#Set Dressing Narrative
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shirahama-sensei reminded me she has a thing for the teacher from pokemon s/v so i randomly went off on an au where qifrey is the professor. etc
#witch hat tag#orufrey#the first image is qifrey dressed as that guy. i'm glad she has an inexplicable attachment to some dorky pokemon man like i do#someone was like 'wouldn't it make more sense for deanreldea to be the champion' .... well no. not in my world .#it maps onto magic skill. champions aren't like the Rulers of the land they're just the most skilled at this thing#oru as a burnt out champion who's gently encouraging a kid like coco to reach him one day means a lot to me. i like pokemon narratives#agott went shiny hunting for the same thing coco had but cooler - just to impress her. she really is a pokemon rival type girl#pushing myself to the limit to prove my worth to you - to get to the summit first so i'm waiting for you..#and then realising it wasn't just to be strong - i realised i started wanting to see your smile. i wanted you to have fun.#i think coco would defeat agott at the end of victory road and then defeat oru & i'll probably draw one last thing abt that at least..#the image is very cinematic..the dialogue and music in my mind..I WANT TO FACE ORU!!!!!!!!!!#the super cool insanely powerful awesome champion is the spouse of my professor and he gave me advice at the beginning...no way....#btw the elite four would be the sages which is perfect (and maybe easthies as the first guy?) evil Team Brimhats#coustas as their renegade gladion-type figure. the gym leaders would be like sun/moon and s/v combined#travelling around facing the best students from different classes - so jujy and eunie etc.#i've barely thought about 'teams' or anything bc i care amore about the narrative side of things always lol#but idk. tetia with a swirlix - eunie would be ghost type boy - riche with small things but also a ceruledge or a steelix something massiv#and brushbug would have a final form which is really long like an eastern dragon- fluffy and with wings like a fairy. It's beautiful to me#well anyway *tries to move on to the rest of life now the brief obsession has passed*#obviously oru would be fire-type tho and qifrey would be water-type and they set off together and traded their starters etc.....it goes on
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oh
#invader zim#zadp#saph reads#natterings#iz posting#i dont have anything articulate to add here#but if i dont express how unexpectedly hard this hit me i will implode#the victoriana and theater is basically just icing on a decidedly chrysalis-shaped cake#*slamming fist into floor* they ARE trapped in the center of their own broken narrative cluelessly doomed to repeat their tragedy#never reaching completion or closure or learning or growing because all they can see is the set dressing#prisoner to a contrived feedback loop of their own making because ultimately they dont WANT to leave the stage#preferring the safety of stagnation within a story they understand#and also its about aliens#okay ill chill out now#i really wasnt prepared to get hit with this in the silly au issue okay
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literally nothing will stop me from calling good omens gay "but they're not human!" i do not care "but the lore!" i do not care "but neil gaiman said!" i do not care. those bitches are gay what are you gonna do? call a cop? vague post? cope
#faggots can do what they want thank you i do not follow rules set by straight men in khakis#gay in a broad sense queer as in not straight gay as in themes and narratives becoming human straying from the path sucking and fucking#the way they enjoy human culture food wine music dancing gender sexuality#also they are not real they are my barbie dolls and i am smushing their faces together and playing dress up#callung characters gay queer trans will never ever be problematic or incorrect#if them not being human prevents them from being gay why did the author call them asexual and genderfluid like what those arent human terms#??? asexual and genderfluid is being queer you can call them gay stop trying to avoid the word#good omens critical#<<< ig
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I DON'T LIKE WHERE THIS IS GOING
TRUST ME NO ONE DOES AND THATS THE POINT... PRISCILLA IS LIKE.... A TERRIBLE PERSON LOL.
SPOILERS but im assuming youve watched it by now bc i answered late.... but im glad he didnt actually do it. even though it was her that stopped him. i get that she was sort of testing his self-respect but she REALLY didnt have to do all that.
its such a genuinely uncomfortable scene. and again ik its intentional but. still. i feel like a lot of ppl use the scene as, like, foot fetish fuel. and listen i cant say for certain whether that was being pushed by intentionally or not either way, but what i CAN say is that i know thematically its meant to be more akin to a peasant kissing the feet of a monarch. shes doing this to degrade him and gauge his own sense of honor (none).
