelled faintly of disinfectant and coffee, and the only sound was the soft shuffle of pages turning.
A knock interrupted the stillness.
“Come in,” he called without looking up.
“Dr. Chishiya…” a voice spoke. The voice belonged to Hikaru Nakayama, the head of administration for Sakurazaka University. The university was home to a prestigious medical school which led to many hospitals and clinics being constructed under its name all throughout Japan. Most students in their medical program ended up at their hospitals at some point during their careers—and Chishiya was one of them.
He knew what Hikaru wanted. For the past three days, he has continuously pestered Chishiya about teaching an intermediate pediatrics course on the university campus. Each and every single time he brought it up, Chishiya always responded the same.
“No.”
Hikaru blinked, clearly thrown off by the bluntness. “I- you haven’t even heard me out.”
“Do I need to?” Chishiya murmured, signing his name on the document in front of him before finally setting his pen down.
The administrator fumbled, tugging at his tie. “If you’d just consider it…there are new benefits we can offer.”
That at least earned Chishiya’s attention. His gaze lifted, sharp and assessing. “I’m listening.”
“Well…” Hikaru cleared his throat. “If you agree, you won’t need to complete your continuing medical education credits this year for your license renewal.”
Chishiya’s pen stilled against the page. That was tempting. He despised wasting hours on mandatory lectures on material he’d already mastered years ago. Slowly, he leaned back in his chair, finally regarding the man standing awkwardly in his doorway.
“You said benefits…as in plural.”
“Yes! Yes,” Hikaru stammered, quick to nod. “There’s also a pay bonus, and-” he paused for dramatic effect, though it did little to hide the anxiety written all over his face, “an extra month of paid leave.”
Chishiya let the silence hang, studying him. His smirk was faint, but there. “Email me the details.”
Hikaru nearly sagged with relief. “Of course, Doctor. Thank you for accepting! The class is r-”
“Email,” Chishiya repeated, picking up his pen again.
The administrator bobbed his head in agreement and backed out, closing the door quietly behind him. Chishiya hummed to himself, amused at the man’s dedication. Whether it was dedication or desperation was debatable, but who was he to care? He certainly wouldn’t care once he got his month of paid time off.
♤♧♡♢
Your laptop screen glared back at you, the spinning wheel taunting you with every failed click. “Oh, come on!” you groaned, slamming the heel of your palm against the trackpad.
From across the couch, your roommate didn’t even look up from her book. Ann was sprawled lazily on her side, reading glasses slipping down her nose as she flipped another page of her thick forensics text.
“What is it now, Y/N?” she asked, voice bored but teasing.
“Remember how I couldn’t register for my pediatrics class yesterday because the system crashed from ‘high volume’?” you grumbled, glaring at the error message on your screen.
“Mhm.”
“Well,” you spun the laptop toward her dramatically, “now there’s only one pediatrics course left open, and the professor isn’t even listed. How am I supposed to know what I’m getting into if I can’t look them up on RateMyProfessor?”
Ann finally looked up, blinking at your theatrics before snorting. “God, dramatic much? You’ll survive. It’s your last semester before you’re free, so look on the bright side.”
“There is no freedom,” you groaned, collapsing backward onto the couch with a throw pillow clutched to your chest. “After med school comes residency. After residency comes endless work until I die.” Your voice was muffled by the pillow, but Ann was already laughing.
You sat up again, shoving the pillow into your lap. “I just like knowing what to expect. What if I get a total jackass professor?”
Ann’s grin widened. “But what if you get a hottie? Extra motivation to study.”
You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, right. The chances of landing a hot professor are practically zero. I’ll probably end up with some old man who smells like chalk dust.”
♤♧♡♢
Sakurazaka University’s lecture hall was louder than usual that morning. Dozens of students crammed into narrow rows, the smell of coffee and cheap convenience-store pastries heavy in the air. The chatter was chaotic with some people nervously flipping through textbooks, others laughing about weekend plans, and you, chewing the inside of your cheek as you refreshed the digital syllabus on your laptop for what felt like the fifteenth time.
The door creaked open.
Silence spread across the room almost instantly, as though the air itself had been held down. A man walked in, his steps unhurried, his presence cold and composed.
Definitely not an old man.
