#before the chaos unfolds
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
Why my parents get so pissed when I say I wanna do nothing but rest in bed on my day off is a mystery 💀
#all they do is lay in bed while I work#why am I suddenly the target of their frustration when I just wanna recharge my batteries like???#I’m about to enter hell week soon#both because summer is starting#and because locals will be able to get into the park for 5$#which means A LOT of idiots#we HAVE to be out and be vigilant because there’s literally people#who’s only goal coming on park is to steal our bathroom supplies or steal from stores#we have people who destroy property and vandalize the walls and chairs and tables and ect#I’d just like to have my peace for one day#ONE DAY#before the chaos unfolds#I’ll be going from working 12:30-8:30 to 12:30-10:30 super fucking soon please let me get some rest in for fucks sake man….#talkies#vent
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
quick aggie doodle — nov 16 pogbur but he stood maybe a little bit too close to a TNT, and there was no c!Phil to save him from the blast. died as he lived: never whole and alone
also because the breaking bad gus fring death scene won't leave my head, like holy shit look that's peak rule of cool (cw gore)
#CW GORE#c!wilbur#pogbur#dsmp fanart#dsmp#i could suspend my disbelief better than the Now You See Me 2 card smuggling scene#because it's so cool#was thinking of doing smth with qsmp and NYSM2's card smuggling scene but woauwaowu man blow up#hymndraws#oh if he died alone that meant he told 'the traitor is techno' to no one. no one heard him. he died watching the chaos unfold.#he died watching it all crumble before his eyes.#juicy
373 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hi, Nym! How are you? Can I please request a ler!Dazai lee! Fyodor coffee shot? Imagine! The two are in bed (either cuddling or just doing their own thing) and -tall-bitch-Dazai kind of just sits on Fyodor's hips and Fyodor is absolutely unfazed- going as far as to taunt him... until Dazai starts 'air-tickling him'. So Dazai is just wiggling his fingers above his boyfriend's giggle spots and Fyodor is trying his best to avoid his fingers, meanwhile Dazai is teasing him with, 'I'm not even touching you!' Please tell me if you get sick of this ship/lee and ler pairing LMAO- I don't want you to get sick of it.
“Oh?” Fyodor mumbled with a sleepy smile as Dazai pushed the covers aside to loosely straddle his hips, grinning down at him. “You want to go another round already? I thought I’d tired you out.”
Dazai ran his hands up and down his partner’s arms. “You did. I’m too tired to go again right now, bunny. Don’t worry.”
“Hmm. Then what are you doing?”
Dazai tilted his head as though the answer should be obvious, lightly trailing his hands down Fyodor’s chest. “Just thinking of how I can get you back.”
“Aha.” Fyodor smirked up at him. “And what have you concluded, moy blestyashchiy?”
The detective hummed again, dramatically shifting into a “thinking very hard” pose. Then his eyes lit up like fireworks and he snapped his fingers. “I know!”
He wasn’t even touching Fyodor – he was hovering almost six inches above him, in fact – but the sight of Dazai’s wiggling pointer fingers over his bare torso made the Russian full-body shiver, and he instinctively brought his arms in to protect himself, despite not actually needing to…yet.
“Moya lyubov’,” Fyodor muttered, his voice wavering ever so slightly, “don’t do it.”
“Don’t do what?”
The Russian wasn’t stupid enough to fall for that trick. He attempted a glare, but it was halfhearted at best with the way the brunette was beaming down at him.
“Worth a shot,” Dazai chuckled, switching from wiggling just two fingers to wiggling all of them, darting down as though he were about to attack before pulling back at the last second. It was worth it to hear Fyodor’s sharp intake of breath, to watch him twist uselessly to the side as if he could go anywhere like this.
“Dazai, don’t.”
“Don’t what, bunny?”
Fyodor hated the way the too-smart-for-his-own-good detective was looking at him. Like he was just waiting for an invitation, an excuse to go for it – like hearing him sputter out helpless giggles would give him all the fuel he needed to get through his next day.
“Don’t…tease me,” Fyodor relented, refusing to make eye contact. “Just do it already, pridurok.”
“I don’t know what you called me, but I’m sure it was a loving pet name, right, bunny?” Dazai giggled, then finally brought his wiggling fingers down to Fyodor’s sides, watching him arch and snicker with immense satisfaction.
“Ya tehehehehebya nenahahahahavizhu!”