a bit of a sidenote- idk if youve noticed but all the royal selection candidates actually have specific political ideologies- this episode shows us 3 of them veeerryyy clearly in each of their scenes. priscilla is all about absolute monarchy. assuming youve already seen the other two, crusch is about militarism (in subaru's words "the kind of dictator who abandons the weak") and anastasia is a straight-up cut-throat capitalist. and while its not in this episode, felt's speech at the royal selection hearing made it clear she's an anarchist lol. and emilia.... shes a communist LOL
#though i dont feel like the series really has much at all to say abt politics lol#theyre more like set dressing for the narrative. im not saying they dont matter AT ALL#but at the end of the day its not generally concerned w political commentary thats not what the story is about#i think its just a way to set them all apart w different pros and cons to their ruling#just to make the election storyline have a bit more meat. give each faction a different characterization and all
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"cultural analysis" youtubers read something that isn't a medium/vouge/vox op-ed as research challange
#creating a new aesthetic called echo chamber core#edit. started thinking about it and actually i think my head died during the aesthetics vs subculture vid why did i watch that.#the bizzare way it ostensibly sets out to critique subcultures reduction to “fashion” or whatever while entirely reducing the concept of#subculture to fashion throughout the video. the seemingly willful misunderstanding of subculture studies origins to make a cheap crack#about 1920s cultural studies “not being interested in women” (also: not true).#the fact that its a 40 minute long video on aesthetics that never once mentions nazism but has a shout out to cottagecore being a positive#new subcultural group.#the annoyance at calling light blue nails “blueberry milk nails” as a “trendy signifier” when that type of naming is exactly like whats#on an actual nail polish bottle. just. the level of internet brain that is unble to fathom subcultures still existing outside the internet#or the idea that fashion isn't always the primary expression of subculture.#the circular fashion brained argument that “how you dress can no longer be counter cultural or revolutionary because everyone can buy a#shein dupe miu miu skirt now"#while acknowledging that working class brittish people's participation in subculture (for instance)#did not improve their financial or social situation#but at the same time not mentioning the arguably inherent fashion marketing origins of punk fashion.#the insistence on constantly citing one single person of origin for internet trends.#the reoccurring narrative of claimed “deeper capitalist critiquing“ fashion movements being ”co-opted“ and appropriated as#”less deep“ fashion marketing trends by big fashion inc. as if that kind of#posture of anticapitalist agenda and confusing pseudo intellectualism (health goth manifesto) isn't commonly occuring in fashion marketing.#like people dont walk down fashion week runways wearing tulle maxi dresses spelling “fuck capitalism”.#or žižek didn't write copy for an a&f mag#recuperation 101
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Personally I believe Emilia from Othello can survive Castle Dracula
#emilia was not trapped by the narrative she was trapped by Desdemona who was trapped by it#desdemona is beating her hands so so gently against the rice paper set dressing walls#and emilia is watching her in bemusement because they are so Clearly rice paper so Desdemona must know something she doesn't#yes i'm still on this#i just love her a lot ok
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Fucking ironically throwing on a goddamn youtube Dark Academia Ambient Classical Music video on youtube has led me to Possibly Maybe cracking the code on Vile vkdjdkfjkgkd??????
#monster noises#FaHI first of course.#they are Two Different Stories#the events are all completely dofferent#but what matters is that the Core of the narrative is the same#the relationships and internal struggles are the same#just the set dressing and events are different#saddly i don't think i'll be able to swing letting everyone turn into large nasty mutant monsters or have special powers#but we'll see how weird I can get
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continuing with kaikeyi and it is committing one of the worst sins of a historical fiction novel and i knowwwwwww its also fantasy but like. you don't have to put a modern lens on the oppression people face historically and point out every little thing and make your protagonist a perfect feminist in what is about. second century CE india. like i guess sure maybe she could have theoretically been thinking about womens rights and equity to men, especially thinking about lower class women & women who were born illegitimate, but i think her self centered nature as someone of noble birth would have made it more interesting to read especially since i'm on page 177, she's like 19 at most right now and keeps talking about how women are the most oppressed people ever and have nooooooo rights to do anything ever rather than try to find empowerment in her position or meaningfully examine the roles women play in society or how they might try to break out of those (or use them to their advantage). idk other books have done it better
#lady tan's circle of women. yunxian tan didn't have this realization til she was quite a bit older#and even then still took a push from her best friend to actually realize the class divide#and ultimately... it wasn't something she necessarily wanted to destroy in the same way it seems kaikeyi is.#she just feels too modern in her thinking to fit in the historical narrative which happens so often#you can have feminism in your historical fiction novel without it being like. the modern iteration of feminism. if that makes sense#make it fit with the times bc what people want is going to be different depending on a lot of things#like class and social standing and family circumstances. explore that!!!!! explore that instead#good grief.#i'm going to read belleweather next after i finish every bone a prayer and i'm kinda expecting similar things there#maybe not wrt feminism but modern expectation esp after i saw the original cover#girl that dress is from the 1960s not the 1760s#i might go back and look for examples later bc its. kinda bad how much it stands out#not quite like 'corsets are evil' type attitudes female heroines have in modern historical novels set in 19th century europe#but like. toeing the same line#there are aspects i enjoy and its not awful but sometimes these things really take me out of the experience#shay speaks
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❥ 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
#satoru smut#satoru fluff#satoru x reader#gojo satoru x you#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru#jujutsu kaisen#fifty shades darker#fifty shades of grey#jjk fanfic#satoru gojo#gojo x reader#satoru gojo smut#gojo satoru fluff#satoru x you#gojo fluff#gojo smut#jjk#jujustu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen fanfiction#jujutsu kaisen satoru#jujutsu satoru#jujutsu gojo#gojo saturo#satoru gojo x you#satoru gojo x reader#gojo x y/n
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Double Standard Dictionary: A Guide to Things That Are Only "Problems" When Women Do Them
Let's have an honest conversation about something that drives me absolutely crazy. You know those little comments and judgments that somehow only seem to apply to women? Yeah, we need to talk about that.