He was younger and far more handsome than you expected. No gray hair, no tired posture of an overworked professor. Instead, a sharp figure in a loose white coat, blond hair falling neatly around his face, dark eyes narrowing with disinterest. He carried no bag, no stack of notes. Just a slim folder, which he placed on the desk with a quiet thunk.
“I’m Dr. Chishiya.” His voice cut through the stillness. It was smooth, low, and effortlessly commanding. “This is Pediatrics 302. Read the syllabus. Don’t waste my time asking questions already answered in it.”
That was it. No warm greeting, no introduction, not even a smile.
Around you, students exchanged wide-eyed looks, some stifling laughter at his bluntness, others already scribbling nervously in their notebooks. You sat up straighter, studying him more closely. His gaze skimmed the room—detached yet sharp—as though he could already tell who would pass, who would fail, and who wasn’t worth his time.
You were in for one hell of a semester.
♤♧♡♢
The lecture hall was quieter than usual, the low hum of ventilation and the occasional shuffle of papers were the only sounds breaking the stillness. It was only the second week and people were already dropping like flies. Whether it was the boring material or the professor who clearly didn't want to be there, people didn't bother attending any more lectures.
You settled into your usual spot near the back, notebook open but mostly untouched. The lecture had already started, Chishiya moving at the front with his usual calm, detached air. You told yourself you were paying attention, but your eyes kept drifting.
At first, it was casual—a glance at how he adjusted the papers on the desk, the neat flick of his pen as he underlined a point, the slight arch of his brow when a student asked a question. There was something…deliberate in the way he moved, almost measured, as if every gesture had been planned, precise and controlled.
You caught your heart speeding up, your chest tightening in a way that felt foreign. It’s just…how he moves, you tried to reason. Focus on the lecture.
But your eyes kept returning to him. His presence constantly pulled you back in each time you shifted your attention back to the textbook. The tilt of his head as he listened to a question, the way the corners of his mouth twitched ever so slightly when he considered an answer, the sharpness in his dark eyes as they scanned the room. Each detail pulled your attention further in. You realized, slowly, that your mind wasn’t on pediatrics at all. It was on Chishiya.
A small chuckle escaped him as a student gave an impractical response to his question, yet you caught it. It was quiet, controlled, yet somehow teasing. Your stomach fluttered. You were fixated by his lectures but not just by the material. You felt a heat rising in your cheeks and cursed yourself silently for thinking about him like that.
You told yourself it was harmless. You weren’t doing anything wrong. You were just observing, noting his mannerisms to memorize them and get on his good side. But when he glanced up, and your eyes met, a jolt ran through you. His gaze was sharp, unwavering, and suddenly it felt too personal.
“You’re staring,” he said, voice low, almost amused, cutting through the lecture hall like a knife. How could he just announce that to the entire class?
Your stomach dropped. “I-I was just…listening,” you stammered, heat flooding your face.
“Listening, huh?” His lips twitched into a faint smirk, corners tugging just slightly, the kind that made your chest tighten.
You swallowed, suddenly acutely aware of how your fingers clenched your pen, how your knees were pressed together tighter than usual. "Yes, I was listening to what you were saying. I wasn't staring-"
“You were,” he said smoothly, voice calm but with that undercurrent of knowing. “If you're too far away, you will never catch the important details but if you look too closely, you will miss the big picture. Don't get too caught up looking at me when the information lies in the text."
Something in the way he spoke, detached yet teasing, sent an electric thrill down your spine. You couldn’t look away, couldn’t stop your heart from racing. Every word, every motion, every glance he gave you felt like it was meant to pull you closer, to make you notice him more.
By the time the lecture ended, your mind had shifted entirely. You were no longer thinking about exams or syllabus points. You were thinking about him. The way he stood, the sound of his voice, the faint smirk that seemed to linger in your thoughts even after he had turned to collect his materials.
You packed up slowly, trying to keep your composure, but your eyes found him again, and he noticed. That faint, deliberate glance he gave you as you left the room made your stomach flutter and your pulse spike. He had seen you. He had seen the way you couldn’t stop staring. And somehow, that made your infatuation feel both thrilling and terrifying all at once.
♤♧♡♢
The “56%” at the top of your test might as well have been a death sentence. The red ink burned against the white page, your pulse pounding in your ears. You swallowed hard, skimming the corrections, but your eyes snagged at the bottom: See me after class.