“Love you too, Fyo~”
#fanfiction#tickle drabble#bungo stray dogs#bsd#dazai osamu#fyodor dostoevsky#fyozai#tickling#ticklish#tickle#wrote this before the chaos unfolded yesterday so why not share it now dafhiadfhdl#also i think i might not write fyodor for a while#since opening reqs for him that's almost all i've been getting and i'm kind of burnt out ^^'#obligatory “I don't speak russian so anything mistranslated is my bad”#also if this is the same fyozai anon who sent me an ask overnight I appreciate your skk hcs very very much; thank you <3
33 notes
·
View notes
Text
❝I see everyone is trying to stab each other with knives tonight. I’m curious… how many of you would dare try such a thing on me?❞
#growling through cursed teeth (ic);#watching the chaos unfold (dash commentary);#letting the beast roam free (crack);#mobile post;#[ I have been having a lazy day tbh ]#[ Got back from the gym and I’ve just watched YouTube on my couch ]#[ Maybe I’ll do a bit of writing before DnD starts tonight ]
13 notes
·
View notes
Text
pov: (begrudgingly) letting your partner do your hair because they're better at it than you
#tnp fanart#the northern passage#tnp hunter#lea chen#I like to imagine that this takes place sometime before keld#a little bit of respite before the chaos that later unfolds#oc: mercy belmont
33 notes
·
View notes
Text
I’m just gonna put this here
#just gonna watch chaos unfold#some people will immediately understand#some will get defensive#cs lewis#Tolkien#jrr tolkien#narnia#like they literally had black face in the last battle#and called them the COLOUR MEN#but they also discussed colonialism in prince caspian??#but also a bunch of little white children from another world were just handed the crowns over Narnia before that???#lotr#like yeah the southerners aren’t the only ones with dark skin#the hobbits also have dark skin on average#HOWEVER#the fact that the hobbits with more power have more falohide running through them#aka more pale/white#a little odd#however however#ik that Tolkien hated how racists tried to use his works to be racist#once again solidifying my point that he thought he unpacked it all but didn’t#side note: the fact that the inn keeper in lotr basically said#the only reason why I knew it was you guys was because pippin is pale as shit. otherwise you all look the same to me#had me fucking dying of laughter when I read it
5 notes
·
View notes
Text
An impertinence.
Your insincerity and avarice made me hate you. /Ref
Pretty happy w the lighting since it's been a while since I did this type
This took like around 15 hours? I just know mid drawing emo music wasn't cutting it so I ended up putting on a true crime podcast to get through this one, new developments fr, I also found out I can fall asleep to this man's theme so that's smth /lh
Flower meanings + Inspiration (/lh)
Geraniums - Stupidity
Foxglove - Insincerity
Meadowsweet - Uselessness
Yellow Carnations - You have
disappointed me
Orange Lilies - Hatred
Butterfly Weed - Get out of my Face
Peonies - Passive Aggressive sign of Anger
Rhododendron - I am out for you
Petunia - Anger and Resentment
Black Dahlia - Shame (Betrayal and Sadness)
Narcissus - Selfishness
Lavender - Distrust
Hydrangea - Heartlessness
Black roses - You're dead to me
Yeah so I had this post saved a while back so might as well /lh
Bonus:
#1beatheart#1bh#miwashiba#Shinobu Kasuga#floriography#kasuga shinobu#language of flowers#cyril art#personal hc that he sits on rooftops before fully leaving an area to watch the chaos and panic unfold
6 notes
·
View notes
Photo
don’t forget the reason for the season (would you kiss your clone? yes. and you’re mr. maccabee)
#he's the sexiest person in the room after all#GOD lmfao i'm so head in hands that there's no footage of Will Roland Mr. Maccabee. but there Are all these pictures so thank god for that#or also steph b/c she took a lot (or all re: this source) of them lol. godspeed#the reason for the season is also idk whatever wroles there've been in these things. many#obviously cyril von miserthorpe; the last christmas extravaganza antagonist. Merely Assumed ragamuffin role uhh i think it was something v#much like melvin cooterstein lol. uncle peenie. mr. chestnut. that folger's opening guy they keep saying they'll have to Tell The Story Of#and i don't know that anyone actually has yet lmfao. is that a sequence / bit not found in later iterations such as that there's a tale....#or was there something especially zany abt that particular one lol. i hardly know All The Lore abt All Sequences and things change / evolve#for example. are there always two mister maccabees and then they kiss???#god. imagine having to cope with that and you're that guy whose heterosexuality was so threatened by mr. maccabee's sexy number that he like#suddenly became extremely preoccupied with looking at Anything Else right up until the next step in the proceedings lol#and isn't there always? usually? a number with mary's sexy men backup dancers. f for that guy again#i would be looking directly at it and getting rowdy if the above image was unfolding before me#joe iconis christmas extravaganza#will roland#shoutout to his talking about mr. maccabee in that recent interview as well; connected to jimmy armstrong. a surprising reference lol#also shoutout to will roland's mother attending these events and in twenty nineteen (the year of cyril von miserthorpe) that was indirectly#the only way we knew will as winston would be in billions season 5 at all. your boy is coy#a delightful little moment when she cameos in the uncle peenie (will roland) and aunt loretta (danielle gimbal) performance lol =)#also naturally some further chaos in that i think often ppl would not necessarily play the same roles every night of an xmas xtrav streak...#just to add to the mystery and presumed wealth of [this person as whomever]s out there. argggh the magic of will roland mr maccabee....#don't cry b/c there's no audio motion visuals....smile b/c it happened and pictures were taken and posted findably....#also learned while offline like what tf. i would've thought i'd've saved the mr. chestnut video already lol. it escaped me...f for Me
21 notes
·
View notes
Text
this sure is a skam season huh
#wtfock#so much is happening lmaooo#anaïs: no wtf of course im not smoking! also anaïs 2 minutes later -#honestly i feel bad for hanne she's just looking out for her friend#these last 3 clips were weird as fuck tho#why did anaïs not want to take the bus? am i just stupid and didnt catch it?#and like. sure i don't particularly love the stuff bobbie is doing but before all this she was just doing shit on her own#now she's actively bringing anaïs in danger by running a red light on a scooter paid for by anaïs her dad... this is Not gonna end well lmao#but we shall see that chaos unfold in the coming weeks for now i am going to bed <3 goodnight wtfock tag#s.txt
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
THE FREAKIN’ CHEEKS I CAN’T DEAL 🤣🤣😂😂
TW // Character Death
BGM - King Croacus Appears - SPM
ACT 1
ACT 2
ACT 3 - 1 <<< 21 / 22 / ???