The Professional Edition
When men vs. when women do the exact same thing:
He's assertive → She's aggressive
He's focused → She's cold
He's passionate → She's emotional
He's dedicated → She's obsessed
He's confident → She's arrogant
He's strategic → She's manipulative
He's busy → She's neglecting her life
The Dating Double Standards
The classics that never seem to die:
He's dated around → She has "a past"
He's a bachelor → She's "left on the shelf"
He's selective → She's picky
He's career-focused → She's married to her job
He's a social butterfly → She's attention-seeking
He's "finding himself" → She needs to settle down
He's direct → She's desperate
The Appearance Police
The endless contradictions:
Look professional, but not too try-hard
Be attractive, but not attention-seeking
Wear makeup, but keep it "natural"
Be fit, but not too muscular
Dress well, but not too sexy
Look youthful, but not immature
Age gracefully, but never look old
The Emotion Edition
How it's perceived:
His anger is justified → Her anger is hysteria
His sadness is deep → Her sadness is dramatic
His stress is from hard work → Her stress is from "not coping"
His excitement is enthusiasm → Her excitement is over-the-top
His concerns are valid → Her concerns are paranoid
His anxiety is pressure → Her anxiety is weakness
The Family Chronicles
The never-ending judgment:
He's babysitting → She's just parenting
He's helping around the house → She's doing her job
He's focused on work → She's neglecting family
He needs time to himself → She's selfish
He's weighing his options → She's wasting time
He's figuring out what he wants → Her clock is ticking
The Office Politics
Things I'm tired of seeing:
Men get mentored → Women get hit on
Men network → Women "sleep their way up"
Men are busy → Women "can't handle it"
Men are thorough → Women are perfectionists
Men delegate → Women are lazy
Men need work-life balance → Women are uncommitted
The Social Scene
The ridiculous expectations:
Be fun but not too wild
Be social but not too friendly
Be smart but not intimidating
Be successful but not threatening
Be independent but not difficult
Be strong but still need help
Be confident but still humble
The Success Paradox
What we're dealing with:
Be ambitious but not threatening
Lead but don't be bossy
Achieve but don't outshine
Negotiate but don't be demanding
Succeed but stay likeable
Excel but remain modest
Win but make it look effortless
The Reality Check
What this actually means for us:
Constant second-guessing
Walking on eggshells
Energy drain from overthinking
Imposter syndrome
Reduced authenticity
Limited self-expression
Unnecessary stress
The Way Forward
What we can do about it:
Call it out
Name the double standard
Question the logic
Point out the inconsistency
Support other women
2. Break the patterns
Reject unfair labels
Define success personally
Set our own standards
Celebrate authenticity
3. Change the narrative
Share success stories
Highlight achievements
Create new networks
Mentor others
To Every Woman Dealing With This
Remember:
You're not "too much"
Your achievements are earned
Your feelings are valid
Your ambitions are worthy
Your standards are important
Your voice matters
Your path is yours
#double standards#feminism#women supporting women#gender equality#women in business#women empowerment#professionalism#career woman#working women#gender bias#breaking barriers#womens rights#equality#girl power#career#empowerment#feminist rant#speak up
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respectfully to everyone but the trifecta of perfect Cinderella movies are Ever After, Brandy's Cinderella, and Cinderella 2015
and I say respectfully because I know movies like Cinderella 1950 and A Cinderella Story ARE good do get me wrong but have you considered the three movies above are just. Perfect. Fantastic. Understood the assignment so well, the teacher gave them an A for the entire semester? Have you considered--
#again I'm not saying other Cinderella movies are bad or lacking#I'm saying THESE THREE HAD EVERYTHING#The dress the understanding of Cinderella narrative as an abuse story the character development the PRINCE the Step Mother#the setting the colors the dress the world building the fact that Cinderella is JUST SO BRAVE SO KIND did I mention The FuCKING DRESS#like sure also the shoe but the shoe is the shoe BUT THE DRESS#we should count ourselves lucky we did not get one perfect cinderella retellings we got THREE#EVERYONE ELSE COULD GO HOME BUT IT"S LIKE THE CONCEPT OF HO BOY TWO CAKES
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category : 米哈游 原神 work title : another woman claims to be his girlfriend?