Your stomach twisted.
You lingered as the lecture hall emptied, the scrape of chairs and shuffle of feet fading until it was just you and Chishiya. He sat at the front desk, chair reclined, pen in hand, flipping idly through papers. His posture screamed nonchalance, but his presence filled the room.
You stepped forward, clutching the exam in sweaty hands. “So…” you tried to laugh, though it came out shaky, “I guess I failed.”
“Observation skills intact,” he murmured without looking up, tapping his pen against your test. “You did fail. Lack of knowledge, lack of preparation, and lack of care led you to receive that grade.”
Heat rushed to your cheeks. You wanted to disappear, but his voice was steady and detached, rooting you to the spot. He finally glanced up, his gaze settling on you with clinical precision.
“Teach me then,” you blurted out.
His pen paused. He looked up slowly, eyes narrowing at you, dark and calculating. “Teach you?” His voice was even, almost bored, but there was a flicker there. A small spark of curiosity.
“Yeah,” you said, forcing a small, nervous giggle. “You can teach me how to earn an A, Professor."
You finally let your eyes meet his, licking your lips nervously under his gaze. You noticed the way his pupils flickered in response. There was a subtle shift from your eyes to your lips, then down to your chest. A heat rushed to your cheeks.
“See something you like, professor?” you teased lightly, testing him, biting the inside of your lip to hide your sudden nervousness. Without thinking, you reached for the buttons of your blouse, unfastening the top one, then the next. The air between you seemed to thrum, heavy with tension.
A shiver ran down your spine as you met his eyes again, searching for approval, anticipation curling in your stomach. And then—like a grip on reality—he leaned back just slightly, the faintest sharp intake of breath, his voice cutting through the charged quiet.
“Ahem.”
Your fingers froze mid-button, heat and panic flooding through you. Chishiya’s eyes snapped back to yours fully, precise and cold, but unmistakably on the edge of control. “I think it would be best to focus on the exam material rather than… whatever ‘extra credit’ you were thinking of.”
Your entire body filled with embarrassment.. “I-I’m so sorry,” you stammered, fumbling to button yourself back up. “I thought you… I thought you knew where I was going with that.”
“I did know.” He cut you off, tone cool but edged with amusement. “I just didn’t think you’d start undressing here and now. Regardless of time or place, it would not be appropriate for a student and teacher to engage in sexual activities.”
“I apologize for trying to get a better grade in an inappropriate way. I know that it could’ve very easily put your job at risk as well as my education,” you immediately bowed your head apologetically. How were you going to get out of this mess now?
“Mmm, it’s not that. I’m technically not employed by the school, so I can really do whatever I wish,” he replied simply.
“So I'm not hot enough??” you blurted out before you could stop yourself. Your hands flew to your mouth at your vulgar language. Not that professionalism was relevant anymore considering you practically stripped in front of him.
“I never said that. As attractive as you are, not everyone can be easily bribed with sex,” he stated.
“Y-You think I’m…attractive?”
“Mmm, forget I said anything,” Chishiya mumbled before he scribbled something on a notepad, sliding the paper toward you.
“This is the counselor’s office. Switch out before you waste any more time failing this course.”
“I can’t,” you shot back instantly, your voice louder than you intended. He raised an eyebrow, yet remained unbothered. “This is the only pediatrics class left. I graduate at the end of this semester. I have to take it.”
“Then do better,” he said simply, already turning back to his papers.
You clenched your fists. “You’re impossible.”
“You’re unprepared.” His tone didn’t waver, but when his eyes flicked up, there was a challenge there. And that was when the idea hit you.
“Fine. If you tutor me and I fail the next exam, I’ll drop the class.”
He tilted his head slightly, studying you as if calculating the probability of your failure. “Mmm. Promising, considering your last score.”
“Oh shut up.” You crossed your arms. “But if I pass, you have to keep tutoring me for the rest of the semester.”
The smirk returned, faint but undeniable. “Fine.”
♤♧♡♢
The library was almost eerily quiet that evening. Golden pools of light spilled from tall lamps across polished wooden tables, casting long shadows between the towering shelves. The smell of old books mingled with the faint aroma of coffee from the small café in the corner. Every footstep you took felt loud against the dark hardwood floors.
