#engineers uniform manufacturer

[macmay]

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[patchworkcuddlebug]

The Rain Storm

God, please, somebody open.

Your car stalled out about a mile back. You swear it's raining hard enough to have flooded the engine. You tried waiting by your car, to hitchhike or borrow a toolbox or find someone with cell service, but hours passed with nothing but the rain keeping you company.

This was the only house you passed for miles on this backwater forest-dense road, paved with loose gravel and prayers. You don't know how you even got here. Slowly, the highway, your highway, began to shift into something less and less familiar. You must've missed your turn.

Finally, someone opens the door. The young woman is surprised to see you, and quickly ushers you inside. She takes your coat and asks you kindly to sit on the couch, saying she'll inform a "Miss" that you've arrived. You don't care for her word choice.

The manor is extravagant. The walls are aged, but thick and sturdy enough to last many lifetimes more. The rug has a pattern too ornate to make out in the darkness, and every piece of furniture seems like a precious heirloom.

"So, you'll be our little visitor, then?"

A woman... no, something more. She's otherworldly. Her face looks sculpted from marble by the most talented visionaries, but her skin looked as soft as silk. Her hair flowing down her shoulders like a river from a mountain, perfectly framing her lovely silhouette. And her voice, lord above her voice, it was an orchestra, a distillation of beauty, every husky syllable like a kiss from a rose.

You somehow answer her.

"Well, aren't you a dear. Rosemary, refreshments."

There were two other women by her side, one now scurrying off into another room. The other brings over a large comforter, which it unfolds and places around you in a single swift act of elegance.

The lady sits in a loveseat across the coffee table. She asks you how you managed to find this neck of the woods. Where you where going before you did. How well the job is going, if your coworkers treat you well. Friends, hobbies, sex life. It doesn't occur to you that you can refuse her. She seems so radiant, her inquisitions so genuine and thoughtful, that the prospect of denying her seems too disrespectful.

The girl from earlier returns, and your eyes are caught by everything on her tray. It's your absolute favourite, the epitome of comfort food. If you were on death row, this would be your final meal. What a coincidence.

You thank the maid and immediately dig in. The lady seems fit to observe you in silence as you enjoy your meal. With the last of it gone, the maid returns and collects the tray.

Maybe it was the light. Surely, it must have been. At first you figure it was an eccentricity of her uniform, before you notice how abruptly the sleeves end, much earlier. Perhaps it's some sort of disability, but you can't imagine how she'd work in such a profession if that were the case.

"Is something bothering you, dear?"

You muster the courage to ask about her maid, only after she's returned to the kitchen, hopefully out of earshot.

"I can't say I know what you're talking about, dear. You've had a long night, surely you must be seeing things. Perhaps it's time for you to get some rest. I'll have you shown to your arrangements."

Another maid emerges. She's the same as the other one. She may not be identical, with differences in the hair and minor ones in the face, but they still look like variations of the same toy.

She leads you to your room. You have plenty of time to analyze her now. There's something artificial about her. Something off about the texture of her skin, the way it doesn't seem to catch the light quite how it should. Her movements are unnatural, like something prerecorded and edited. It's too even, too smooth, and much too stiff.

And then there's... the joints. She doesn't have elbows. She doesn't have them, not nearly the same way you do. Her bicep and forearm simply stop at a point of connection. It seems manufactured, unnaturally round, with lines where she's allowed movement.

You hesitate once you reach your door. You tell the maid you want to ask her something. She bows respectfully, saying you are allowed one question before she returns to her duties. You ask her what's wrong with her body, worded inelegantly from a night of exhaustion and confusion.

The maid bows respectfully. "There's nothing wrong with this one's body."

. . . . .

You're woken by knocking.

You allow the maids to enter your room. The serene morning sunlight gently pours into the room as they greet you, offering to help you prepare yourself for breakfast. You refuse and politely ask them to provide you some privacy, to which they happily comply.

Your body feels stiff as you pull yourself out of bed. There's a soft crack whenever you struggle to bend and stretch.

Your clothes have been washed, dried, and folded for you through the night. They feel even softer than they did when you first bought them.

You finish as much of your routine as you comfortably can in a stranger's house before leaving the dormitory, making your way to where you remember the kitchen to be. It's eerily quiet, with only your footsteps to hear.

The dining table is long, with the lady sitting at the furthest end, illuminated by the morning sunlight. She is surrounded by empty chairs, and a collection of maids standing at the ready against the walls of the room.

"How nice of you to stay for breakfast, darling. You wouldn't want to miss it for the world."

A row of maids emerge from the connected kitchen, all carrying a hot plate of food. They place each one in front of you; pancakes with syrup, waffles with fresh fruit, scrambled eggs with a side of bacon cooked to perfection, golden hash browns, french toast with butter still melting, and a smoothie and a coffee to drink

All the plates are placed in front of you. The lady only has a mug of fresh tea.

You choose a food at random to pick at, not feeling very hungry. You want to strike up a conversation with the lady, eager to ease your mind, but it only now occurs to you that you never exchanged names. You apologize for this and ask for hers.

"Oh, don't worry about a detail like that." She gave a carefree smile as she shook her head. "If you simply must use something for me... I suppose Miss will work for you."

Miss. That fits in place in your brain more naturally than it should.

You've barely touched all the extravagant food before you start to feel satiated. "It's okay if you're not feeling hungry." Says Miss. "Don't worry about the waste. I promise it'll be eaten."

You thank her, believing her, as the maids begin to collect the plates. As one steps behind you, reaching around to grab the pancakes, you try to get her attention and ask if-

"The maids don't like to be bothered when they're working, dear." Miss chimes, almost playfully. "But please, ask me whatever you like."

You ask her if she comes from money, commenting on how many maids she has. She looks to the side, thinking for only a moment. "My... darlings aren't concerned about something as silly as money. Service is their purpose."

You ask her to elaborate. Lightning strikes, audible even over the sound of the rain storm crashing against the windows.

"Oh, what a mess. Seems like you'll have to stay another night. Don't worry, we don't mind the extra company."

You excuse yourself to the bathroom.

It's untouched. It's kept in spotless condition just as the rest of the house is, but the toilet paper that hangs from the roll is fresh out of the package, and the plastic for the hand soap on the sink is the only thing in the trash can.

You flush the toilet and leave, hovering off to the side across the hall. Within seconds, a maid wanders in to clean. You politely stop her, desperation clear in your voice as you ask if she's human.

The maid bows respectfully. "Not anymore."

You make a break for it.

You open the front door, only for a sudden burst of wind to blow you backwards, slamming the door shut in front of you. If you were of sound mind, you may have noticed the decorations were all still in their place, as if such a harsh wind didn't blow at all.

You stumble backwards, your mind racing, before you bump into her. She's tall enough to rest her elbows on your shoulders.

"I know you must be so worried about your life, dear. You must have people waiting for you, a place in society that you have to act out... but you don't have to worry much longer. I'll take care of everything for you. Would you care to follow me?"

Of course you follow her. You're terrified of what could happen if you don't. Your body moves on its own. It must be the fear, surely.

Miss guides you to a room you don't recognize. It's an uncanny cross between a dentist's office and a mechanic's workshop, each schema just barely wrong enough.

She gestures to the structure in the middle. It's an operating table. "Go on cutie, you know what to do."

With as much apprehension as you can afford to muster, you do as Miss says. You climb onto the table, laying down with your hands resting on your torso. You try to ask what she's going to do to you, but she interrupts you with a hand cupping your cheek.

"I'm going to make you mine."

. . . . .

This one holds the warmed leftovers out on the tip of its hand. Miss's treasured carnivorous plant feels it with the tip of its mouth, expertly taking small chomps until it reaches this one's fingers, stopping just as the meat does.

This doll feels an emptiness dissipate through its body, a reward for a job well done. It feels just a little less like a person, its old life being lifted off its shoulders and taken further and further away.

It begins to walk towards its next task. Its movements are exactly what they need to be, elegant and intentional. A pretty doll for Miss.

Just as it returns to the manor, the rain begins. It starts slow, convincing, picking up ever so slowly into a storm.

After a long, pleasant moment of stillness, this one hears knocking. It waits, convincing, just as it was told. The doll is surprised to see its guest, and quickly ushers them inside. It takes their coat and asks them kindly to sit on the couch, saying it'll inform a "Miss" that they've arrived.

The guest doesn't care for her word choice.

[physalian]

Another 5 Character Types the World Needs More of (Part 3)

Part 1 Part 2

I did not expect these two posts to continue getting notes. So. Here’s some that didn’t make the cut and a few new ones.

1. Character who is immune to everyone else’s bullshit

This can either be funny or a breath of fresh air. I’m talking your drama cast of 15 all losing their minds over “he said/she said” and fixating on so many ridiculous and arbitrary problems… meanwhile Chuck over here is skinned with teflon and completely immune to tropes like manufactured miscommunication or drama, who’s juuust shy of being genre savvy to Get Shit Done like this is their second time around the block and they are not happy to be back.

The first one to pop into my head is Soundwave from TFP. He has no voice actor for 99% of the show and doesn’t have a face and is only the focus character for like, 2 episodes, but whenever he’s on screen you can just see “I’m surrounded by idiots” playing on repeat in his head. This con is brutally efficient, never messes up, and is never wrong and while everyone else is caught up on ladder-climbing and revenge quests, Soundwave is over here vibing and keeping the whole cause together.

2. The Femme Fatale, but a man

This is not sexy suave abusive asshole hero you’re supposed to root for, who’s a male power fantasy. This is literally the exact same trope, but a man. Meaning, he gets the same revealing uniform, the same “I’m letting you think you’re in charge but really I’m pulling all the strings”. Crucially, he’s straight, because most of them are gay-coded (because the man being in the submissive, ‘girly role’ is horrifying, he must be gay). This dude weaponizes toxic masculinity, making the villains extremely uncomfortable and throwing the villain’s own power fantasy back in their face.

This dude unabashedly flirts with his captors just to get in their heads, removes all concepts of personal space, and makes straight villains seriously question their sexuality. He has social engineering down to a science. I’m sure there’s one that exists, but every one I can think of is already queer-coded and that’s not good enough. So just. Black Widow. But a man.

3. Mary Sue/ Gary Stu who becomes the villain

Since these characters are the product of insecurity and lack of self-awareness… the example for this trope is Titan from Megamind. This character is absolutely the hero of their own story, practically perfect in every way. They think they’re the best at everything without trying, flawless in features and personality, and everybody loves them. And genuinely, they are just that good.

So good, that they live long enough to become the villain. Obviously people who write Mary Sues with full sincerity have no idea that anything’s wrong or problematic, but a genuine Mary Sue whose perfection is their greatest flaw without them even realizing it would be an interesting villain because I’m getting sick and tired of “sympathetic” villains who are really starting to feel like excuses for abusers to be abusive because they were smacked around as a kid.

4. Paragon who is wrong, but also right?

Apparently I’m in a Transformers mood today. There’s an episode where the Autobots’ medic/second in command does the whole “desperate scientist tests their invention on themselves with horrible results” trope and he gains the strength and speed he otherwise hasn’t had in like, eons, and starts kicking ass and taking names (and committing war crimes) to the point where his team is like “uh, buddy, slow down a bit, you’re starting to act like a Decepticon”.

The best part of that episode is where Ratchet (medic) completely unloads on Optimus about how he’s too soft, about how he’s had a million chances to end the war and murder Megatron (which is true) and yet Optimus lets the window pass again and again still hoping for Megatron’s redemption… while in the process, countless Autobots keep dying, collateral keeps happening, all because Optimus is stubborn and won’t just get it over with.

We know Ratchet is right, because throughout the next season, Optimus is a bit more… shall we say, ruthless, in trying to legitimately end the war, Megatron’s redemption be damned. But that episode ends with Ratchet nearly dying when trying to kill Megatron himself, and understanding that the Autobots are Autobots for a reason, because they’re “good,” and sinking to the enemy’s level won’t be a good foundation for a peaceful post-war survival of their species. Point being, sometimes being a Paragon is an incredibly selfish virtue.

5. Parents who know what’s up

So, while I am a firm supporter in the dead parent cliché because parents are super inconvenient sometimes, when it’s not that kind of story and the parents are a big part of the plot… while also being idiots (like Disney and Nickelodeon sitcoms circa 2008), just to make the kids sound smarter, it’s just been done to death. Everything you could think of, your parents probably did when they were your age so having competent parents in the plot as a well-meaning obstacle that continues to surprise the hero is pretty rare in stuff like YA. Usually it’s “I must lie to them to keep them safe” meanwhile Sally Jackson is over here murdering her husband with Medusa’s severed head.

They don’t have to join the hero team, but parents painted as bumbling idiots is a disservice to the mischievous teenagers they used to be. Or just the parent who really does know the kid better than they do, like when kids anxiously come out and the parent is like “honey I knew since you were 3 let’s go get ice cream”. I didn't watch Glee but that one dad who was like "son all you wanted was a pair of sensible shoes, I knew." So yeah. Smart parents. More please.

[s4svnn]

Out of bounds . JJK

↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; his love subjected you to the true extent of deception, a merciless lie wrapped in the illusion of paradise, until the truth tore it apart - he was always out of bounds.

↳ Jungkook x reader

↳ 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬: ongoing

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Chapter Twenty Two

The low hum of machinery greeted me as I walked into the expansive manufacturing wing of the design company. The air smelled faintly of metal, oil, and fresh leather, and the large overhead lights cast a bright sheen over the nearly finished car sitting in the center of the room. My car—or, rather Jungkook’s.

The sight of it sent a mixture of pride and anxiety coursing through me. This was the culmination of months of work, countless sleepless nights, and hours upon hours of pouring my heart into every detail. And now, I was here to oversee the final stages of its creation.

Workers moved swiftly around the room, their movements practiced and precise. Each of them had a specific task to complete, and despite the occasional buzz of conversation, there was an air of focused determination. I could feel the weight of their dedication, and it made me stand a little taller. This wasn’t just my accomplishment—it was ours.