I apologize at how long it took for this update to come out.
Things happened and I’ll leave it at that.
I also posted everything (except one comic) to TikTok! So there’s that too!
I will try to aim for my original schedule of an update every couple of days. If I don’t keep my word, I have failed.
I am also not apologizing for killing Cooper off. He was fated to perish the day he tossed the penguin 🤭.
#DANG Lumalee destroying Cooper’s wings tho#was not expecting him to do that but THANK GOSH he did#and I wasn’t expecting Doug to help out the escape gang either#granted he did do messed up things with the rest of the torture trio#but I’m also glad to see him standing against them now#PEACH FREAKING OUT AND KNOCKING KAMEK BACK OUT I CAN’T 🤣😂#that’s freakin’ me when I think I’ve killed a bug and then it suddenly twitches 😭😂#and holy crap Cooper raging and threatening to gouge Luigi’s eye 😨😨#THEN I FREAKIN’ WHEEZED WHEN HE LOST HIS SHELL 🤣#(and sidenote: I love that Luigi still has the ring on)#AND LUMALEE’S FACE HAD ME DYING MORE 🤣😂#then Cooper dies the same way he killed Libor…that’s what I like to call sweet karma#YAY MY BOI TOAD CLAIMED VICTORY OVER LAKITU 🥳#and oh god the super horn…I don’t know what it’s gonna do and I’m scared to find out 😰😥#so I’m BEGGING Mario to get over here and save Luigi before this super horn causes whatever chaos is about to unfold 😰😰#and the escape trio to save PK on time 😰#the super mario bros movie#super mario bros movie#super mario movie#mario movie#luigi#lumalee#princess peach#kamek#koopa troopa#dry bones#fanart#fan art
588 notes
·
View notes
Text
i keep seeing songs on TT that remind me of Linebeck...and I don't...really know how to feel about it.
#On the one hand#It makes me happy that I'm seeing scenes and animatics in music again#Specifically that I'm seeing scenes with specific characters#Because that's something that I kinda love about my brain#Is how easily it turns music and lyrics into a visual story I can follow just by turning a song on#Back when I first started with The Moss and this whole page#That was supposed to be the gimmick#That's why I have that abandoned Sander's Sides comic featuring Virgil and Remus#(Honestly at the height of my involvement in that fandom I was able to imagine EVERY 35mm song as being between Sanders Sides characters)#I still see a lot of scenes#They've just been more focused on the world building of The Moss rather than just the main cast#Or some songs just don't fit The Moss or any other fandom I've been in before#So I almost ignore them in a way#BUT THEN THIS MOTHERFUCKER#I honestly don't listen to much music anymore#I work and listen and do chores to a YouTube playlist of streamers and let's plays#My most exposure to music nowadays is usually from TT unfortunately#And goddamn all the songs I'm exposed to just fit right in with how I view him or how other characters view him#And it almost makes me mad#Like I can't just listen to a song#I hear one lyric or the guitar or bass or cello does a funky little rift#And then I'm sent straight into that world and have to figure out what I want it to do and where I want it to fit#I think part of it is every song in The Moss has to serve a purpose for the overarching narrative or as an “I am” song for the character#Meanwhile Linebeck....I can fit so many aus into that bad boy you don't understand#Or just throw it all into the wild-west of post-ph/pre-ph and just watch the chaos unfold.#It also doesn't help that my fyp keeps bringing up nautical themed shit#Like....ofc I'm going to be thinking about him while listening to this song- there's wave sounds in the background#But I was kinda content to...not be seeing anything in songs?#Listening to music had gone from something that I could easily just put on in the background to something I was paying All my attention to#Just so I could see the characters and the scenes
1 note
·
View note
Text
I have this idea for a Velvet/Eleanor/Magilou Modern AU fic, which is - basically an idea based off the "2 AM" prompt from the 64 Damn Prompts (because I literally just thought of it yesterday).