You spotted him immediately. Chishiya sat at a corner table, loose white coat draped over the chair, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His posture was perfect. He was relaxed yet confident, just enough lean to suggest the right amount of disinterest. As you approached, his eyes tracked your every movement. Pen in hand, he flipped a page in his textbook slowly, deliberately, as if waiting for you to arrive.
“You’re late,” he said finally, not looking up, voice smooth but carrying that unmistakable edge that made you tense.
“Yeah by two minutes,” you muttered, sliding into the chair across from him, trying to act casual.
He didn’t reply immediately. Instead, he let the silence stretch, eyes finally lifting to appraise you. The corner of his mouth quirked, just slightly. “Two minutes is enough time for a patient to die,” he said. Voice flat and cool. And somehow incredibly challenging.
You rolled your eyes but felt your stomach tighten. Sitting there, across from him, you were hyper-aware of his presence. The faint scent of antiseptics, the way his hair fell over his forehead, the subtle lean of his body toward the desk—just enough to make you feel watched.
He pulled out your test from the last session, flipping it open. “Let’s start with what you got wrong. Why did you miss these questions?”
You explained, careful, your voice steady but betraying slight nerves. He listened, head tilted, eyes narrowing occasionally as if measuring each word, judging each thought. “Incorrect,” he said sharply at one point, and you flinched. “Try again. Think clinically. Observation is key.”
Minutes passed, tension building. You reached for your pen, fingers brushing against his as you moved, and you caught his eye. A flicker passed over his face—subtle, almost imperceptible—before he returned to your notes. Your hand lingered, heat pooling in your chest at the slight contact.
“Focus,” Chishiya said softly, voice low, almost a whisper. Yet the way he said it made the word dangerous, demanding. Surely he knew what he did to you.
You swallowed and refocused, but the tension remained, thick and unrelenting. His instructions were sharp, clipped, yet there were moments where he leaned slightly closer to point at your notes, his proximity sending a jolt through you. Every deliberate movement carried weight. Whether it was his hand brushing your wrist or his knee bumping into yours, it sent shivers down your spine.
When you faltered, he didn’t scold. Instead, he tilted his head, gaze piercing, lips twitching faintly. “Not enough attention to detail,” he murmured, voice low, almost teasing. “Try again.”
You met his stare, cheeks warming. “I’m trying,” you admitted, voice firmer this time.
“Then think harder.” His tone was neutral, almost bored, yet every word carried the unmistakable authority that made your pulse quicken.
These private lessons were turning into torture sessions by the second.
♤♧♡♢
Weeks later, the midterm exam results slid across the desk toward you. Your fingers trembled as you lifted it. Eyes scanning and heart hammering, your breath caught at the top in bold: 90%.
A wave of relief, disbelief, and pride flooded you all at once. You glanced up at Chishiya, desperate for reaction, for any sign that he cared.
He was still calm, composed, almost unreadable, yet the faint twitch at the corner of his lips betrayed something. He moved down the row, indifferent yet precise, flipping through another student’s test.
After class, you waited to the side, the echo of footsteps fading until it was just the two of you. “So… I passed,” you said, testing the words as if they might disappear in the air.
He didn’t smile. Not quite. “Mmm. With such a great teacher, it's hard not to,” he said, his tone clipped, detached.
“Don’t be smug,” you countered, stepping a little closer, heart thudding. “You’re stuck with me now.”
He finally tilted his head, gaze sharp, analyzing. “Unfortunate.” His words were dry and controlled—yet there was something in the way his eyes lingered on you. There was a spark, a flicker of amusement that made your stomach twist.
You squared your shoulders. “I’m not going to fail again,” you said, more firmly. “So, what now? More tutoring?”
He considered, leaning back slightly, fingers drumming the edge of a folder. “If you want to survive this semester, yes. But you will follow my instructions precisely. Deviate, and you fail. No excuses.”
“Deal,” you said, a smirk tugging at your lips despite your nerves.
♤♧♡♢
You walked out of the lecture hall, exam in hand, the bold “90%” still fresh in your mind. Relief, pride, and exhaustion mingled together and your steps began to feel lighter than usual.