As I walked closer to the car, my breath caught. Even under the industrial lighting, it looked stunning. The sleek lines of the exterior, the way the shape of it seemed to embody both power and elegance—it was everything I had imagined and more. I circled the car, my eyes scanning over the interior through the slightly ajar door.

The seats were perfectly crafted, their stitching precise and clean. The dashboard was minimalistic but functional, with a subtle touch of sophistication. Everything about it screamed luxury, but not in an overwhelming or gaudy way. It was balanced.

I exhaled slowly, a faint smile forming on my lips. Seeing it in front of me, so close to completion, filled me with a sense of accomplishment I hadn’t felt in years.

“Excuse me,” I called softly to a worker nearby, a middle-aged man hunched over a leather seat, inspecting the stitching.

He glanced up at me and immediately straightened, brushing his hands against his uniform. “Yes, ma’am?”

I gestured toward the car. “How’s everything coming along? Any issues I should be aware of?”

The man smiled faintly, his face lined with both age and experience. “It’s coming along well. We’re finishing the interior fittings now, making sure everything is secure. Once that’s done, we’ll do a final check on the engine and electronics. Shouldn’t be much longer now.”

I nodded, impressed. “That’s great to hear. You’ve all done an incredible job. It’s one thing to see it on paper, but to see it here…” I trailed off, gesturing toward the car. “It’s amazing.”

His smile grew a little wider, a hint of pride in his expression. “Thank you, ma’am. That means a lot coming from you.”

I spent the next hour moving around the room, talking to the workers, asking questions, and offering input where it felt necessary. Each person I spoke to was polite and respectful, but there was also a quiet pride in the way they discussed their work. They weren’t just building a car—they were bringing my vision to life.

But just as I began to feel a sense of ease, the sound of the door opening cut through the room.

It wasn’t a loud sound, but it was enough to stop everyone in their tracks. The workers who had been bustling about suddenly froze, their conversations dying mid-sentence. All eyes turned toward the entrance as a man in a sharp black suit and dark sunglasses stepped inside.

The air shifted immediately. There was an unspoken tension that seemed to ripple through the room, and I couldn’t help but glance around, confused.

One by one, the workers began to bow, their heads lowering in a show of respect.

I stood there awkwardly, unsure of what to do. Who was this man, and why was everyone acting like this?

The man’s gaze swept across the room, cold and assessing, before landing on me. His expression hardened, and he raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed.

“Do you have any manners?” he asked sharply, his voice cutting through the silence like a knife.

I blinked, caught completely off guard. “I—uh—”

Before I could say anything coherent, the worker next to me leaned in, his voice low. “That’s the CEO,” he whispered urgently.

My stomach dropped. My eyes widened as realisation dawned, and I immediately bowed deeply, my heart pounding in my chest. “I’m so sorry, sir,” I stammered, my voice shaking slightly.

The CEO didn’t respond. He didn’t even acknowledge me, his gaze already moving past me as he walked further into the room. His presence was commanding, and the sound of his polished shoes against the floor seemed unnaturally loud in the tense silence.

He stopped in front of the leading worker, a tall man who looked visibly nervous under the CEO’s gaze.

“How’s the car?” the CEO asked, his tone clipped and to the point.

The worker swallowed hard before answering. “It’s on schedule, sir. We’re just finalising the details now.”

The CEO’s lips pressed into a thin line. “It better be perfect,” he said coldly. “If there’s a single flaw, you’ll all be out of a job. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” the worker said quickly, bowing his head.

The CEO lingered for a moment longer before turning back toward me. His expression was unreadable behind his sunglasses, but I could feel his gaze on me as he approached.

“And who the hell are you?” he asked, his tone sharp and demanding.

I straightened up, forcing myself to meet his gaze despite the lump forming in my throat. “I’m the designer of this car, sir,” I said, keeping my voice steady.

For a moment, he said nothing. Then, slowly, a smirk formed on his lips. “So, you’re the girl Jeon took pity on.”

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. I opened my mouth to respond, to defend myself, but no words came out. I was too stunned, too confused.

The CEO didn’t wait for a response. He turned and walked away, his presence lingering in my mind long after he left the room.

I stood there in silence, his words echoing in my head. Took pity on me? What did he mean by that?

By the time the workers and I wrapped things up, the weight of the interaction was still pressing heavily on my chest. I thanked the team for their hard work, offering them a small smile despite the storm of emotions swirling inside me.

As I stepped out of the building, the cool evening air brushed against my skin, bringing with it a fleeting moment of clarity. The quiet hum of the city in the background, the faint scent of rain lingering from earlier in the day—all of it felt distant, like the world was moving around me but I wasn’t really part of it.

I paused for a moment, standing on the pavement, trying to steady my breathing. I should’ve gone straight to Jungkook’s house. That was the plan. But my feet felt heavy, unwilling to move in that direction. Instead, as if pulled by some invisible thread, I found myself wandering aimlessly toward a nearby park.

The park was deserted, the fading light of the evening casting long, soft shadows across the pathways. Everything was painted in shades of orange and purple, the sky above shifting into the twilight. There was a tranquility here, a stillness that felt almost sacred, but it did nothing to ease the storm brewing inside me.

I spotted a bench tucked beneath a tall oak tree, its branches stretching out like arms offering solace. Without thinking, I sank onto it, the weight of the day pressing down on me. Leaning back, I closed my eyes, hoping for even a brief reprieve from the chaos in my mind.

But there was no escaping it.

It all came rushing back at once—the piercing disappointment in my mother’s voice when I first told her I wanted to be a designer, the sharp sting of her words as she dismissed my dreams as childish and impractical. I could still hear her telling me that I was throwing my life away, that I would regret wasting my potential.

And then there was the CEO. The way he looked at me, as if I was nothing. As if my presence there was an insult. His words replayed in my mind on an endless loop.

I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms. Was that really how people saw me? Someone to be pitied? Was all of this—my work, my effort, my passion—just some act of charity in their eyes?

The thought made my chest tighten, the air around me feeling suddenly suffocating. I groaned softly, leaning forward and burying my face in my hands.

I had worked so hard to put myself out there, to prove that I was more than what people thought of me. But no matter how far I came, it felt like there was always someone ready to tear me down, to remind me that I wasn’t good enough. That I didn’t belong.

The more I thought about it, the heavier it felt, like a weight pressing down on my chest, making it harder and harder to breathe. My eyes stung with the threat of tears, but I forced them back, refusing to let them fall.

I pushed myself to stand, hoping that moving would help clear my mind. My steps were slow at first, the crunch of gravel beneath my feet barely registering. I focused on the sound, letting it ground me, each step a small reminder that I was still here, still moving forward, even if it felt like the world was trying to pull me back.

The trees around me swayed gently in the evening breeze, their leaves rustling softly like whispers of comfort. I tried to focus on that—the beauty of the moment, the quiet rhythm of nature—but it was like trying to hold onto water. Every time I thought I had a grip on it, it slipped through my fingers, leaving me with nothing but my thoughts.

The sky was darker now, the last remnants of sunlight fading into the horizon. The park was growing quieter, the faint sound of crickets beginning to fill the air. I stopped walking, taking a deep breath and letting the cool air fill my lungs.

But then, a quiet sob caught my attention.

Turning toward the sound, I saw a little girl sitting on the edge of a fountain, her shoulders shaking as she cried.

I hurried over, crouching down beside her, my heart squeezing at the sight of her small, trembling frame. “Hey, sweetheart,” I said softly, keeping my voice calm and gentle so I wouldn’t scare her. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

She sniffled, looking up at me with wide, tear-streaked eyes. Her face was flushed from crying, and she kept wiping at her nose with the back of her tiny hand. “I… I can’t find my mommy,” she said, her voice shaking as fresh tears welled up in her eyes.

“Oh no,” I murmured, feeling a pang of sadness for her. “It’s okay. We’ll find her, I promise. Can you tell me your name?”

“Sophia,” she whispered, hiccupping slightly.

“That’s a beautiful name, Sophia,” I said, offering her a small, reassuring smile. “I’m going to help you find your mom, okay? Do you remember what she looks like or what she’s wearing?”

She nodded, sniffing again as she rubbed at her eyes with her sleeve. “She… she’s wearing a blue dress. And she has long hair, like mine.”

I smiled softly, reaching out to gently touch her shoulder. “That’s really helpful. Thank you for telling me. Let’s walk around the park together, and we’ll find her in no time. Does that sound good?”

She hesitated for a moment, her big eyes searching mine for reassurance. Finally, she nodded and slipped her small, trembling hand into mine. I gave her hand a gentle squeeze, hoping it would make her feel a little safer.

We began walking slowly along the gravel path, my eyes scanning the park for any sign of a woman in a blue dress. The park wasn’t too crowded, but there were still enough people wandering around to make the search challenging. I could feel Sophia’s grip on my hand tightening with every passing moment.

“Do you come to this park often?” I asked, trying to distract her from her growing anxiety.

She nodded shyly. “Mommy and I come here after school sometimes,” she said, her voice small. “But today, I was playing on the slide, and then I couldn’t find her anymore.”

“It’s okay,” I said gently, my thumb brushing over the back of her hand. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Sometimes we just get turned around. But I promise we’ll find her soon, and everything will be okay.”

We continued walking, stopping now and then to look around. I crouched down once to check behind the playground equipment, but there was no sign of anyone matching her description. The more time passed, the more I could feel her unease.

“What’s your mommy’s name?” I asked, glancing down at her.

“Emma,” she said quietly, her grip tightening on my hand.

“That’s a lovely name,” I said with a smile. “You know, Sophia, you’re really brave. Not everyone would stay so calm in a big park like this. Your mommy is going to be so proud of you when we find her.”

She looked up at me, her tears momentarily forgotten as a tiny, bashful smile appeared on her lips.

We walked a little further when suddenly, a woman’s voice rang out, panicked and desperate. “Sophia! Sophia, where are you?”

Sophia froze, her head snapping up at the sound. Her eyes widened, and she let go of my hand, spinning around. “Mommy!” she cried, her small voice cutting through the air as she bolted in the direction of the voice.

A woman came running toward us from across the park, her face pale and tear-streaked, her hair disheveled as if she’d been frantically searching. She was wearing a flowing blue dress, and her eyes immediately locked onto Sophia.

The woman’s steps faltered for a brief moment, her body trembling as relief washed over her. Then she ran forward and scooped Sophia into her arms, holding her so tightly it was as if she was afraid to let go.

“Oh my God,” the woman sobbed, her voice breaking as she buried her face in Sophia’s hair. “I thought I lost you. I thought—” She couldn’t even finish her sentence, her words dissolving into quiet cries of relief.

Sophia clung to her mother’s neck, her tiny arms wrapping around her tightly. “I’m sorry, Mommy,” she whispered, her voice muffled.

“No, no, sweetheart,” the woman said, pulling back to cup her daughter’s face. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I was so scared…” Her voice cracked again as she pulled Sophia close once more.

I stayed back for a moment, watching the reunion with a soft smile. There was something so raw and beautiful about the way they held onto each other, as if the world around them didn’t exist.

Sophia eventually turned her head, pointing toward me. “Mommy, the pretty lady helped me. She found me.”

The woman’s tearful gaze shifted to me, and she took a hesitant step forward, still holding Sophia close. “You… you helped her?”

I nodded, feeling a little shy under her emotional gaze. “She told me she couldn’t find you, so we walked around the park together until we did. I’m just glad you’re both okay.”

The woman’s eyes filled with fresh tears, and she stepped closer, clutching Sophia with one arm while reaching out to me with the other. “Thank you,” she said, her voice trembling with gratitude. “Thank you so much. I don’t even know what I would’ve done if…” She trailed off, shaking her head as her voice broke.

I gave her a reassuring smile. “There’s no need to thank me. I’m just happy Sophia is safe and that you’re back together. That’s all that matters.”

The woman gave me a watery smile, her grip on Sophia tightening protectively. “Is there… is there anything I can do to repay you? Anything at all?”

I shook my head, feeling genuinely touched by her gratitude. “No, really. You don’t need to do anything. Just seeing you two together again is enough.”

She nodded, her expression softening as she looked at me. “Thank you,” she said again, her voice quieter this time but no less sincere.

With a final smile, I gave a small wave to Sophia, who waved back shyly before resting her head on her mother’s shoulder. They turned and walked away, their silhouettes bathed in the soft glow of the setting sun.

I watched them until they disappeared into the distance, a faint pang of something bittersweet tugging at my chest. For a moment, I let myself think about what it must feel like to have someone love you so fiercely, to hold you as if letting go was impossible.

A memory of my mother and I flashed through my mind—her laughing as she spun me around in the park when I was a child, the warmth of her embrace as she told me I was her little miracle. I couldn’t stop the small smile that spread across my lips.

But just as quickly, the smile faded. That version of her—the mother who adored me, who believed in me—felt like a distant dream now. The reality of her disappointment, her harsh words, and the cold distance between us slammed into me like a wave, leaving me breathless.

I shoved those thoughts aside, forcing myself to focus on the present. There was no point dwelling on what I couldn’t change.

The park had grown quieter, the sun now just a faint glow on the horizon. I turned toward the exit, shoving my hands into my pockets as I walked. My steps felt heavier, weighed down by the emotions swirling inside me, but for now I just needed to keep moving.

When I finally reached the front door of Jungkook’s house, I slipped inside as quietly as I could, the weight of the day pressing down on me like a heavy blanket. All I wanted was to sneak into my room, collapse onto the bed, and maybe sort through my tangled thoughts later. But the moment the door clicked shut, a voice rang out, sharp and cutting.

“Where the fuck have you been?”

I froze in place, my hand still on the doorknob. Slowly, I turned to see Jungkook standing in the hallway, his tall frame illuminated by the faint glow of the light above. His hair was a mess, as if he’d been running his hands through it repeatedly. He was dressed in a black tank top that showed the strain of his tense shoulders and joggers that hung low on his hips, but it was the look on his face that stopped me cold. His jaw was clenched so tight I could see the muscle twitch, and his dark eyes burned with fury—and something else I couldn’t place.

“Why weren’t you answering your phone?” he demanded, his voice low but brimming with restrained anger. Each word felt like it had been bitten out, dripping with frustration.

