#Captivating Curves

[awkward-sultana]

Magnificent Century + Evolution of The Emerald Ring™

[awkward-sultana]

Magnificent Century + Faceless: Firuze Hatun

[mostlysignssomeportents]

FCC strikes a blow against prison profiteering

TOMORROW NIGHT (July 20), I'm appearing in CHICAGO at Exile in Bookville.

Here's a tip for policymakers hoping to improve the lives of the most Americans with the least effort: help prisoners.

After all, America is the most prolific imprisoner of its own people of any country in world history. We lock up more people than Stalin, than Mao, more than Botha, de Klerk or any other Apartheid-era South African president. And it's not just America's vast army of the incarcerated who are afflicted by our passion for imprisonment: their families and friends suffer, too.

That familial suffering isn't merely the constant pain of life without a loved one, either. America's prison profiteers treat prisoners' families as ATMs who can be made to pay and pay and pay.

This may seem like a losing strategy. After all, prison sentences are strongly correlated with poverty, and even if your family wasn't desperate before the state kidnapped one of its number and locked them behind bars, that loved one's legal defense and the loss of their income is a reliable predictor of downward social mobility.

Decent people don't view poor people as a source of riches. But for a certain kind of depraved sadist, the poor are an irresistible target. Sure, poor people don't have much money, but what they lack even more is protection under the law ("conservativism consists of the principle that there is an in-group whom the law protects but does not bind, and an out-group whom the law binds but does not protect" -Wilhoit). You can enjoy total impunity as you torment poor people, make them so miserable and afraid for their lives and safety that they will find some money, somewhere, and give it to you.

Mexican cartels understand this. They do a brisk trade in kidnapping asylum seekers whom the US has illegally forced to wait in Mexico to have their claims processed. The families of refugees – either in their home countries or in the USA – are typically badly off but they understand that Mexico will not lift a finger to protect a kidnapped refugee, and so when the kidnappers threaten the most grisly tortures as a means of extracting ransom, those desperate family members do whatever it takes to scrape up the blood-money.

What's more, the families of asylum seekers are not much better off than their kidnapped loved ones when it comes to seeking official protection. Family members who stayed behind in human rights hellholes like Bukele's El Salvador can't get their government to lodge official complaints with the Mexican ambassador, and family members who made it to the USA are in no position to get their Congressjerk to intercede with ICE or the Mexican consulate. This gives Mexico's crime syndicates total latitude to kidnap, torture, and grow rich by targeting the poorest, most desperate people in the world.

The private contractors that supply services to America's prisons are basically Mexican refugee-kidnappers with pretensions and shares listed on the NYSE. After decades of consolidation, the prison contracting sector has shrunk to two gigantic companies: Securus and Viapath (formerly Global Tellink). These private-equity backed behemoths dominate their sector, and have diversified, providing all kinds of services, from prison cafeteria meals to commissary, the prison stores where prisoners can buy food and other items.

If you're following closely, this is one of those places where the hair on the back of your neck starts to rise. These companies make money when prisoners buy food from the commissary, and they're also in charge of the quality of the food in the mess hall. If the food in the mess hall is adequate and nutritious, there's no reason to buy food from the commissary.

This is what economists call a "moral hazard." You can think of it as the reason that prison ramen costs 300% more than ramen in the free world:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/20/captive-market/#locked-in

(Not just ramen: in America's sweltering prisons, an 8" fan costs $40, and the price of water went up in Texas prisons by 50% during last summer's heatwave.)

It's actually worse than that: if you get sick from eating bad prison food, the same company that poisoned you gets paid to operate the infirmary where you're treated:

https://theappeal.org/massachusetts-prisons-wellpath-dentures-teeth/

Now, the scam of abusing prisoners to extract desperate pennies from their families is hardly new. There's written records of this stretching back to the middle ages. Nor is this pattern a unique one: making an unavoidable situation as miserable as possible and then upcharging people who have the ability to pay to get free of the torture is basically how the airlines work. Making coach as miserable as possible isn't merely about shaving pennies by shaving inches off your legroom: it's a way to "incentivize" anyone who can afford it to pay for an upgrade to business-class. The worse coach is, the more people you can convince to dip into their savings or fight with their boss to move classes. The torments visited upon everyone else in coach are economically valuable to the airlines: their groans and miseries translate directly into windfall profits, by convincing better-off passengers to pay not to have the same thing done to them.

Of course, with rare exceptions (flying to get an organ transplant, say) plane tickets are typically discretionary. Housing, on the other hand, is a human right and a prerequisite for human thriving. The worse things are for tenants, the more debt and privation people will endure to become home-owners, so it follows that making renters worse off makes homeowners richer:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/06/06/the-rents-too-damned-high/

For Securus and Viapath, the path to profitability is to lobby for mandatory, long prison sentences and then make things inside the prison as miserable as possible. Any prisoner whose family can find the funds can escape the worst of it, and all the prisoners who can't afford it serve the economically important function of showing the prisoners whose families can afford it how bad things will be if they don't pay.

If you're thinking that prisoners might pay Securus, Viapath and their competitors out of their own prison earnings, forget it. These companies have decided that the can make more by pocketing the difference between the vast sums paid by third parties for prisoners' labor and the pennies the prisoners get from their work. Remember, the 13th Amendment specifically allows for the enslavement of incarcerated people! Six states ban paying prisoners at all. North Carolina caps prisoners' wages at one dollar per day. The national average prison wage is $0.52/hour. Prisoners' labor produces $11b/year in goods and services:

https://www.dollarsandsense.org/archives/2024/0324bowman.html

Forced labor and extortion are a long and dishonorable tradition in incarceration, but this century saw the introduction of a novel, exciting way of extracting wealth from prisoners and their families. It started when private telcos took over prison telephones and raised the price of a prison phone call. These phone companies found willing collaborators in local jail and prison systems: all they had to do was offer to split the take with the jailers.

With the advent of the internet, things got far worse. Digitalization meant that prisons could replace the library, adult educations, commissary accounts, letter-mail, parcels, in-person visits and phone calls with a single tablet. These cheaply made tablets were offered for free to prisoners, who lost access to everything from their kids' handmade birthday cards to in-person visits with those kids.

In their place, prisoners' families had to pay huge premiums to have their letters scanned so that prisoners could pay (again) to view those scans on their tablets. Instead of in-person visits, prisoners families had to pay $3-10/minute for a janky, postage-stamp sized video. Perversely, jails and prisons replaced their in-person visitation rooms with rooms filled with shitty tablets where family members could sit and videoconference with their incarcerated loved ones who were just a few feet away:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/14/minnesota-nice/#shitty-technology-adoption-curve

Capitalists hate capitalism. The capital classes are on a relentless search for markets with captive customers and no competitors. The prison-tech industry was catnip for private equity funds, who bought and "rolled" up prison contractors, concentrating the sector into a duopoly of debt-laden companies whose ability to pay off their leveraged buyouts was contingent on their ability to terrorize prisoners' families into paying for their overpriced, low-quality products and services.

One particularly awful consequence of these rollups was the way that prisoners could lose access to their data when their prison's service-provider was merged with a rival. When that happened, the IT systems would be consolidated, with the frequent outcome that all prisoners' data was lost. Imagine working for two weeks to pay for a song or a book, or a scan of your child's handmade Father's Day card, only to have the file deleted in an IT merger. Now imagine that you're stuck inside for another 20 years.

This is a subject I've followed off and on for years. It's such a perfect bit of end-stage capitalist cruelty, combining mass incarceration with monopolies. Even if you're not imprisoned, this story is haunting, because on the one hand, America keeps thinking of new reasons to put more people behind bars, and on the other hand, every technological nightmare we dream up for prisoners eventually works its way out to the rest of us in a process I call the "shitty technology adoption curve." As William Gibson says, "The future is here, it's just not evenly distributed" – but the future sure pools up thick and dystopian around America's prisoners:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/02/24/gwb-rumsfeld-monsters/#bossware

My background interest in the subject got sharper a few years ago when I started working on The Bezzle, my 2023 high-tech crime thriller about prison-tech grifters:

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250865878/thebezzle

One of the things that was on my mind when I got to work on that book was the 2017 court-case that killed the FCC's rules limit interstate prison-call gouging. The FCC could have won that case, but Trump's FCC chairman, Ajit Pai, dropped it:

https://arstechnica.com/tech-policy/2017/06/prisoners-lose-again-as-court-wipes-out-inmate-calling-price-caps/

With that bad precedent on the books, the only hope prisoners had for relief from the FCC was for Congress to enact legislation specifically granting the agency the power to regulate prison telephony. Incredibly, Congress did just that, with Biden signing the "Martha Wright-Reed Just and Reasonable Communications Act" in early 2023:

https://www.congress.gov/bill/117th-congress/senate-bill/1541/text

With the new law in place, it fell to the FCC use those newfound powers. Compared to agencies like the FTC and the NLRB, Biden's FCC has been relatively weak, thanks in large part to the Biden administration's refusal to defend its FCC nomination for Gigi Sohn, a brilliant and accomplished telecoms expert. You can tell that Sohn would have been a brilliant FCC commissioner because of the way that America's telco monopolists and their allies in the senate (mostly Republicans, but some Democrats, too) went on an all-out offensive against her, using the fact that she is gay to smear her and ultimately defeat her nomination:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/03/19/culture-war-bullshit-stole-your-broadband/

But even without Sohn, the FCC has managed to do something genuinely great for America's army of the imprisoned. This week, the FCC voted in price-caps on prison calls, so that call rates will drop from $11.35 for 15 minutes to just $0.90. Both interstate and intrastate calls will be capped at $0.06-0.12/minute, with a phased rollout starting in January:

https://arstechnica.com/tech-policy/2024/07/fcc-closes-final-loopholes-that-keep-prison-phone-prices-exorbitantly-high/

It's hard to imagine a policy that will get more bang for a regulator's buck than this one. Not only does this represent a huge savings for prisoners and their families, those savings are even larger in proportion to their desperate, meager finances.

It shows you how important a competent, qualified regulator is. When it comes to political differences between Republicans and Democrats, regulatory competence is a grossly underrated trait. Trump's FCC Chair Ajit Pai handed out tens of billions of dollars in public money to monopoly carriers to improve telephone networks in underserved areas, but did so without first making accurate maps to tell him where the carriers should invest. As a result, that money was devoured by executive bonuses and publicly financed dividends and millions of Americans entered the pandemic lockdowns with broadband that couldn't support work-from-home or Zoom school. When Biden's FCC chair Jessica Rosenworcel took over, one of her first official acts was to commission a national study and survey of broadband quality. Republicans howled in outrage:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/10/digital-redlining/#stop-confusing-the-issue-with-relevant-facts

The telecoms sector has been a rent-seeking, monopolizing monster since the days of Samuel Morse:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/07/18/the-bell-system/#were-the-phone-company-we-dont-have-to-care

Combine telecoms and prisons, and you get a kind of supermonster, the meth-gator of American neofeudalism:

https://www.nbcnews.com/news/us-news/tennessee-police-warn-locals-not-flush-drugs-fear-meth-gators-n1030291

The sector is dirty beyond words, and it corrupts everything it touches – bribing prison officials to throw out all the books in the prison library and replace them with DRM-locked, high-priced ebooks that prisoners must toil for weeks to afford, and that vanish from their devices whenever a prison-tech company merges with a rival:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/02/captive-customers/#guillotine-watch

The Biden presidency has been fatally marred by the president's avid support of genocide, and nothing will change that. But for millions of Americans, the Biden administration's policies on telecoms, monopoly, and corporate crime have been a source of profound, lasting improvements.

It's not just presidents who can make this difference. Millions of America's prisoners are rotting in state and county jails, and as California has shown, state governments have broad latitude to kick out prison profiteers:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/08/captive-audience/#good-at-their-jobs

Support me this summer on the Clarion Write-A-Thon and help raise money for the Clarion Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers' Workshop!

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/07/19/martha-wright-reed/#capitalists-hate-capitalism

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[thinwhitedoc]

MILLER'S GIRL | Martin Freeman as Jonathan Miller

[sexylittleslutsls]

You don’t need an invitation to join me in the shower with my gorgeous sexy wet glistening curves …. 😈😈

[awkward-sultana]

"Too dark to envision a world without sadness thus more begins my descent into madness."

[citrine-elephant]

happy whumptober, let's start it right with having terrible fuckin nightmares!!! YEAH

[multi-fandom-imagine]

ミ★: Lucifer Morningstar giving you oral.

A/n: I said it was gonna happen so here it is.

It wasn't Lucifer's fault that he fell for you, you were so sweet, so kind to Charlie that it just happened. He was over the moon knowing that you felt the same way, I mean it's not like he knew you were Adam's wife...ex as you would often correct him given that the angel was the one that sent you to hell.

Though it was how you told him that you never had a real orgasm, that Adam refused to even go down on you. He knew that he had to fix that, he was going to make you scream his name.

Hovering over you, Lucifer ran his tongue over his lips. You looked so good, so beautiful, from your soft curves, the way your skin glowed in the dim light, it was a vision that never failed to captivate him.

As Lucifer shifted his body on the bed, he let his fingers trace a path from your collarbone down to the gentle swell of your breasts. His touch was feather light, teasing as a small whimper escaped your lips.

A smirked formed on his lips, his forked tongue poking through his lips as he lowered himself to the edge of the bed. His eyes locking with yours, his voice low and filled with hunger.

"Spread your legs for me, my pretty little angel." His voice was laced with anticipation. "I want to taste you, make you scream my name."

He then delved between your thighs, his tongue eager to please you, his lips and tongue working in tandem to bring you to the heights of pleasure. He devoured you with a hunger, your gasp's and moans only fueling him.

Lucifer's forked tongue gliding across your clit, gently sucking the bud as your nails dug into the sheets.

He was smiling now, couldn't help but feel happy knowing that he was the one giving you pleasure. As he continued to tease and pleasure you, his fingers found his way to your entrance, slipping inside to further intensify the sensations. Lucifer continued to explore you with his mouth, his tongue tracing patterns over your sensitive flesh, his fingers thrusting rhythmically within you.

He relished in the sounds of your pleasure, the way your moans filled the room, spurring him on to push you further towards ecstasy.

He reveled in the taste of you, the way you quivered beneath your touch, your body trembling with each wave of pleasure that washed over you. He was going to commit these sound's to his memory.

And when you finally reached your climax, your body convulsing with pleasure, he held you tightly, his lips pressed against your trembling thighs as he rode out your release. Only when he was certain you had been thoroughly satisfied, Lucifer pulled away, a satisfied smirk gracing his lips.

He could still taste you and god did he already miss taste.

"My dearest" Lucifer's voice filled with adoration. "You are intoxicating as ever, I will make sure you will be treated how you deserved to be treated."

Leaning in, Lucifer nuzzled his nose into your neck. "Rest assured, I will alway's find you attractive. You are mine and I will make sure you are always satisfied."

Feeling warmth creep up your cheeks, you did your best avoid eye contact with Adam as Lucifer clutched you tightly to his chest.

"YOU FUCKED MY WIFE!"

A slow smirk formed on Lucifers lip's as he clutched you tightly to his chest. One hand moving to his lips as he made a v with his fingers. "We did a lot more than fuck."

[amiableness]

Only Me

Pairing: Theo Nott x Reader

Summary: Desperate to get a persistent girl off his back, Enzo and reader kiss. But when the kiss unexpectedly turns heated, Theo loses it.

Word Count: 4184

Warnings: Jealousy, a bit of possessiveness, reader kisses both Enzo and Theo (separately), and language. Let me know if there’s anything else!

A/N 💌 This idea has been bouncing around in my head for awhile! Thank you to @moonpascal for reading and giving me pointers as always <3

The common room buzzes with the familiar hum of conversation, groups of students either buried in classwork or indulging in gossip. Outside, snow is falling, making it all the more comforting to be curled up by the fire in your favorite armchair. Your knees are tucked tightly to your chest, and your book is balanced on top, though you haven’t turned a page in what feels like forever.

Your mind keeps wandering to Theo, who sits across from you on the couch, his attention seemingly on Enzo’s animated storytelling. But despite the lively chatter around you, your focus is entirely on him. For the past hour, you’ve found yourself sneaking glances in his direction, unable to tear your thoughts away.

His laugh rings out, warm and infectious, pulling your gaze to him as if by instinct. The sound is so captivating that it seems to fill the entire room, making it impossible not to look. As his laughter fades into soft, lingering chuckles, his eyes suddenly meet yours, and your stomach flips at the unexpected eye contact, the intensity of his gaze holding you in place.

He raises his eyebrow at you, his expression a hint of curiosity mixed with amusement. He finally breaks the silence, his voice low. “You know, you don’t have to sit all the way over there.”