All I have to attribute to it so far is Eleanor asking Velvet "Why are we out here at two in the morning?" to which Velvet goes "That's a good question. What are we doing out here at two in the morning?" while giving Magilou a very pointed look, to which Magilou gives them both a very patented shit-eating grin.
#i'm not sure if i want this to be part of the An Exercise in Futility AU#even though my mind's leaning that way#if it goes that way it'd probably take place before the series starts#like right after velvet gets settled into the house and is told to keep her head down and be 'a good girl' aka stay out of trouble#but magilou says ACAB and wants to fuck w/ them even more#so she drags velvet and eleanor out in the dead of night to watch her handiwork in action and the chaos unfold#before they have to fucking bolt and pretend they didn't see anything/weren't complicit#like talking about the weather at the gas station :3#aaah now i want to write this#onto the backburner you go!#armi's wips#fanfiction#mywriting
1 note
·
View note
Text
now I'm actually invested in this idea. maybe I'll write a full length fic someday idk... for now I have short hcs
parts 1 | 2 | 3 | kalim | bad ending
summary: crowley decides to "give away" yuu to the highest "donation" for financial reasons type of post: headcanons characters: all nrc students additional info: can be read as platonic or romantic, except malleus is pretty romantic, second person pov, yuu is gender neutral, maybe a little ooc I wrote this as soon as I got up
crowley has had his fair share of "what the fuck" moments from you but this was really taking the cake
he acts so... casual about it?
swaggers into ramshackle one morning and says times are tough and your personal expenses are straining the budget so he's decided to "put you in someone else's care"
"The screening process will be vigorous to make sure you end up in good hands!" like you're a cat or something "Your expenses will be covered and you'll have somewhere to go during break!"
okay great. pretty obvious you have no say in this, so you don't even argue. what's the worst that could happen?
*ੈ✩‧₊˚
Ace, Deuce, Jack, and Epel find you the next day to say they're pooling their money to buy you
"To what?"
Epel shrugs. "Oh, well Crowley said we need to offer a donation to prove we're capable of supporting you..."
(you think that if not for the laws of this land you would have slaughtered that old fart)
Jack goes on a really long tirade about how shady and underhanded this is, making sure to reaffirm that he believes you should be free to make your own choices
"So you'll let me go once you get me?"
"Uhhh..."
Ace thinks once they buy you you'll have no choice but to do all of his homework for him
Deuce says that's not really how it works- and even if he tried, Riddle would kill him
(they've already gone over this twice before finding you)
Epel happily volunteers to take you home with him over breaks, probably the only positive in this mess
even if he thinks the whole thing is kind of funny
*ੈ✩‧₊˚
incapable of keeping his mouth shut, Ace accidentally spills the plan to Riddle, who is understandably aghast
you can't just give away a person under your care like a toy!
of all the irresponsible things...
of course, he'll have to put up his offer, too
purely for your sake! with a nicer room and a brand new copy of the dorm rules, maybe you'll stop getting yourself into trouble
he's got some family money (doctors, naturally) and considers this a worthwhile purchase, for his sanity and yours
of course, Trey and Cater overhear and may or may not be pooling their own cash for a chance, too
going behind Riddle's back on this is a risky venture, but hey, someone's gotta be on your side, here, right?
I mean, between a bunch of sixteen year old boys, the housewarden, and them, who would you choose?
actually don't answer that
...not that it's much of a secret, anyway. Cater's already got their gofundme equivalent link in bio
*ੈ✩‧₊˚
Leona initially plans to have you become a live-in lackey like Ruggie
but then he really starts thinking- and, hey, the possibilities are endless, right?
for one, you'd make a really good pillow
he might have to kick Grim out for your full attention, but you could learn to live with that
and malleus would hate it
...that's reason enough for him
plus, he's got money to burn, so why not?
either way, he sets his bid at a reasonable (maybe too confident) price and sits back to watch the chaos unfold as everyone scrambles for a piece of the pie
news travels fast around school, after all
then Ruggie finds out that you could dethrone him as Leona's #2 and is understandably a little annoyed
that's his cushy post-grad job gig, thank you! he's worked hard for that!
besides, why should Leona get to hoard you? the guy can barely take care of himself!
so, Ruggie ends up outsourcing to a few dozen classmates for the necessary funds at a steep I-owe-you price
he's gonna be eating nothing but dandelions for a while...