with a subtle bow of your head, you raise the teacup to your awaiting lips, a veil of porcelain disguising the laughter that threatened to escape. how absurd… you muse, as you savor a sip of your tea.
far across — two tables away, there sits one of the new acts of lyney and lynette’s show. she was interesting, to say the least. she sings tall tales with intricate detail, weaving major falsehoods about the nature of her relationship with him.
her words describe his love confession, demanding they be together because he couldn’t bear a day without her. she didn’t fail to mention how his sister adores her and refers to her as ‘my future sister-in-law.’
the outlandish narrative lasts with an overt nudge about his frequent visits to her dressing room after every show, which you tune out due to its unsavory implications.
most women would have risen from their seats, confronting her for spewing fantasies about their lover; not you, though. instead, you stay rooted in your place, your curiosity piqued for what else she might spin.
you were engrossed, and if you were to be fully honest, you would’ve readily admit to the guilty pleasure of eavesdropping on the mundane conversations of strangers. your penchant for gossip was shared with your lover, turning it into an unusual pastime. it was a fun exchange of information over cups of coffee or tea, normally ending with one of you left scandalized by what was said. archons, were you excited to tell him about what you overhead…
“do you swear not to say a word about this to another living soul?” her voice hushed to a near whisper, but it still carries to those within earshot.
“of course! right, ladies?” one of the women quips, with the other two chiming in agreement, creating a chorus of “yes!” and “we’ll keep quiet!”
“if you say so…” she takes a deep breath, as if the weight of her revelation was a heavy burden about to be lifted. “lyney and i are dating…” her shoulders then turn slack, exhibiting the instant wave of relief that washes over her.
you couldn’t help it; a snort of amusement passes your lips. it earned you a few disapproving glances from the nearby patrons, chastising your lack of propriety in a public setting.
she embarks on an exhausting tangent, yakking on the long months she had to weather before she could have confided in her dear friends about her supposed private affair.
she emphasized how lyney insisted on maintaining it under wraps for over a year — eh, wrong! the twins met her for the first time five months ago — out of his desire to protect her from the clutches of obsessed fans and admirers.
the longer she spoke, the closer her stories cross into more ridiculous territory. at one point, she spun a yarn about his grandiose profession of love for their anniversary, including dedicating an entire routine inspired by her.
however, what left you scratching your head was the lack of skepticism from her friends. a quick read of her body language would’ve shone a light at her deception. it had you questioning whether you had somehow gone mad or if they were genuinely as dim-witted as they seemed.
“i knew it! no wonder you’ve been smiling a lot lately!”
“ah, i’m so jealous~! sigh, he’s such a handsome man.”
“so romantic… i wish that was me!”
assessing the present circumstances, one might figure you would now reveal all of her lies. you didn’t. rather, you found yourself more inclined to watch and observe how this fiasco will play out.
you trust lyney, enough to know he loves you and wouldn’t pursue another woman behind your back, especially a woman he and his sister worked with. it allowed you to cast aside your initial worries about her and her interest in him. regardless of your opinion, she did her job well, even though you secretly wished she wasn’t so uncomfortably obsessed with him — a notion she made no effort to hide.
clearly, given what you were witnessing.
“oh, look, ladies! here he comes!” one of their voices pierces the air, overtly eager to see the ‘happy couple’ they were led to believe. conversely, lyney’s self-proclaimed lover appears to be positively distraught.
the man in question enters cafe lucerne, his gaze firmly laid on you. he shows little to no mind towards the group of women who shadow his every move. he walks by and greets you with a kiss on the cheek, taking the vacant chair in front of you.
“and how was your day, ma belle?” he removes his hat then runs his fingers through his hair — a simple gesture that left you swooning.
his charming demeanor momentarily distracts you from the comedic disaster unfolding in the background.
it was a tumultuous stir of “huh… who’s that?” and “gasp, is he cheating on you?” while the two of you converse in mindless chatter. one second, he was recounting his chores for the day; and the next, three indignant women loom over him whereas the source of this mayhem cowers in the back.
“ugh, the audacity to have a mistress and meet her in broad daylight! you have no shame!”
he glances from you to them, genuine bewilderment etched upon his face. “i beg your pardon?”
“oh, don’t play dumb! you know exactly what you’re doing!” another of the women upturns her nose at him.
witnessing the heated back-and-forth, it was remarkable to find that even arouet was invested in the drama.
it transforms into a three-versus-one impasse, but you were impressed by how gracefully he navigated through their baseless accusations. the culmination of the situation came when recognized his ‘lover’ and didn’t hesitate to call her by name, pressing answers for the lies she’d been spreading to her friends.