“And where would I sit instead?” You ask, your voice lightly tinged with amusement. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Blaise arch an amused brow at your tone, clearly picking up on the flirty undertone. 

The other boys don’t seem to notice, too absorbed in their conversation. Whatever they’re discussing has them completely engrossed, their voices animated and intense. Normally, you’d eavesdrop, but today, you’re too distracted by how undeniably good Theo looks to focus on anything else.

Theo’s lips curve into a small, almost gentle smile, one that’s reserved just for you. He pats the empty space beside him on the couch, “With me, dolcezza.”

You sigh, feigning annoyance at the thought of moving, but in reality, you’re trying to suppress the flutter in your stomach as you stand and make your way over to Theo. He greets you with a grin, and you roll your eyes in response, though you can’t quite hide the smile tugging at your bottom lip, which you quickly bite down on.

You aim to sit a reasonable distance away from him, but before you can settle in, Theo surprises you by reaching out and pulling you closer, so close that you’re practically sitting on his lap. The sudden contact sends a jolt through you, catching you completely off guard.

His name slips past your lips in a breathless gasp, drawing Blaise’s attention from across the room. He looks over, his grin widening with amusement as he takes in the scene. You’re nestled closely against Theo, your body practically molded to his, with one leg draped over his lap. His arm is securely wrapped around your waist, holding you close, while his fingers lazily toy with the hem of your skirt, tracing light patterns that send shivers up your spine.

You’re so focused on steadying the nerves fluttering in your stomach that you don’t even notice the girl approaching your group. She lingers just a few feet away from Enzo, but he’s too engrossed in his conversation to see her. It isn’t until Mattheo nods in her direction with a smirk and makes a remark about the “pretty little visitor” that Enzo finally catches on.

He swivels around in his armchair, and you notice his smile falter ever so slightly before he quickly recovers, masking his reaction, “Oh, hi.” He doesn’t even bother to conceal the disappointment in his voice.

You close your eyes, wincing in disappointment as you hear Theo chuckle softly. 

“I wanted to know if you wanted to read our project before I turned it in.” The bundle of parchment crinkles in her grasp, the edges slightly rumpled from handling. Enzo’s eyes drop to the papers, his expression shifting as he takes in the sight.

“I’m good. Thanks, though.” Enzo starts to turn back to the boys, his tone polite but firm, signaling the conversation’s end. But before he can fully disengage, she takes a step forward, determination in her eyes.

“That’s fine! Maybe you’d like to do something together outside of class?” Her voice is laced with hope, almost too eager, as she tries to bridge the gap between them.

Enzo hesitates, his discomfort evident. “Uh, I don’t think so,” he says, wincing as a flush creeps up his neck, his cheeks turning pink. He glances around, clearly uneasy with the situation. “Like I said last time, I’m just not interested.” His voice softens, an attempt to let her down gently, but the awkwardness hangs in the air, making the rejection all the more painful.

“It doesn’t have to be a date.” She persists, her voice tinged with a hopeful edge. You glance over at Draco and Mattheo, who are laughing to themselves, clearly amused by the unfolding scene. She doesn’t seem to notice; her focus is entirely on Enzo, and her determination is ruthless.

“You know what? Let’s just talk about this tomorrow.” Enzo sighs, trying to find an easy out. Her face lights up at the mere mention of tomorrow, a hopeful smile spreading across her lips. She eagerly agrees, practically spinning on her heel to leave. As she walks away, Enzo lets out another sigh, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

“Salazar, mate! That was pathetic.” Mattheo laughs.

Draco smirks, leaning back casually, “Honestly, Enzo, you’re being too fucking nice. She’ll keep coming back if you don’t tell her to fuck off.”

“I’ve tried!” Enzo protests, sending him an exacerbated look.

“Enzo, you can just say no directly.” You chime in, your tone light but pointed. 

Enzo looks over at you, shaking his head, “Sweetheart, I’ve tried.” Theo’s eyes narrow in annoyance at the pet name, but Enzo doesn’t notice.

“Grab a girl and make out in front of her. She’ll get the hint then,” Mattheo suggests nonchalantly, shrugging as if it’s the most obvious solution. He leans back in his chair, an arrogant smirk playing on his lips. “It’s worked for me plenty of times.”

“Are you hearing my problem? I don’t need another girl becoming attached.” Enzo snaps. Draco immediately scoffs at the mention of Enzo’s popularity with the girls of Hogwarts—it’s clearly always bothered him.

“Merlin, Enzo. Just ask one of the girls, then.” Draco huffs, his impatience evident in his tone. He rolls his eyes, clearly exasperated with the ongoing discussion. Sitting beside you, Theo tenses up slightly, his posture stiffening as he shifts uncomfortably.

“What the fuck, mate? Pans and I are together.” Blaise says, sending him an annoyed look. Draco just shrugs indifferently.

“She’d probably say yes.” Draco mumbles. He dismisses the glare Blaise throws his way.

Mattheo’s gaze drifts to you, and a sly, amused smile spreads across his face, carrying a hint of something darker in his eyes. “Well, love,” he drawls, his tone teasing, “looks like you’re the one who’ll be kissing Enzo.”

“No,” Theo grits out, his voice strained with protectiveness. His fingers spread out as he firmly grasps your hip, his fingertips creating dimples in your skin. His eyes lock onto Mattheo with a stern glare. “She isn’t.”

Theo's reaction doesn’t catch you off guard. He’d always been protective of you. In the beginning, you chalked it up to his feelings for you, but as the years passed without anything more, you let that theory slip away.

“Unfortunately,” Draco drawls with a smirk, his voice dripping with mock sympathy, “that isn’t really up to you, mate.”

“You don’t have to,” Enzo says, his tone soft and reassuring. “That’s a lot to ask.” His words carry a gentle understanding, and Theo visibly relaxes.

Your gaze shifts to Theo, who is watching you with a furrowed brow and a trace of irritation in his eyes. You’ve been absorbed in your feelings for Theo for so long that you’ve avoided pursuing anything with anyone else. You’ve had a few kisses here and there, but they were disappointing. Kissing Enzo wouldn’t be awful. Probably the exact opposite. You’ve heard the giggles and whispers around school about how good it is to kiss Enzo. Much more than just that, actually.

Maybe things with Theo would never work out, and you'd always just be his best friend. You could accept that. But if that’s how it was going to be, he didn’t have the right to tell you not to kiss Enzo.

“I’ll let you kiss me.” You say, your voice firm. The boys exchange stunned and uneasy glances, their eyes darting nervously toward Theo, who stares at you in wide-eyed disbelief. 

The room feels charged with tension as Theo’s expression darkens, “Dolcezza—”

“It’s not up for debate, Theo. If Enzo wants to kiss me, he can,” You assert, pulling away from Theo and turning so you’re directly facing Enzo. Theo’s frown deepens, his hands clenching slightly as he struggles to suppress the urge to haul you back onto his lap. The tension is palpable as he watches you with frustration and reluctance. You glance back at Enzo, your voice softening as you add, “I don’t mind, Enz.”

“Are you sure?” Enzo asks softly, his voice barely audible. Theo shoots him a sharp, warning glare. Enzo casts an uneasy glance at Theo before turning his attention back to you.

“I trust you.” You say with a soft smile, your eyes meeting his. Enzo’s tension eases a tad as he returns the smile.

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

You arrive at your usual spot in the Great Hall well before the rest of your friends, hoping to settle in for a quiet breakfast and then head straight to class. Just as you begin to relax, Pansy slides into the seat next to you with a grin, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she catches your eye.

“I just heard the most scandalous thing.” Pansy says with a sly smile, leaning in as if sharing a secret.

“Did you?” You ask, taking a slow sip of your tea and watching her with a hint of amusement.

“I heard that Theo Nott’s girl will be making out with his best mate.” She hums thoughtfully, casting you a knowing glance as she carefully fills her plate.

“I don’t think Theo Nott has a girl.” You give her a pointed look as you speak. Pansy sighs, clearly tempted to launch into one of her usual lectures about how Theo feels the same way. But before she can say anything, the boys start to trickle in, their expressions groggy.

Theo's mood is already sour and only worsens when he narrows his eyes at you, his gaze honing in on the subtle sheen on your lips. “Are you wearing lip gloss?” he asks, suspicion lacing his tone.

You hum in confirmation, a small, carefree sound that only makes Theo’s stomach churn harder. He feels a wave of nausea rise, the thought of you putting on lipgloss to kiss someone else—especially Enzo—causing an unsettling tightness in his chest. His jaw clenches as he struggles to keep it together. Mattheo and Draco watch him closely, clearly entertained as their eyes dart back and forth between the two of you.

His food sits forgotten as he stares at you incredulously, “Why?”

“What do you mean why? If I’m kissing Enzo, I want my lips to be soft for him.” Enzo flushes a deep red, and Theo stares at you in disbelief as the rest of your friends erupt in whistles and teasing comments, reacting to what you’ve just said.

Even though it seemed a bit unnecessary, you had applied some lip product and brushed your teeth for an unusually long time. The last thing you wanted was for him to think poorly of the kiss. 

“Careful, Nott. After this kiss, she might not be your girl anymore.” Draco snarks with a smirk, his voice laced with amusement. You hold your breath, anticipating Theo’s reaction, but to your disappointment, he says nothing.

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

Theo’s mood simmered down throughout the day, and you guessed it was because you hadn’t needed to kiss Enzo. You spent the entire day without catching even a glimpse of the girl Enzo was avoiding. Throughout the day’s classes, you remained on edge, ready to put on a show with Enzo if necessary. 

But as the hours passed and she failed to appear, it became increasingly clear that you might not need to kiss one of your best friends today. With hardly anyone in the halls, you hadn’t anticipated crossing paths with her again.

“How about a girls’ night tonight?” You ask, throwing a pointed glance at the boys trailing behind you.“I need a break from them.”

Pansy grinned, “Even Nott?”

“Oh, fuck off,” You laugh, playfully swatting at her arm with your free hand while balancing your book in the other. “Even Nott.”

“I would. But Blaise and I are hanging out.” Her tone is suggestive, and you respond with a knowing glance.

“Make sure you—” Your words are abruptly silenced as a firm grip pulls you backward. Enzo’s arm wraps securely around your waist, hauling you against his chest. The sudden, intimate contact leaves you breathless and disoriented. Before you can fully grasp what’s happening, his lips are on yours, hot and demanding. The sheer intensity of the kiss makes your heart race wildly, and a startled moan escapes from deep within you.

Your hand, momentarily frozen, then moves with a mind of its own, sliding into his hair. Your fingers bury themselves in the soft, silky strands, feeling the slight tremor of his breaths against your skin as the kiss deepens. Enzo’s other hand finds its way to the side of your neck, his thumb brushing along your throat. The tender, intimate touch sends a jolt of desire through you, making you gasp softly. Your book slips from your grasp, thudding heavily on the floor, but you’re too absorbed in the moment to notice. With your other hand now free, it instinctively reaches up to clutch his bicep, using him to hold yourself up.

Enzo’s lips trail a heated path from the corner of your mouth, inching toward the sensitive spot just below your ear. Each kiss sends a shiver through you, leaving your body feeling as though it’s melting into his touch. The intensity of the moment is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before, and you find yourself lost, feeling his lips on you.

Clearly, you hadn’t picked the right guys to kiss before.

“Theo is going to beat my ass for touching you.” Enzo’s breathy whisper grazes your ear, sending a shiver down your spine before he begins to pull back. To his surprise, you instinctively lean forward, your eyes fluttering closed as you chase after his retreating lips, your breath mingling with his in a shared moment of longing. Just as he’s about to close the gap and kiss you again, Theo’s hand shoots out, gripping the collar of Enzo’s shirt with a firm hold. He yanks Enzo away with a decisive tug, his eyes blazing.

He’s absolutely furious.

“You’re fucking crazy if you think I’m letting you kiss her again. She ran off the second you grabbed Y/n.” Theo snaps, his tone icy and edged with contempt.

It takes a moment for you to register that Theo is talking about Enzo’s relentless former class partner.

His gaze locks onto the lip gloss smeared across Enzo’s lips, and a dangerous glint flares in his eyes. The flicker of anger in his gaze sharpens as he takes a deliberate step forward, his posture radiating barely contained tension. His fingers twitch at his sides, visibly itching to confront his best friend, the promise of retribution clear in his stance.

Enzo remains silent, but his eyes shift to you, conveying a mixture of regret and concern. Theo’s gaze follows, landing on you. Your lips are swollen from the intensity of the kiss, your chest rising and falling with uneven breaths. Your eyes, still wide and slightly glassy, remain fixed on Enzo.

You look wrecked, and Theo despises it.

Without a second thought, Theo takes a decisive step forward, his jaw clenched tightly and his fingers digging into his palms. The sudden movement is charged with barely contained anger, his eyes locked onto Enzo with a fierce intensity.

“Nott!” Blaise barks, clapping a hand on Theo’s shoulder. “It was just a kiss.”

“Quite the kiss, though.” Draco adds with a smirk, his eyes twinkling with mischief. Mattheo lets out a low whistle, clearly entertained. Theo responds with a withering glare, his expression darkening.

Blaise shoves Theo back forcefully, his voice cutting through the tension. “Take your girl and go cool off.” He commands, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Theo fixes Blaise with a scathing glare, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he shoves past him, grabs your hand with a firm grip, and pulls you down the hall toward his dorm, his movements fueled by anger and jealousy.

You protest, urging him to slow down, but he disregards your words, muttering curses in Italian under his breath. With a fierce shove, he throws open the door to his dorm. You trail after him, and as soon as you step inside, he slams the door shut behind you. As you watch, he paces the room, his hands running through his hair in frustration.

You’ve never seen him like this before—raw and seething.

He spins around to face you, his eyes blazing with a mix of anger and distress, “What the fuck was that, dolcezza?’

There’s a moment of silence before you murmur, “A kiss,” as you lean against the door. Theo’s eyes follow your hand as it gently touches your swollen lips, and he sees the distant, reflective look in your eyes.

A flash of something dark and possessive ignites in his gaze. He clenches his jaw, the flicker of jealousy sharp and stinging. The sight of you lingering on the memory of Enzo’s kiss twists in his gut, fueling an intense surge of anger. He can’t stand seeing you so absorbed in someone else’s touch.

“That wasn’t just a kiss.” Theo snaps, his voice clipped.

“It was a bit much,” You reply with a resigned sigh, your gaze meeting his. “But it felt good—”

“Kissing him felt good?” Theo interrupts, his voice dropping to a strained, dangerous whisper. Each word cuts through the space between you with an intensity that makes your heart pound. He steps closer, his eyes blazing with anger and disbelief. You falter, your words catching in your throat as you watch him. “Is that really what you think I want to hear?”

“I don’t know what you want to hear.” You admit, your voice barely above a whisper. You meet his gaze with a defiant look, trying to hold your ground even as your heart races.

Theo’s eyes darken, and he takes another step closer, his face inches from yours. His breath is warm against your skin, mingling with your uneven gasps. 

“I want to hear that it meant absolutely nothing to you.” Theo says.

“It didn’t.” You confirm, eyes fixed on his, your breath catching in your throat. This is the closest you've ever been, the closest you've ever allowed yourself to imagine that he might actually kiss you.

“It didn’t?” He repeats, his voice low and dangerously soft. “Because it sure looked like it did.” The intensity in his eyes is almost overwhelming, and you can almost feel the heat of frustration radiating off him.

“It was just a kiss, Theo. It wasn’t real.” You say, looking away, a slight hint of exasperation to your tone.

“Are you sure he felt that way?”

“Enzo?” Your eyes snap back to him in disbelief. Theo stares blankly at you. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“Am I?” He retorts, his voice shifting from anger to something softer, almost vulnerable. “Because the girl I love is standing in front of me, talking about how kissing my best friend felt good.”

The words hang in the air, and your heart stutters as you struggle to take it all in. The anger that once fueled his every move is now mingled with something else—something that feels like hope. The intensity of his confession leaves you momentarily stunned, your mind reeling as you try to make sense of it. Theo’s eyes hold yours, a storm of anger, hurt, and vulnerability brewing just beneath the surface.

“Theo…” You begin, but your voice falters, and you struggle to formulate a sentence. All you had ever wanted was for him to confess, and now that he had, you found yourself at a loss. The moment you’d imagined so many times was finally here, yet the reality of it left you frozen, uncertain of how to respond.

He steps closer, his hand lifting to gently brush his fingers against your cheek. The space between you is almost gone now. His gaze flickers to your lips, and you can see the conflict in his eyes—the tension between the desire to hold you close and the hurt of picturing you with someone else.