I blinked at him, too taken aback to respond right away. “I needed to get some air,” I said trying to move past him.

His brow furrowed deeper, his gaze hardening. “That’s your excuse?” He scoffed, his tone incredulous. “Do you have any idea how long you’ve been gone? How many fucking times I tried to call you? I—” He stopped abruptly, his lips pressing into a thin line as though he refused to finish the thought.

“I didn’t think it was a big deal,” I mumbled, avoiding his piercing stare.

“Not a big deal?” His voice rose slightly, his anger breaking through his usual composure. He took a step closer, his presence overwhelming. “Disappearing for hours without a word and ignoring your phone isn’t a big deal to you? Do you know how irresponsible that is?”

“I didn’t do it on purpose!” I snapped, my own frustration bubbling to the surface. “I just needed to be alone for a while, okay? Is that such a crime?”

He let out a sharp, humorless laugh, shaking his head. “It’s not about whether it’s a crime,” he shot back. “It’s about the fact that I’m responsible for you.”

That stopped me in my tracks. “Responsible for me?” I repeated, my voice laced with disbelief.

“Yes,” he said, his voice firm. “You’re working under me, which means your safety is my responsibility. And you disappearing like that without a word? It puts me in a position I shouldn’t have to be in.”

I stared at him, caught off guard by the sheer force of his conviction. But instead of backing down, my irritation flared. I didn’t need anyone to feel responsible for me—not after everything I’d been through. “I don’t need a babysitter,” I said sharply, crossing my arms over my chest. “And I definitely don’t need you to pity me.”

“Pity you?” His eyes flashed, and he took another step closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous low. “You think this is pity?”

“Isn’t it?” I countered, my voice trembling but defiant. “You’re acting like I can’t handle myself, like I’m some helpless kid you have to look after.”

“That’s not what this is,” he snapped, his frustration boiling over. “This is about you being reckless. Do you even realise how selfish that is? You didn’t think about anyone else—about how your actions might affect the people around you.”

For a moment, the only sound in the hallway was the sharpness of our breathing. His words cut deep, not because they were cruel but because they were true in a way I wasn’t ready to admit.

I shook my head, stepping back from him. “Stop with your fucking pity,” My voice cracked, but I refused to let him see the vulnerability clawing at me. “I don’t need it.”

His jaw tightened, the tension radiating off him in waves. “Again with this bullshit,” he growled, his voice sharp as a blade. “Stop putting words in my mouth. I don’t pity you.”

I scoffed, turning on my heel, trying to walk past him and toward the stairs. “Just leave me alone—”

Before I could take another step, his hand shot out, grabbing my arm with enough force to spin me around. His grip wasn’t painful, but it was firm, and it sent a shiver down my spine. His dark eyes burned into mine, his expression a storm of frustration and something I couldn’t quite name.

“Don’t act like a brat,” he snapped, his tone low but dangerous. “And stop twisting this into something it’s not. You want to keep throwing that word around? Fine. I’ll show you pity.”

I blinked, confused and alarmed. “What—”

“Move,” he interrupted, his voice leaving no room for argument.

I opened my mouth to protest, shaking my head instinctively. “No. I’m not—”

He turned his head sharply, his eyes narrowing as he looked back at me. His tone was like ice. “I won’t repeat myself.”

Something in his voice made my breath hitch. I exhaled sharply, my mind racing, but I forced my legs to move. My body betrayed me, drawn to the intensity radiating off him despite every warning screaming in my head.

I followed him up the stairs in silence, my heart pounding in my chest. His broad shoulders were tense, his muscles flexing with every step. When we reached his room, he pushed the door open with more force than necessary, stepping inside. I hesitated at the threshold, feeling a mix of trepidation and anticipation curling in my stomach.

“Inside,” he commanded, not even looking back at me as he stepped further into the room.

I bit the inside of my cheek, taking a shaky step inside. The moment I was in, he turned and shut the door behind me with a sharp click. The sound echoed in the tense silence, and I felt like the air had been sucked out of the room.

He didn’t say anything as he turned to face me. Instead, he grabbed the hem of his tank top and pulled it off in one fluid motion, tossing it aside. My eyes widened, immediately drawn to the ink decorating his skin, the way his muscles shifted and flexed with every movement.

“Get on the bed,” he said, his voice low and rough.

I froze, my breath catching. “Jungkook—”

“Do it,” he interrupted, his tone brooking no argument.

A part of me wanted to argue, to push back against his dominance, but another part of me—the part that was drowning in the overwhelming intensity of the moment—couldn’t move. Slowly, I took a step back, then another, until the backs of my knees hit the edge of the bed.

I sank down onto it, my mind spinning, my body trembling with a confusing mix of fear and desire.

He stepped closer, his eyes locked on mine, his gaze like a predator sizing up its prey. “You want to say that I took you in out of pity?” he asked, his tone mocking. “Then fine, I’ll fuck you like the pitiful bitch you are.”

I stared back at him, my chest rising and falling as a chaotic mix of fear and arousal tangled itself inside me. His gaze was unrelenting, pinning me in place, and I hated how much I wanted to crumble under it.

Every rational part of me screamed that this was wrong, that I shouldn’t be turned on by the dominance in his eyes or the subtle edge of danger in his voice, but my body betrayed me. It was maddening, the way my pulse quickened, the way heat pooled low in my stomach.

My breath hitched, my skin alive with anticipation, and before I could think, before I could stop myself or question the consequences, the words slipped past my lips like a challenge I wasn’t even sure I wanted to win.

“Do it then.”

Next

[luckyfailuregirl]

FOR THE PEOPLE THAT WANTED TO KNOW.... GIGGLES OKAY SO MY SWAP AU...

FIRST OF ALL MOST OBVIOUSLY ITS LIKE CONNECTED TO OCS, MOSTLY MY OC LUCKY

SO YEAH RANT UNDER CUT

Lucky is originally a technician for Urbanshade (went to college for engineering and then got arrested years later but Urbanshade thought they'd be useful)

BUT IN THE SWAP AU, LUCKY IS THE SENTIENT AI DIGITAL ARTIST INSTEAD OF P.AI.NTER, AND P.AI.NTER IS THE TECHNICIAN

This works because p.AI.nter in this AU actually has a body, and he has this because he was created by a company that salvages old computers and makes them into robots that help with manufacturing

However, p.AI.nter was sentient and aware and so Urbanshade heard about this and bought him off of the companies hands and decided to use him as their own extra efficient technician!!!! (He hates the job and feels underestimated and they also forced him to wear a uniform and he hates that too /lh/silly)

(HERES PHOTOS SO ITS CLEARER WHY HES SO USEFUL... HES GOT COOL ROBOT ASPECTS!!)

Lucky meanwhile is a program on one of the Urbanshade-owned laptops !! They are being used the same way p.AI.nter is used in canon: for crypto mining

But the difference is Lucky actually likes it for a whole first

It's in their nature to enjoy logic and things that make sense and truly they don't mind it, even if they do think it's a bit iffy at times (they were made for this so they don't really have a moral view on a lot of things)

But eventually Urbanshade asks them to double their work and it gets overwhelming, so they start hating it and eventually aid in the breach of the Blacksite EHEHEHE

The drawing I made was supposed to depict them during the breach but also just to introduce the idea of the swap au entirely

FUN FACTS ABOUT THIS AU:

-There are two versions of this au!! One where p.AI.nter and Lucky are the only swapped ones, and one where several characters are swapped with characters from Code Grey (Code Grey is the au I have with my friends with all our ocs)

-Lucky can never really be in the physical world! They don't ever get a body (so far), but people (and other sentient beings) often hallucinate them; it's just an effect of being around them

-Lucky usually doesn't like touch, they despise it in fact, but in this au they actually don't even know what it's like!! So they probably wouldn't mind it if they had a body because they have no bad memories with it here

-Lucky's design was inspired by a lot of the patterns I see in people's p.AI.nter designs!! Ehehehe HERES THEIR REF ACTUALLY SINCE I SHARED P.AI.NTER'S

-Lucky eventually takes control of the turrets in this au as p.AI.nter would in canon, but Lucky is more of a cold-blooded killer who does things with a straight face and thinks of things very neutrally

He realizes he's killing expendables, but again, he doesn't have any moral to build off of, so he doesn't think anything of it

-ALSO IN THE VERSION OF THIS AU WHERE NOBODY ELSE IS SWAPPED, SEBASTIAN AND LUCKY ACTUALLY HAVE A DECENT RELATIONSHIP INSTEAD OF HATING EACH OTHER LIKE THEY DO NORMALLY

SO YEAH THATS IT FOR NOW BUT IM DEVELOPING MORE WITH A FRIEND OF MINE HEHEHE

THANK YOU TO RHE PEOPLE WHO ASKED ABOUT THIS BTW... IM VERY EXCITED IM SO GLAD PPL WERE INTERESTED

[orivaa-kun]

ride for me | chapter 3: go

ch. 1 | ch. 2

chapter word count: 16.3k warnings: mature (18+), drinking, drug use, smut, fluff, angst, feels pairings: Gojo Satoru x Fem OC, Geto Suguru x Fem OC, Gojo Satoru x Geto Suguru x Fem OC series summary: Lena Okamoto was emotionally estranged from her father—the CEO of Okamoto Group, a Tokyo-based, multi billion-dollar sports car manufacturing company—after her mother died due to a longterm, post-pregnancy related illness when she was a kid. Amidst her father’s misdirected blame for this, now 27, Lena is finally back in the city. She’s introverted and troubled by her past with her father and step-family, but hardworking and anxious to prove herself to everyone: that she can create the best cars for the Okamoto brand and the fastest engines for their Formula 1 cars. Satoru Gojo is the face of Gojo Industries—the corporation that practically owns Tokyo with its advanced tech that can be found all over the city. Unlike Lena in many ways, the confident and extroverted man leads a completely different, unblemished life—having basically had a spoiled upbringing, and the only trying aspect of his life being the sheer amount of his company responsibilities, obligations, and public appearances. When the two meet, both of their lives change completely. Will they be able to juggle their relationship, trying professional careers, family dynamics, and public image all at once? Sacrifices will have to be made.

It had to be around noon when I woke up from the nap I’d immediately taken after returning to my other home—I could tell from the way the light poured in through the floor-to-ceiling length picture windows alongside the back wall of it. I still occasionally had to reorient myself whenever I woke up in this room, especially as I’d just finished remodeling this side of the house weeks ago, but today I immediately knew exactly where I was upon waking—my mom’s old home in Yamanashi. The sun had pleasantly warmed up my cream-colored duvet and sheets, and much unlike most days, the piercing chime of my phone alarm hadn’t abruptly shaken me awake. It was nice. Maybe Yuko was right about taking more time off... 

I reached under one of my pillows and fished for my phone on the edge of my bed, flipping it over to reveal the actual time—11:48am. Close enough. I sorted through my email for a bit, checking on my shipping notifications for the house and discovering that the wood fire pizza oven was going to be delivered early this afternoon. It was a good thing I’d planned to spend the day here. 

 After responding to messages and aimlessly scrolling though my phone, I finally slipped out of bed, adjusting the white, teddy sleepwear tube top and long pants that had moved around a bit during my sleep. I was about to make my way to the kitchen, but the sound of the doorbell jolted me instead. I reached for my matching robe nearby, quickly fastening the sash around my waist before approaching the front door. The guys delivering the pizza oven were here already?

I opened the door to a tall man with red-dyed hair and wearing an all-black uniform with a tablet in his hand. His hair was tucked into a black cap, and I glanced behind him to see another man in the same uniform beginning to get out of a large truck, “Good morning.” I offered the red-haired man a polite smile.

“Hi. Are you Ms. Lena Okamoto?” He lifted his tablet, seemingly pulling up some sort of page on it.

“Yes. You two are here to deliver the pizza oven, right?”

“Pizza oven…? The man lifted a brow in confusion, “Um, no. We’re here to deliver the painting. Can you sign here, please?” He extended the tablet and attached pen to me.

My brows furrowed together, “Painting? I didn’t buy a painting…”

“It’s a gift from, uh,” The man checked the tablet again, seemingly surprised by the name he saw, “Satoru Gojo?? Shit, you know Satoru Gojo?!” He seemed surprised by the information, like he hadn’t checked the delivery information until now.

“Oh…” I blinked a few times and rubbed my temple, still waking up, “Right.” He did say there’d be a gift waiting for me when I woke up, “Yes, thank you.” A painting?

“Whoa, that’s awesome. Well, where would you like us to put it? It’s pretty heavy.” The red-haired man turned back to glance to the other man in uniform, who unlatched the back hatch of the truck to reveal a long, rectangular box wrapped with white, heavy-duty paper. It looked pretty big, almost as big as… No way. There was no way it could be that painting.

“Oh shit…” I muttered under my breath, in disbelief.

“What was that?” The man asked.

“Oh! Nothing, sorry, um…” I pushed the front door open wider, “Is there any way you two can bring it into my office in here?”

Less than 30 minutes later, I was staring blankly at the wall of my study, jaw practically on the floor as the two art installers mounted the exact Nakamura painting the from me and Satoru’s date yesterday at the art gallery—the modern piece that depicted a calm or storming ocean, depending on how one looked at it. I didn’t even want to think about what a painting like this would be worth… Yes, I did. I’d have to remember to call Yuko about it later. She was an art enthusiast, herself, and would definitely be able to estimate its price point. Was this supposed to be normal for rich boys like Satoru? Did he go around handing out expensive gifts to girls after every first date we went on?!

I slipped my phone out of my robe pocket, immediately beginning to text Satoru.

Though it was a shocking first date gift, the painting was something I wanted… I just thought it was something that would take me a few years to save up for—not one day of dating Satoru Gojo. But who knows if the painting would’ve still been on the market by then… Maybe I should just take the gift? It’s not like Satoru would miss the money, anyways. My heart was about to jump out of my chest. This piece alone was probably worth more than all nine of my sports cars combined!

I took a deep exhale and pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to calm myself about the situation. I needed to tell Shoko and Yuko about this, like immediately.