“i think you’ve all been misled, the only woman i’m seeing is this lovely one right here.” he turns then directs the gentlest of smiles at you.
unable to resist the itch, you finally laugh at the sudden turn of events. karma was indeed on the prowl, and to be a bystander for the incoming argument after she made a fool out of her friends, just to feed her delusion, was gratifying… for one of you, at least.
“care to tell me what just happened?” lyney tuts, his fingers extending across the table to grasp your hand in his, urging to draw your focus on him.
“later,” you mutter, absorbed by the evolving spectacle. it’s obvious you both will spend the whole evening discussing this…
from the very start, you weren’t one to rejoice in having any eyes on you. it was natural your bond with the one and only wanderer flourished discreetly.
this change in your life required no announcement. it wasn’t information that demanded broadcasting to the world; it could exist on its own if someone were to ask, you’d directly confirm the status of your relationship. otherwise, you find it irrelevant to insert this in areas where it held no relevance.
in the comfort of your solitude, you thrive, cocooned from nosy onlookers. your happiness, his happiness — these two were what truly mattered to you.
as time flowed by, your connection deepened, evolving into a union that grew stronger with each passing moment you shared. it was a sensation both of you held dear, a genuine and keen emotion that, if you dare to admit, could be called ‘love.’
of course, you weren’t ignorant to assume that your journey would be obstacle-free. beyond his undeniable intellect and esteemed role as the assistant and confidant of the dendro archon, he also began to draw attention for his otherworldly beauty.
you were aware that you might coming across his admirers one day. after all, you weren’t oblivious to the wistful glances sent his way by other women, nor the coy attempts at flirtation. still, you hadn’t taken into account the unusual lengths some individuals would go to win even a sliver of his time and attention.
it was painful to watch their efforts be met with a scoff or a withering frown. on a good day, they might receive nothing more than a mocking, “what do you want now?” from him.
on a sun-drenched afternoon, you find yourself perched on the steps leading to the sanctuary of surasthana whilst you await his return from his meeting with lesser lord kusanali.
yet, the tranquility of the sacred place was soon interrupted by an unexpected revelation — you weren’t alone. a trio of researchers positioned themselves near the entrance, their presence blends into the revered location, evoking no more notice than the everyday sights that surround you.
the sunlight dances upon your skin as you, absentmindedly, fiddle with your bracelet, a habit that had taken root over the years. the food container you had brought stays on your lap, and you can feel its warmth gradually dissipate. a frown on your face as you whisper a plea that he arrives before the snacks you prepared grew cold.
your gaze strays and locks onto one of the women standing nearby. suspicion dripped from her eyes, it lingers far longer than you liked. at first, you considered it a peculiar coincidence — perhaps she mistook you for someone else she knew?
unable to contain her curiosity, she approaches you with an air of authority, disregarding her friends’ endeavors to stop her from creating a scene.
“state your business,” she dictates, her tone icy.
you stand unwavering, refusing to yield an inch in the face of her bid to intimidate you. “if you must know, i’m here for wanderer.”
your words invoke a profound reaction within her, it coursed through her like an attack. “well, save your breath and don’t waste your time bothering him.”
“why not? who even are you to tell me what i should do and shouldn’t do?” your cadence steady and colder than hers, a testament to the time you spent with your dear wanderer — it seems to be paying off.
you expected her to either insult you or begin a monologue about her superiority as a researcher, but her reply took you by surprise.
“i’m his lover, duh! i don’t appreciate you flirting with him.” then, in a single motion, she confiscates the container from your grasp.
glances were exchanged amongst her peers, who advance to mediate the interaction. one of them pulls her away and positions himself between you. “i’m sorry for her behavior, miss. her sleep deprivation has her spouting nonsense.”
“i am not! there are clear signs he feels the same way. we’re dating; he’s just very reserved about his emotions.”
before it can escalate further, a familiar voice slices through the tension like a blade. “where have you been?” he chides, as he descends the steps.
beneath his hat, you spy the glaring discontent he directs at these strangers for taking your time away from him.
when your eyes locks, his gaze softens. the sour expression dissolves and was replaced by a flicker of warmth. you offer a reassuring smile in his direction, a gesture that noticeably eases his mind.
he was a stride away from you when she, flaunting a smirk, stops in front of him. you lay a hand over your lips to quash your laughter after spotting the look of disgust he tosses at her.
“wanderer, honey!” she tries to touch his arm but fails when he sidesteps her. “don’t worry, i already handled this pest to lessen the burden for y—”
“who are you?” he sneers, and the haughty look on her face instantly disappears. she attempts to stutter a response, an effort to remind her title as his lover, but his menacing gaze he wore silences her.
“moreso, who are you to advise my wife what to do?”
eh? his wife?
“your wife?!” her friends turn pale, realization dawning upon them. they shiver at the thought of unintentionally crossing him, all thanks to her behavior.