"Do you have any idea how long I’ve loved you, dolcezza?" Theo’s voice drops to a whisper, thick with emotion, as he gently traces your bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. The delicate touch sends a shiver down your spine, your breath hitching in response. His gaze flickers from your eyes, filled with desire and uncertainty, down to your parted lips, lingering there as if trying to memorize every curve and tremble. "Years," he breathes, the word heavy with longing, his thumb still grazing your lip as if he's afraid to let go.

The air between you feels charged, thick with emotions that have been kept buried for far too long. Theo’s confession hangs between you like a fragile thread, one that could break with a single wrong move. His thumb continues its gentle path along your lip, the contact sending a rush of warmth through your body.

“Years?” You echo, your voice wrecked as the realization sinks in. The word feels foreign on your tongue, like something you’ve never quite understood until now. 

Theo nods, his eyes never leaving yours. “I tried to push it away,” he admits, his voice low and raw. “Tried to convince myself it wasn’t real, that it was just some stupid crush I’d get over. But it wasn’t. It isn’t.”

You swallow hard, your heart pounding in your chest. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

His thumb stills against your lip, and his expression darkens with regret. “Because I didn’t want to ruin what we had. I didn’t want to risk losing you. But now…” He trails off, his gaze dropping to your lips again, his resolve wavering. “But I can’t stand the thought of someone else touching you, kissing you, when I’ve been waiting all this time.”

“Theo…” You murmur, your voice barely above a whisper, as you reach up to cup his face. Your fingers brush against the rough stubble on his jaw, and he leans into your touch, his eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment.

When he opens them again, they’re filled with a desperate kind of hope, one that makes your heartache. You whisper, “Will you please just kiss me?”

He moves with an intense determination, his hand sliding up to cradle the side of your head, fingers curling possessively just beneath your ear. The raw intensity in his gaze overwhelms you, a mix of longing and vulnerability that feels both foreign and intimately familiar. The depth of emotion in his eyes constricts your chest, an unexpected surge of feeling threatening to make you tremble.

His thumb trails a fiery path along your cheek, the warmth of his touch igniting a wave of sensation. As he leans in, the air between you becomes electrified with tension. When his lips finally connect with yours, the kiss is a fierce collision of need and tenderness—a deliberate press that lingers.

Your fingers clutch the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer, and he responds by pressing you firmly against the door. The proximity makes you draw a sharp, shuddering breath, a sound that mingles with the deeper kiss as he intensifies the connection. His lips are urgent and demanding, yet tender, each movement sending a shiver down your spine. His other hand braces against the door next to your head, anchoring you both in this intimate, electrifying moment.

The space between you disappears, replaced by the searing heat of his body against yours, drawing you irresistibly into him. Breathless, you’re lost in him, more exhilarated than you’ve ever been. His lips against yours send your mind reeling, and you know that if you weren’t pinned against the door, you’d cling to him just to stay upright.

When you finally pull back, breathless and dizzy, Theo’s forehead rests against yours, his eyes still closed as he savors the moment. “I love you,” he whispers, his voice breaking.

You smile softly, your heart swelling as your throat constricts with emotion. “I’ve loved you for just as long.”

please consider reblogging or leaving a comment! it keeps me motivated to write! 💌

[tojigasm]

Thinking about Logan fully smoking in the middle of fucking you.

He's got you laid out amongst his bedsheets, face warm and thighs spread, one leg resting on his shoulder as he rolls his hips into you.

You're a complete mess beneath him, and you struggle to concieve how he still seems so composed after pulling what feels like the third orgasm from you in the span of an hour and a half. The dark tufts of his hair are still pointed upwards, and his skin silky in a sheen of sweat.

"Y'still with me?" The rough of his voice pulls you from the foggy headspace, vision blurring slightly as you refocus on him, letting out a choked whine when the girth of him stretches you in just the right way.

You give a weak nod, "mhm," you twist your hand into his silk sheets, stretching the fabric downwards.

"Good girl."

Logan smirks above you, turning his head he keeps his eyes on yours as he presses a gentle kiss to your ankle.

You damn near cum at the swift contrast between his brutal thrusts to the softness in his touch. The action almost feels merciful.

And in the same moment you bask in the soft of it, you can feel Logan reach for the nightstand.

He moves back to stand between your thighs again, holding a cigar he'd left on the ashtray. Using his free hand, he readjusts you by the plush of your hip, pulling you further down the bed until your ass cheeks rest on the very edge.

Hand still twisted in the sheets, you pull them down along with you.

Your eyes settle on him as he blows a pillow of cloudy smoke past his lips, thick brows furrowing as he takes another inhale before blowing another cloud from between his teeth.

For a moment, you're captivated at the sight. The amber light from your shared bedroom in the mansion glows around him in almost halo-like essence.

He looks so beautiful.

"Y'so pretty, Lo," you whisper, smile evident in your tone.

He smirks down at you, rivets of smoke trailing in the air. A thick brow raises in tease.

"Oh, yeah?"

You nod, giggling as you pull the sheet over your mouth.

"Hey, don't twist the sheets." He scolds, unwinding your hand from the wrinkled fabric and placing the cigar back on the ashtray before slipping your other thigh over his arm before threading his fingers with your own "Hold on t'daddy, fr'me, yeah?"

You keen at that, choking on a gasp when his cock strokes the gummy walls of your cunt in a way that has tears bubbling over your cheeks.

You're passed overstimulated, legs trembling in his hold as he sinks to the hilt before twisting his hips.

"Oh!" You squeal, instantly grabbing ahold of him.

"There we go." Logan kisses the curve of your jaw as he rolls his hips into you.

He places soft kisses to your temple and down your face to your neck before licking a stripe up from your collarbone to the curve of your ear, chuckling when a line of goosebumps rise in wake.

"Gonna cum, Lo" you sob through a shiver, turning to press your head into his forearm.

He nods along with you, "I know." He cocks his head some, leaning down some, "Give daddy a kiss."

On command, you're leaning into him with what little strength you have left to sloppily meet his lips as your gummy walls tighten around his girth.

The two of you moan into one another's mouths and leave messy trails of drool along your chins as he fills you.

Logan waits a moment before slipping out of you gently before lying down against the headboard, helping to guide you to lay your back against his chest.

"Y'okay, kid?" He asks, running his knuckles down the side of your arm softly.

You nod against him and he grunts. You can feel him reach for the nightstand again before you hear the puff of the cigar.

A cloud of smoke circles to the side of the room.

He nudges you.

"Words." Is all he says, somewhat muffled by the cigar held in his mouth.

"M'okay." You say, turning your head upwards to meet his eyes.

Logan takes the cigar from his mouth, holding it between the fingers of his left hand.

His right hand comes up to cup your jaw, gently running the pad of his thumb over the skin of your jaw to your chin before he's leaning down and meeting your lips in a kiss.

He tastes like tobacco and smells of leather.

"Gonna let me take care of you?" He asks softly, still stroking the skin of your jaw.

And you know how he means it.

You nod.

[mahgyu]

──── In the beginning of your relationship, you learned that Satoru was the type who liked to sleep cuddling. Before meeting you, Satoru used to sleep hugging a pillow, even. It wasn't exactly a necessity for him, but just something he liked and that made him fall asleep faster. You, on the other hand, weren't exactly that type.

Hugs before sleeping? Perfect. Having someone on top of you while trying to sleep? Not so perfect. Fortunately, the two of you reached an agreement about that.

But sometimes, like today, Satoru was extremely clingy. He was sleeping deeply, with his body completely on top of yours, his face buried in the curve of your neck, and a leg trapped between yours.

You loved holding him that way, having the strongest man you had ever known so vulnerable curled up in your arms and sleeping peacefully. Satoru slept heavily when he felt that comfortable, and the deeper he slept, the heavier he became on you. As mentioned, your boyfriend is a strong guy, so now it was almost uncomfortable for you.

You feel this pressure against your chest as he rests on you, completely at ease. You thought that maybe, if you tried hard enough, you could fall asleep, but no, it’s not possible.

"Baby..." You whisper, hoping it will be enough to wake him, but he just keeps snoring, each snore reverberating through your body.

"Toru...?" You try again, a little louder.

"SATORU!" Still nothing. He barely moves a bit in his sleep, letting out a particularly loud snore.

OK. Plan B. If you can't get him off, it's time to slide down. Only after two unsuccessful attempts, you somehow manage to do it, taking a big breath as you escape. You haven't even fully turned to the side when Satoru wakes up, confused and abandoned, with the source of warmth under him gone. He moves his hand aimlessly over the sheets until he feels you.

"Where are you going?" He murmurs sleepily, moving closer to you. "No..." A heavy arm wraps around you, pulling you back to him with ease. There’s a soft hum as he feels your body fit into his.

"Toru?" You call him sweetly. "You know I can't sleep like this, hmm? Come on." You pat his arm, signaling for him to let you go.

Satoru doesn't move. Instead, he just makes some whiny sounds before rubbing his face in your hair.

"Come on, let me go, please?" More pleading.

"Nuh-uh, I don't want to." He whines. "Hug me." He pouts, looking so needy and neglected.

"Love, you're acting like a baby" You complain.

"Because I am. I'm your baby!" He says defiantly. "So, you should treat me like one."

At this point, you know it won't help to try to convince him when he's in this mood. You sigh, deciding to give up and give in.

About five minutes pass in complete silence and then Satoru quietly asks: "You really can't sleep?" The thought of this now bothers him. How could he relax knowing that you're not even comfortable?

"Mhm" You respond as he pulls separates from you.

"OK, I'll give up the hug time for you!" He sighs, rolling away from you dramatically. A few minutes later, he sighs again, a bit louder.

This is his cue to tell you that you should give in and cuddle with him. But you can't, having finally found a position that relaxes all the right places in your body, perfect for falling asleep.

"Are you really going to leave me abandoned?" His voice is so stupidly captivating that it makes you melt. You can't say no to that.

Satoru smiles when he hears the rustling of the sheets, your body moving toward him.

With open arms, he welcomes you back as you rest your head on his chest. "I think I can sleep like this..." You admit as he smiles, making sure you're comfortable but still wrapped up in him.

Hiii, long time no see, uh? 👀This time I brought something cute, a thought I had because I've been feeling so needy and missing our Gojo😞

(It is not well corrected, please ignore any possible mistakes.)

Your interaction is very important to me, reblogs and comments are always welcome. 🫶🏻💕

⠀

[alygator77]

❥ masked affairs—sold to desire

℘pairing. au dom rich! satoru x fem! reader

℘summary. it's a lavish charity masquerade, and you find yourself under satoru gojo’s spell once again. tonight, he’s playing a dangerous game—a discreet, remote-controlled toy designed to tease and torment you—hula beads. as the night unfolds, you walk the fine line between obedience and defiance, but testing him could be your undoing—satoru is unforgiving, and he holds the key to your pleasure.

℘tags/warnings. nsfw 18+, smut, fluff, established relationship, billionaire satoru, reader is rich too, satoru controls/dominates you with a sex toy during a charity auction, jealous/possessive satoru, public foreplay, public sex, lots of worship and praise, penetration, creampie.

℘wc. 15.1k

℘a/n. happy spooky season ya'll 👻 this oneshot is heavily inspired by fifty shades darker. check out the mood board here. the song for this fic is 'infinity' by james young, listen here. enjoy 💕

In a room full of masks, you’ve perfected the art of wearing one—long before you ever stepped into Satoru Gojo’s world.

The lace mask lying on your vanity is almost like a second skin to you now. After all, you’ve spent years working in your profession, hiding behind smiles and carefully measured words. It’s a flawless poise required of someone in your line of work—the PR world demanded it—dealing with the rich and powerful, controlling the narrative, making sure their perfect, untouchable image remains intact.

A skill you’ve long since mastered.

And as the soft hum of the city buzzes outside your penthouse window, with the glow of the skyline filtering through the room—it serves as a quiet reminder of how far you’ve come, and where you are now.

Standing at the top.

But the weight of that truth has never really faded, has it? You—entrenched in this world—one that always demands more than it gives.

A faint smile tugs at your lips as you lift the mask from the vanity, turning it over between your fingers. Ironic, really, that someone who has built a career on managing the chaos of others, controlling every detail, would find herself unraveling in ways she hadn’t expected.

Unraveled by him.

Your thoughts are interrupted by the quiet creak of the door, and you glance up at the mirror just in time to see him lean against the doorframe.

Satoru Gojo.

It had been two years since that fateful night—the night you met him at the very same event you are both to attend, yet again. But when he had first walked into that ballroom two years ago, confident and untouchable, you hadn’t been impressed… at first—and why would you be? Men like him, with their money and their charm, were a dime a dozen in your world. You knew exactly how to handle them.

But not Satoru Gojo.

And tonight, he looked every bit his part—a presence so magnetic, so effortless—dressed in a sleek black tuxedo, tailored perfectly to his tall, athletic frame. His white hair falling in its usual tousled disarray, yet somehow, even that looks intentional—perfectly imperfect, just like him.

Ah, but it’s his eyes—those striking, icy blue eyes—that always manage to captivate you immediately. And this time, as his gaze sweeps over you slowly, you catch sight of the predatory glimmer underneath, lingering on every curve as he drinks in the sight of you.

There is a weight to his gaze, and oh, you revel in it. That’s the thing—you know exactly how to unravel him, just as easily as he can unravel you.

Taking your time, you set the lace mask down carefully—knowing full well that his eyes haven’t left you for a second, and you smooth your gown, feeling the delicate, luxurious material slide under your fingers.

The dress was a statement—sophisticated with a touch of allure. The deep sapphire-blue fabric, silky and shimmering in the dim light, hugs your curves with a neckline plunging just low enough to tease. It features a high slit running up one leg, adding a sensual edge but still maintaining an air of elegance.

And you know—oh, you know—that every detail of it is driving him crazy.

His breath catches as he finally speaks, pushing himself off the doorframe. “Wow. You’re going to make it impossible for anyone else to concentrate tonight.”

You smirk, turning just enough to catch his eyes fully.

“Good. I didn’t plan on letting anyone else have your attention tonight.”

“Mmm, funny,” he muses, stepping toward you with slow, deliberate strides.

His hands slowly slide down your arms—a touch so feather-light, it sends a shiver of anticipation through you as he leans in, his breath is warm against your ear. “Especially considering it’s been two years since you walked into that gala and made me work for your attention.”

“Work?” you chuckle softly and tilt your head slightly. “I think you enjoyed the chase more than you’re willing to admit.”

Pulling himself closer to you—you feel his lips brush softly against your neck, underlined with a low growl.

“Oh, I enjoyed it,” his voice deepens with each word. “But catching you...” he places a lingering kiss just beneath your ear. “That was my real reward.”

You inhale as his warm breath fans your skin, and you desperately try not to give away just how much your body is already responding to him.

Why? Because you love making him chase you—even to this day.

“Is that so?” you challenge.

“Mhm,” he hums.

Exhaling again, you feel his hands slide lower, resting just above the curve of your hips as his lips trail down the side of your neck, placing slow, deliberate kisses.

“You still seem a little worked up for someone who’s already caught me.” You keep your voice measured—your growing desire masked underneath a teasing edge.

He chuckles darkly.

“Can you blame me?”

Before you can respond, his words are punctuated with a slow, deliberate press of his hips, and you gasp softly as you feel the unmistakable erection pressing into your backside. Biting your lip, you suppress a moan as the sensation sends a rush of heat straight to your core.

“You feel that, don’t you?” rolling his hips, he sounds so desperate, and it’s impossible to ignore. “That’s what you do to me.”

“You’re awfully needy tonight,” you whisper, breathily.

He drops his head, placing a tender kiss on your shoulder—trailing up to the shell of your ear where you are met with a deep chuckle.

“Needy?” a shiver rakes down your spine as his voice dips lower—darker, more dangerous. “Oh, sweetheart… you haven’t seen needy yet.”

His hand slides from your waist with an agonizing slowness until it rests on the curve of your hip, and you feel his fingers trace the edge of your dress—teasingly close to the slit exposing your thigh—a touch so light is makes you shiver with anticipation.

“I’ve got something for you,” he murmurs, meeting your gaze in the vanity mirror.

Your eyes widen as you feel something cool and smooth brush against your bare thigh—small, sleek, unmistakable.

Hula beads.

Well, fuck—what a menace. With him holding the remote, you know he’ll have full control over your pleasure—completely discreet and utterly torturous.

“Just a little gift to keep things… exciting,” he grins. “I know these events can be so… mundane for you.”

Your mouth goes dry as you hold his gaze, already sensing where this was going.