~ 

The next morning, I didn’t wake up from my alarm but instead much earlier, before dawn at 4am, to the sound of my phone buzzing repeatedly. I grumbled and pouted, irritated from whoever or whatever was determined to wake me up so damn early. When I flipped my phone over, I discovered the hundreds of notifications—mostly from Instagram. My eyes went from narrowed to wide as I scrolled through, and I immediately sat up, turning on my bedside lamp before reading just a few of the thousand-plus comments that had been posted on a number of my recent posts. 

“don’t take pics with my man!!! 😤🤬” 

“There’s no way satoru gojo’s with a girl who’s barely even Japanese lol” 

“r u dating gojo????” 

“She looks like a uniqlo diversity model 🤣🤣🤣” 

“OMG I found her page!!” 

“back off he’s mineeee” 

“slut” 

The last comment sank heavily in my chest. Was this because I was dating Satoru?? I rapidly scrolled to the top of my page, rubbing my eyes in disbelief at the number of followers I saw. Just a few days ago it had to be around 409K... now it was... 893K?! Overnight?!! How did people find out about us in the first place? 

I exited the app, navigating my search engine. I began to type in my name, and immediately the first autocomplete read, “...and Satoru Gojo picture at docks.” I paused and sighed, roughly running a hand through my curls before reluctantly tapping the ‘search’ icon. And there it was, all over the image search results—Satoru and I pictured mid-kiss in front of the Tokyo Bay Yacht Club entrance. I fucking knew I’d heard the sound of a camera that morning. To top it off, my hair even looked kind of messy from the wind down by the docks. Satoru looked perfect, of course, and was in a full tailored suit compared to my slightly wrinkled, high waisted jeans and long coat that I’d worn the day before. 

After scrolling through a few of the image result photos, I realized that there was not one, but three photos circulating of us—one with Gojo kissing my fingers, one with him kissing my forehead, and one of us kissing each other. It was such an intimate moment... The comments were one thing, but the fact that some random paparazzi had intruded on this sweet moment between Satoru and I, it was off-putting, to say the least. I still remembered the feeling of the brisk wind on my cheeks, the way the cold morning air burned my nose red, and how Satoru’s lips had warmed me up. It was a private moment—one I wished had stayed as such. 

I navigated back to Instagram, tapping a completely different photo on my profile that had nothing to do with this paparazzi fiasco at all. It was one of the stills from my GQ shoot and article from a few months ago—a simple picture of me sitting on the track at sunset beside an older Okamoto model, dressed in a tight-fitting, full black and red leather (and more fashionable than functional) racing suit. What had once been ten or so comments from car fans and my friends was now over a hundred spam-like comments from people who were clearly obsessive fans of Satoru. 

“Is she like a tomboy or something?” 

“ur not even gojo’s type” 

“idk she’s kinda cute!” 

“Oof looks like Gojo is in his hafu phase 🥴 don’t worry GojoGirlies it’ll be over soon 🤣” 

“all of you are just hating b/c she’s tan smh” 

“Why is she even dressed like that if she really makes cars? Seems fake” 

“it’s from a GQ shoot, not a car factory u idiot.” 

“smash” 

I navigated to the search bar, half-typing in the name of a popular Tokyo gossip and entertainment news account—@thesorceryroom. Of course, when I tapped the profile, I saw that there were already four different posts on me and Satoru. What the hell did they even have to go on about us? All we did was kiss!  

Without a second thought, I immediately pulled up Satoru’s contact and hit the call icon, bringing my phone to my ear and biting my lip stressfully as I impatiently waited for him to pick up. It wasn’t until I heard his voice upon answering that it fully dawned on me how early in the morning it was, “Hey, Lena. You’re up early.” Satou noted, voice far from groggy or sleep-ridden... Was he already awake? 

“Oh! Uh, hey... Sorry, Satoru, did I wake you?” I suddenly felt way more nervous. 

“Nah, I’ve been up for a bit working. How about you, though? Everything okay?” He questioned, clearly curious to why I’d called him at 4am. 

“Um...” I trailed off, voice a bit uneasy, “Sorry for calling this early, it’s just my phone’s been blowing up so I woke up, and then I just had to call you when I saw what’s happening online...” I rambled, beginning to slide out of bed and pace around my bedroom. 

“What’s happening online?” Satoru asked, sounding completely clueless. 

“Uh, the pictures? There’s pictures floating around the internet of us kissing in front of the yacht club yesterday morning...” I explained. He didn’t know?  

“Oh, there are? Huh.” Satoru didn’t sound phased by this information at all. 

“And it’s blowing up online! There’s like, thousands of people stalking my page and dropping random comments on my old posts about it. Just random shit about us, and there’s some wacky shit directed to me, specifically!” I rubbed the back of my neck anxiously as I paced. 

“Damn, I didn’t expect this would happen this soon...” 

“You expected it??” I couldn’t help but raise my voice a little bit. Would’ve been nice to get a little heads up... 

“Well, yes and no. To be honest, I don’t usually date so publicly. The last time I did, many years ago, stuff like this happened all the time.” 

“Couldn’t you at least have warned me or something beforehand...?” I’m sure my tone sounded a little frustrated. I was trying to keep my composure about the situation and hear Satoru out, but it didn’t really seem like he empathized with what I was going through at all... 

“Sorry, Lena, it was the furthest thing from my mind.” Satoru’s tone sounded sincere, but I still felt thrown off from this whole situation, “But, don’t think about that, babe. Just ignore them.” 

I turned my face a bit at his response—as if it was that simple to let go of the countless things people were saying about you, “Satoru, it’s not that easy... I mean, have you seen all the shit people are saying about me? There’s gotta be damn near a thousand comments!” 

“Oh, I haven’t been on social media since high school. My publicist handles my accounts. I learned pretty early that shit really starts to mess with your head if you’re on it for too long.” Satoru sounded a bit aloof, even over the phone, like he was talking to an interviewer and not the girl he was dating. 

I was confused, “Okay, but I don’t have a publicist, or an assistant. I handle my own accounts.” I was starting to get irritated now, “I didn’t have the luxury of having one—especially when I was fresh out of high school and my dad no longer legally had to support me. I had to scrape to market myself, find jobs on my own and work my way up in the car manufacturing industry... It wasn’t until recently that I was able to afford to streamline some of the work I do, and social media’s never been an issue for me, well, not until now.” 

There was a short pause, and then I heard Satoru take a breath before speaking, “Wait—I’m sorry, Lena. I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just that my mind’s kinda split this morning with this project I’ve been... Never mind that. I apologize. I should’ve mentioned that something like this might happen, and taken the steps to get ahead of it.” He exhaled, “How’s this; why don’t we meet for lunch today to talk some more? I can even come to you, if you don’t have much time.” 

I inhaled deeply, trying to calm my nerves; Satoru’s apology had helped cool me off some, “Okay. Yeah, lunch would be good.” I finally stopped pacing, moving my hand that wasn’t holding my phone to my forehead to swoop my hair back, “There’s some things we should talk about, I guess.” I trapped the corner of my lower lip between my teeth at the sort of uncomfortable air around our current conversation. There were definitely some things I wanted to ask him, at the very least. Like why was Satoru suddenly so okay with dating publicly after meeting me? 

“Alright, then.” Satoru said conclusively. 

There was a long silence that followed, neither of us sure of what to say next. But the obvious thought remained. We shouldn’t’ve had to deal with all this after only one freaking date. 

“Look, Lena, I really like you. And I don’t wanna fuck this up. Let’s talk and get this situation cleared up so we can go back to having fun and getting to know one another, ‘kay?” 

“Okay.” I finally managed a small smile, taking another deep breath. 

“As far as social media—maybe mute the apps for today. I’ll get a social strategist from my team to look into the situation and see how we can go about protecting your accounts.” 

I began to protest, “Oh you don’t have to do that—” 

“I insist.” Satoru cut in, “As long as you’re dating me, you shouldn’t have to worry about handling these things by yourself. You shouldn’t have to worry at all, about anything, really.” 

And there he was, the sweet Satoru whose words and actions made me blush and my heart flutter... I sat down on the end of my bed, nudging my toes into the soft, plush rug beneath my feet, “...Okay.” I finally agreed, a small smile on my face. 

“Now, get some rest, Lena. Sorry that all of this disturbed your sleep.” 

“It’s fine.” There was a part of me that wished I could fall back asleep in Satoru’s arms, like I had last night, “You should get some sleep, too!” 

“It’s alright, I’ve got some work to do for this project this morning. Plus, I don’t need to sleep much, anyways.” 

“If you say so.” Though I wasn’t nearly as straight-forward as Satoru when it came to expressing feelings, I wanted to make him feel wanted, too. My smile grew into a warm smirk before I spoke again, “Well, I’m looking forward to seeing you at lunch...” I aimlessly fiddled with the duvet on my bed. 

“Yeah?” I heard Satoru’s tone soften considerably, his smile practically audible through the way he’d asked the word alone, “I’m glad to hear it. I’m always excited to see you.” Just like that, he one-upped me so effortlessly. 

I giggled to his words and the sexual implications of them, seeing as I’d already had a few run-ins with Satoru’s hard-on. 

“Hey...! Get your mind outta the gutter. I meant that in a nice, respectable way.” Satoru said matter-of-factly. 

I laughed and teased back, “You said it first!” 

“Well, maybe not just respectable...” Satoru trailed off, but then suddenly tore himself from his own line of thought, “Alright, that’s it. Goodbye, Lena, before you get me worked up.” 

“Night, Satoru.” My laugh lowered back into a giggle. 

“Goodnight, beautiful.” 

~ 

Since the internet had woken me up before sunrise, I’d decided to head into Okamoto’s HQ early as well, and was grateful for the bit of peace and quiet the near-empty building provided—outside of the occasional custodian staff member who would simply greet me.

But now closer to 9am, the more my production and mechanic team members entered the office, the more of them asked me about the Satoru situation. How the hell had everyone found out so fast, anyways? Was there a city-wide alert or something?? Okay, I was exaggerating in my thoughts, but this attention was still ridiculous. You’d think I was running for fucking prime minister.

I was currently tucked behind the desktop computer monitors in my office, following up on emails from the carbon fiber manufacturing group in Kyoto to ask them questions about the material specifics and safety. I suddenly saw Jin walk by the glass door in his racing mechanics suit—probably headed to the vehicle production building.

“Morning, Lena.” He opened the door and poked his head into my office, an amused look on his face.

“Hey, Jin.” I kept focused on and typed away on my keyboard, still a little overwhelmed from this whole dating rumor situation.

“You’re dating Satoru Gojo?” Jin’s amused look grew into an intrigued smirk. This was at least the seventh time I’d gotten the question in the last hour.

“Oh my god, not you, too…” I paused in my typing to drop my face into my hands, releasing a sigh.

“And you didn’t tell me??” He grinned, obviously interested in the gossip.

“One date! We only went on one date, okay…?!” I sat back up to exclaim, exasperated.

Jin raised his hands, “Hey, I’m just telling you what I heard! Wait, was that why you were almost late to the test drive a few days ago?”

“No!” I quickly replied, then actually thought aloud for a moment, “Well, not really…”

“Ooo, Lena…!” Jin teased me, grade-school style, “You better be careful hanging around big shot rich boys like that.” He chuckled, beginning to walk away from my office door, “Then again, it might just be good PR for Okamoto Group!”

I groaned dramatically and dropped my forehead onto the flat of my desk, “Ugh, leave me alone!”

“See you at the production status meeting later!”

I sighed for what felt like the millionth time this morning, suddenly feeling my phone buzz in my pocket. I reluctantly retrieved it from my mechanic suit pocket, eyes widening to the Instagram direct message notification on my screen.

Francesco De Luca… my ex, and the Lamborghini Chief Designer I’d met almost five years ago at a F1 race on England’s Knockhill track. It was back when I was on the Ferrari team, still working my way up the mechanics and design ranks and making a name for myself in the industry.

I hadn’t heard from him in two years, not since the day he’d broken up with me when I told him I was returning to Tokyo. He’d let anger take over him after I told him the news, and had brushed off our two and a half years together like it was nothing. Needless to say, I was heartbroken for months; but I eventually had to move on and took it as my sign to start over at home in Tokyo. No dating, no boyfriends, no nothing—just work. I was turned off and frightened by the idea of dating, in fact. Well, until Satoru had randomly dropped himself into my life, that was.

Why was he DMing me on Instagram? I opened the message.

Though I’d finally managed to get over him a year ago, his message still made my stomach sink. What. The. Fuck. What the hell was wrong with men?! Why did they always love to pop up, as soon as you moved on to someone new??!? There was no questioning it. He’d definitely heard the news online about me and Satoru. I wanted to curse him out—for this bullshit, and for everything he’d done to me. For never answering any of my calls, for abandoning me when I was so anxious about returning home, even though I was excited for the big, new position at my family’s company. For brushing me off and erasing me from his life like we hadn’t been together for nearly three years. Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you!!!

I didn’t even realize I hadn’t blocked him on my socials. I typed back my brief reply before hitting the block button, somehow managing to hold back all the fire and anger I was more than ready to hurl his way.

~ 

Now 12:01pm, I strode into the restaurant just a few blocks down from the Okamoto headquarters—a steakhouse named Gyushi that normally was buzzing with business professionals from the surrounding buildings at this time. I now wore a taupe blazer that had pronounced shoulder pads and accentuated my shape, and a matching miniskirt with black sheer tights underneath. My curls were fastened up in a high braided ponytail, and my small black stilettos lightly clacked against the black and white marble floor when I walked in. It was then I realized that the restaurant was completely empty. Shit—were they closed today? Then why was the door open? 

A shorter man in uniform approached me just then, “Ms. Okamoto?” 

“Yes.” 

“Welcome to Gyushi. Mr. Gojo is already here. Allow me to escort you to your table.” 

“Oh, thank you.” I nodded, curving up the corners of my lips in a polite smile. 

I looked around the western style steakhouse as I followed the man through the front and towards the back; I’d never seen it this empty before... Were they remodeling? We made our way through the spacious restaurant, and eventually I spotted the head of white hair at a plush booth in the center of the back area—an area of the place which I’d never seen, let alone eaten in. Normally I could only grab a seat at the bar in the front for lunch; and trying to book a reservation for dinner? Forget about it. 