But even as you passed the empty hallways, your thoughts refused to stay on your test results. They kept drifting back to Chishiya. The way he had leaned back in his chair, calm and calculating, yet somehow impossibly commanding. The sharp glint in his eyes when he caught your gaze. The subtle smirk at the corner of his lips, the way his hand had hovered over his pen with deliberate precision.
You felt a heat in your chest and a flutter in your stomach that had nothing to do with relief at passing. In the quiet of your thoughts, your mind wandered to…other possibilities. The way his touch might feel, the dangerous thrill of what it would be like to test his control, to see how far he’d let you push. You caught yourself blushing, biting your lip, and shaking your head at just how distracting he had become.
A small and guilty laugh escaped you as you shook the thoughts away, telling yourself to focus—to breathe. But you knew deep down that the next time you saw him, it wouldn’t be just about pediatrics anymore.
Even as you walked back to your apartment, every movement, every glance over your shoulder, was colored by the memory of him. Your pulse quickened, your imagination refused to be tamed, and a thrill of anticipation settled in your chest like a fire just waiting to be ignited.
You couldn't wait to see what he would teach you next.
♤♧♡♢
Lucky for you, Chishiya invited you over to his house for today's study session. This meant you could finally be alone with him without wandering eyes, but it also left much uncertainty for how you would act.
Chishiya’s office was dimly lit, the small desk lamp casting warm shadows over stacks of neatly organized files. He sat with sleeves rolled up, pen scratching against paper. The faint smell of coffee hung in the air.
“You’re late,” he said, “Typical, but you’d think you would be on time for once.”
“Got stuck in traffic,” you responded, hoping that would be a sufficient excuse.
“Hmm,” he contemplated lecturing you again but decided against it. “Let’s get started with what time we have left for today.”
You slid your notebook onto the desk, flipping it open and trying to force your mind into focus. Words swam before your eyes as you scribbled notes, but every time you looked up, you caught him glancing your way. Not overtly, not in a way that felt threatening, but in that deliberate, assessing way he had. His sharp eyes scan your movement, reading you as easily as a patient chart.
The faint scent of antiseptics from the hospital clung to him, mixing with something musky, subtle, intoxicating—and you could feel it seeping into your skin, curling around your senses. You tried to breathe through it, tried to make yourself concentrate on the equations and clinical notes before you, but your hands trembled slightly as you reached for your pen.
His posture was impossible to ignore. Relaxed, controlled, yet every slight lean forward, every casual adjustment of his sleeves seemed purposeful, precise. It was the kind of movement that demanded attention whether you wanted it or not. You found your eyes flicking to the line of his jaw, the curve of his neck, the veins on his arms and cursed yourself silently. Focus, Y/N. Focus on the material.
But the words on the page blurred again, your pen hovering in indecision. You could feel heat pooling low in your stomach, your pulse quickening at every subtle shift he made. His gaze met yours briefly, just a flick, and your chest tightened. You tried to shake your thoughts—focusing on clinical reasoning or patient symptoms—but your mind betrayed you, tracing imagined scenarios where his proximity wasn’t just about tutoring.
A quiet exhale escaped him and you jerked slightly. You looked down, scribbling a note that made no sense. Nothing you wrote seemed coherent, nothing in your mind could focus. The notebook in front of you became a blur of meaningless lines.
Finally, Chishiya’s voice cut through the haze, low and even but threaded with something else, something that made your skin prickle and your breath hitch.
"Y/N, I need you to focus," he murmurs, but there's a hint of something more in his tone.
"You're the one distracting me," you whisper back, your voice barely audible. “This material is so dense…”
There was a moment of silence before you finally made your move.
“I wish you were teaching me something else.”
A faint and knowing smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “That is a dangerous thing you’re suggesting,” he said finally, voice low and even.
Your heartbeat quickened. “Then stop me,” you challenged softly, leaning just slightly closer, daring him.
He tilted his head, silent for a long moment, and in that pause, your pulse pounded in your ears. The tension had built so high it felt like it might snap. You could almost imagine what might happen next. The heat of proximity, the brush of fingers, the taste of lips.
His eyes narrow, and for a moment, you think he might pull away. But instead, he leans in closer, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, yet desperate kiss. It's electric, sending shivers down your spine. You respond eagerly, your hands reaching up to tangle in his hair as you deepen the kiss.