“Satoru—”

“Two years,” he interrupts, dark and commanding now. “Two years since you walked into my life, and I decided I wasn’t going to let you go.” His eyes lock onto yours in the mirror, and for a moment, all you can do is stare back at his reflection, captivated by his intensity.

Slowly, his expression softens—his thumb brushing tenderly over your skin.

“Tonight’s special, love,” he says affectionately. Leaning in closer, his lips brush against your ear, and before you can react, he captures your earlobe gently between his teeth. “I want you to feel that baby.”

A gasp escapes your lips. He knows how to get under your skin—how to make every inch of you burn with need. His dominance, wrapped in tenderness—the perfect combination that drives you wild.

“I want you to wear these for me tonight.”

The heat between your thighs intensifies at his words. Swallowing hard, you nod slowly. Finally managing to speak, barely a whisper.

“Okay.”

Satoru’s smirk deepens, his eyes darkening with satisfaction as his grip on your waist tightens.

“Good. Now bend over the dresser.”

The command in his voice is unmistakable, and it sends a thrill straight to your core, making your legs tremble slightly as you obey. Slowly, you lean forward, your palms resting on the cool surface of the dresser.

“So obedient,” his hands glide up your hips, bunching the fabric of your dress around your waist. “Such a good girl for me.”

His praise makes your breath hitch, and you bite your lip as his hands move lower, spreading your thighs slightly—positioning you just the way he wants you.

Satoru’s fingers hook into the delicate fabric of your lace panties, tugging them down your legs in one smooth, possessive motion. As you brace yourself against the dresser, his touch drifts lower, tracing the sensitive skin of your thighs before circling back up—brushing softly around the curve of your ass. But your body aches for more, and finally, your entrance welcomes the light, deliberate pressure of his digit.

It's not enough though.

Fucking hell. The anticipation is coiling tight in your stomach—you were already growing wet. He was always like this—making you wait, making you want him even more.

“Satoru,” you plea, barely above a whisper.

Pausing for a moment, he chuckles—then, he allows his fingers to brush over you again, this time with a little more pressure. He lets out a low hum of approval as he feels the undeniable heat between your legs.

“Well, look at that,” he murmurs, full of satisfaction as his fingers trace over your slickness. “You’re already soaked, aren’t you?”

Your body trembles and the heat intensifies further as he acknowledges your arousal.

“I was going to prep you,” his voice drips with amusement as he pushes deeper—two fingers curling in—just enough to make you gasp. “But… I don’t think that’s necessary anymore, do you?”

He pulls his fingers out—leaving you aching and breathless. You let out a disappointed whine, your body protesting against the sudden loss of contact.

You wanted him. Now.

The desire burning throughout you is almost unbearable, and he knows it—he was going to make this night torture for you.

He chuckles again—a hand sliding up your spine, tracing the curve of your back as he leans in closer to press a tender kiss on your shoulder.

“Needy girl. I’m not done with you yet. Stay still.”

Your breath hitches, and before you can respond, you feel something cool and smooth press against your entrance—the unmistakable touch of the Hula Beads.

“Let’s make this night memorable, hmm?”

He slowly, deliberately, pushes it inside you.

Unable to suppress the soft moan that escapes your lips, he doesn’t stop until the beads are seated deep within you. The sensation is foreign, but undeniably arousing as your core clenches around them—a fullness that builds between your thighs, making your knees tremble.

You’re already aching for more, and he hasn’t even turned them on yet.

Satoru pauses for a moment, letting you breathe as he admires you—a small, knowing smirk tugging upon his lips. With careful precision, he hooks his fingers into the delicate fabric of your panties and pulls them back up.

“That’s my girl,” he murmurs, smoothing your dress back down. “Now, stand up.”

Standing upright feels like a challenge—your legs tremble slightly as you push yourself up from the dresser, adjusting to the pressure inside you. He steps behind you, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you flush against him.

“You’re going to behave tonight, aren’t you?” His free hand reaches up, fingers gently brushing through your hair, caressing you as his eyes lock with yours in the mirror—a comfort and a reminder of the control he holds. “I’ll know exactly what’s going on inside you, and no one else will have a clue. But you’ll behave for me, won’t you, sweetheart?”

“I’ll try…” you respond, breathy, but teasing—a spark of defiance in your tone, knowing full well what his reaction might be.

Satoru’s smirk deepens, his grip on your waist tightening for just a second.

“Try?” he repeats, full of amusement. “Careful, sweetheart. You’re already testing me, and we haven’t even left the room yet.”

His warning sends a shiver through you as you hold his gaze with a playful challenge—but then, he pecks your cheek and steps back. Straightening his jacket, he adjusts his bowtie as if nothing unusual has happened between you. It’s a movement so smooth and controlled, an epitome of poise—but the smirk on his lips and the glint in his eyes tell you that he’s anything but composed on the inside.

Oh, he’s playing with you… and he’s loving every second of it.

“Behave,” he casts you a sideways glance, accompanied with a wink, full of mischief. “Because I’m going to have so much fun with you tonight, princess.”

❥

“Ah, there they are!” a familiar voice rings from behind, and you turn just in time to see Shoko approaching—her mischievous smile tugging at her lips, the lace mask adorning her face barely concealing that sparkle in her eyes. “y/n, Satoru—you two certainly know how to make an entrance.”

Before you can respond, she pulls you into a warm embrace—the scent of her perfume faint and comforting as you relax into her familiar touch.

“Gosh, it’s been too long,” she murmurs before stepping back to look you over with an approving nod. “You look incredible.”

Satoru jumps in—his arm slipping slightly around your waist, pulling you closer as he leans in with a low chuckle.

“Doesn’t she?” His voice is rich with affectionate pride, and his fingers lightly trace circles on your hip absentmindedly. “It’s almost unfair, isn’t it?”

The warmth of his words lingers in the air, and you can’t help but feel the flutter of butterflies in your chest as his gaze holds yours with an intensity.

Shoko’s dramatic groan breaks the spell. She rolls her eyes with exaggerated flair—crossing her arms over her chest as a playful grin tugs at her lips.

“Ugh, you two are too cute together—it’s almost sickening.”

You let out a soft laugh, glancing sideways at Satoru with a knowing smirk.

“Mmm... well, we try.”

Satoru’s smirk only widens as he holds you even tighter.

“Do we?” he teases. “I wasn’t aware we were being watched.”

Shoko rolls her eyes again, clearly unimpressed with his feigned ignorance.

“Oh, please,” she drawls sarcastically, lightly flicking a hand toward the both of you. “It’s hard not to notice when you two waltz in looking like you own the place.”

You can’t help but grin in response, shaking your head at her comment.

“Oh, come on. Says the woman who makes even casual elegance look like high fashion.”

Shoko’s smirk grows as she readjusts the shawl draped elegantly around her shoulders—her burgundy gown hugging her figure perfectly—each detail carefully chosen. She straightens up, standing a little taller as she takes in your compliment.

“Mmm…what can I say? Guess I’m a natural,” she adds with a playful wink.

Before anyone can add anything further, Suguru’s smooth voice cuts in from behind, joining the conversation as he steps up beside her.

“You’re always so modest, aren’t you, Shoko?”

His calm presence and easygoing smile blend seamlessly in the group—almost as natural as the way he drapes an arm casually over Shoko’s shoulders, while his other hand pushes back a few stray tousles of his long raven hair.

As his gaze shifts toward Satoru for a moment, a playful spark flickers in his eyes.

“But… let’s not downplay the real showstopper,” Suguru’s attention slides over to you, lingering with an appreciative glance. “y/n,” he murmurs, “you’re absolutely breathtaking tonight.”

You can’t help but blush lightly—feeling the warmth and sincerity of his compliment. You manage a soft smile.

“Aww, thanks… you’re too kind, Suguru.”

Suddenly the atmosphere shifts—Satoru’s arm tightens around your waist, and the low, unamused hum that rumbles through his chest makes his feelings on the exchange very clear.

“Kind, hm?” His gaze slides from you to Suguru, narrowing with a protective edge. “Is that what we’re calling it?”

Suguru’s grin widens, clearly savoring the reaction he’s drawing out from his friend. There’s a certain satisfaction in the way his lips curl upward—knowing full well the tension he’s provoking.

“What?” He tilts his head to the side, feigning innocence. “I’m just calling it like I see it. And believe me, everyone’s seeing it tonight. y/n’s drawing the most attention.”

For a moment, the air between the two men thickens, and Satoru’s hand tightens ever so slightly around you.

“Mhm… she always does.”

Suguru raises an eyebrow, clearly entertained with Satoru’s reaction, and without missing a beat, he saunters over—casually draping an arm over Satoru’s shoulders—a gesture that both diffuses and provokes in the same motion. Pulling his friend in slightly, he shakes him playfully with an unwavering grin.

“Oh yes, of course,” Suguru replies smoothly. “I mean, some people just have that natural charm. I’m sure half the room is probably wondering ‘who is that stunning woman on your arm.’”

Ah… the familiar dynamic between them is at play. It’s almost like clockwork—the way Suguru knows how to needle Satoru without truly ruffling his feathers. Their friendship has always been this way—filled with teasing, and light jabs—but under it all, there’s a solid foundation of trust.

Suguru is his best friend, after all.

Rolling his eyes, the grin tugging at the corners of Satoru’s lips betray him. He shrugs Suguru’s arm off his shoulders—giving him a light shove.

“Yeah, well... they can wonder all they want,” Satoru quips, casual but pointed. He shifts, and before you can react, he takes your hand, guiding you toward him in one fluid motion. Holding you close, he presses a tender kiss to your temple—the warmth of his lips sending a flutter of butterflies through your chest. “Doesn’t change the fact that she’s with me,” he murmurs.

Suguru leans back slightly, clearly amused by how things are playing out, and his smirk widens—he can’t resist throwing in one last comment.

“Ahh… but if you’re not careful… someone might just steal her away.”

The words hang in the air, and for a brief second, everything feels charged—like a storm on the horizon. You can feel Satoru’s body tense ever so slightly, his fingers tightening on your waist. Suguru’s teasing is nothing unusual, but tonight... tonight it feels different. The thought of testing Satoru right now seems almost… dangerous.

Maybe it’s the setting, the way you’re dressed, or maybe it’s the fact that you both know he’s holding more than just your hand tonight.

The remote.

Fucking hell…Suguru may think he’s getting under Satoru’s skin, but you know better. Tonight is not the night to test Satoru’s patience.

Before the tension can build further, Shoko, ever the master of diffusing, steps in with a smirk and a light nudge to Suguru’s side.

“Well, it’s good to see nothing’s changed,” she remarks, full of playful exasperation. “Still managing to get under his skin, I see.”

Suguru chuckles, his smile widening as he throws his hands up in mock surrender. “It’s a gift,” he says with an exaggerated shrug.

Satoru’s grip on your waist loosens, the tension that had been simmering, melting away like snow under the sun from Shoko’s well-timed comment.

Oh, Shoko. You could kiss her right now—tonight, of all nights, you really needed that—needed her.

Satoru hums in response, the sound low and laced with mock approval as his gaze flickers between Suguru and you—his lips curving into a teasing smile.

“If by gift, you mean an annoyance, then sure,” he murmurs.

“Eh. Same thing,” Suguru shrugs, smiling—not phased in the slightest by Satoru’s retort.

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head in mock disapproval at the two of them.

“You two are impossible…” you murmur.

Before anyone can say more, a gentleman in a sharp suit approaches Satoru—tapping him lightly on the shoulder.

“Mr. Gojo, I believe the event coordinator needs a word with you about the auction details.”

Satoru’s eyes flicker briefly with irritation at the interruption, but ever the charmer, he covers it with a polite smile.

“Of course,” he responds smoothly. Before stepping away, he turns to you—lifting your hand gently into his own. His lips brush against your knuckles in a tender, lingering kiss, sending a soft warmth radiating through your chest. “I’ll be back in just a moment, sweetheart,” he murmurs.

You manage a smile as you watch him walk away, and as soon as Satoru is out of earshot, Shoko leans in closer to you—her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

“Sooo, how are things really?” her eyes gleam with playful curiosity. “Satoru keeping you on your toes?”

Well… that’s one way to put it—if only she knew half of it. You take a small breath, glancing briefly at Satoru as he moves across the room.

“Yeah…” a soft, fond smile spreads across your face. “You could say that…”

“Well,” she chuckles, patting your arm gently, “I’ll give you this—two years with Satoru? You deserve a medal,” she teases. “I can’t believe it’s been that long. Seems like just yesterday we were all at this gala, two years ago. Remember?”

“How could I forget?” you murmur, your voice dropping slightly as you recall that night, still so vivid. “It was... intense.”

Shoko grins, her eyes bright with recollection.

“Intense?” She shakes her head. “You two practically set the room on fire. The way he looked at you that night? I swear… I thought the whole world was going to stop spinning.”

Her words bring a slight flush to your cheeks, and you can’t help but smile at the memory.

“And now, look at you…” Shoko continues, her tone softening with affection. “Two years in, and he’s still completely wrapped around your finger.”

You bite your lip, feeling a warmth flutter in your chest.

“Well…he’s persistent, I’ll give him that,” you admit, your fingers absentmindedly twisting the ring on your hand—a gesture you do without thinking.

Ah…but it’s not the ring you want it to be.

Shoko notices the subtle movement, her eyes flicking to your hand before she gives you a knowing smirk.

“Oh, please,” she teases, flicking a hand toward you with a playful roll of her eyes. “Persistent? The man’s practically obsessed. Not that I blame him, of course.” She gestures to your gown—the fabric shimmering under the soft lights. “Seriously. You do look stunning, as always.”

You chuckle softly at her compliment—shaking your head. “Thanks, Sho.”

From the side, Suguru, who had been quietly watching the exchange, finally steps forward, his smile soft and genuine.

“Man… two years already, huh?” he remarks, rich with sincerity—his gaze shifting between you and where Satoru had gone. “You and Satoru... I never would’ve guessed it back then, but now? It just makes sense.”

You tilt your head slightly, genuinely intrigued by his words. “What do you mean?” you ask, meeting his gaze.

Suguru chuckles, a warm, low sound.

“I mean… you balance him out. He needs someone like you—someone who can handle him and keep him grounded. You keep him on his toes, but you also... well, you make him better.”

His words catch you off guard—you feel your heart swell and a faint blush paint your cheeks.

“I never thought about it like that,” you admit, offering him a soft smile.

“Well, it’s true,” Suguru replies, his smile widening as he casually shoves his hands in his pockets. “Look, I know he’s not the easiest guy to deal with, but with you? He’s found someone worth changing for.”

You blink, his words sinking in, and you feel the weight of the compliment settle in your chest. It’s not often people see beyond the surface of Satoru and his larger-than-life persona, but Suguru always had a way of getting to the heart of things.

“Thanks, Suguru. That... that means a lot.”

Shoko, sensing the tender turn of the conversation, steps back in with her usual playful demeanor—her smirk returning in full force.

“Alright, alright,” she interjects with a mock sigh, “Enough of this heart-to-heart. I’m off to find a drink before this turns into a therapy session,” she jokes, giving your arm a light squeeze before she starts sauntering off toward the bar.

You and Suguru are left standing there as you watch her go—his head shaking slightly with amusement.

“She’s always like that…” he murmurs, half to himself.

You’re about to respond, to make some lighthearted comment in return, when the world around you suddenly shifts—tilts, really, in a way that sends a jolt of warmth radiating through your core. It’s subtle, barely noticeable at first, but your body betrays you—stiffening as a wave of unexpected pleasure coils low in your stomach. Your breath catches, and before you can even process what’s happening, a soft gasp slips past your lips.

Oh, no. No, no, no. Not now.

Suguru, thankfully, doesn’t seem to notice the sudden change in your demeanor—he continues talking, oblivious to the soft hum of the Hula beads that have sprung to life inside you. But you know. You know exactly what’s happening.

Satoru.

The soft, torturous vibrations pulse through you, teasing, building in intensity just enough to make your legs wobble slightly. It’s maddening—the way the beads twist and hum with perfect, controlled precision, sending sharp, undeniable shocks of pleasure through your core—the kind that makes your knees want to give out if you’re not careful.

You swallow hard, desperately trying to maintain your composure, nodding along to whatever Suguru is saying. God… what is he even saying? His words are little more than background noise to the mounting pressure building inside of you.

Fucking Satoru.

You’ve been left alone for all of two minutes, and he’s already playing with you. Already reminding you who’s in control tonight.

Your pulse races as you glance around the room, frantically searching for him—and there he is, across the room, casually speaking with someone. His white hair catches the soft light, making him stand out even in the crowd, and his gaze is focused on the conversation—until it’s not. His eyes flick over to you, locking with yours in a way that feels like a tether between you both.