The man in uniform bowed his head once we arrived at the booth, “A waiter will come by shortly to get your drink order, and anything else you’d like to start with. Please enjoy.” 

“Thank you.” I matched the man’s small bow, then turned my attention to Satoru who was already standing up, “Hey, you.” My smile grew when my eyes met his. I looked him over once, appreciating the tailored fit of his navy blue and thin white striped suit as I approached him. 

“Hey, Lena, you look great.” Satoru’s eyes traced over my body as well, smirking. He opened his arms, and I joined him in a tight hug, watching him bend down to plant his usual, quick peck on my cheek. Satoru kept his arms locked around my waist but backed up his head a bit to get a better look at me, “You doing okay?” His thumbs rubbed over the fabric at my lower back. 

“I mean, crazy morning but yeah, I’m managing.” I said a bit dramatically yet truthfully, smiling up at Satoru. 

Satoru grumbled low and playfully, eyes moving up from my lips to meet my gaze again, “Hm, I’d rather you were relaxing.” 

I giggled lightly, “It’s fine.” I made a bold move, for me, and stretched up to press a small kiss to Satoru’s cheek. 

Satoru’s eyes softened and he responded by bending down and pressing his lips to mine in a long kiss. He always seemed to one-up me when it came to sweet gestures—even in this romantic way, he was competitive and could never just let me win. 

We sat down in the booth after we pulled apart, and my eyes flickered to the menu before me on the table. I’d only ever seen the short list of lunch specials, not the full menu. 

“You been here before?” Satoru asked, picking up his menu opposite me and skimming through it. 

“Yeah, for lunch. Crazy, it’s usually packed to the brim around this time of day...” I trailed off, looking around the wide-open dining area, “I wonder why it’s empty.” 

Satoru gently placed his menu back down and met my gaze with his own, “The place is ours for the next hour.” He clarified, “I wanted to make sure we could talk privately without anyone butting in—especially with all the media buzz around us this morning.” He said so simply, as if it was the most normal thing in the world. 

“Oh...!” I said, eyes slightly widened in surprise. He reserved the entire steakhouse for us?? With only a few hours' notice?! I was just really starting to see the breadth of the Gojo family’s influence. I mean I’d been trying to get a dinner reservation here for the past two years with no luck! 

Satoru quirked a brow, curious to the expression on my face, “Is that alright?” 

I quickly nodded over and over, still a little shocked, “Oh, yes, of course!” Act cool, Lena. I settled back into the comfy leather booth, picking up my tall menu card to hide my blushing. My eyes scanned through the long list of starters and entrees with no prices. 

“You want anything to start?” Satoru asked and I slid my menu down, so my eyes peeked over the top. 

“Um, I don’t know, everything looks so good.” I finally placed my menu back down on the table when my cheeks no longer felt as warm, biting the inside of my lip. 

“I’m pretty hungry.” Satoru noted, “If I got the chilled grand plateau for two, would you share it with me?” 

My eyes spotted the appetizer on the menu; it was a chilled platter with lobster tails, grilled clams, shrimp cocktail and oysters on the half shell. I gulped at the sound of it all. Seafood was my favorite food, “Yeah, that looks delicious. I’d have some.” I said calmly, trying to hide my excitement. 

“What do you like to drink here?” Satoru continued to scan his menu, flipping it over to check out the cocktails. 

“Well, I usually don’t since I’ve only come for lunch and typically have to go back to work after, but the highball spritzer mocktail is yummy.” 

“Sounds good to me.” Just as Satoru spoke, a waitress with short black hair approached our booth. 

“Hi, I’m Mai. I’ll be your server for today.” Her face looked strangely familiar... Almost like Maki Zenin, the young F1 driver who’d shown quite some promise over the past year, “Can I start you with anything?” She turned to Satoru first. 

“We’ll start with the grand plateau, and two highball spritzers. Thank you.” 

The girl nodded once and started to move back towards the kitchen. 

Gojo turned his attention back to me, “So, how are you really doing, since this morning? Any updates?” 

“Uh, well, nothing too crazy since I muted the apps—just a few friends and people I work with texting, calling, and asking me about it.” I rubbed my hands together, then neatly interlocked my fingers on the table in front of me. My ex, too. I thought, but Satoru didn’t need to know all that. 

Satoru hummed, half-frowning, “I’m sorry this happened like this. I should’ve known better.” He shook his head to himself, “I guess it’d been so long since I’d dated, let alone publicly, I wasn’t even thinking about that.” 

“It’s ok—it's not like you’re the one who posted the pictures everywhere. When is the last time you dated?” I asked, curious. 

Satoru crossed his arms over his chest, thoughtfully, “Like, seriously tried to pursue someone? Maybe... three years ago?” 

“Wow, that is a long time.” My eyes widened to Satoru’s revelation. It was longer than me. If that was true, then I could definitely understand him forgetting about his obsessive fanbase and the nature of celebrity gossip in Tokyo. 

“It’s not like I haven’t done other things in the meantime, but yeah, the last time I seriously dated someone was years ago.” 

“Why’s that? And what do you mean by other things?” I asked, clueless. I picked up the glass of water closest to me and began to take a sip. 

Satoru shrugged, “Just no time, really. Or, maybe unconsciously I was too focused on work and didn’t want to make time for it. And by ‘other things’ I mean casual sex.” 

I nearly choked on my water but cleared my throat instead, taking a quick sip from my glass before setting it back down. Of course he was sexually active. Of course that was what he meant by ‘other things,’ “Oh... right.” I nodded. 

Satoru watched me with intrigue, the corners of his mouth just barely curving upwards, “What about you? When’s the last time you dated?” 

“Two years ago. It was before I moved back here.” I explained, playing with the stem of my water glass. 

Satoru cocked his head to one side, arms still crossed, “Relationship?” I nodded in response to his question. He swiftly asked another, “Did you love him?” 

I blinked a few times to the intimate nature of the question, a bit thrown off guard, “Uh, yeah. I don't think he did, though…” I said honestly, “Did you... love the last person you dated?” I looked back up at Satoru. 

He simply shook his head, “It was someone my parents wanted for me, so it didn’t work out.” 

I nodded, unable to help biting my lip at the silence that followed the last of Satoru’s words. I finally spoke up, remembering what I wanted to say, “Can I ask you something?” 

“Of course.” Satoru said, unfolding his thick arms and gently resting them on the table. 

“Why are you okay with dating me publicly, but not the other girls you dated in the past?” I wanted to know his reasoning. Why was he okay with being seen with me, and why was he initially incognizant of how people and the media would react? 

Satoru leaned over the table, extending his hand to me. In response, I reached forward to place my hand in his. He really was the touchy type—I wouldn’t be surprised if his top love language was physical touch. Well, nearly every man’s top love language was. Was Satoru touchy, or was I just unused to all of this? Some part of me had a feeling it was mostly the latter. We were dating, after all; the only difference was, he was used to more intimate touching, while I hadn’t done it in two years. 

Satoru smiled at me admiringly as he spoke, “Lena, you’re smart... beautiful... kind... and you care about your work, just as much as I care about my own. I’m okay with dating you publicly, because you’re the woman I want to be seen with. No offense to the others I’ve dated and been unsure about, and I know things are still fresh and new between us, but I know that much—that I haven’t met anyone like you before.” Satoru paused, “Sorry I didn’t say all of this before, but I don’t think I even consciously knew how I felt until I really thought about it this morning. It’s only been four days since we met, after all.” He grinned. 

“Yeah,” I exhaled, smile growing, “it feels like it’s been much longer.” I admitted, propping my free arm up on the table to rest my chin in my palm. I slid my hand up to cover my mouth and cheeks, already blushing again. 

“Glad I’m not alone.” Satoru mirrored my expression, blue eyes softening as he gazed over me. His fingers began to gently knead at mine, “You shouldn’t hide your face so much, you know.” He added, and his voice sounded completely different, like there was no one else in this restaurant but us. 

I allowed my hand that was covering my lips and cheeks to slip back down to the white tablecloth, bashfully revealing my face once more. Just then, or waitress returned with our drinks. We let go of each other’s hands, giving the girl room to place our mocktails on the table, “Two highball spritzers... And your appetizer will be out soon.” She nodded once and departed again. 

“Thank you.” I smiled at her, while Satoru still kept his eyes on me. I wondered what he was thinking about? From the look in his eyes, it wasn’t anything family friendly. I took a sip of my mocktail, and Satoru did the same. 

“This is pretty good.” He noted, looking down at the glass, “Almost tastes like soda. Oh—” He seemed to remember something, “there’s a publicist I want you to meet; she’s a social media expert, too. Name’s Nobara Kugisaki. We briefly chatted earlier, but it seems like the situation on your social accounts is something she can easily fix by deleting and limiting comments from people you aren’t following. She had some more recommendations, too. If you want, I could give her your info...” 

“Yeah, that’s... probably a good idea.” I fidgeted with my fingers for a moment, “That would be great. Thanks, Satoru.” 

“You’re the Style VP of one of the biggest luxury sports car companies in the country, let alone world—you should have a publicist. Geez, I can’t imagine all the work you’ve had to do on your own these past few years.” Satoru smiled, shaking his head. 

“Yeah, sifting through media opps on my own has taken a lot more time since I got my role, almost feels like a job on its own, sometimes.” 

“That’s because it is.” Satoru pulled out his phone and began to tap around before typing something, “I’m sending her your number. She should give you a call later today so you can connect on next steps.” 

“Thanks, Satoru, for doing all this...” I smiled over at him, and he looked up from his phone to wink at me. 

 “Of course, babe. It’s the least I can do.” He paused, continuing to type out a message before seemingly hitting send and locking his phone again, “Now, with that settled... We still on for our date this weekend?” Satoru grinned. 

I rolled my eyes playfully, “Oh my god, you and this date!” I smiled and shook my head, “Yes, we’re still on.” 

Satoru silently cheered to himself, then responded, “Anything you’re in the mood for?” 

“Well, I did just get this outdoor pizza oven at my place in Yamanashi... Wanna come over and test it out? Plus, I’d really like to look at my new Nakamura painting there some more...” I trailed off, alluding to the piece he’d bought me on our first date; even though its insane cost of 521 million yen was nothing to Satoru, it meant a lot to me. 

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it so much.” Satoru smiled sincerely, before taking another sip of his mocktail, “Would rather you were looking at me though.” He winked before taking another sip. 

I rolled my eyes, dropping my face into my hands dramatically, “You and these cheesy fucking lines... Stop it!” I laughed. 

~ 

Later that week, on Friday night to be specific, I made sure to take off work exactly at six so I could grab a few things from the grocery store before heading to grandpa’s place: apple cider, cinnamon sticks, and barrel-aged whisky—the three main components of his favorite fall time cocktail. After a day of reviewing the new Okamoto model’s safety checks with the legal team at work, I’d changed out of my usual business clothes and into a comfy, myrtle green, silk midi skirt and a slightly lighter mock neck sweater. 

When I arrived at grandpa’s, I pulled into the short driveway. Even with all of his wealth, not only as the past CEO of Okamoto group but as a retired F1 driver himself, grandpa was never one to live grandly. He enjoyed simplicity, saving money, fine-tuning his cars in the garage, and enjoying the retired life in his tight-knit neighborhood’s community. I parked my sky blue, 1968 Lamborghini Miura S and hopped out with my tote bag of cocktail supplies slung over my shoulder, fishing for my key to grandpa’s place as I shut the heavy car door behind me. 

“Grandpa, I’m home!” I called from the entryway when I opened his front door, quirking a brow upwards when I didn’t hear a reply, “Grandpa...?” Maybe he was in the garage? I walked down the hall and towards the kitchen, breathing a little sigh of relief when I heard the familiar metal clink of a tire rim coming from the room just behind it. I dropped my bags on the countertop and headed towards the stream of warm light pouring out from the open door to the garage. It was a big, open space—perhaps larger than the rest of the house combined. It was a ten-car garage with all the tools, gear, and vintage tech a car nerd could dream of. I spotted him in a small folding chair beside the front passenger tire, fastening a lug nut onto it. I furrowed my brows in concern, “Grandpa...! You’re not supposed to be bending like that!” I put my hands on my hips, disapprovingly. 

“Hey, Lena-chan—perfect timing!” He stood from his seated and bent position next to the tire, a long, metal lug nut wrench in his hand, “Help your old man out, would you?” 

I pouted as I approached my grandfather, but hugged him tight, regardless, “Hi, grandpa. You should’ve waited for me to get here! The doctor told you not to strain your back, you know.” I reminded him, offering him an accusatory point before retrieving the wrench from his hand. He was a few inches shorter than me with short gray hair and a small beer belly, and he currently wore an old, slightly oily mechanic’s jumpsuit. I hiked my skirt up a little, and moved the chair away from the old, cherry-colored 1971 Okamoto H7 model as I didn’t need it. I knelt on one knee and tightly fastened the remaining lug nut before checking and tightening the ones on the other tires, “Did you fasten all of these by yourself??” 

“I’m fine, Lena-chan. Your grandpa’s not that old!” The man laughed heartily, and the way his deep dimples and wrinkles curved up into a full-face smile made my heart warm. No matter where I found myself, if I was away from home then I was always missing him. 

I pointed the long end of the wrench in my grandpa’s direction, “If you don’t take it easy, I’m gonna change the locks to your garage!” My pout grew. 

Grandpa raised his hands in surrender, “Okay, okay! I promise to take it easy. Now, more importantly, did you bring the goodies?” He clasped his hands together with a grin. 

“Mhm, all the ingredients for our special cider!” I nodded, putting the wrench back in its place on a nearby worktable. I wiped my hands off with a rag that rested on the corner of it. 

"Let’s get to it, then!” 

A little later, we sat on the couch in front of the western style fireplace with mugs of spiked apple cider in our hands. Remote in his free hand, Grandpa flipped through the various movie channels on the TV that was mounted up above the fire. He passed through various movie channels but paused when I rested my head on his shoulder, tired and already feeling the alcohol settle throughout my body. I realized that I hadn’t drank in a while, and that I was exhausted—even after a half-week of work, “Grandpa? Can I stay here for the night?” I nudged his shoulder with my cheek. 