“i-i just thought…”
“well, you thought wrong; know your place.” in a last display of irritation, he shoots them a cutting glare. then, he seizes the food container from her grip, his fingers then intertwine with yours as he guides you away from them.
as you walk away hand-in-hand, you cast a quick glance at her and stick your tongue out to mock her.
“i saw that,” he snickers and tugs you along, nearly causing you to stumble, “and you say i’m mean.”
“don’t get all smart, you called me your wife earlier.”
“shut up! it was meant to end the conversation early.”
#kunikuzushi x reader#scaramouche x reader#wanderer x reader#lyney x reader#genshin impact x reader#genshin x reader
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Dropping into the Mel convo to add that I don't see how the stans that erase/ignore the Things She Actually Does And Says and claim she was just helping Jayce out of the goodness of her heart can claim that anyone pointing out that she's a billionaire imperialist who manipulated him for her own gain is racist when THEY'RE the ones claiming she spent all of season 1 helping a nonblack man for. idk. reasons. Why is it "better" for her to be a Black woman who supported a man and asked for nothing in return...?
That reading of her makes everything with her mother make no sense. Is she like, just mad her mom is interfering with her ability to Support and Love Jayce? Lmao.
The reading that the text and the inherent set up of the politics of Piltover/Zaun supports is a complex woman with her own personal motivations, wanting to live up to the image of the family she believes shunned her on her own (nonviolent) terms, using the craft of social engineering (manipulation, etc) within the political and economic sphere rather than through weaponry and warfare. She starts to shift due to growing some actual attachment to Jayce, but it's not a perfect switch flip, and then her mother arriving forces Mel to contend with what she had actually been doing by "preparing" the city for her family.
That's infinitely more interesting than "oh she just helped this guy out of the kindness of her pure heart and because he's hot" and also has canonical basis that can be pointed to In The Text. That's a complicated, multifaceted character. The fanon Mel who just helped Jayce because she's a good person is a flat, tired trope.
And personally, I find people who "love" characters but have completely inaccurate readings of them to be far more annoying than people who "hate" characters but understand them perfectly. Love/hate is just a matter of taste. If someone can spend time honestly analyzing a character, that's more important than ten thousand blandly positive comments or tweeted out fanfictions dressed up as appreciation.
Paragraph #2 on this actually blindsided me like I could kiss you on the cheek (consensually) rn I've never been able to properly articulate WHY the take rankled me so much even when I tried to see it from a completely best-possible-intentions perspective. And this gets it. It's like you're not even flattening her into a girlboss caricature, it's worse, you're actually making her a 2D saccharine pastry servant with no will of her own except furthering some man's narrative as his mommy and denying the one massive, defining character conflict Mel has in the entire show: she is her mother's daughter! She IS a wolf in sheepskin!
When you have all this power, all this privilege and resources at your disposal from day 1, and you choose to look the other way - what happens then? Is this really being kinder than her mother? Is this being merciful, or just prolonging a sort of system-wide torture? It's absolutely relevant to how we see kid-Mel in that flashback from s1 too. Her idea of mercy and salvation from her mother's more violent ends is to enslave someone. She puts it in gentle terms and dresses it up fancily as a beneficial thing to both parties, but that is what she is proposing, in the context of the Noxus' hostile invasion of Ionia; they'd chain that princess and mold her in training until she became an useful asset in their service. Is that kindness? Is that good? I don't think Mel is able to answer to this even in her big age during season 1.
She certainly thinks it could be, when compared to death, but it's also a lie she tells herself while she ignores the rest of the world and the place she holds within it. Mel hates getting her hands dirty, because she's never /had/ to do that to enjoy the brilliant spoils of success; her mother loves her enough to make sure she could avoid the bloodshed. She carries the strategist's fallacy of thinking whole wars and countries can be managed from the privileged seats up top, out of touch with the blood and gristle. From up there, when people die you don't see it. You can mark the numbers off as necessary collateral damage in the path to Exponential Growth.
The core assumption that has always bothered me is defining this as 'kindness' without actually examining what it says about her character and the story. She was created that way for a reason. She was clothed in this way for a reason. The first fact we learn about Mel in the first episode she appears in is that she is the richest person in the entire city, and then there is a 10 year timeskip, and she hasn't truly done anything to address or prop up the undercity at all (they are ONE city too, under her own philosophy; Zaun is only a separate entity in the mouths of the zaunites who want freedom.) In that context, when her goal of statecraft clearly is to continue advancing Piltover as much as it can be advanced and do nothing about the screaming bleeding diseased dying hordes below the bowels of her capital - is that goodness? Is that really better than mother? I think Mel's arc is about finding out really quickly and really horrifically that it isn't, and that she played a big part in making a lot of things worse.
It's not that she failed at her job, it's quite the opposite. She succeeded in her mission so incredibly well her mother could swoop into power in a single day and then put another hundred necks to the blade, no sweat, and Mel has to reckon with what that says about her, and what she thought of herself. The power she has obviously always had and never sought to use as it Should have been used.