And then he smirks.

The kind of smirk that says he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

Your chest tightens as the vibrations inside you shift—deeper, more intense—and you have to bite your lip to suppress a whimper. You want to scream, to curse him from across the room, but you can’t. Not with Suguru standing right here.

“y/n?” Suguru asks softly, concerned. “You alright?”

Oh God…are you obvious?

You swallow hard, nodding quickly. “Y-yeah,” you stammer, clearing your throat. “Just… the room’s a bit, erm… warm.”

Warm? That’s the best you could come up with?

Suguru raises an eyebrow, clearly sensing that something’s off, but too kind to push it. Instead, he gives you a soft, reassuring smile—his hand coming to rest gently on your arm. It’s a simple touch that would normally be comforting, but right now, it only heightens your awareness of the relentless pulses inside you—and Satoru’s own relentlessness.

Because then, without warning, the Hula beads kick up in intensity.

The sudden surge of vibration hits you like a shockwave, and you nearly double over from the sensation as it reaches your clit. Your knees almost give out, and it takes every ounce of self-control not to gasp aloud. The vibrations aren’t just subtle anymore; they’re deep, insistent, pushing you closer and closer to the edge with each agonizing pulse.

Fuck.

Your breath hitches, and you have to dig your nails into your palms to keep yourself grounded. The wet heat building inside you feels like it’s going to explode. You glance back at Satoru—catching sight of his unwavering gaze—and in that brief, charged moment, he mouths the words to you slowly, deliberately:

You’re mine.

Your cunt drips. Oh God… he’s doing this because of Suguru—reminding you that no matter who you’re talking to, no matter who you’re with, you belong to him.

A flush of heat spreads through your cheeks, and you quickly turn your attention back to Suguru, hoping to hide the storm brewing inside of you. He continues speaking, but you barely hear him. Every nerve in your body is too focused on the pulsing hum—on the way your body reacts involuntarily to every shift in vibration.

Oh, Shoko—you could strangle her.

If she hadn’t left you alone with Suguru, maybe you wouldn’t be standing here on the brink of losing control, struggling to keep your legs from buckling under the pressure of the relentless pleasure surging through you.

Your gaze snaps to Satoru, and for a brief, charged moment, he meets your eyes. His hand slips into his pocket, his expression infuriatingly smug, as if to say, Remember who’s in control.

The vibrations surge even more—your entire body tensing. It’s too much.

You’re so close—too close. Your pussy quivers as you teeter on the edge of release, and all you can do is bite your lip to stifle the whimper that’s threatening to escape.

But just as the pressure coils and the pleasure peaks—right when you’re about to fall over the precipice—everything stops. The vibrations cease entirely, leaving you trembling and breathless—your body screaming for a release that’s been snatched away.

You blink in shock—your legs weak as your slick drips down your thigh—the sudden loss of sensation leaving you reeling.

Ready to shoot Satoru a glare, the moment you look in his direction you barely register the fact that he’s already moving towards you and Suguru with long purposeful strides—and in seconds, he’s standing beside you.

“So sorry to interrupt,” his hand slips around your waist—pulling you flush against him as his thumb brushes lightly over your hip. “But I think I’ll be stealing her away now.”

Suguru chuckles, unaware of the game Satoru’s been playing—or just how close you came to unraveling right in front of him.

“Tch… already?” he tilts his head, grin widening. “We barely had a chance to catch up.”

Satoru doesn’t miss a beat, his gaze flicking from Suguru to you—eyes dark with intent.

“Oh, I’m sure we’ll all have time for that later…” his tone is casual, but there’s a hidden edge beneath the surface, and when his eyes meet yours, there’s a dangerous glint—a silent promise that makes your breath hitch and a shiver run down your spine. “Right now,I need her,” he smirks.

Suguru raises an eyebrow, his gaze sweeping over you—lingering a moment too long as if noticing the flush of your cheeks, the way you’re clinging to Satoru’s arm a little more tightly than usual.

With a theatrical sigh, he shoves his hands into his pockets.

“Guess I’ll go find Shoko then, so I don’t have to be the third wheel.” As he takes a step back, he gives you one last playful glance. “But don’t hog her all night, Satoru,” he warns teasingly even as he steps away. “I expect to get at least one dance later.”

Satoru chuckles dismissively—his focus already shifting entirely to you as Suguru fades out of existence. “Yeah, right… not happening,” he mutters under his breath.

The moment Suguru’s out of earshot, Satoru tightens his grip on your waist, pulling your body flush against his. A slow smirk tugs at his lips the moment you feel the unmistakable evidence of his arousal—his cock, hard and unyielding, pressing into you.

“You looked like you were about to fall apart back there, sweetheart,” his lips brush your ear as he tenderly trails his fingers through your hair. “Tell me… you were so close, weren’t you?”

Your breath stutters as his hand slides slowly, possessively down your back. The heat of his touch seeps through the fabric of your dress, making your body shudder as he lingers just above the curve of your hips. Your cunt aches for the release he denied you.

“Satoru…you’re... so unfair.”

“Unfair?” he chuckles, pulling back slightly and running his thumb tenderly across your lower lip—watching your breath hitch at his touch. “Oh, princess… if only you knew…” His voice drops lower—lips ghosting over yours as he whispers, “I want to drag you away and show you just how unfair I can be.”

You bite your lip, stifling a moan—the heat pooling between your legs. Your hand instinctively rests against his chest, fingers brushing the smooth fabric of his tuxedo—feeling the rapid thrum of his heartbeat mirroring your own. Your lips part as you take in a shaky breath.

“Take me somewhere right now… I don’t care where, just… please don’t make me wait any longer.”

Your voice is breathless, desperate, and the moment the words leave your lips, you see the shift in his expression—his cock twitches in his pants and his eyes darken with raw desire. He clenches his jaw and breathes sharply through his nose, almost as if he’s trying to regain control. As he lowers his forehead against yours, you feel his hand drop from your hair to grip your hips possessively.

“Fuck...” he growls softly, “You have no idea how hard you have me. Every time you look at me like that...” he exhales, his fingers pressing harder into you as his gaze drops to your lips. “…I just want to take you right here.”

His touch slides lower, fingers trailing over the curve of your hip before they begin to glide back up, slipping teasingly over the small of your back. It’s an innocent enough motion to anyone watching—but the way his fingers linger, the way his body presses into yours, it sends a tingling wave of heat to your pussy.

“If we weren’t in public right now…” his voice rumbles against your skin as he nuzzles into the delicate curve of your neck, “I’d have you on your knees, begging for me. I’d make you scream my name so loud, the only thing you’d be able to think about is how much you fucking need me.”

Your knees nearly give way at the intensity of his words, but his strong arm tightens around you, steadying you. You whine as his fingers rise up to weave through your hair again, tugging gently as his other hand returns to your waist, trailing down slowly before gripping your hip again.

“Mmm… but not yet,” he whispers, dripping with control. “Not here.”

You let out a soft, frustrated groan, leaning into his chest, craving more—craving him. His infuriating smirk brushes against your skin, and he hums in amusement. He pulls you back to look at you, his hand coming up the tenderly cup your cheek.

“Come now,” he murmurs affectionately, “You’ll behave for me, won’t you, sweetheart?”

You exhale heavily, rolling your eyes despite the tight knot of desire twisting inside you.

“Yes...” you mumble.

His eyebrow arches as he leans in, his lips hovering dangerously close to yours.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes… I’ll behave,” you huff in frustration.

A slow, satisfied smirk tugs at Satoru’s lips as he pulls back. He caresses your hair once more and presses a gentle, lingering kiss to your temple.

“That’s my good girl,” he murmurs, the words wrapping around you like a promise. “Because if you don’t… I’ll fucking ruin you later.”

Oh, you know he will—and you’ll love every second of it.

❥

The night was going smoothly. The opulent charity gala had everything: fine champagne, crystal chandeliers, and the hum of soft conversation drifting through the ballroom. Satoru had barely left your side, his hand lingering on your waist, warm and magnetic—making you feel like the queen of the event, and every glance from the elite in attendance told you the same thing.

Together, you were commanding the room.

But then… she walked in.

Mei-Mei.

Her entrance was nothing short of dramatic—icy beauty wrapped in a form-fitting, silk gown that shimmered with every step and clung to her every curve. Heads turned, conversations quieted, and the air in the ballroom seemed to shift as she sauntered through the crowd with effortless grace.

Mei-Mei was made for these kinds of events. She exuded money, and it wasn’t just in her attire; it was in her entire demeanor—the confidence of someone who wouldn’t hesitate to buy anything she desired—including people. And more than anything, that’s exactly what she wanted to project.

Her sharp, catlike eyes scan the room slowly, as if weighing its worth, and you can instantly feel the moment her gaze lands on you—and on Satoru.

Once upon a time, long before you entered his life, Mei-Mei had been Satoru’s girlfriend. And her interest in him? Well… it had never been about love.

No, Mei-Mei was a woman who measured people by their value—their status, their influence, and most importantly, their wealth. Satoru had checked all the boxes—he was power personified, and she loved the way that power elevated her—until she overplayed her hand and Satoru had walked away.

The façade had cracked—once Satoru had realized what she was truly after, how she valued his bank account more than anything else, he was through. He had never spoken much about their prior relationship, but you’ve heard enough through whispers in social circles.

But Mei-Mei? She’d never forgiven him for it—he had stolen away the life she had always dreamed for herself.

Now, as her eyes flick over you and Satoru, you catch sight of the challenge forming behind her sharpened smile as she immediately changes her course.

You can feel Satoru’s arm instinctively tighten around your waist, his body leaning slightly into yours—he’s noticed her too. You glance up at him, offering a soft smile—your silent way of telling him, you’re fine.

She’s not going to rattle you. Not tonight.

Her heels click in rhythmic precision against the marble floor as she approaches, and once she finally reaches you, her lips curl into a smile—sharp and precise—designed to appear friendly but lacking any warmth.

“Ah, y/n, dear,” she began, smooth as silk but dripping with condescension. “You look... cute tonight.” Her gaze flicks to Satoru for a fraction of a second before landing back on you. “I suppose Satoru always did have a thing for... simplicity.”

Oh… she wants to play?

Fine. You meet her eyes without hesitation—your unwavering smile poised and steady.

“Simplicity?” you echo, letting a carefree laugh slip through. “Oh, darling… simplicity is what makes elegance effortless. I suppose that’s a skill not everyone can master, hmm?”

For just a fraction of a second, you see it—her mask slips. Her smile falters, her jaw tightens, and her eyes narrow just a little too much. It’s quick, but you catch it.

Got her.

But Mei-Mei doesn’t like being outmaneuvered. Especially not by you.

Her eyes flick away from yours, turning to Satoru with a renewed smile—wider, as if trying to reclaim control. But you see through the charm; there’s bitterness behind it.

“Well,” she continues, voice dripping with false nostalgia, “Satoru and I were quite the power couple once, weren’t we?” her gaze flicks back to you. “I’m sure he hasn’t forgotten.”

As her voice drops, like a private whisper shared between ex-lovers, you feel Satoru tense beside you. His grip on you tightens as though he’s silently urging you to ignore her. But nah—you aren’t about to back down. Not tonight.

Letting your hand trail slowly down the front of Satoru’s tux, your fingertips graze the fabric teasingly as you glance up at him, offering a soft, playful smile. His eyes soften immediately, and he pulls you a little closer.

“Mmm… but memories have a funny way of fading when you’ve found something far more fulfilling.”

Satoru responds immediately, his gaze melting into yours, the tension in his shoulders easing as his fingers squeeze your waist slightly—a silent declaration of where his loyalties lie. Your voice is sweet, affectionate, and though your words are for Satoru, they’re aimed squarely at Mei-Mei.

You catch sight of her reaction in the corner of your eye—the way her fingers clench around her designer clutch a bit too tightly—a crack of frustration leaking through her forced smile.

“You know,” she starts again, this time more pointed, “men like Satoru tend to... wander. He’s incapable of settling down, so I wouldn’t get too comfortable if I were you.”

The jab hangs in the air, and you feel Satoru stiffen beside you. He’s clearly irritated now, but it’s not her words that bother you—it’s the audacity.

How dare she throw shade at him?

Your eyebrow arches, and a light, almost dismissive laugh escapes your lips. The sound slices through her words, gentle but cutting.

“Oh, Mei-Mei…” you coo, her name slipping off your tongue with a mix of sweetness and pity. “You see, some men wander when they’re searching for something they don’t have. But when they’ve found what they truly want? They stay.”

Your words hit her like a slap disguised as a caress, and you see the moment it lands—underneath the lacy mask resting on the bridge of her nose, her eyes flash, and her smile tightens. Despite her best efforts, she tries to remain composed.

“I suppose we’ll see how long that lasts.”

You smile serenely, unbothered, and tilt your head slightly, like you’re humoring a child.

“Yes, well. Satoru’s never been one to settle for anything less than what he deserves. I suppose that’s why he left you.”

The subtle shift in her demeanor tells you everything you need to know.

You’ve won.

The frustration beneath her surface bubbles to the top, and it’s barely hidden behind the sharp scoff that escapes her lips. Her exit is quick, muttering some vague excuse before turning on her heel and sauntering away with stiff shoulders. Ahh… her movements are a bit too rigid for someone who’s pretending not to care.

Your heart swells pridefully with the satisfaction of standing your ground as you watch her go—not just for yourself, but for Satoru too. Your Satoru.

You feel his grip on you tighten the moment Mei-Mei disappears from view, and before you can even process what’s happening, he's pulling you flush against him—his body warm, firm, and incredibly close.

The heat radiating from him feels almost electrifying, and his breath ghosts against the shell of your ear.

“Fuck… do you have any idea how hot that was?”

You bite your lip—the victory was sweet, but the fire in his words make it even sweeter. A wave of heat spreads through your core.

“You were incredible,” he murmurs, lips brushing your neck. “God you’re perfect… so fucking perfect.”

His praise stokes the fire that’s already building within you, and you’re keenly aware of every inch of him pressed firmly on your hip—his cock twitching against you.

“Yeah…?” you grin, snaking your arms around his neck and brushing your fingers through his hair. “Do I finally get my reward?”

A low chuckle rumbles through his chest, and he pulls back just enough to hover his lips over yours, teasingly close.

“Oh, sweetheart... you deserve so much more than a reward. I want to take you apart, piece by fucking piece.”

The intensity of his gaze and the hunger in his voice sends your mind spinning and your cunt dripping, but just as your lips part, ready to respond, the moment is shattered.

“Oi, lovebirds!” Shoko’s teasing voice cuts through the haze of desire, her playful smirk and a raised eyebrow unmistakable as she approaches with Suguru right behind her. “Auction’s about to start. Unless you two plan on putting on a show for the whole room?”

Satoru lets out a frustrated growl, his forehead pressing against yours as he takes a slow, steadying breath. His grip on your waist lingers for a moment before he reluctantly loosens his hold.

“Perfect fucking timing,” he mutters under his breath, casting a mock glare at Shoko and Suguru.

“Save it for later, Satoru,” Suguru chimes in with a chuckle, reveling in his annoyance. “There’ll be plenty of time for you two to... ‘catch up,’ after the auction, right?”

Satoru rolls his eyes but can’t help the grin that tugs at the corner of his mouth. Leaning down, he places a lingering kiss upon your lips.

“Later, kay?” he murmurs, “This is far from over.”

❥

The atmosphere in the room shifts as the auction begins—the hum of conversation fading to a soft murmur. A dim glow washes over the ballroom, casting a warm light that bounces off the crystal chandeliers and reflects in the glasses scattered across the elegantly decorated tables. You sit comfortably beside Satoru, feeling the warmth of his hand resting casually on your thigh beneath the table—his thumb rubbing lazy circles against your skin.

There’s a soft hum of anticipation as the auctioneer takes the stage, microphone in hand—his voice cutting through the ambient noise with practiced ease.

“And now, for our first item for the evening,” the auctioneer announces with an air of ceremony. “We have something truly special—a limited-edition necklace from the Gojo Jewelry Collection. This timeless piece showcases the elegance of infinity, adorned with rare, precious sapphire jewels, designed exclusively for this event.”

Satoru sits up a little straighter, his hand tightening slightly on your thigh. The rest of the room seems to follow his gaze as the spotlight shifts to the display case. And there it is—the necklace.

It gleams under the warm lighting, the infinity pendant catching the rays in a way that makes the jewels shimmer like stars. The design is breathtaking, a perfect balance of boldness and grace, simplicity and luxury.

You’ve always admired Satoru’s designs, but this one feels particularly special. It’s more than just a piece of jewelry; it’s a statement, a testament to his creativity and craftsmanship.