*ੈ✩‧₊˚
now, Azul is annoyed
once the news goes school-wide, it's all anyone can talk about
talk about good marketing...
why didn't he think of such a brilliant scam? he could have negotiated with Crowley to have a café brand deal tie-in!
of course, he's already set his bid, with Jade and Floyd offering to pitch in as necessary
it's a risky investment, sure, but a worthwhile one
Azul tells everyone that with the prefect's "obvious" popularity, having them at the café a few nights a week would drive sales through the roof
though that's really just what he says to shirk suspicion
a likely excuse coming from him, though, really, it would just be nice having you around
and if not for his own affections, Floyd's incessant begging and Jade's subtly manipulative comments about "how nice" it would be having a new face around would be enough for him to cave eventually
*ੈ✩‧₊˚
"Kalim, no," is the first thing that Jamil says
"I strongly advise against this. It's another one of Crowley's silly scams and you could end up a target bec- are you even listening?"
hint: he is not
the second Kalim found out that he could get to take in his favorite magicless student like one of his treasures, he was all over it
(AKA infinite sleepovers)
and for what? a little optional donation to prove he's got the funds? he's got cash to spare!
he's already got your new room in Scarabia set up before he even puts his bid in
right next to his of course :)
and despite what Jamil insists, he himself might be working behind the curtain just a little to ensure he's the one who ends up with you
after all, why should Kalim get everything? this might be a valuable learning opportunity for him
You don't always get what you want
*ੈ✩‧₊˚
as much as Epel tries to keep the rest of his dorm from finding out, it's inevitable
he's actually a little surprised that the news didn't get to Vil sooner
with Rook around campus, surely he must have said something...
when Vil does find out, though, he just sighs
oh, of course. what next, will everyone meet each other in the arena and fight to the death over the prefect?
of all the silly, immature things...
oh? what's that? he's bidding anyway? of course he is, silly potato. he can't have some unwashed miscreant making you sleep on polyester bedding
(really, he's the only person on campus worthy of your time)
Rook has also been mysteriously absent from the dorm lately, though his initials on a poem and a strangely large sum of money end up in the donation pile
but really, that could be anyone... Rook would never dare betray Vil again, right?
*ੈ✩‧₊˚
Ortho finds out directly from the other first years and sends Idia the details immediately
with a little note of encouragement, of course: "could be excellent for improving your social skills!"
Idia understandably freaks out
"WTF!!!! nooo way! this is a person, not a chatbot we're talking about here! I can barely keep virtual pets alive!!!!"
(liar)
(...but this is still different)
the conversation ends there, but semi-anonymous bid from someone named "gloomurai" gets cashapp'd directly to crowley
*ੈ✩‧₊˚
everyone in the room immediately turns to Malleus
"For the record, I think it's wrong to be bargaining over a human being," Silver says first. "But if anyone could handle it with grace, it's you."
Lilia laughs. "Oh, you're just saying that because you like the prefect so much!"
"Father, you're the one who likes the prefect so much,"
"Oh, right! carry on then. After all, I'm sure we could share,"
Sebek is the only one relatively against the idea, though Lilia luckily manages to get him to lower his voice after his third speech about how you aren't good enough for his liege
Malleus is rather quiet through the whole evening, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with any of the points made
he disappears for a short while, and when he comes back he seems a little more confident
though, of course, he goes to you first
seeing him at Ramshackle in the middle of the night is a familiar and welcoming sight after all of the chaos of your week
and he's in a great mood!
"Child of man! I've come with news," he says. "I have heard of your predicament and have come up with a solution!"
you immediately sulk. "Oh, no. You know I think this whole thing is terrible, right?"
"Yes, Silver mentioned you might not like the idea of being bought and sold like a trinket. But worry not, I do not plan on paying for you in money,"
you pause, at a loss for words, and then tentatively continue. "You're not...?"
"Of course not. What a primitive idea, I was baffled to hear it myself. My proposal will be more traditional: a modest sum of treasure, and a generous amount of livestock and the finest crop Briar Valley can offer,"
certainly he's not this naive, you think
"You really think Crowley is going to accept that over money? I'm pretty sure Kalim just bid away an entire country's worth,"
he laughs. "You speak as if this is some kind of business deal! I'm quite confident that my dowry will be best,"
huh. that was a strange way of putting it
but then again, you still didn't really understand how things work here, so you go along with it
and you allow yourself to relax. he seems confident in his offer, and he doesn't even see you as some kind of prize to win!
"Oh, well, alright. Thanks! I'm glad you're on it,"
he smiles. "Rest assured, child of man, you're in good hands. My dowry will far outshine the others, and the wedding will be even better,"
"I was honestly getting a little nervous for a momen- wait- wedding!?"
#twst x reader#shall I tag everyone even though this is pretty short... idk might as well#ace trappola x reader#deuce spade x reader#jack howl x reader#epel felmier x reader#riddle rosehearts x reader#trey clover x reader#cater diamond x reader#leona kingscholar x reader#ruggie bucchi x reader#azul ashengrotto x reader#floyd leech x reader#jade leech x reader#kalim al asim x reader#jamil viper x reader#vil schoenheit x reader#rook hunt x reader#idia shroud x reader#lilia vanrouge x reader#malleus draconia x reader#idk if I should tag silver and sebek they're barely in it 😔#that's enough tags anyway
4K notes
·
View notes
Text
Okay, but listen. Canonically, my baby honest to God just isn't that creative. 15 year old Jason will 100% believe that he wrote an absolute masterpiece, then post-resurrection, 19 year old Jason will overcome his trials and tribulations, only to eventually discover that his masterpiece is actually the Batman/Bruce Wayne fandom's better written version of like, My Immortal or some shit.