The idealistic future-path here is that now in full control of her Mother's armies, she's returning to Noxus to challenge the predatory system it perpetuates on a world scale, but only god knows what we'll see come January. And all of this is infinitely more interesting to me than docile fandomized ship accessory n.9999
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While I completely agree with everything Bloo said, I am... I also feel like there is a competing possibility for the placement of Ganondorf's glyph, and while it absolutely does not erase the implications or the fact that it does punch down this story of repetence and villification and "dark origin story", as the devteam would consider it (I think it might have been part of the argument within the team), I also think there's a more... down-to-earth, designer-brain case at play here. I might be totally offbase, but for having interacted with a LOT of designers who think practically about things and are both uninterested and very perplexed by the necessity of storytelling and its priorities, I think the placement choice may have gone something like this:
"Hey, wouldn't it be normal to put a Ganondorf memory near Gerudo Town, since he's gerudo? It would just make sense that players would go look for memories related to Ganondorf near Gerudo Town, right? And then it's important to have the glyph be visible from all nearby landmarks to encourage the player to go from interest point to interest point."
I think it was literally all the designers considered in their choice of placement honesty. Why wouldn't they. They apparently didn't hire narrative designers/game writers/quest designers/anyone with narrative sensitivity to keep the design team from going with their first obvious game designer instinct over and over and over, never once stopping to think about the ingame or "watsonian" implications of any of it --instead their choices are almost systematically guided by progression, affordance, impact, and "wouldn't it be cool if". I think this particular instance is a great example of that "designer brain" tendency --but the whole game is like that, which is why I'm so grumpy that they thought narrative skill was but an optional flavoring they could skip with no consequences. I don't think anyone in this team considered the way the glyphs would or even *could* impact the NPCs in the world beyond vaguely Impa and the NPCs that serve as pointers going "activity over there!!" as their core function.
It's exactly as Bloo said: these barely qualify as Zelda's memories. The entire framing is poorly thought out, and I think game mechanics is truly the only thing driving most of the decisions taken in this game.
do you ever warp into Gerudo Town, look straight ahead, and draw some unpleasant conclusions about the connection between that geoglyph and the Gerudo tendency to bear guilt for Ganondorf’s actions even thousands of years into the future? Like, assuming that for some time the geoglyphs were visible before disappearing until the Upheaval, that sure is a “look at this guy you made who sucked so bad and will one day be a threat once more” reminder staring the Gerudo dead in the face. and that seems a bit much
#totk#totk critical#ganondorf#gerudos#I think both what bloo said and what I say coexist and do a little dance together named: zero narrative self-introspection#or examination of intent#this is literally a fight to the death on almost every project I've been involved in#once I had a team of designers who had designed a game that was textually and in its mechanics about colonialism#and when I pointed that out they went: yeah sure there might be some of that#but we don't feel equipped to address that so we just won't :) and then it magically won't be about that anymore#as if you could wish intent out of existence and then it's like it never existed even though the mechanics are still the same!!!#a LOT of designers are like that!#not all of them of course --and I love designers they are absolutely core to have a fun game of course which is why we're all here#but godddddd some of them are incredibly obtuse (even while working for a narrative game!)#and their perspective is always the one that wins also#writing/storytelling needs to adapt and will adapt you're considered expandable in every production basically#(they are even paid more as a baseline than narrative folks --at least in the west)#this game is just. designers doing whatever and not realizing this might lead to a shallow world#it's pure distilled “narrative as set dressing” philosophy which is both incredibly outdated and also a poor example of doing that#which is why it's particularly frustrating to me!!! zelda has done much more effort in the past!!#sorry I only focused on the more surface-level aspect but I feel like people severely understimate Game Designer Brain Syndrome :(#(again --with all the affection in the world but aaaaa!!! let narrative help you make your game more engaging!!! we all win in the end!!!)#(I once worked in a pretty successful studio known for narrative work)#(and some of the designers were like “yeah we skip all narrative content we don't care” just. in the open.)#(narrative is more valued than it used to be but still pretty much considered unnecessary fluff in huge chunks of the industry)#(they don't even realize how disrespectful it is --or how they're shooting themselves in the foot too)#(ANYWAY)#(sorry for the rant hahaha)#(not sure that was particularly helpful but eyy)
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PERCEVAL THE UNHAPPY, THE MISERABLE, THE UNFORTUNATE, THE FISHER KING!