Grandpa put the remote down on his lap and wrapped his arm around me, eyes currently fixed on an old western movie that played on the large screen before us, “Of course you can stay. It’s your home.” He stroked my hair with his hand, and I put my mug down on the coffee table before us to wrap my arms around him comfortably. 

Before I’d gone to boarding school for high school, Grandpa’s place had become a real home to me since I was a kid. I’d found myself in constant fights with my dad and stepfamily growing up, so much so that grandpa decided to take me in. Grandpa had been there when my nightmares were at their worst, too, always there to scoop me up into his arms and soothe me back to sleep after the painful memories of losing my mom and of my father’s fits of anger tormented me. Grandpa was the closest thing I had to a dad. In fact, after legally being my guardian for some time, teaching me everything he knew, and caring for me when no one else would, he truly was. 

Grandpa put his mug down on the table next to mine and picked up the remote again, continuing to scroll through the channels until he passed a local celebrity news channel—the image of Satoru and I kissing plastered all over the big screen. I jumped upright and made a noise of surprise at the image on the local channel, jaw dropping to the sight of a celebrity news reporter talking about the situation. 

“-the steamy picture seems to have been taken in front of the Tokyo Bay Yacht Club, and features Okamoto Group Chief Designer and VP of Style, Lena Okamoto, mid-kiss with Satoru Gojo. Gojo fans all over the internet have buzzing about these photos, primarily wondering if this is Tokyo's most eligible bachelor’s new girlfriend. What do you think? Tweet us your thoughts at—” 

“Agh!!” I reached over and clicked the channel button in grandpa’s hand, quickly flipping it to some variety TV show on the one following. 

I looked over at grandpa, then threw my face into my hands, embarrassed. Even without looking, I could feel his direct eyes on me. He was silent for a moment, then suddenly spoke up, “You think I haven’t heard about you and the Gojo kid?” He asked simply. 

I sat up again, dropping my hands to my lap and returning my gaze to grandpa, “You... you know about this?” 

“It’s all everyone’s been talking to me about.” Grandpa scoffed out a quick laugh, “You wouldn’t believe the people who’ve called to ask me about that in the past few days...” He trailed off. 

“People have been asking you about it??” I suddenly felt anxious. 

“Just some old connections, and friends from Okamoto Group.” He crossed his arms over his chest, “You think ‘cause I’m old I don’t keep up with the latest news? You two are quite the talk of the city right now.” 

I groaned and leaned back into the sofa, allowing my head to roll back on it so that I was looking up at the ceiling, “This is crazy...!” 

“I was just wondering when you were going to tell me about this. You used to always talk to me about your boyfriends and such.” He half-frowned, seemingly disappointed about being left out of the loop—except I’d never intended him to be. Things were just too new with Satoru! 

I straightened up once more, looking at grandpa, “That’s because he’s not even my boyfriend! We’ve only been on one date! Of course, I would’ve told you if it was serious.” 

Grandpa retrieved his mug from the table, “Well, you already know what I have to say about it. I don’t care who the guy is; if he hurts you, then I have to kill him.” He simply shrugged before taking a long swig of spiked cider. 

I rolled my eyes and laughed once, “Oh my god, grandpa... Please be serious.” 

“What do you mean? I’m completely serious.” Grandpa blinked, having said the words without emotion. 

Grandpa simply stared at me, and I, back at him. Then, we abruptly busted out laughing. 

He placed his hand on my shoulder as our laughing died down, “But Lena-chan, I know how you can get about these sorts of things. I know you’re an introverted person, and this situation with the Gojo kid is probably a shock for you, but you can’t let these people get to you. People will always want something or someone to gossip about. It’s up to you to live your life confidently without any reservations. The best thing you can do in these kinds of situations, situations where it seems like everyone has something to say, is to be successful—to be your very best self.” 

I nodded to grandpa’s words, staring aimlessly into the space before me after he finished talking to think for a moment. Then I turned back to him, “But what about the board? What if all this news impacts my job?” 

“Something this small?” Grandpa crossed his arms again and shook his head, “It won’t. If anything, all this talk about you is good for the business. Actually, I wouldn’t be surprised if we saw a spike in vehicle sales soon. Trust me, people much higher in leadership have given our family company far worse press.” 

I knew exactly who he was talking about. Toji. Though Toji was undefeated in his business endeavors whenever he actually was working, his issues were the situations he found himself in after working hours, “That’s true.” I agreed, reaching over to retrieve my cup once more to take a sip. 

“So, when am I going to meet Satoru Gojo?” 

“Grandpa!” 

“What?? I just want to give him a stern talking-to.” 

I shook my head, laughing softly, “Don’t try to scare him off yet, we’ve only had one date! I’ll bring him over and introduce him only when we’re serious... If things become serious, that is.” 

“If he can’t take the heat then he’s no good for you anyways.” Grandpa shrugged, “But seriously, Lena-chan, as long as he treats you like the princess you are, then he’s alright with me.” He nodded with finality, then cleared his throat, “But if he hurts you, I’ll kill him.” 

“Grandpa!” I guffawed. 

~ 

 The following night I found myself diligently organizing pizza ingredients into small bowls on my long kitchen island, my homemade pizza dough already portioned out, proofed, and stretched over two personal sized pizza pans for Satoru and me. I kept the toppings fairly simple: marinara, fresh mozzarella, basil, tomatoes, prosciutto, chicken, caramelized onions, and grated parmesan. I’d popped a bottle of dry red sangiovese for myself, and even managed to find a sweet, non-alcoholic red for Satoru from a specialty bar in Yamanashi.

I’d checked the entire house at least four times by now, making sure that there were a few scented candles lit around the wide living room and kitchen area, and that the old record player was lowly buzzing and crackling with jazz music from my Italian grandma’s favorite—the Live John Coltrane Newport ’63 album. Everything was in its place, or, as much as it could be, seeing as the renovations on the back deck were still a work in progress. I took a long sip of sangiovese to calm my nerves, swirling the remaining liquid around in my wine glass after and biting my bottom lip. I couldn’t help but be a bit nervous. I hadn’t organized a date in years, let alone invited a man to my place in Yamanashi before. Maybe, in that way, I was a lot like Satoru when it came to his favorite boat. But it was a cozy date at my house, and my period had ended a few days ago, now, so… What if we ended up having se—

The sound of the doorbell jolted me from my thoughts, and I put my glass down on the countertop before making my way toward the front entrance in a maxi, light sepia lounge dress and long taupe cardigan that were both soft to the touch. I smoothed out the material one last time before opening the door with a smile, “Hi.”

“Hey, Lena.” Satoru leaned coolly against the entryway with his arm propped up above him, wearing a brown, knitted crewneck sweater with a simple white t-shirt underneath, and loose-fitting, dark brown, and pleated corduroy trousers with black tabi boots. He had a huge and carefully arranged bouquet of white orchids in his hand that he extended to me, “These are for you. They say orchids are good for new homes, and I thought that since you’re renovating the place…”

“Oh my god, thank you, Satoru! I love white flowers.” My smile grew as he passed me the bouquet and I took a deep inhale, “Come in!”

I embraced Satoru in a hug after he slipped off his boots in the genkan area by the door, stretching up on my tip toes to press a kiss to his cheek. He hugged me and pecked my cheek back in return, pausing to appreciate the fabric of my lounge dress after doing so, “Oh, this is nice… I like it.” Satoru rubbed up and down my back and sides with an intrigued hum and I giggled to his exploring hands.

“Thank you. You look handsome, too.” I smiled sweetly, and we finally broke apart, “You want a little tour before we make pizzas?”

“Absolutely.”

“Oh, let me put these in some water first.” I walked back toward the kitchen, fetching the pair of green stem trimmers out of a drawer in the kitchen island, and a large ceramic vase from a cabinet underneath the sink. I set all of the supplies on the table and turned back to Satoru to find him sitting down on one of the highchairs on the opposite side of island counter, “Want something to drink? There’s…” I picked up the unopened specialty bottle I’d gotten for Satoru to jog my memory, “a non-alc, sweet red wine, if you wanna try some.”

“Thanks, babe, you didn’t have to get a special bottle for me. But yeah, I’d love some.”

“I’m part Italian, you know. My mom and grandma would turn in their graves if I served you pizza without any wine.” I opened the twist cap and poured out a small serving into the bulbous, wide rimmed glass that matched mine, sliding it across the granite counter for Satoru to try, “Let me know what you think.”

Satoru poked his nose into the opening of the glass to take a light sniff, then took a small sip and paused before quickly downing the rest of the bit of liquid. He set the glass back down, “Damn, that’s good… Tastes like juice!”

“I’m glad you like it.” I smiled, before pouring him a more generous serving. I moved on to the orchids after, filling the vase with a little water then beginning to trim each of the thick ends of the flowers’ stems.

“How was your day so far?” Satoru asked before taking another sip of his drink.

“Pretty good, just was getting the house ready for this.” I clipped the end of a stem at the end of my words.

“All day?” Satoru rose a brow.

“Mhm, there’s been a lot of construction here over the past few months, so there was a lot of dust and stuff to clean up.”

“You don’t have to do all that for me.” Satoru said with a slightly contradicting, pleased smirk.

“Satoru, I’m not bringing you or anyone into a dirty house—which was why I was so caught off guard by the painting you sent me earlier this week. I mean, thankfully my study’s been in good condition, but still…” I shook my head, thinking of the crazy price point on that first date gift yet again, “But I love it, so thank you.” I said the last part with an endearing tone.

“You’re very welcome, Lena.” Satoru matched my tone but with a much lower voice.

“What about you? How was your day?” I continued snapping away at the ends of the flowers, curling my mouth a bit as I struggled with one particular stem that felt hard as steel.

“It was good, did a little work then—” Satoru was cut off when I finally trimmed the end of one of the orchids; the piece of stem immediately went flying in the air and hit him square in the forehead, “Ow.”

Though it had been a complete accident, I couldn’t help the deep, honest laugh that followed when I saw the small red mark on Satoru’s head. I even pointed in his direction as I guffawed.

Satoru stood to his feet, beginning to grin, “Oh you think that’s funny?” He started to approach me, walking around the kitchen island, “You think that’s funny, Lena?” Satoru easily grabbed and lifted me up, nuzzling his head into the crook of my neck to gently nibble at my skin there, “Attacking people with flower stems??”

“No…!” I giggled out with a big smile, nearly out of breath from laughing so much, “I didn’t mean to…!” I playfully fought back, wriggling around in Satoru’s grasp.

“You’ll pay for that!” Satoru lifted my hips up so that I sat on the counter closest to the wall, continuing to nibble at my neck and earlobe as he prodded and tickled me with his fingers.

I jerked around in Satoru’s hands, “Stop…! Haha, I can’t breathe!” I laughed out, but stopped when I noticed that Satoru had suddenly froze, his hands resting on my butt, “What’s—” I started, but Satoru jumped in.

Satoru backed his head up enough to look me in my eyes, “You’re not wearing any underwear…” It was definitely a statement, but Satoru had said the words more like a question. Then it dawned on me: The fabric of my lounge dress was thin; he could probably easily feel my bare skin just beneath it…

My entire face burned bright red to Satoru’s words. I wasn’t. But who could blame me? I’d been at the house all day and had honestly forgotten!

Satoru pressed his forehead to mine, voice turning deep and velvety, “You always walk around like that…?”

“N-No!” I stuttered out, embarrassed, yet intoxicated by the way Satoru spoke.

“Or is it just for me?” Satoru cooed shameless and confidently, lips now ghosting over my ear. It was like he knew he was driving me crazy. He began to kiss my neck just below, gently licking and sucking there as soft moans fled my sighing mouth.

Somehow, against my own physical desires, I managed to tap Satoru’s shoulder for him to stop, “T-Tour…! The tour!” I gasped out. I spoke again when I caught my breath, “Let me show you the house.” I tucked my curls behind my ear, still blushing profusely. I shifted my legs as well, feeling a familiar, wetness between them when I moved.

Satoru broke away, now looking into my eyes with his piercing blue, and very visibly turned on as his breathing had grown slightly deeper, “Sure. Yeah, let’s see the place.” He nodded a bit mindlessly, still sort of regaining his composure.

I hopped off the counter and took Satoru’s hand, leading him to the next room, “Come with me.” I smirked, looking over my shoulder at him.

About an hour or so later, Satoru and I had ended the house tour in my study; with me admiring the Nakamura painting with my glass of wine in hand, and Satoru at my desk checking out my car design sketch book. We’d paused for a quick pizza break as well, and while I’d decided on marinara, mozzarella, prosciutto, parmesan and basil for my toppings, Satoru had fished the barbeque sauce out of my fridge to create a barbecue chicken pizza with mozzarella and caramelized onions on top—a choice I’d initially refused to try at first, especially as a pizza purist, but ended up taking a bite of anyways. The new pizza oven on the back patio must’ve had magic in it, because every pizza that that we put in it came out absolutely delicious.

“These are fucking amazing.” Satoru noted, before flipping a page in my sketchbook, “How the hell do you even think up this kinda stuff?” He looked up from the desk at me.

I shrugged, then took another sip of sangiovese.

Satoru put down the sketch pad, then stood up to approach a glass-lined bookcase filled with black binders, each labeled with different car model names. They weren’t all Okamoto cars, either. There were a number of Porsche, Lamborghini, Ferrari, Maserati, Mercedes, BMW, Corvette, Bugatti, Toyota, and Alfa Romeo ones as well, and they all totaled to about 75 binders, “What’s all this?” Satoru asked, picking up the 2022 Ferrari F8 Tributa binder with white lining and flipping through it.