Jason Todd spite writing a very well written, multi- chapter Batman/Bruce Wayne fanfic as petty revenge against Bruce for benching him during his Robin days is absolutely the most hilarious thing I’ve ever heard. Also 1000000% in character for that theatre/literature nerd. I also know it would be at the top of the Batman/Bruce Wayne page if you sorted by kudos/comments/hits
#he will of course find the whole thing hilarious#like so hilarious#and high off of every win against bruce before his big reveal#he will absolutely be struck with the inspiration to update that trainwreck on a semi regular basis#which is how literally everyone else in the batfam and the hero community learn that he's alive#because they were all avid readers and subscribers back in the day#like vicki vale does a fluff piece on it and when it airs alfred almost has a heart attack#and dick just straight up busrts into tears#while tim almost brains himself scrambling for his phone#and then clark is bursting through one of their windows absolutely enraged that no one told him#but then he sees the state of them and realizes that they didnt know#and bruce is just#so confused#so very very confused#🤭#💀#jason todd#red hood#bruce wayne#batman#can you imagine the chaos#and jason is just cackling as he watches it all unfold#because even after all of that none of them know that hes the red hood#hes literally hiding in plain sight while they all lose their minds looking for him
568 notes
·
View notes
Text
not a weapon but a person—capable of loving and being loved.
SYNOPSIS: You get kidnapped and Damian snaps. TAGS: Graphic Depictions Of Violence! Genderneutral! Blood, Hurt/Comfort, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Kidnapping, Childhood Trauma, My Mother is the Worst Woman Alive and I'm her Favorite Son, Damian is Eighteen.
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽ ♱
A heavy thud. Ragged breaths. Then the sound of footsteps.
The same hands that had ruthlessly beat your kidnappers to a pulp—the ones that had pulverized flesh with blood splattered across his knuckles, the ones that had heard the crack of bones beneath his grip, the ones that bore the scars of countless cuts and stabs—now traced your cheek with a featherlight touch.
"Beloved."
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽ ♱
YOUR PALMS WERE PRESSED tightly against your eyes, wrists raw and burning from the rope that had bound them just minutes ago. Sobs slipped from your lips, eyes bloodshot, and mouth parched dry.
The rotting smell of the warehouse was an assault on your senses—an acrid mix of trash, harsh chemicals, and the faint tang of gunfire that lingered in the air.
There was a hushing in your ear as you leaned against a cloaked figure—Batman. Bruce.
His hand rubbed at your back, firm and steady, a grounding presence amid the chaos. His cape, dark and imposing, wrapped around you like a shield, blocking out the violence unfolding just in front of you.
Shadows danced erratically on the walls as Robin moved with lethal precision. Bodies fell unconscious, thudding heavily against the concrete floor. Blood splattered. Screams echoed. Each punch landed with a sickening crunch, bones breaking. Crates and debris were scattered haphazardly, wood and concrete slamming onto the floor.
Damian couldn't see anything but red.
His vision was tunneled, focused solely on the next target, the next blow, the next scream.
A swift roundhouse kick sent one assailant crashing into a stack of crates, the wood splintering under the impact. One punch connected with a jaw, the sickening crunch of bone breaking echoing through the air. Blood sprayed on his fist. Another one rushed toward him, brandishing a knife, but he disarmed the man with a swift twist of the wrist, jamming the blade into the attacker's palm. The man screamed, clutching his arm as red streaked his skin.
Damian's eyes flickered with a dark satisfaction as he watched the thug stumble backward, clutching at the wound.
One last man remained. One who had lunged at him from behind, grappling onto his back. Damian scowled and surged backward, driving both himself and his attacker into the wall with bone-crushing force. The man's grip loosened, a pained gasp escaping his lips as the air was knocked out of him.
"Fool," Damian spat, his voice dripping with venom. "Do you have any idea who you're dealing with?"
The thug whimpered, trying to scramble away, but Damian was relentless. He twisted sharply, dislodging the assailant and slamming an elbow into his ribs. The man crumpled against the wall, clutching his side, his eyes wide with fear and pain.
"You think you can touch those I care for and get away with it?" Damian growled. He didn't give the thug a moment to recover. He swung a powerful fist into the guy's face, the impact sending a spray of blood and teeth into the air.
"F-Fuck you, man!" The man yanked a gun from his waistband, but before he could even line up a shot, Damian’s foot kicked out, sending the weapon flying through the air. The gun clattered against the concrete with a deafening clang. With a snarl, Damian lunged forward, grabbing the thug by the collar and slamming him into the ground.
"H-Hey! Mercy! Mercy! I'm a-already down!" the assailant wailed, his hands clawing at Robin's uniform in a desperate plea. "The Bat don’t kill! You—you ain't gonna kill me!"