Perceval, de Troyes (trans. Burton Raffel)
ALRIGHT alright. so previously I did an illustration that explained the premise of all this, that it's inspired by the narrative choices that Bresson made in his film Lancelot du Lac etc
to dive in more into it (because this is something like derivative fiction. I'm putting concepts into a blender and seeing what comes out of it): the setting is haunted by the previously existing narratives that started cannibalizing each other until it regurgitates itself into the more well known narrative beats, and something else about the invasive rot of christianity and empire mythmaking into settings. it's an intertextual haunting, if you will! and this scene takes place during the grail quest narrative, but the temptation of Perceval plays out differently.
in both Chretien (and Wolfram's) Perceval narratives, what 'wakes' Perceval up (in more ways than one. desire and self actualization in one go!) is seeing knights, something his mother tried hard to keep him from. so instead of the temptation of lust & etc in the Morte narrative taking the form of a lady, it takes the form of a knight. the temptation to renounce one's faith to serve something else remains.
so Perceval still stabs himself, but instead of continuing on the grail quest in the shadow of Galahad, he becomes the narrative's Fisher King because his earlier state of being as a the grail quest hero is creeping back into his marrow. it was waiting for an opening, and stabbing yourself in the thigh is one hell of a parallel!!!
that wound isn't going to heal buddy, and the state of the setting will now be reflected on your body. sure hope that Arthur hasn't like. corrupted the justice of the land or anything. that sure would suck for your overall health.
all the red in this sequence is because in de Troyes' Perceval, Perceval takes the armor of the Red Knight and becomes known as the Knight in Red.
and now for the citations, which I will try to order in a way that makes sense!
Seeing Knights For The First Time
Perceval, de Troyes (trans. Burton Raffel)
The Temptation of Perceval
Le Morte Darthur, Mallory (modernized by Baines)
The Fisher King, and Perceval The Unfortunate
Perceval, de Troyes (trans. Burton Raffel)
On Perceval and Gender, etc.
Clothes Make The Man: Parzival Dressed and Undressed, Michael D. Amey
On Wounds
Wounded Masculinity: Injury and Gender in Sir Thomas Malory's Le Morte Darthur, Kenneth Hodges
The Red Knight
Perceval, de Troyes (trans. Burton Raffel)
On Arthur and the Corruption of Justice
The Failure of Justice, the Failure of Arthur, L.K. Bedwell
#long post#GOD IS IT A LONG POST#i am so so sorry for that.#knights knights knights!#komiks tag#blood cw#if it wasn't clear: i dislike galahad so much. he represents so much i cant stand and worst of all he ROBBED MY MAN#OF HIS NARRATIVE#but like. what's christianity but theft acting uwu innocent about all the shit they did tbqh#fucking. la croix jesus christ over here.#sir perceval
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THINGS I AM UNREASONABLY ANNOYED ABOUT BY GAME SYSTEM
D&D: Please put a disclaimer that you are not a universal system. Every time I see someone try to do a political mystery game in D&D, I take 3d10 psychic damage and have to make a death saving throw.
Pathfinder: Look. If i wanted to play a game about fighting Cthulhu there is an extremely famous game specifically designed around doing that. Literally no-one is ever going to say "Wow, I want to play a Cthulhu themed game! Time to stat up a musical halfling from a magical fantasy land!".
Chronicles Of Darkness: Just admit no-one uses any of your rules. You have Social Door Rules and Integrity Conditions and Corruption Levels and I bet at most 50% of COD players could tell me which of those I made up. Just admit people aren't dressing up as Alucard The Bringer Of Shadows because they want to sit down and do calculus.
World Of Darkness: You know that old guy who's still doing his job even though he is way too old to do it any more, but he's now an institution so you can't get rid of him? Like that. The 90s called and they want literally everything about this back.
Call Of Cthulhu: I appreciate the commitment to authenticity, but maybe stop hiring actual disgraced mental asylum directors from the 1920s to design your sanity system?
GURPS: Look. Look. Listen. We both know that you just want to write history textbooks. These are history textbooks with a few stat blocks begrudgingly put in. If you just give me a book on early Chinese history I will read it and go "ah, very interesting!". You don't need to put in a list of character choices. We're all nerds. We'll read them. Live your best life.
Powered By The Apocalypse: I actually can't think of anything wrong with PBTA. That's not a bit, this is literally the perfect system. Take notes everyone else.
Mutants and Masterminds/Heroes System: Your systems have probably the most customizable character creation in the world and you both just make reskins of the Justice League over and over again. Maybe we only need one "thinly veiled copyrighted characters" setting? You can fight over it once you decipher your combat mechanics.
FATE: Ok I won't lie, I have no idea how the fuck FATE works. I have read the rules repeatedly and played three games and I still have no idea what invoking an aspect means. I don't know why. I grasped the rules of fucking Nobilis but this one just psychologically eludes me. This is more a problem with me I guess, but I'm still annoyed.
Warhammer 40k: Have you considered spending less on avocado toast? Then you might be able to afford to charge less for things?
Exalted: Apart from the lore, the setting, the mechanics, the metaplot, the character creation and the dodgy narrative implications, I can't think of anything to improve here.
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