You're sending him to heaven.

Sweat drips from Satoru's forehead, his mouth wide agape as he grips on the reclining chair, his strength threatening to break the metal that was all but flimsy to him. He hears, feels you scrape and drill his insides with the scaler in your hand. The mouth mirror clacks against his teeth, and he almost jolts on the chair as he feels your gloves lightly pull on his lip and cheek.

Your white-cladded figure was right above him and thanks to his Six Eyes, the operating lights did nothing to blind your gorgeous, half-masked face from him.

Ah... Angel.

He can see you. Just you—oh, wait. He swats the small curse wrapped around your shoulders, exorcising the little bastard blocking the view. The glint of confusion as you blinked brings another satisfaction to him, but it soon disappears as you carry on.

Ah, that's it. Now Satoru sees you. He's tunnel-visioned. Those dark circles rimmed below your lids. How those dull eyes were all on him. Yes, him. Just on him, so focused, so serene. How can you stare at him like that? Like you're painting, and he was the painting. Like you're sculpting, and he was the sculpture. Like he's your work—wait, but he is your work. You're his damn dentist working. What the hell's going on? How could you make the world's strongest sorcerer feel so—?

"Bite."

Tingles spread throughout his body. He would've choked on his own sound and saliva if it weren't for the suction device. He almost didn't notice that you had already pulled away along with your dental instruments. Huh? Why? Don't stop—uh, what? Well, whatever, he still does as you say.

"Alright, Mr. Gojo. Cleaning's done." You softly announce, "Good job. Next time, try to lessen the sweets, and you're good to go. Check—" With that said, you pull down your mask. Your lips curve into a smile in encouragement.

"Smile."

Oh god—he's definitely getting five boxes of Kikufuku Mochi after this.