You can’t help but lean in closer to Satoru, admiration bubbling within as the pendant slowly spins on its pedestal, casting tiny flecks of light across the room.

“It’s gorgeous,” you breathe.

Satoru’s lips curve into a self-satisfied smirk, his eyes glinting with pride.

“Mmm, told ya it’d turn some heads,” he murmurs. “Definitely one of my favorites.”

Your gaze sweeps across the room to gauge the crowd’s reaction, and then you see her—Mei-Mei—sitting at one of the prime tables, posture immaculate, her sharp eyes already fixed on the necklace with a look of pure, calculated hunger.

Of course.

Of course, she’d want his necklace—because it’s not just about the necklace itself—it’s the prestige of wearing something tied to Satoru, a statement that she could have something rare, exclusive, and coveted.

“This necklace represents timeless elegance and endless love,” the auctioneer says smoothly, offering a subtle nod toward Satoru. “And, as a limited edition, we are thrilled to offer this piece. It’s truly one of a kind, created exclusively for tonight’s event.”

You can’t help but raise an eyebrow at that.

Oh? Is that what it represents?

Well then—who are you to let Mei-Mei walk away with it? The idea of her winning something tied to Satoru, of her flaunting that connection, fuels a competitive spark in you.

The bidding starts, and unsurprisingly, Mei-Mei is quick to raise her paddle, her face smug with satisfaction as she bids confidently.

“Six thousand!” the auctioneer calls out, voice booming through the ballroom.

Leaning back slightly in your chair, your fingers casually brush over Satoru’s hand on your thigh. He looks at you, his curious gaze meeting yours as you offer him a knowing smirk, and he quirks an eyebrow, clearly intrigued as you lazily raise your paddle.

“Seven thousand,” a soft smile graces your lips.

Satoru’s grip tightens slightly on your thigh, and you feel the low hum of approval rumbling from him. Mei-Mei’s eyes snap toward you, narrowing in disbelief—she clearly hadn’t expected you to join in. But there it is—that flicker of annoyance. Her paddle goes up again, just as you knew it would.

“Ten thousand,” Mei-Mei counters.

The auctioneer nods in her direction. “Ten thousand! Do I hear twelve?”

Without missing a beat, you lift your paddle once more, your smile growing. “Twelve thousand.”

Satoru’s eyes glitter with amusement as he watches the subtle tension building between you and Mei-Mei. His hand slides a little higher on your thigh, fingers pressing with a bit more intent as he leans in—breath warm against your ear.

“Fuck… this is seriously turning me on way more than it should…” he mutters. “You’re going to make her lose her mind.”

You bite back a grin. “Mmm, well, that’s the plan.”

The bidding continues, but now Mei-Mei hesitates, the confidence in her posture starting to falter.

“Fifteen thousand,” you say smoothly, your paddle already raised.

Mei-Mei’s lips press together into a thin line. Her eyes flash with frustration as she debates whether to push higher. After a tense moment, she raises her paddle again, but her voice lacks its earlier bravado.

“Sixteen thousand,” a hint of uncertainty creeps into her tone.

You don’t even flinch.

“Twenty thousand.”

Satoru’s fingers tighten on your thigh again, his breath hitching slightly as he leans in closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“God, you’re so damn hot when you’re like this,” he growls, shifting slightly in his seat from his growing erection.

Your heart races with satisfaction as your eyes lock on Mei-Mei’s once more, daring her to keep going. But the resolve in her eyes wavers. Slowly, with a barely concealed pout, she lowers her paddle.

“Twenty thousand, going once… going twice… sold to the lovely lady in the elegant gown!” The auctioneer’s gavel comes down with a decisive crack, and the room erupts into polite applause.

As the ripple of applause moves throughout the room, it’s Mei-Mei’s sour expression that you relish in most. Ah, victory feels sweet.

You lean back in your chair, turning to Satoru with a playful, victorious smile.

“Well… that was fun.”

He’s practically beaming, eyes dark with pride and something more as his hand slips up your thigh—teasingly close to your core now.

“I swear to God… I don’t know how I’m going to make it through the rest of this auction without pulling you into the nearest empty room and fucking you.”

His words make your pussy drip, but before you can respond, the auctioneer’s voice booms once again, drawing your attention back to the stage.

“And now, we have something special for the next event. This is one of our unique auction segments—where attendees have the chance to bid for a dance with one of our lovely participants. All the proceeds will go to tonight’s charity, of course.”

There’s a murmur of interest from the crowd, a few amused chuckles as people begin to sit up a little straighter. You, however, remain mostly unbothered, still riding the high from outbidding Mei-Mei— and the arousal of Satoru’s fingers caressing your thigh underneath the table.

But then, something pulls your attention back to the stage—a faint thread of confusion beginning to weave through your thoughts as you hear the list of names being read out.

Did you… just hear your name? Wait… what?

You whip your head toward Satoru—and his expression mirrors your confusion, eyebrows raising slightly. But before you can fully register what’s happening, you catch sight of Suguru across the table—grin wide, eyes glinting with mischief.

Oh no…

Your mind scrambles, replaying the events of earlier in the night. Suguru had been chatting with you, something about the auction—while you were busy being thoroughly distracted by Satoru's relentless teasing with the Hula beads. The memories blur together, but now you realize…

Oh god… you’d been so focused on the pleasure that you barely even processed Suguru’s words. Did you accidentally agree to this?

Before you can react, the auctioneer is already moving forward, inviting the women participating in the dance auction to step on stage. And there it is—your name again, clear as day, listed among them.

Satoru stiffens beside you, his grip on your thigh tightening as he whips his head toward Suguru. A pointed look flashes across his face, but Suguru, oh, Suguru—he’s practically glowing with amusement. Leaning back in his chair, his arms cross over his chest as if enjoying every second of this unfolding chaos.

“Suguru…” Satoru hisses under his breath. “Was this your doing?”

Suguru shrugs, his smirk widening in response to the clear irritation radiating from Satoru.

“What?” he says with faux innocence. “y/n agreed to it.”

Satoru’s eyes narrow and his grip on you tightens. There’s a moment of tension as you feel him lean in closer, his breath ghosting over your ear as he growls, “…you agreed to this?”

Your mind scrambles for an explanation, but before you can respond, Suguru’s voice cuts in again.

“It’s for charity,” Suguru adds with a playful lilt. “It’ll be fun.”

His words hang in the air like a taunt, and Satoru’s eyes narrow at Suguru—his possessive grip tightening on your plush thigh as his jaw clenches.

“C’mon Satoru. Let’s see how much your girl is worth.”

As the auctioneer repeats your name over the microphone, drawing the crowd’s attention to you, you feel every pair of eyes in the room turning in your direction. Satoru leans in closer—his breath warm against your ear.

“Fine then… I hope you’re ready for this, sweetheart,” he murmurs, the teasing edge in his voice betraying the simmering tension beneath it.

Your stomach flips from the intensity of his gaze, and you hesitate for a moment—glancing between the stage and Satoru. Uh oh… the heat is rolling off him in waves—it’s clear he’s not thrilled with the idea of you being up there for everyone to bid on, but… what is that mischievous glint in his eye?

That’s a bit… unsettling.

Reluctantly, you stand—your heart racing as you smooth down your dress and make your way toward the stage. The spotlight warms your skin, and the auctioneer welcomes you with an enthusiastic gesture. But before you can fully settle into the moment, you feel it—a soft, familiar pulse deep within you.

Fucking hell. Here?

The vibrations start low, teasing, but enough to make your knees wobble slightly as you stand in front of the crowd. You glance down at Satoru, who remains seated, his eyes locked onto you with an almost predatory gleam. His lips curve into a slow, knowing smirk as his fingers tap lightly against his thigh—a silent admission that he’s the one behind the sudden wave of pleasure coursing through your body.

He is cruel—doing this while you’re on stage.

The auctioneer wastes no time, diving right into the event as he begins introducing each woman on stage, one by one. The crowd’s attention is fixed on the participants as the bids for each woman slowly climb higher, some reaching $5,000 before being closed off with a cheerful crack of the auctioneer’s gavel.

But as you stand there—your heart thudding in your chest as you wait for your turn—the vibrations pulsing deep inside you are a constant, teasing reminder of Satoru’s hold over you.

“And now, for our next participant—y/n!” The auctioneer’s voice rings out, and the crowd’s attention immediately shifts to you. A murmur ripples through the ballroom as you stand in the spotlight, trying to maintain your composure—but the slow, torturous vibrations leave you dripping in front of everyone.

You swallow hard as the auctioneer begins at a low price, and before anyone else can react, Satoru’s hand shoots up.

“Five thousand,” he calls out, voice steady, eyes locked on you.

Before you can process it fully, another voice cuts in, smooth and confident—Suguru.

“Seven thousand,” his gaze flickers briefly to Satoru—daring him to up the stakes.

Satoru clenches his jaw, but his gaze never leaves yours. His hand goes up again.

“Ten thousand.”

Your breath hitches—this bidding is escalating so quickly it’s making your head spin, and the relentless vibrations are driving you wild.

Suguru chuckles as he raises his paddle, enjoying every second of this. “Twenty thousand,” he smirks, leaning back in his chair.

The crowd murmurs, a few gasps here and there, but no one dares interrupt this battle of wills between the two men. You bite your lip, feeling the pulse of the beads inside you grow stronger. Fuckfuckfuck… your body reacts involuntarily, and a soft gasp escapes your lips.

Satoru notices immediately and the corner of his lips twitch up slightly. His gaze darkens, and without missing a beat, he raises his paddle once more. “Fifty thousand.”

The room falls silent, and your heart drums in your chest, racing alongside the vibrations tormenting your body. Shifting your weight slightly, your pussy hums in pleasure under the spotlight—struggling to hold yourself together.

Suguru, leans back, arms crossing over his chest as he studies Satoru, clearly impressed by his boldness. Then, just as it looks like he’s about to raise his paddle again, Satoru leans forward and his voice drops even lower.

“One hundred thousand.”

The crowd gasps. The entire ballroom seems to shift—stunned by the sheer audacity of the number.

Raising an eyebrow, Suguru lets out a low amused whistle. Then, with a smirk, he raises his hands in mock surrender, chuckling under his breath. “Well, well, Satoru… looks like you win.”

As Suguru places his paddle down, the grin plastered upon his face makes it painfully obvious –he’s thoroughly enjoyed how far this has gone, and the auctioneer, momentarily speechless, quickly attempts to recover.

“One hundred thousand, going once… going twice…” he slams his gavel down with a sharp crack. “Sold to Mr. Gojo for one hundred thousand dollars!”

The applause that follows feels distant—entirely drowned out by the overwhelming sensations coursing through your wet cunt. This is torture. Your legs are weak, your pulse racing, and Satoru’s eyes are locked on you, burning with intensity.

Leaning back in his chair, a slow possessive smirk spreads across his lips.

He’s told the entire room—and you—that you belong to him.

❥

The applause disappears into background noise as Satoru grabs your hand—a grip that’s firm and relentless. There’s no time for conversation, no time for teasing words—he’s already pulling you away from the auction, weaving through the crowd with purposeful strides.

The way his body is practically humming with urgency, tells you everything—it’s an urgency that matches the pulsing throb still lingering in your clit from his playful torture during the auction.

You stumble slightly to keep up as he moves through the dim lights of the ballroom—everything blurring together as he maneuvers through tables. Once you reach the edge of the room, he guides you into one of the shadowy hallways leading away from the event.

“Satoru…” the moment his name leaves your lips, he shoots a glance back at you, dark and filled with unbridled need.

“Not a fucking word,” his grip tightens on your hand as he pulls you along. “If you say another word…” his breath hitches, “I’ll fuck you right here, against this wall. I don’t care who sees.”

Oh, he’s barely restrained—it’s a hunger that’s been building all night.

Everything fades into the background as he guides you down the empty corridor, and the moment he reaches a single door hidden at the end, he’s shoving it open and dragging you inside.

The room is dimly lit, but he doesn’t give you the time of day to take in your surroundings—no—he’s on you in an instant.

“I can’t fucking wait any longer,” kicking the door shut with his foot, his hands immediately find your waist as he presses you up against the nearest wall. “Fucking finally…” he growls, rolling his erection against you, making you gasp. “Feel that?” his lips brush against your ear as his hands slide lower, gripping your ass tightly. “That’s what you’ve done to me all night.”

“Satoru—” he cuts you off with a bruising kiss, his tongue slipping past your lips with an intensity that leaves you breathless.

Your head spins as his hands rampantly roam your body. He’s desperate for you—grunting as he pins you—the wall against your back, his cock between your legs. His forceful friction makes your body arch, and you can feel his smug smirk curling against your lips as you let out a soft, needy moan.

He pulls away—his lips grazing your jawline as he trails hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck.

“Do you know how fucking hard it was for me to sit there,” he accentuates his words with a ruthless thrust, “seeing you squirm, knowing you were soaking wet and no one else could tell?”

His lips crash back into yours, devouring you before he pulls away again.

“…watching you tell Mei-Mei off, knowing you’re mine,” his cock twitches at the memory as he grinds into you again, “fuck when you outbid her…all I could think about was bending you over that damn table to fuck you right in front of her.”

The filthy image he paints in your mind sends a surge of heat through your body, “fuck, that’s so hot…” you let out a breathless moan, your legs trembling as your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt. “Need you, now.”

Another bruising kiss follows, his teeth grazing your lower lip, biting down gently before releasing it. He pulls away, and your cunt drips the moment he commands,

“Turn around.”

You oblige—moving on instinct as you spin around. Your palms press flat against the cool wall and your back arches just slightly as you present yourself to him.

Completely at his mercy—exactly how you both want it.

“Fuck, you look so perfect like this."

You hold your breath as his fingers purposefully slide over your ass, and the moment his hands find the hem of your dress, he gathers the fabric in his fists and urgently bunches it up your thighs, allowing the cool air to hit the wet fabric between your legs.

“Look at you,” he coos, tugging the dress up higher. “You’re fucking dripping, baby,” your heat intensifies as his fingers trace an outline on your pussy. “Jesus, you’re fucking soaked… wearing these beads all night… so wet for me.”

As he tugs your drenched panties down in one fell swoop, his fingers trace the slickness of your cunt—curling between the thin string of the Hula beads.

“You took them so well… now let me show you what comes next.”

You shudder as he slowly, torturously starts to remove them—the device dragging against your sensitive core, making your knees tremble. He hums in approval as the last of the Hula beads slip out.

But as you exhale shakily, Satoru doesn’t give you a moment to recover.

“—‘toru!” his hands grip your hips firmly as he forcefully guides to towards a nearby vanity—positioning himself behind you as he pushes you down in front of the mirror.

“You’ve had your fun baby, but now it’s my turn,” as the words leave his lips, you hear the unmistakable clink of his belt buckle, followed by the sound of his zipper sliding down—the urgency is evident in the way his hands work to release himself. “I’m going to fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk straight.”

You gasp the moment his free cock presses against your bare skin, and your pussy grows more wet from the sound of him stroking himself, mixed with the shallow breaths escaping his lips.

Once you catch sight of his reflection in the mirror—cock in hand, eyes dark with lust, jaw clenched with restraint—fuck you know. He was feral.

His weeping tip lines up against your entrance.

“Look at you, trembling already…” he coos, rubbing your combined slick with his dick. “So desperate for it, aren’t you?”

Your head drops down and your legs quiver as he teases your entrance—fucking hell what is he waiting for? It’s maddening. You want to be filled, to finally feel the sweet release you’ve been tortuously denied all night.

Glancing up, you catch sight of his infuriating smirk in the reflection.

“Satoru, please hurry up,” you whine as his cock brushes against your clit.

A low chuckle rumbles from his chest. “Patience princess.”

You can’t wait.

Without his permission, you rock your hips back, and he slides in effortlessly as you take him in with one swift motion. A sharp gasp escapes your lips as his thick cock becomes soaked in your wetness, stretching you full.

Satoru sucks in a sharp breath—his grip on your hips tightening as he struggles to hold back the urge to burst inside you the very moment he bottoms out, right then and there. Your cunt is too fucking good.

"Fucking—wait, wait, wait," he hisses through clenched teeth—his cock twitching and his eyes fluttering shut as he quickly tries to steady himself.

You bite your lip, trembling as you watch his reaction in the mirror—the way he’s flexing…shuddering… oh god. How can you wait?

“Satoru… nngh,” your hips roll against him in slow deliberate motions, “haa—can’t wait anymore.”

His eyes snap open at your words, watching your reflection as his jaw clenches with unbridled restraint. He pursues his lips and exhales through his nose—and in that instant, there’s an immediate shift in him—a moment of pure unadulterated lust.