“Those are some of my favorite car models, organized by make and in order by my personal most to least favorites. Each binder has full engine and body mechanics mockups, notes, and news clippings; and the black binders with white lining are ones I’ve worked on. I strode a little close to Satoru, looking over his shoulder as he flipped through the laminated pages. A few of the pages were even scrapbook-style, featuring cute mementos like article clippings from F1 races and ‘eureka’ moment-esque physics equations my team and I had scribbled down on pub napkins after hours. After all the pages with engine and car images, the last page in this binder featured a polaroid picture of me and my old mechanics production team at Ferrari, signed with everyone’s names and farewell messages written all over the page in Italian. In the black and white image, we were all beside the Autodromo Nazionale Monza track, and the team had snapped a picture of us all mid-laugh as they tossed me into the air above them.

Satoru chuckled at the sight of the picture of me laughing in my greasy racing mechanic suit, then turned to me with an admiring smile, “Lena, you’re amazing… You put all of these binders together yourself?”

I nodded shyly, as this sort of car model scrapbooking had become a personal passion and nerdy obsession of mine. Though I’d only started making the binders ten years ago, my goal was at least to have 500 of them by the time I was old and retired. I wanted enough black binders to fill an entire wall—not just a bookcase.

Satoru closed the binder and put it back, slowly turning to fully face me. His affectionate smile remained on his lips, and he reached out to gently retrieve the glass of wine in my hand before safely placing it on the desk beside us. He then pulled me close, wrapping me in his arms before raising one of his hands to stroke my cheek. I rested my hands on Satoru’s white t-shirt, his brown sweater now long tossed aside to the corner of the room as he’d accidentally gotten some barbecue sauce on it earlier. I felt his chest muscles ripple beneath his shirt when he slid his hand down my back, eyes peering directly down into mine as his fingers brushed over my cheek.

Satoru looked at me in a way that was so sweet, calm, and unflinching, making me realize I didn’t believe I’d ever been looked at so intimately in my life. And he was so handsome, with his messily styled yet neatly trimmed white locks of hair, piercing azure gaze, toned body, spotless skin, and chiseled jaw. He opened his mouth to speak, “You’re the smartest, most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”

I tilted my head backwards to chuckle, “Oh, stop.” I was flattered but shook my head in disbelief.

“No, seriously, Lena…” Satoru tilted my had back down so that I was looking up at him once more, “I’ve never met a woman as passionate about something as you are. That passion for something you love… It looks so beautiful on you.” Satoru stroked his thumb over my cheek, and I felt my face redden at his words. They were the kind that pulled on my heartstrings.

I stretched up a little more, closing the space between us more as I closed my eyes, and Satoru dipped his head down to press his lips to mine, sharply inhaling through his nose as he immediately deepened our kiss into a wildly passionate one. I reciprocated his energy, beginning to feel just as impatient. Even though it was only our second official date, I felt I’d ignored my desires to touch and be touched by Satoru so many times that I’d lost count.

I wrapped my arms around Satoru’s neck, pulling him into me even further. Our kiss turned far more heated when Satoru slid his tongue into my mouth, both of his hands now slipping up and down the curves of my lightly covered waist. The fabric shifted up under his touch, and the combination of his hand movements with his kissing started to make my head spin. I took the opportunity to push my hands up underneath his shirt, appreciating the solid muscles of his chest and abdomen.

Satoru huffed out a short chuckle between open-mouthed kisses, tongue swirling around mine, “That’s not fair…” He teased lowly, sliding the hands that had been on my waist down to my ass before tightly squeezing my cheeks there.

I moaned into his mouth and felt desire pool in my abdomen. I wanted to be out of this dress already. It was too damn long and warm. Satoru planted kisses down my face to my chin, neck, then finally my shoulder, prodding his hot tongue over the skin there every so often. I had the feeling he was starting to learn that I really liked being kissed there. Maybe it was the way light moans squeezed their way up and out my throat every time his mouth was there.

With Satoru’s squeezing hands and skilled lips moving all over me, I began to pant to the lust that was taking over me. Somehow, I mustered up the strength to tell him for the first time what I really wanted, “Satoru, c-can we… move to my bedroom?”

“Baby, you can have whatever you want.” Satoru abruptly reached down to grab the backs of my thighs, pulling me up into his arms. I made a sound of surprise but smirked, quickly wrapping my legs around his waist and my arms around his shoulders to regain some balance. Satoru easily walked us out of my study, down the hall, and into my bedroom, kissing me all the while. And instead of tossing me onto the bed and ripping his clothes off like I was typically used to, Satoru sat me down on the bed, sitting right beside me and joining our lips once more before tipping us back onto the bed.

Satoru hovered into the space above me, holding his weight in his forearms on either side of my head as he kissed me hungrily. He broke away after a moment, resting back on his knees in the space before me on the bed so that he could watch my every movement. His hands found my bare ankles and he raised them just a bit, slowly opening up my legs so that the fabric of my lounge dress slid up my smooth thighs, “So pretty…” Satoru’s eyes and attention then fully fixed themselves on the space between my legs, licking his lips and only looking back up into my eyes to ask me something, “Can I touch you…?” He asked, voice turning deep and sultry as he slid one of his hands up my inner thigh.

“Yes, please.” I begged in a small voice with a quick nod.

Gojo’s left hand continued to slowly slip up my inner thigh until he finally reached my pussy, long fingers finding the small nub of flesh before rubbing with an intensity I wasn’t expecting. I jerked on the bed a little, brows pushing together with a small wince. But Satoru immediately adjusted his pressure, easing up into small, gentle circles around my clit. My body quickly eased in response, and I sighed, beginning to feel the pleasure from his movements.

“You’re really sensitive, huh, Lena?” Satoru said lowly, voice pure velvet, “And wet…” He noted, settling himself down on the bed at my left side. He rested on his side as he rubbed me, watching my every expression and movement as I laid on my back. I looked down at his thick, toned arm between my legs, fingers rubbing, circling, and gently pinching my clit in a practiced sort-of-way that made my breath catch in my throat.

“Look at me, baby.” Satoru asked and I immediately complied, turning my head to look at him beside me, “How long have you been this wet? There’s no way you’re this drenched after a few minutes of kissing...” Satoru paused in his circling to retrieve his and from between my legs, showing me his wet fingers in the dim light of my bedroom, “See? Look…” He turned his hand around and slowly parted his index and middle fingers, a lewd string of my juices appearing and on full display.

I blushed and turned my eyes back to Satoru’s face, nearly whimpering my answer I was so turned on, “Since… you kissed me on the counter…” I panted out, honestly.

“Oh, beautiful… That was over an hour ago.” Satoru returned his hand to the spot between my legs, continuing to rub me gently, just how I liked, “You’ve wanted to be touched for that long?”

I nodded shyly.

“Say it.” Satoru’s attention lowered to my neck, and he slid my long curls away to kiss it. I moaned at the combination of his lips and fingers on my body.

“I’ve wanted you to touch me for so long…!” I nearly cried out, still only speaking just above a whisper.

“Fuck, Lena…” Satoru cursed, burying his face into the pillow beside my head, before turning to speak again, “I’m trying my fucking hardest to take things slow with you…” He pressed his lips to my ear to say the next part, “But every part of me craves you.” Satoru’s fingers continued to rub gentle circles around my clit and I moaned, rocking my hips up into his hand. He chuckled to this, teasingly pulling his hand back to leave me wanting. His hand slid up my thigh instead, pushing up the fabric even further, “Let’s get this off.”

I aided Satoru in removing my lounge dress, lifting my hips and pulling the fabric up and over my head. I do my best to push my long black curls away from my face that had been frazzled by taking off my clothes, only then realizing I was completely bare as the dress had a built-in bra. I watched Satoru slowly look my entire body over, before he mouthed the word ‘fuck.’

I suddenly felt a bit shy, as I was the only one naked while Satoru was still fully clothed, “Um, what about you?” I asked, looking up at him.

Satoru stroked my cheek, then allowed his hand to slide down my neck and chest, “Patience, Lena…” He cooed and leaned in to kiss my lips, down my neck, and to my chest—already grabbing handfuls of my breasts and taking turns licking and sucking each of my nipples.

“Mmh…!” I moaned abruptly to the new sensation, mind starting to spin from all the attention Satoru was paying to my body.

“God, you’re fucking perfect…” Satoru paused to look me up and down again, then his gaze lifted and directly met mine, “You got any toys here, babe?” He continued to hold my chest, thumbs circling over my hardened nipples.

I blinked to the question. A man had never asked me that before, “Uh, yeah. Just one… Why?”

Satoru immediately slipped off the bed and stood up, “Where?”

“Um, bottom drawer.” I tilted my head in the direction of the bedside dresser to my right, swallowing a bit nervously as I was unsure of what Satoru would do next.

Satoru dropped into a squat and opened the drawer, retrieving the only item that was in it—a clit sucking and stimulating device. He grinned when he grabbed the handle and brandished it at me, “You keep it this close, huh?”

I shrugged silently, cheeks still red.

Satoru returned to his spot right next to me on the bed, lying on his side once more before offering me the toy, “Show me how you do it.” He smirked.

I took the toy’s handle into my hand, then glanced up to meet Satoru’s eyes, “By myself?” I questioned, “But I want you to touch me…” I batted my eyelashes up at him, pleading.

“We have all night for that.” He stroked my cheek, brushing a curl away from my face, “Don’t worry, beautiful, I’ll give you everything you want.”

I held the white button on the toy with my index and it softly buzzed to life. I turned its head downwards, closing my eyes as I placed the small silicone opening on my clit. I sighed in relief from the stimulation—though it wasn’t exactly what I wanted in this moment, it was something. I pressed the button again, increasing the toy’s vibration just slightly.

Though I had my eyes closed, I was sure that Satoru was watching me intently. His lips pressed to my ear and his tongue lapped over the shell of it, lewdly dipping in before sucking my earlobe, “Tell me what you’re thinking about, baby.” He breathed out, and his low voice made me twitch with excitement.

I propped my legs up on the bed, giving myself and the toy more access to my pussy. I furrowed my brows, mind going foggy at the pleasure I was receiving, “I don’t know…” I trailed off; though the last time I’d touched myself yesterday morning, it was the thought of Satoru’s hands that had sent me over the edge. He didn’t need to know that.

“Yes, you do.” Satoru nearly growled into my ear, “What, are you embarrassed? You can tell me…” He kissed just under my ear, then hotly lapped and sucked the skin at the crook of my neck. At this point, he was definitely going to leave a mark there.

I swallowed down the saliva that was pooling in my mouth, “Y-Your hands.” I admitted, blinking my eyes open to gaze at Satoru.

“Oh, these?” Satoru rose his brows and sat up so he could rub his hands over my legs and up my abdomen, all the way to my chest, “What about them?” He repeated his hand motions again, slowly stroking from my legs up to my breasts, “What do you think about them doing to you?”

I could feel my heart beat thickly in my chest. I bit my lip and remained silent, not really wanting to tell him about my licentious thoughts and desires. I was beginning to get lost in pleasure from the toy’s stimulation, anyhow.

Satoru paused in his rubbing and awaited my answer, then realized I wasn’t going to speak. In response, he swiftly reached down to retrieve the toy from between my legs and out of my grasp, “Now, that’s not fair,” Satoru started, half-frowning but only teasingly, “I’m part of your fantasies, but don’t even get to know how?”

I groaned out a whimper and shifted my hips on the bed, now that the source of my pleasure was gone. I pouted, already giving in, “Fine…!” I whined, speaking in a small voice, “I think about your hands… wrapping around my neck, and choking me.” I admitted and tucked my arms at my sides, unsure of what to do with them.

Satoru looked amused, like he wasn’t expecting me to say that. A wicked grin spread across his face, “Shit, babe. I thought you were gonna say something sweet like me holding you, or something…” He leaned close to me, gently placing his free hand around my neck. It was big and warm, and I could feel his thumb and index just barely press into the sides of it, “You’ve got a dirty mind, don’t you, Lena?” Satoru sighed out a single laugh, then returned the toy to the spot between my legs, causing me to jump a little when the silicone opening directly collided with my clit.

“Ah!” A moan fled from my lips, and my brows pushed together in a straight line when Satoru simultaneously pressed a little harder on the sides of my neck with his fingers. I felt wildly turned on all of a sudden; if this continued on, it wouldn’t be long before I came.

“Fuck, you’re sensitive. This is only the second setting on this thing…” Satoru eyed the toy in his hand curiously, then tapped the button, slightly increasing its vibration on the next setting.

My hips jerked upwards, and I began to moan repeatedly, feeling the pleasure start to radiate all over my body, “Satoru…” I warned, “M’gonna cum…!”

“Hm, enough of this.” Satoru pulled the toy away from between my legs and clicked around on the buttons until finally turning it off. He tossed it on the other end of the bed somewhere and let go of my neck as well.

“No!” I softly cried out, “Please…” I begged, upset at having been denied my orgasm.

“Please what?” Satoru asked for clarification, far calmer and more collected than I was presently.

“Please let me cum!” I said desperately, my pleading eyes looking up at Satoru who was hovering over me.

“I’ll let you cum as many times as you want, beautiful…” Satoru kissed between my breasts, slowly pecking his way down my abdomen, “You just have to be patient.” He said in between kisses, “I promise you’ll love it. Now, can I taste you?” Satoru asked, eyes staring up at mine as he moved to trail kisses up the inside of my thigh. He lowered himself flat on the bed before me, thick arms already propping my bent legs over his shoulders.

“Please!”

“Mm… Good girl. Begging so nicely…” Those two words made my head spin. Satoru finally descended his lips to between my legs, starting with a long lick up the glistening folds of my pussy—his eyes on me the entire time. I shuddered and gasped to his licking, my right hand moving to grip the white locks of hair at the back of his head. He paused to speak briefly, gently rubbing my clit with the pads of his fingers while he talked, “You taste so good, Lena. Knew this pussy would be perfect.”

I moaned when his mouth returned to my pussy, especially when he continued on to gently suck and tug on my labia with his lips. The slurping noises he made as he shamelessly ate me out were driving me mad, and my hips jerked around to all the strong sensations and pleasure he was giving me. I settled down a bit when Satoru returned to focusing and licking up, down, and around my pussy lips and clit; a pathetic and desperate moan fleeing my panting mouth when he found a particularly pleasing spot right next to my clit—my favorite spot… How the hell had he found that so fast?? Satoru’s gaze lifted back up to my face at my reaction, and he continued to lick, flick, and prod his tongue there at a steady pace.