Damian's expression hardened, his eyes narrowing as his voice dropped to a low, menacing growl.
"I'm not Batman," he spat, the tone amplified and darkened by the modulator. "Every breath you take is a mercy I choose to grant. By the time I'm finished, you'll be begging for death."
He raised his fist, the tension in his muscles coiling like a spring ready to snap. The thug’s eyes widened in terror, his pleas growing frantic as he braced for the blow. However, just as Damian’s fist was about to land, a hand clamped down on his shoulder, grabbing onto his hand with a vice-like grip. Before he could react, Batman—Bruce—had tackled him, pinning him firmly against his chest.
“Robin,” Batman’s voice was firm, concern barely concealed. “That’s enough.”
Damian's struggle was fierce, his body thrashing under his father’s strength as he roared in fury.
“Let me go!” he screamed, his voice raw with anger. “I’m going to kill him for what he did to them!”
The anger engulfed Damian like a stormy ocean, dragging him beneath its violent waves. Visions of his mother’s face, his grandfather’s form, and accusing shadows surged from the depths, all condemning him. Damian’s cries erupted into a raw, guttural scream, gradually dissolving into ragged gasps as he battled the relentless tide.
Though Bruce had shaped him into a hero, a beacon of justice, and his family had offered him a fragile semblance of belonging, Damian was still his mother’s son.
The violence and anger roiling within him were like roots twisted deep within his soul. There was not a thing that could purge the primal rage and pain that had taken root before his first breath.
When he finally broke through the surface, baptized in blood and weighed down by sins that clung to him like chains, he sought you out with an urgent, almost desperate need.
A heavy thud. Ragged breaths. Then the sound of footsteps.
The same hands that had ruthlessly beat your kidnappers to a pulp—the ones that had pulverized flesh with blood splattered across his knuckles, the ones that had heard the crack of bones beneath his grip, the ones that bore the scars of countless cuts and stabs—now traced your cheek with a featherlight touch.
"Beloved."
Your hands were carefully peeled away from your eyes, and you met soft emerald eyes through a veil of tears. His hands moved to unlatch his cape, the soft fabric pooling around your form. His lips, speaking in his mother tongue, murmured a soothing litany of comfort, Arabic endearments flowing like silk. He pressed your head against his chest and you found refuge in the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.
Bruce watched the scene with a pensive look. His son's body had dwarfed you, broad shoulders and strong muscles enveloping your form like a shield. His head was tucked into your hair, his hands raking all over your tense and sweaty skin.
Damian had momentarily shed the hardened exterior he so often wore—a soldier with a heart that, despite its armor, occasionally revealed cracks. This was a side of him that often surprised people.
Because Damian Wayne was the farthest thing from soft.
He was all sharp edges. Poisonous, scalding words that could sear through the thickest armor of patience. Rough, nearly violent in his touch, like a blade pressed against skin. There was no gentleness in his movements, no softness in his gestures, only the relentless precision of a trained killer.
From the earliest moments he could walk, his life was an unending series of tests, each more grueling than the last. Each cut and bruise was a lesson. Failure was met with harsh punishment, success with silent approval. Affection and praise were as rare as mercy.
The League’s doctrine was ingrained in him: emotions were vulnerabilities, attachments were liabilities, and loyalty was owed only to the mission and the League. His purpose in the League of Assassins was clear—to be the perfect instrument of their will, a living embodiment of their principles.
Emotion was his enemy, a weakness to be purged. He was taught to suppress his feelings, to turn them off like a switch. Pain was an illusion, fear a phantom to be banished. He learned to compartmentalize his thoughts, locking away his humanity in the deepest recesses of his mind.
By the time he reached ten, he was a finely honed instrument of death.
A living weapon in a world that knew no peace.
It had taken Bruce eight grueling years to begin undoing the damage. And even then, he had barely scratched the surface.
Then there was you.
The trembling, warm-faced student Damian had introduced during his senior year—his partner for a science project, he said.
At first, the interactions were subtle—a fleeting glance here, a hesitant smile there. But as time went on, it became impossible to ignore the way your presence began to soften the sharp edges of Damian's demeanor.
Bruce had seen you both fall for each other over the months. And he saw hope.
You were the opposite of every lesson Damian has ever been taught.
To him, you were soft, in every sense. Soft movements, soft features, soft voice. Everything about you exuded comfort.
You made something he had always pushed down and shut away come to the surface.
You made him feel things—things he should not.
When you touched him with your soft hands, everything in him burned. The gentle brush of your fingers against his skin ignited a searing heat, a raw and unfamiliar longing that clawed violently at the walls he had worked so hard to maintain. Each touch chipped away at the concrete barriers of his training, breaking them down and leaving him exposed, aching for something he couldn’t quite name.
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽ ♱
Mania. Drake had called it, a wild obsession of his that could consume and devour.