“Needy little thing…” his grip is, forceful, bruising as he growls, “goddamn it, princess…you couldn’t fucking wait. Fine.”

Oh, you’ve done it now.

Pulling back, he removes his dick just enough to slam forward with a brutal force that makes you cry out in pleasure. You drop your head on the vanity surface, gasping as he buries himself deep inside you.

“I’m going to fucking ruin you.”

He sets a brutal pace, each thrust harder as your pussy stretches around his thick pulsing cock—it’s too much, too perfect. The pleasure courses through your veins like fire as he drives into you with a relentless ferocity, leaving you shaking.

The vanity dresser rattles under his force, and the mirror reflects every delicious second of it—your body arching, your mouth falling open, the glazed-over look in your eyes as he ravishes your cunt. But most of all, the way Satoru watches you fall apart for him—possessive and proud.

His hand moves from your hips, sliding up the curve of your body to grip your chin. You whimper as he shifts deeper, leaning forward and forcing your gaze to peer directly in the mirror.

“C’mon now, look at yourself,” he pants, ragged as his hips slam into you with an unrelenting force. “Look how fucking pretty you look taking me like this.”

The pressure coils tight between your legs and your body hums as the pleasure becomes immeasurable. You don’t even realize how your eyes begin to flutter shut—not until his grip tightens on your chin, directing it forcefully to stare at your own reflection.

“No, no. Don’t you dare look away,” he slips two fingers in your mouth and you whimper at the intrusion. “Want you to see what a good girl you are for me.”

God, your head is spinning—the sight of watching him fuck you was so… erotic.

His lips curve into a slow, dangerous smirk as he takes in the sight of you completely fucked out—desperate, needy, sucking his fingers as you try to keep your eyes open, teetering on the edge of bliss—oh his cock twitches inside you.

“Haa—yesss… that’s my good girl…so fucking pretty. Takin m’ so well.”

The rhythm of his hips becomes erratic, his thrusts harder and deeper, each one sending jolts of ecstasy rippling through you. His breath becomes labored as his chest heaves against your back, and you can tell—yes, you can feel it—you’re both so close. So fucking close.

Each plunge pushes you further toward the edge, and your moans are muffled against his fingers. The coil in your belly winds tighter and tighter until you can hardly breathe.

“This what you wanted?” his fingers slip out of your mouth, a thin string of saliva connecting them before he brings his hand down, wrapping around your throat. “Tell me,” he pants, “say how fucking good I feel inside you.”

“—haa, so good…” you gasp, “’toru I’m—"

Your words are cut off by a shuddering cry as your body spasms, the intense pleasure crashing over you like a violent wave as your orgasm slams into you. Your walls tighten around him, coating his cock with your sweet slick as your body trembles uncontrollably in bliss.

“Fuuuck—that’s it, yes baby… squeeze me just like that,” his grip tightens on your throat as his hips slam into yours with reckless abandon. “So tight… fuck, you’re so fucking tight.” He’s panting, his chest pressed against your back as the wet slaps of skin against skin fills the room.

His pace quickens and the overstimulation pushes you further, prolonging your orgasm. You feel your legs begin the weaken as you can barely hold yourself up against the vanity—his cock relentlessly hitting that spot deep inside you.

“’toru—fuck,” you cry, reeling from your climax, “need you to cum… please—”

His jaw clenches, and his breath shudders as he tries to hold back, but the sight of you, completely undone and begging drives him absolutely wild. With a low deep groan, his hands grip your hips as he rapidly chases his own release.

“God—fuck—anything for you… just for you, baby,” he rasps as the tension coils tight in his gut. “Shit—I’m gonna fill you up… fuck, take it all.”

His cock twitches violently as he buries himself deep with one final, brutal thrust. Your name falls from his lips in breathless broken murmurs as he erupts inside you—warm sticky cum filling you to the brim and painting your walls white.

“Haaa—yess… good girl… good fucking girl,” his hips stutter erratically and his head falls forward, eyes squeezed shut.

You feel his grip on your hip loosen as he finally comes to a stop, and for a moment, neither of you move, and neither of you speak—just the sound of your heavy breathing as his chest rises and falls heavily against your back.

His fingers begin to gently brush against your waist, tracing slow soothing patterns—a touch so tender compared to that relentless grip he held on you just moments before, and a warm shiver shoots through you as you feel his lips brush against your shoulder in a soft, lingering kiss.

“I fucking love you, y’know that?” he murmurs affectionately.

A warmth blooms deep in your chest, spreading outward from his words.

“I love you too,” there is both exhaustion and endearment in your voice as you turn your head slightly to meet his gaze, wearing a grin.

His still heavy-lidded eyes lock onto yours and a lazy, adoring smile spreads across his lips.

“Y’know…” he leans down to press a kiss to the curve of your neck, “I dunno what I did to deserve you but…” he nuzzles into your neck and his arms wrap around you, “I’m never letting you go.”

You lean into his touch and hum pensively, “Good. Cause you’re stuck with me.”

He chuckles softly, holding you close and basking in the moment. Then, he grunts as he lifts himself up—wincing slightly as he finally pulls his spent cock from you. The sensation makes you both involuntarily shudder.

You sigh, leaning forward on the vanity, and with a surprising tenderness, he leans down and uses his handkerchief to begin cleaning you up carefully—wiping away the evidence of your shared pleasure.

But as his fingers brush delicately against your still oversensitive sex, a small whimper escapes your lips before you can stop it. He smirks at the sound and his eyes glint with amusement, clearly pleased by your reaction.

“Sensitive, huh?” he teases, though his touch remains gentle.

Rolling your eyes, you try to hide the smile tugging at your lips by burying your face into your arms—resting against the vanity.

“Well, what’d you expect?” you huff with mock exasperation—breath unsteady as he finishes cleaning you. “After the way you were teasing me all night?”

A low chuckle rumbles in his chest as his fingers linger a moment too long on your inner thighs, grazing dangerously close to where you’re still tender.

“Couldn’t help it,” he murmurs, his voice dropping a register. "You make it impossible to keep my hands off you…"

You suck in a sharp breath and glance back, giving him a playful but pointed look.

"Careful," you warn. "Or we’ll never make it back."

That devilishly charming grin curls upon his lips as his hands slide up and down your legs. “Mmm… well maybe I don’t want to make it back.”

Your breath hitches as his fingertips graze your skin one last time—then, he reaches down for your panties, and you watch through the mirror how he pockets them before finally smoothing down your bunched-up dress.

You glance back and shoot him a look, earning you a wicked grin.

“You’re hopeless…” you mumble, shaking your head as you straighten up, but before you can fully stand, his chest presses against your back, and you feel his strong arms wrap around you, pulling you close.

A soft sigh escapes him as he buries his face in your hair, inhaling your scent deeply.

“It’s not fair... I don’t wanna go back,” he whines. “I just want to hold you… keep you all to myself tonight.”

"We’ll have all night after this," you murmur, turning to kiss his cheek softly. "C’mon… just a little longer and I’m all yours."

He groans, and you try to break the embrace, but suddenly he spins you around and his hands drift to your hips, pulling you even closer against him.

"But I dunno if I can behave for that long…" he whispers, tenderly caressing your cheek. "You say that… but I’m already thinking about sneaking you away again. Can’t help myself."

Stifling a smile, you roll your eyes as you place a hand on his chest, gently pushing him back so you can get a better look at him.

"You're lucky I love you," you say with a mock sigh, reaching up to fix the collar of his shirt and smoothing down the wrinkles in his tux.

He watches you with that same lazy, adoring smile.

"Lucky doesn’t even begin to cover it, princess."

❥

As the gala comes to a close, the party moves to the outside garden, with the warm autumn night wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. The chatter of guests mingles with the soft rustling of the trees, and the leaves have started turning shades of orange and red, but there’s still that lingering hint of summer in the air—a warmth that keeps the chill at bay.

There is a sense of awe in the way that the string lights twinkle above the garden, casting a soft glow over the crowd—and you stand beside Satoru amongst the masses, the warmth of his hand in yours.

But… for some reason there’s a certain energy radiating from him—something… different. He’s been uncharacteristically quiet during this last hour—a muted tension, almost like he’s… distracted?

“Satoru,” you ask softly, giving his hand a little squeeze. “You okay?”

He blinks, pulled out of whatever thoughts were clouding his mind, and turns to you with a soft smile.

“Yeah, sweetheart,” leaning in, his lips peck your temple, “just thinkin’.”

You raise an eyebrow, curiosity bubbling up inside you.

Thinking about what?

But before the words can leave your lips, the auctioneer from earlier approaches you, a bright smile on his face.

“Ah, Miss y/n, there you are,” he begins. “I hope you’ve been enjoying the event this year. I just wanted to personally congratulate you on your win tonight. Here is your necklace—it truly is one-of-a-kind.”

He holds out a sleek black box, and your eyes light up as you take it from him.

“Oh, thank you! I’ve been looking forward to this.”

You accept the box eagerly, your fingers moving quickly to open it, and the moment the necklace comes into view, your eyes widen. The jewels glimmer under the soft glow of the garden lights—with the intricately delicate curves and sparkling stones exuding an elegance that immediately captivates you.

“It’s even more stunning in person,” you breathe out, running your fingers over the smooth, polished metal.

Satoru peers down at the necklace in your hand, his lips curling into a subtle smirk.

“Mmm… well you fought well for it,” he teases lightly.

The auctioneer chuckles, nodding in agreement. “It was quite the bidding war. Congratulations once again, Miss y/n.” With a courteous nod, he steps back into the crowd, leaving you and Satoru alone under the twinkling garden lights.

As you turn to face Satoru, a victorious grin tugs at the corner of your lips. Holding the necklace up, you boast proudly.

“Told ya Mei-Mei didn’t stand a chance”

You’re relieved how the comment seems to make your typical Satoru return—his lips curl into a deep smirk and amusement dances in his bright eyes.

“Oh?” he raises an eyebrow, “You certainly went to war for this, huh?”

“Absolutely,” you playfully huff, lifting your chin proudly. “But, let’s be honest—you did an amazing job designing it. So of course, there was no way I was letting it go. It was all mine from the start.”

He hums softly, and just as quickly as it appeared, his cocky edge easily fades into something more tender. His gaze lingers on you, making your heart skip a beat.

“Yeah well… what can I say?” he tilts his head, “I know my girl’s taste.”

My girl.

You can’t help the gentle smile that breaks across your face, your heart swelling

“You do,” you whisper softly. “I love it.”

For a moment, the world fades away as you hold his gaze—a tenderness swirling in the familiar blue depths of his eyes. Then, he takes a small step closer.

“Here,” he murmurs, taking the necklace from your hand, “let me help you put it on.”

You nod as he moves behind you, and you hold your breath as his fingers delicately brush your skin—gathering your hair to one side. A soft shiver shoots down your spine from his touch, and he lingers while fastening the clasp around the nape of your neck. The cool metal of the necklace settles against you, but it’s the warmth of his hands that hold your attention.

After fastening the clasp with a quiet focus, his breath fans lightly over your ear as he leans in.

“There. It’s perfect.”

You raise your hand, lightly touching the pendant now resting against your collarbone, and turn to face him. His eyes aren’t on the necklace though—they’re entirely on you.

He takes a moment, letting his gaze travel over your face before meeting your own.

“You’re absolutely stunning,” he says softly, “I think it looks even better on you than I imagined.”

Your heart flutters wildly and his fingers tuck a stray lock of your hair gently behind your ear. Leaning in slightly, you melt as he pulls you in for a tender kiss. The warmth of his lips moves slowly, languidly against yours, and your hand comes up to rest against his chest—feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat.

Just as your lips part, your eyes flicker up to meet his. There is an intensity in his gaze that catches you off guard, making your breath hitch.

Why? Why does it feel like there is something simmering beneath the surface with him tonight?

But before you can sit on that thought any more, the speakers crackle to life, breaking the quiet intimacy and drawing your attention back to the event.

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you all for your incredible generosity tonight!” the announcers voice echoes through the garden. “I’m thrilled to announce that this year’s charity gala has raised an astounding amount—thanks to your support, we’ve reached over two million dollars to benefit our causes!”

Applause erupts from the crowd below, and you turn your head, listening, but your eyes flicker back to Satoru, whose demeanor shifts ever so slightly as he listens. His jaw tightens, and his gaze turns distant for a moment. It's like he’s suddenly lost in thought.

What is up with him tonight?

“And now,” the announcer continues, “to wrap up this wonderful evening, we invite you to stay and enjoy the grand firework show, which will begin in just five minutes. Thank you again for attending, and have a magical night!”

The speakers cut off with a soft crackle, and the garden fills with clapping and cheers. Yet, as you glance at Satoru, he remains in his own world. Just as you’re about to open your mouth, Suguru suddenly swings into view, his arm draping casually over Satoru’s shoulder—oblivious to the lingering tension.

“There you are!” he chimes in with a grin. Satoru clears his throat, and they exchange a quick knowing glance between each other and your brow furrows as a subtle tension begins to crackle between them.

“Mind if I steal Satoru for a quick minute?” he turns, grinning to you—but there’s an undercurrent of something more serious beneath his demeanor.

Okay… is there something going on? Whatever it is, it feels like you’re being left out of the loop.

“Uh, yeah… sure,” you watch them step a few paces away, murmuring quietly to one another—catching glimpses of their expressions. Satoru looks unconventionally nervous as Suguru’s lips move quickly. Unusual…whatever they’re discussing, it’s clearly important to have Satoru on edge.

You cross your arms, raising an eyebrow as you watch the two of them.

What on earth are they plotting now?

After a few moments, they return. Satoru’s still got that charged energy, but there’s a determination in his eyes. Suguru, on the other hand, is grinning like a Cheshire cat.

“What’s going on?” you ask, eyeing them suspiciously.

“Oh, y’know, charity event stuff. Nothing too serious.” Suguru shrugs.

Riiiight… he’s clearly not going to give you any more information.

You narrow your eyes at him but before you can press further, Satoru reaches for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. Suguru, catching the subtle tension, clears his throat and flashes you both a wide grin.

"Well, see you guys around," he says casually, waving flippantly. "I’m gonna grab one last drink before the fireworks start."

As he turns on his heel and walks away, Satoru’s hand gently tugs at yours, pulling you in the opposite direction—away from the crowd, away from the noise.

"C’mon," he murmurs, voice soft, almost hesitant.

You follow him, his hand gently guiding you towards a quiet stairwell that leads up to the venue’s balcony. But just as you approach the stairs, an event organizer steps into your path, clipboard in hand. She looks frazzled, her brow furrowed with stress.

"Oh! Mr. Gojo," she says, breathless, walking right up to the two of you. "Sorry to interrupt, but we’re finalizing some last-minute details regarding the auction earlier, and we really need—"

Before she can finish, Shoko appears seemingly out of nowhere, sliding up beside the woman with a smooth grin.

“Ah, don’t worry about them,” Shoko interrupts flawlessly, throwing an arm around the woman’s shoulders. “I’ve got it handled.”

The event organizer blinks, clearly taken aback, but Shoko doesn’t give her a moment to protest. Instead, she steers the woman gently back toward the crowd, already launching into some topic you can’t hear.

As they walk away, Shoko glances back at Satoru, giving him a subtle nod and mouthing “go” before disappearing into the crowd.

You raise an eyebrow, but before you can process the exchange, Satoru’s lips twitch into a smile as he tugs on your hand, already leading you up the stairs.

“What was that about?” you ask, glancing back down at Shoko’s retreating figure.

“Oh y’know… Shoko being Shoko,” he chuckles with a shrug, but there’s a nervousness to his laugh—something you’ve never heard from him before.

You narrow your eyes playfully, about to ask more, but the view from the top of the balcony cuts off your train of thought—leaving you breathless.

It’s draped in soft, glowing lights, casting a warm amber hue over the garden stretching out below. Elegant vines with autumn-colored leaves weave through the steel railings, and a gentle breeze carries with it the scent of the distant garden flowers—chrysanthemums, marigolds, and asters—a lingering warmth of late summer giving way to autumn.

The night sky sprawls out before you like an infinite canvas—stars twinkling faintly—but it's the stillness and beauty of this shared moment that makes your heart flutter. Then, the first firework shoots up into the air with a soft whistle.

It arcs gracefully against the night sky before erupting into a dazzling cascade of golden sparks, raining down like glittering stardust. You marvel how the garden below transforms into a dreamscape of warm, glowing embers. Then, another follows, this time a burst of deep red. The colors ripple and shimmer, fading into soft blues and purples, mixing like watercolors against the canvas of the night sky.

But as you stand there, entranced by the beauty of the fireworks, you slowly begin to realize that Satoru isn’t watching the sky at all.