Chishiya's hands roam over your body, exploring every curve. You can feel his desire growing, matching your own. He pulls you onto his lap and you straddle him. You immediately feel his growing length press against your heat, causing a loud whine to leave your mouth. You start grinding against him as you both moan into each other's mouths. The pleasure starts to build up deep within your core.
"Is this what you wanted, Y/N?" he growls, his voice laced with dominance. "To seduce your professor? To have me teach you what it feels like to be fucked right?"
"Yes," you gasp, your hips moving in rhythm with his upward thrusts. "I want you, Chishiya. I need you."
He stands up quickly, lifting you effortlessly, and carries you through the hallway to his bedroom. He lays you down gently on his bed, his body covering yours. His hands trail down your sides, lifting your shirt and exposing your skin to his touch. You arch into him, craving more.
“A-Ah Chishiya! Please touch me,” you whine out. His touch was cold and calculated yet it did nothing but warm your entire body and send shivers of pleasure from head to toe.
Chishiya's mouth finds your neck, kissing and nibbling as his hands explore lower, unbuttoning your pants and slipping his fingers inside. You gasp as his fingers find your wetness, stroking and teasing. He scoops some of your slick up towards your clit and circles around it before he slides a finger inside your hole. He curls his finger deep within you, making you shudder in pleasure. He adds a second finger and continues moving in and out in a rhythm that has you panting and begging for more.
"You're so wet for me," he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. "So ready for my cock, isn’t that right?”
All that leaves your mouth is a high pitched moan as his fingers reach deeper than before, curling and caressing your most sensitive spot.
“Be a good girl and respond when your professor asks you a question,” Chishiya orders. He starts kissing down your neck, sucking and leaving markings along your collarbone and chest.
“O-Oh god! Yes, Chishiya! Need your cock so bad, I wanna feel you inside~”
He moves lower, his mouth trailing kisses down to your stomach as he pulls off your pants and underwear. You're completely exposed to him, and the look in his eyes is one of pure hunger. He spreads your legs wide, his tongue diving in to taste you.
“Gotta make sure your cunt is ready for me,” he groans into your pussy. The vibrations from his words make your back arch off of the mattress and tangle your hands in his hair. Your legs threaten to close around him, but he pushes them open with his hands, digging his fingers into the flesh of your thighs.
You cry out as he continues, your hips bucking against his face as he licks and sucks, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. He circles your clit with his tongue, applying just the right amount of pressure to send you spiraling. Just as you're about to cum, he pulls back, a wicked smile on his face.
"Not yet," he says, standing up and unbuttoning his own pants. "I want to feel your pretty pussy cum around me when you do."
He positions himself at your entrance, his eyes locked on yours, asking for permission to enter. You nod your head for him to continue and with one powerful thrust, he's inside you. He moves his entire length inside, filling you completely. You both moan, your bodies reacting to each other in perfect sync. He starts to move, slow and deep, driving you wild with each stroke.
"Chishiya," you cry out, your nails digging into his back. "P-Please, I need more—faster!" You can feel the way his cock twitches at your pleas, making you clench harder down around him.
He lets out a deep groan and obliges, his pace quickening, his hips slamming against yours. The room fills with the sound of your pleasure, your moans and gasps echoing off the walls. You can feel the tension building, your body coiled tight and ready to explode.
"Chishiya! I'm so close—fuck!" you moan.
"Cum for me, Y/N," Chishiya commands, his voice a low growl. "Let me feel you cum around my cock. Show me how badly you've wanted this."
His words push you over the edge, and you shatter, your body convulsing as waves of pleasure crash over you. "Mmm fuck Chishiya! Oh my god—ahhh feels so good!"
"Ah fuck, Y/N. You're clenching around me so tight. I'm gonna cum—Gonna fill you up, okay?" He groaned into your ear, hot breath fanning against your cheek. You nod frantically at his words before his seed spills into you and he collapses on top of you.
He rolls off you, pulling you into his arms as you both come down from the high. You rest your head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, a contented smile on your face. His fingers trace lazy patterns on your skin, sending shivers of aftershock pleasure through you.
"So you finally got what you wanted since day one, huh?" he asks, his voice soft and teasing.
“You know, I only got to where I am right now because my professor agreed to teach me.”