Damian's arms encircled you like a lifeline, holding you close as though he feared you might slip away. His lips brushed against your temple, warm and tender, while his biceps pressed firmly under your chest, anchoring you in his embrace. The air was thick with the mingled scents of sweat, blood, and the lingering residue of fear.
And yet, amidst these odors, there was an underlying, almost imperceptible hint of Damian’s cologne—Arabian oudh. It was rich and smoky, with notes of aged wood, a faint earthy sweetness, and subtle undertones of leather and spice.
You buried your face into the crook of his neck, the fabric of his suit brushing against your cheek.
A Crush. Todd had chalked it up to puppy love, something that would eventually fade with time.
He lifted you effortlessly from the floor, his strength evident in his smooth, controlled movements. The way he adjusted his hold with such care to ensure your comfort spoke louder than any words could.
Warmth enveloped you—Damian had always run hotter, like a human furnace. On sweltering days, his clinginess (no matter how much he denied it) had been a nuisance, his heat making you feel as if your skin might melt off. But now, that same warmth was a comforting embrace, a welcome shield.
Infatuation. Grayson had suggested, thinking it was just a fleeting, intense passion. But there was something deeper in the way he looked at you, something that felt permanent and unshakeable.
“I am here. I am here, beloved," he spoke to you lowly. "It's alright now."
Love. His father called it.
In an instant, everything seemed to collapse around you. Tears welled up and streamed down your cheeks as you sobbed into his chest, each shudder of your body sending waves of anguish through him. Damian’s heart twisted painfully at the sight of you.
He has seen suffering—he has inflicted suffering. But this was different. Your pain was a torment he was helpless to alleviate.
Face twisted in guilt, he pulled you tighter against him, as though he could hold the world’s pain at bay if he just held you close enough.
A hand tapped at his shoulder, and he flinched, turning to see his father.
“The Batmobile is just by the docks. We can—”
“They're in shock,” Damian scowled. the fire back in his eyes. “Do you honestly believe they're in any state to be moved at this moment?”
Bruce’s gaze was firm. “Damian, we don’t have time to—”
“They need to be stabilized first,” Damian cut in sharply, his tone brooking no argument. He turned abruptly, striding towards the exit. “If you want them to survive this, we need to take care of them properly, not rush them into a car. I shall be outside.”
Without waiting for a response, Damian moved swiftly, the clatter of his boots echoing as he stepped into the cool night air with you. Once the warehouse door closed behind him, he turned his full attention back to you, his hand gently brushing your tear-streaked face.
He moved to press his forehead gently against yours, the warmth of his skin meeting yours in a tender connection. He could offer no verbal comfort anymore; words seemed woefully inadequate. Your cries gradually subsided as you drew comfort from his presence.
Love.
He lifted his hand to the side of his face, pressing a button. As his mask retracted, his eyes met yours. Damian knew that more than anything else, you loved his eyes.
Time and again, you found yourself drawn to them, unable to tear your gaze away. They were hypnotic—an exquisite blend of emerald green, green as vibrant as the leather cover of his sketchbook, flecked with gold and streaked with brown paint.
His eyes were windows to his soul, offering the only genuine glimpse into the depths of his emotions. In them, you could see his anger burning like a stormy sea, joy dancing like sunlight on rippling water, embarrassment flitting like a shadow, and pain etched as deep as his scars.
At times, his eyes grew gentle, revealing something much softer—something that made your heart swell and your knees feel weak. A love so pure and unexpected that it could melt the coldest of hearts.
Damian Wayne was the farthest thing from soft.
But in these soft, fragile moments he shared with you, where his heart beat in sync with yours, Damian found an unexpected calm. It was in these rare interludes, away from the brutality and darkness that defined his world, that he could truly be himself.
Here, he was not a weapon but a person—capable of loving and being loved.
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽ ♱
ao3: yenwayne
NOTE: I want to delve into the line I wrote: 'Damian is still his mother’s son.'
It's just to show his trauma, I despise Talia with all my guts.
Talia's control over Damian is a textbook example of manipulative conditioning at its most extreme. In psychological development, early experiences and parental influence are crucial in shaping one's self-concept. From his earliest days, Damian was deprived of a normal childhood. His personality, thoughts, and desires have all been sculpted by the League of Assassins from day one.
His anger, protectiveness, and sense of duty are manifestations of this—a child raised to be a killer, now struggling with the fragments of a humanity that was never fully allowed to blossom.
I'm not saying he hasn't changed!!! He has turned into so much more than the weapon they intended him to be. He is genuinely good. But the impact of such deep-seated trauma cannot be easily overlooked or resolved. It’s not something that can simply be swept under the rug or fixed overnight.
So, this was my attempt at capturing his character! I’m very open to constructive criticism since I’m new to the fandom. Please be kind and gentle with your feedback :)
#requests are welcome!#damian wayne x reader#damian wayne#batfamily#dc robin#damian wayne al ghul#damian wayne imagine#kinda lackluster TT#bruce wayne#batman
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
❥ 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
2K notes
·
View notes