He’s watching you.

You shift, turning your attention to him now, and suddenly, you feel strangely nervous at the way he’s looking at you. Your breath hitches as he steps closer, taking your hand into his own. He lifts it to his lips and presses a soft kiss to your knuckles.

“Why aren’t you watching the fireworks?” you murmur.

The sound of the next firework shoots into the sky, cutting the quiet between you and painting the night in a burst of blue. He lowers your hand from his lips and his thumb brushes over your knuckles in a slow, deliberate motion—as if memorizing the feel of you.

“Because they’re not what I want to see tonight.”

The weight of his words makes your heart swell, and the softness in his voice sends a shiver through you—but before you can respond, he reaches into his pocket, and your eyes widen as he pulls out a small velvet box.

Just as he drops to one knee, another firework explodes in the sky behind him, casting a colorful hue of violet and silver over his features.

“y/n…” he smiles steadily, eyes fixed only on you. “I know I mess around a lot, and I don’t always take things as seriously as I should, but this… this is the one thing I’ve never been more sure about in my life.”

Your breath catches as he opens the small velvet box—revealing a ring inside that is nothing short of breathtaking. The centerpiece is a brilliant-cut diamond—flawless, sparkling, and catching the light from the fireworks above—shimmering in a thousand dazzling directions. The diamond is set within a delicate band of platinum, but what makes it truly special is the intricate design surrounding it.

The band curves into an elegant, infinity loop—symbolizing the eternal bond you share. Small diamonds are delicately embedded along the loop, creating a river of light and wrapping around your finger like a never-ending promise. But the Gojo family’s infinity design isn’t just in the band—it’s in the very shape of the setting, which cradles the diamond in a way that feels both secure and limitless, a perfect balance between strength and grace.

It’s more than a ring—it’s a reflection of your love, infinite and unbreakable, meant to last forever.

“I love you,” he whispers. “I’ve loved you from the moment we met, and every day since has been better than the last because you’re by my side. I can’t imagine my life without you, and I don’t want to.”

Your chest tightens and tears begin to well up in your eyes, blurring your vision. As his words sink into your heart, time seems to slow.

“So…” he takes a deep breath, his smile widening, “will you marry me?”

Another firework explodes overhead, filling the sky with shimmering gold and blue, but you barely hear it.

The only thing that matters in this moment is him.

Your tears spill over as you choke out the words, nodding quickly.

“Yes… yes, of course.”

And in that moment, the joy that spreads across his face is radiant—a pure, unfiltered happiness that lights up his entire expression. His hands, normally so steady, tremble ever so slightly as he slips the ring onto your finger.

With the ring in place, Satoru stands, and before you can say a word, he pulls you into his arms—lifting you off your feet and spinning you around in celebration. The sky explodes with bright colors as your shared laughter sings alongside the symphony of lights.

Your face buries into his shoulder as you laugh through the happy tears spilling down your cheeks—overwhelmed by the sheer joy of it all as you cling to him—as if nothing else in the world matters.

“I love you,” you whisper, muffled by his shoulder.

He pulls back just enough to look at you, and his eyes shimmer with emotion. Then, his smile softens, and a thumb comes up to gently brush away a tear still clinging to your cheek.

“I love you too,” he murmurs, “for infinity.”

The words wrap around you like a promise, as real as the ring now on your finger. His lips find yours, and the rest of the world fades away. The fireworks are coming to an end, and while the final bursts fill the sky behind you, painting the horizon in brilliant shades of color—it’s the warmth of Satoru’s arms, his love, and the promise of forever, that truly lights up your world—like none other.

a/n. i feel like i went through all the emotions writing this fic lol! i was in a very smutty mood, but also in a very fluffy mood 🥰 anyways, this was super fun to create—it's not entirely halloween-esque but i guess it kind of is at the same time? 😛 i do wanna thank my amazing friend @strychnynegirl for sparking all the inspiration and helping me with this 💕 she's amazing and this fic wouldn't exist without her. thanks so much for reading ya'll ✨

tags: @fushitoru @lovebittenbyevans @genshingeeksworld @myahfig4

[awkward-sultana]

As we have studied Ibrahim’s career, we have seen the vast power that he gradually gathered into his hands, and we have noted the amazement with which European legates listened to his own accounts of his standing in the state. He was practically the ruler of the Ottoman empire, but there was one fact that he forgot; he was absolutely at the disposal of the sultan and could be disgraced or executed at the latter’s caprice—he was but the shadow of the "Shadow of God on Earth." - Ibrahim Pasha: Grand Vizir of Suleiman the Magnificent by Hester Donaldson Jenkins

[anantaru]

⚝ DAY 3 — LINGERIE

kinktober 2024. — masterlist | ao3

— including. — kazuha, scaramouche, kinich, alhaitham

— warnings. — fem! reader, fingering/scissoring, lots of teasing, alhaitham is the teasing master in this, hot and bothered genshin boys

⚝ — KAZUHA

"do i look good in this?"

good— was an understatement, and kazuha's breath stays stuck in his throat when he sees you in that dainty, little lace, his eyes widening in awe, admiring your magnificence.

the world around him seems to fade, leaving only you bathed in the soft glow of candlelight and frail garments hugging the curves of your body, "you’re… breathtaking," he whispers, his tone of choice an octave lower.

your fingers reach out to guide him, trembling slightly as his digits trace along the intricate patterns of the fabric— every touch was reverent, his fingertips brushing over the sheer bra exposing your erected nipples to him—fuck, it's as though he can’t decide which was more captivating.

"i can’t believe you’re real," he laughs and brushes away the loose hair strands sticking on his forehead, his eyes never leaving yours.

he pulls himself on top of you before placing his palm on your breast, "so beautiful…" kazuha continues, his glossy lips ghosting over your collarbone, his teeth grazing at the sensitive skin on your neck until he’s certain that there's a little hickey there as you twist and curl underneath him, voicelessly telling him to just touch you already.

and here he was now, in fact, he cannot stop touching you, each caress lingering as though to forevermore memorize the feel of you under his hands.

he slips his digits through the flimsy waistband of your underwear as your walls instantly flex and pulse around his fingers when he inserts them knuckles deep— only one, then after pressing it in and out for about three times, he add another, continuously sinking them into you as he smears harsh circles into your clit to multiply the sensation he's about to give you all night.

⚝ — SCARAMOUCHE

you’re so soft above scaramouche and it only spurs him on, especially with those graceful garments daintily squeezing your frame.

his tongue licks across his bottom lip when he pulls his fingers through the panties to scissor his digits inside your walls, playing with those searing spots he knew got you trembling, got you to beg for more. you're curling into him, squeezing yourself so close for him to add a couple kisses on your throat.

the volume of your voice increases each time scaramouche would find another compliment befitting of the new set of lingerie he's bought you— the wider his smirk gets, the more it means you're squeezing his fingers harder, "just like that, you look so good in this, picked it right for you, yeah?"

you eagerly nod as he feels your warmth clamping when he begins to scissor you, pumping his slender fingers in and out before adding the third.

well, lets be honest here, in the beginning he thought to himself on how ridiculous it must be for him to buy you something like that and he almost went back to return the costly good, yet now? wow, how fucking thankful he was to himself that he didn't.

⚝ — KINICH

"gimme a spin, yeah? like that," kinich smirks as you twirl around the newest set of lingerie, a deep red that hugged around the curves of your breasts and leaves almost no fabric left on your bottom.

and those thigh highs you added on, they made him feel like he's about to absolutely ravish you. kinich's not used to being at a loss for words, well, he keeps himself silent on purpose but with you? seeing you like this he thought he could say something other than look at you like a man who's never seen a woman before.

he was too drunk on the sight and so fucking hard already, feeling a twitch inside his boxers when you kneel down to press a harsh kiss on his bulge, looking up at him through doe eyes— and the next almost cruel throb in his shorts was to die for— this is making him lose his mind. you are.

he bites down on his tongue, his hips rolling into your palm with your lips hovering over the length. palming the front of his trousers, your face slants forward to smear your saliva across his lower abdomen so you'd be perfectly bend across him, making it fairly easy for kinich to watch your pretty ass and your folds barely being covered by anything but a fine silken line.

⚝ — ALHAITHAM

alhaitham's eyes barely flicker up from his book when you step into the room, though there’s a telltale tension in the way his grip tightens on the pages. he acts disinterested, you ponder if that book in his hands had a soul catching story for him to be this way— but you can feel the weight of his gaze when he thinks you aren’t looking.

"sit," he bluntly says, his voice commanding and motioning to his bulgy thigh, but he speaks in a way as though your appearance in such delicate lingerie wasn't affected him— although when you ultimately settle on his lap, he doesn’t miss a beat, his hand immediately reaching to the hem of your lace.

"read the next page for me, think you can do that?" he orders, though there’s a slight edge to his voice that betrays his focus, it's no longer on the book, but on your cute tits and sheer bra prancing with your lovely nipples.

you gulp down, adjusting your seat on his lap as you begin to read while he began to trace lazy patterns along the fabric, his fingertips brushing lightly over the lace, teasing and coaxing out needy shivers from your spine.

so well, his eyes stay fixed on the book, but his hand grows bolder, slipping beneath the edge of the lingerie, feeling your bare skin, "you’re really distracting, you know that?" he mutters, though his smirk says otherwise, "i was only planning to read this book but now—"

there’s a tension in the air, a game he’s playing where he pretends the book holds his attention — but in reality, all he was focused on was you.

day and night, no matter what you'd wear.

his sensitive length twitches against your thigh as your hole squeezes around nothing, your lips exhaling a stutter before he lets his hands squeeze your thighs— your jaw slack in surprise at how bold he began to be, now digging hard between your legs to press into your clit and rub it— his cloudy, bloodshot gaze focused on the pulsing, little pearl getting all the more roused the more he flicked it back and forth.

"i never said you should stop reading," he adds on, "already done for the day, hm? you tired?" a little too nonchalant for your liking.

you pout through your dreamy, lustful expression before you're letting your hand smooth through his hair, lightly pecking his forehead, "fine, but I'm sensitive there alhaitham, be careful."

© 2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[azullumi]

"once more to see you" ; aventurine

summary — to him, love was like a religion waiting to be discovered and he’ll find god in the way the sun looks on your skin; alternatively, aventurine thinks he’s rotten work and tiring to take care of but not to you, not if it's him (please get the reference).

pairing — aventurine (w/ gender-neutral reader)

tags — established relationship (but aventurine wants to de-establish it), somewhat fluff, slight angst with comfort, never proofread never what?!!, 1.3k ; ficlet

note — 2.1 broke me (the whole quest knocked at the door of my house, shook my hands, congratulated me, and invited itself into my home before pouring water on my face, slapping me, throwing me around, and left with the door open, all the while, my family watched). this is day 1 of writing for aventurine until i have him.

“you have a lot of moles.” his voice, despite a gentle whisper, tears through the silence of the night like a drop of water that ruptured and disturbed the surface of the pond. “especially here.” he gently taps on your skin; they seem like stars, he swallows the words back down. 

you feel aventurine’s finger trace on the back of your neck and the curve of your shoulders, seemingly drawing—or connecting something. it was ticklish, the way he gently drags his hand and ghosts over your skin, a soft laugh slipping past your lips (you’ll capture his touch on your skin as if you were a sinner remembering how forgiveness tasted on your lips). there was something intimate that lingers in the air between you two as you lay in his bed with him, a fleeting moment that will be inked into your mind. 

(the both of you leave your titles behind, mixed together with the scattered objects on the floor, laid on the cold ground to be picked up and worn later like a shiny medal even if you weren’t proud to have them.)

“they say it’s where your lover kissed you the most in your past life.” you stir in your position as you speak, coming to face him and meet his pretty jewel-like eyes—how alluring it was, painted with vivid colors yet it never shines. the sound of mirth laughter bubbles from his throat, a pleasant melody to your ears.

he asks, curiosity tracing the tone of his voice, “and from where did you even hear that?” and you shrug, bringing your form closer to him as you seek for more warmth, “i can’t recall. perhaps i heard it from topaz or maybe from one of the members of the ipc? they’re the only ones i often see and talk to.”

“the doctor?” he wraps his arm around your figure, his hand settling on the small of your back.

“that man will only scorn at that idea and call it stupid. he’ll most likely say that ‘only fools would believe such concepts.’” you mimic the way the esteemed doctor spoke, from the serious expression that he always don on his face to the deepening of his voice. your seemingly successful imitation earned a chuckle from the blonde-haired man before you.

“i’m sure he will.”

silence falls between you two and you took this time to adore each and every line of his being. a few strands of hair fall over his eyes—beautiful, captivating, mesmerizing, you could list out every word to describe his eyes but it would never be enough. you had always wondered why he would hide it until you witnessed the reason why he does so. 

aventurine seems to study your expression at the same also, a soft look on his face as he did, and you can’t help but be curious. “what are you thinking about?” you ask him, breaking the silence that nurtured itself in the space between you and him.

you, he wishes to answer. how you look at this moment in his embrace: you were wearing one of his shirts, albeit, not exactly to your size but you insisted, saying that you liked it as it smelled like him. how gentle, loving, adoring, you were everything; he looks and thinks of you as if you were his everything (he doesn’t deserve you). but he doesn’t say it—the thought weighs too heavily on his mind, claws at his throat, and suffocates him—, instead he utters something entirely different that creates a shift in the air between you two. 

“i don’t think i can do this.” he turns his head to look away from you, staring at the ceiling instead. it seems to extend itself far and far away from him.

the horrible part of being human is the tendency for destruction that lies in your bones. stained palms, calloused pads, despite the gentleness of your touch and the comfort of your caress. the desire to devour flesh and bones, to understand the underlying thoughts and meanings behind words and unexpressed feelings by consuming them. to submerge and drown in the depths of one's despair and desire (too close that the line blurs into one). the horrible part of being him was his tendency to destroy—hesitation and doubt lies in his being and aches at his chest, tugging on his heart’s strings, and settles on his throat—, it’s not like he doesn’t want to hold you, it’s just that he can’t.

“do what?”

“this.” you know exactly what he was referring to, know what he’s afraid of. he has laid himself bare and vulnerable in front of you countless of times that you have memorized the constellations that adorns his skin. you know him, you have known him enough to recognize the fear that tugs on his voice and see the walls that he tries to build up in front of you. you know him enough to know what thoughts are plaguing his mind.

“why do you think so?”

“don’t you think i’m too much to take care of?” he tries not to choke on his words and bite his tongue, careful not to let his voice crack lest he crumbles underneath your caress. i am undeserving of it. worthless. failure. selfish. discarded. coward. loser. nothing. you are bound to leave. 

“not for me.” you caress his cheek and guide him to look at you—instead of the ceiling that seems to appear farther than it originally was in each passing second as the walls glean over him like a shadow—, to meet your gaze and see the sincerity that lurks deep within. “never will i get tired of you. so, let me carry your burden.”

he takes a few seconds to answer, uncertainty lingering in his tone: “it’s not yours to have.”

“it may not be.” you answer with no hesitation, “but it doesn’t mean that you must shoulder them alone.”

he opens his mouth to speak but unable to find the words to say, he closes them. there was a moment of stillness shared between you two. comfort, relief, assurance seeps into the ache of his bones and you say something too heavy even for this steady and silent night to hold, the words too much to be held—light spills in like a flood as if it was pouring out from the sun itself.

“i love you.”

“you utter such words as if it’s something easy for you.” as if loving him was just as simple as waking up in the morning and adoring the way the honey-light hugs your form as the dust settles in the corner of your room. when he’s stripped of everything and left with nothing, would you still love him the same? would you still kiss him as gently as you did? would you still hold the shards of his form even if it makes your hand bleed? 

you spoke in a gentle yet firm croon, gaze unwavering, “because it is.”

you see the falter in his expression: his face, that once was crumpled, relaxed and so did his gaze soften. and you smile at him with only adoration in your eyes—like a devout follower to a divine being. “are you still afraid?”

“i don’t know.” he whispers.

“it’s alright. you have all the time in the world.” your hand weaves itself into his own, fingers lacing with one another, and you gently squeeze. it was a form of reassurance, a way of telling him that you’re here with him through all of it.

the warmth has settled in your being and you spill yourself into the cracks of his vulnerability. “i love you.” you say once more and you kiss the mark on his neck—lingering and soft as if you wish that it would take all his hurt away. the way he shudders underneath your touch, the hitch of his breath soon followed by a gentle sigh as he cradles you closer to him tells you everything that you wish to hear.

for once, he sleeps as if he had nothing to carry, nothing that shackles him to the stars that forsakes him.

© azullumi — do not plagiarize, copy, repost, nor translate any of my works.