I watched as Satoru devoured me and gripped his hair tighter at the sudden uptick in pleasure I was experiencing. I nodded my head quickly, “Yes! Ahh, right, there…!” My legs bent even tighter over Satoru’s shoulders, pulling him close to me while rocking my hips up into his mouth.

Satoru didn’t respond with words, but I watched the corners of his mouth curve up into a smirk as he licked me, “Mhm…” He hummed, picking up the pace even more and shifting one of his arms to press his middle finger to my wet entrance. Satoru slowly pushed his finger into my pussy, working the long digit in and out of me while he continued to lick my clit.

I didn’t need to warn him this time. The loud desperation on my face and in my helpless moans were enough to signal to Satoru that I was going to cum, and hard, at that. But I cried his name, regardless, “Satoru!” My mind went blank just after, and the noise that escaped my throat was hardly human. I grunted and clenched hard around Satoru’s finger and my eyes briefly rolled back, hips jerking and spasming with every wave of the intense orgasm that took over me. Though Satoru didn’t back away and held my hips down with his arm, licking me through every second of my climax.

I was left a panting mess beneath him when he was finished with me, my legs shaking and trembling when his mouth and hand parted with my pussy. I looked up to catch my wetness all over Satoru’s lips and chin, nearly dripping down to his t-shirt from the abundance of it. He wiped his chin and grinned. I needed to be close to him again. I was grateful when he lowered himself down over me, his lips taking mine in a deep, lewd kiss. I tasted myself on his tongue and hummed into his mouth, slowly coming down from my mind-altering orgasm.

“Better?” Satoru asked between kisses, smirking.

I quickly nodded over and over, “Yeah…” I sighed, still a little out of breath, “Much better.” The toy was nothing in comparison to Satoru’s mouth.

“See? You just gotta trust me… You’re so cute.” Satoru grinned, showering me in light kisses.

“Satoru?”

“Yes, babe?”

“Do you have a condom?”

Satoru looked surprised by my words, yet again, and quirked a brow upwards, his smile just slightly growing, “Yeah, I always keep one in my wallet. Why do you ask?” He feigned cluelessness, just trying to get me to utter my desires aloud once more.

“I want you.” I said in a soft voice, trailing my hand down his chest and to his abdomen, “I want you to feel good, too.”

“What do you want of me? Be specific, Lena… Communication is important.” He cooed deeply into my ear, his tone flirty and enticing.

“I… I want your dick inside of me…!” My face reddened bashfully as I admitted what I wanted.

Satoru chuckled and sat back for a moment, amused, “You just came and already want more, beautiful? I mean it’s fine by me, but, just curious… How many rounds do you typically like?”

I blinked a few times, still dazed, “I don’t know, I haven’t had sex in a few years.”

Satoru looked the most shocked I’d ever seen him, eyes blown wide and jaw practically on the floor, “A few years??!?! How long is a few years??!!”

“Like, two?”

“Shit, Lena. How the hell do you manage that?” Satoru asked the clearly rhetorical question just above a whisper, shaking his head to himself and already reaching for his wallet in the back of his trousers. He opened one of the pockets and retrieved a large foil packet before passing it to me, “Hold that for me, please.”

Satoru stood to his feet beside the bed, quickly making work of his shirt by pulling it over his head, then undoing his belt before sliding it, his pants, and his underwear down and off his legs in one go. Now freed from the confines of his pants, Satoru’s dick sprang to life, and nothing could’ve prepared me for seeing the size of it—not even having already seen his bulge a few times now. He was massive. At least 24cm or 9.5in long, girthy, cut, and completely shaved other than the light trail of white hair below his navel. I blinked, wide-eyed and mouth agape as he rejoined me on the bed, slipping the condom from my seemingly frozen fingers, I was so still with shock, “Uhh… wow, um… You’re huge.”

Satoru exhaled a short chuckle and leaned close to me while he broke open the packet, pecking my lips before speaking, “Don’t worry babe, it’ll fit.” He assured me. But would it, really?! I couldn’t help but wonder, “It’ll be a tight fit, but it will, and I’ll make you feel amazing. You just have to trust me, okay?” Satoru glanced down to roll the condom down the thick length of his dick, slowly spitting down onto himself to make it extra slick. He leaned in again, holding his weight on one arm beside my waist, and using his other hand to guide his dick to my pussy. I felt him, impossibly thick and heavy, press and prod against my entrance, “You trust me, babe?” Satoru spoke lowly into my ear, tone husky and heavy with lust.

“Yes…” I sighed lightly, beginning to feel slightly nervous. Satoru hadn’t given me a reason not to trust him.

“Then relax for me.” Satoru’s voice nearly made me dizzy, it was so hot. My pelvic floor muscles clenched in response. I took a deep breath, trying to release the tension in my body. Just as I relaxed some, I felt Satoru push in a little. I released a high-pitched moan in response and Satoru mumbled praises into my ear, “That’s good, Lena, now relax your hips for me…” He talked me through every inch of him, and now that the tip was in, his hand that had guided his dick slid around my side to sweetly rub and knead my hip, “Come on, baby, open up for me.” Satoru murmured the words into my ear, nearly whispering.

“Oh, fuck… You’re too fucking big…” I whined at Satoru’s size, doing my best to relax though his dick was stretching me unlike anything I’d ever experienced before. It didn’t help that I’d been out of practice for two years. The next time I exhaled, his length pushed in some more, and I reflexively pulsed around his dick, a groan falling from my lips.

“Yes.” Satoru praised, “That��s it—you’re doing so well, baby.” He slowly pushed into me even more and I moaned again, unable to help but briefly clench around him again. Satoru buried his face in the pillow beside me with a long groan, “Fuck… You feel fucking insane, Lena…” His lips returned to my ear, tone absolutely wanton, “You know you keep squeezing me like crazy? You want me that much? Let me give you what you need then, beautiful.” His dirty talk was going to drive me insane.

Satoru slowly thrusted in a little more, and I sighed in relief, assuming that was the last bit of him.

“Just a little bit more, okay?”

“M-More?!” I gasped, in disbelief. I rolled my head back on the pillow and moaned helplessly to the surprising yet pleasant fullness in my abdomen. Though Satoru was huge, he’d gone so slow enough that I’d hardly felt any discomfort. He hotly licked up the length of my exposed neck before joining our mouths in a messy kiss. He pushed the rest of the way in, and we broke our kiss with moans as we were finally skin to skin. I’d never been stretched and filled to capacity like this—it was making my mind fuzzy.

Satoru moved his hand from my hip to my knee, lifting the underside of it to prop over his shoulder. My hips rose slightly from this new position, and I felt Satoru’s dick press and nudge against my cervix because of it. I whimpered and shuddered to this, and Satoru backed up enough to gaze gown at me, eyes examining my expression in a protective sort-of-way, “You okay?”

“Yes,” I started, brows knit tightly, “just, slow, please…” I moaned lightly and allowed my eyes to flutter shut for a moment, “Shit, you’re deep.”

Satoru rolled his hips against mine and I opened my eyes again, a smirk spread across his face, “Yeah, think I’m the deepest I can go.” He teased cockily, feeling his tip press against my cervix, “But I told you it would fit, didn’t I?”

“Shut up.” I huffed out, managing a quick laugh. Satoru joined in with a chuckle of his own, and I immediately felt the tension and anxiety release from my body.

Satoru rested his forehead against mine, “Only if you make me, babe.” He challenged, retreating his hips before pumping into me again. I gasped to the feeling, unable to help my loud moaning and groaning with every one of his thrusts that followed. Though slow in speed, they had a good amount of force behind them, and the delicious friction of Satoru slipping his cock almost completely out before fully pumping back into me was starting to make a familiar, hot pressure build in my abdomen. Satoru continued to tease with his dirty talk as he peered down at me, “I think I have a better chance of making you scream my name. What do you think?”

“Ah—” I made a quick sound of surprise when Satoru mixed in a few shallow thrusts with his long ones, and my back arched on the bed, his dick perfectly prodding against the bundle of nerves deep inside of me, “Satoru…!” I cried, reaching down with one hand to grasp and attempt to pull his hips into mine.

“Yes, Lena?” Satoru said coolly with a knowing smile. He seemed so perfectly calm and in control, compared to my messy, lust-filled mind.

“Please!” I gripped and pulled his hip in tighter.

“Please what? Remember what I said earlier, about communication?” Satoru continued to stroke into me over and over as he spoke; I was honestly beginning to lose my mind.

“Communication is important…” I somehow managed with a cry, though it felt like my brain was melting every time Satoru hit my spot.

“That’s right. Now, what would you like me to do, baby?” Satoru cooed.

“Please, fuck me d-deep…!” I begged, still trying my best to pull Satoru’s hips closer into mine. I wanted more. More of that sweet friction he was giving me with every deep thrust. The way his dick stretched, pushed, pulled, and prodded the most sensitive parts of me; I wanted to be consumed by him and those sensations he was giving me.

“Like this?” Satoru abruptly picked up his slow pace into a quicker one, ceasing his long thrusts and fucking me instead with shorter, deep thrusts, all perfectly aimed at my a-spot. Instead of pulling out all the way with each pump, he remained deep inside, and the repeated stimulation to the area just beneath my cervix made me want to cry, it felt so fucking good. Satoru sat upright to watch me moan helplessly beneath him as I was completely pleasure-struck. He held the back of my left leg for leverage as he fucked into me, my breasts jumping from the force of each thrust. Satoru grabbed one and squeezed hard, his eyes visibly starting to grow cloudy with lust, “I thought you said I was too big… Now you want me deep?” He released my leg and instead wrapped his hand around my neck, perfectly squeezing the sides of my neck so that his grip was tight, but I could still breathe, “What’s the truth, Lena?” He was so sweet yet cruel at the same time—giving me exactly what I wanted physically yet repeatedly making me say exactly what was on my mind, even when I was too embarrassed or turned on to answer properly.

I cried out pathetically beneath Satoru, clenching tightly around his dick when he choked me, “Please, please don’t s-stop I need this…!” My words were slurred and hardly discernable, I was so drunk with pleasure. I could feel a familiar pressure building up in the pit of my stomach, and knew I was close.

“I know, baby, I know.” Satoru’s eyes looked dark, like he was beginning to lose himself in pleasure just as much as I was. He used his hand that was not around my neck to roughly comb away the white strands of hair from his face, forehead beading with sweat. He then reached down and started to rub my clit with the pads of his fingers as he perfectly fucked into me, over and over, “Why don’t you fucking cum for me?” Clearly worked up with lust as I was, Satoru spat the question between clenched teeth, more like a demand.

Something low in my abdomen twisted with excitement when Satoru spoke to me like that; and I knew that some sick part of me wanted him to be even more cruel to me. Right then, I wanted desperately for him to treat me however he wanted. I groaned messily to the triple attack on my body—Satoru harshly fucking into me, choking me, and gently rubbing my clit all at the same time. My pleasure rapidly increased from the additional sensations he gave me, and my eyes went wide with shock at the extremely intense orgasm that was quickly building up in my body. It was almost scary, “S-Satoru, g-gonna cum… really hard…!” I warned in an uneven voice, my hips involuntarily squirming around to free myself from the pleasure that was too much, and too strong. I even unconsciously clawed my nails at his lower back. But Satoru’s hand around my neck kept me locked square on his dick, that was now driving into me at an even faster pace.

Satoru bent close to me, looking directly into my eyes, “Mm-mnh… Don’t run, baby. You don’t get to run from this. You have to take it, Lena. Now do what I ask and fucking cum.”

I came with a scream at Satoru’s command, feeling tears well up in my eyes at the intense explosion of pleasure that continued in waves as he fucked me through it. My body convulsed harshly with each strong pulse of my pussy, one… two… three… four times; and on the fifth, my hips jerked so hard that I jumped out of Satoru’s grasp and on my side next to him on the bed. I panted heavily, trying to regain my sanity after an orgasm that strong. It was so much, so insanely strong, and so good that I felt the tears finally fall from my eyes.

Satoru followed me to where I’d jumped on side of the bed and chuckled; wiping one of my tears then kissing my cheek, neck, and shoulder, “You’re just a big crybaby, huh?” He said softly, kissing my cheek again, “You okay? That felt like a big one…”

I quickly nodded, wiping the remainder of my tears, “Shit, I’m always fucking crying on our dates, aren’t I?” I sniffled, turning to look up at Satoru after I caught my breath, “Yeah, I’m okay, just had the biggest orgasm of my life—no big deal.” I laughed once.

Satoru smiled, reaching up to stroke my cheek before pressing his lips to mine, “Glad I could be a part of that.” He hummed and closed his eyes, dipping his head down to rest his forehead on mine again. In our current position—with me on my side and Satoru hovering over me—I could feel his condom-covered dick twitch against my ass cheek, “Mind if I finish, baby? I’m really close… Or do you need a break?”

“Oh! No, I don’t mind!” I shook my head and lifted my leg, practically handing it to Satoru as he took it in his grasp and positioned himself at my entrance, “I want you to cum, too.” I said sweetly, grabbing his free hand and interlocking our fingers.

I moaned when Satoru pushed back in, filling me completely in one swift thrust. His forehead remained against mine as he pumped into me over and over, movements growing more and more erratic and unfocused by the second. I heard Satoru’s breathing become ragged and uneven, the sweat from his forehead trickling onto mine as he squeezed my hand. It was satisfying, being able to feel him unravel and lose himself in pleasure as I had, “Fuck… You know you get even tighter after you cum, babe?” Satoru straightened up a bit, enough for him to drive his hips even harder into mine, and enough for me to see his face better. He stroked in and out of me continuously, until I saw his jaw clench considerably, suddenly ceasing with a particularly hard thrust and a loud grunt. Satoru bared his teeth and groaned when he came, tilting his head back for a second, then offering me a few shallow thrusts and looking down at himself buried in my pussy, “Shit, Lena… You’re fucking unreal.” He glanced up into my eyes at the last of his words, then dramatically collapsed onto the bed beside me on his back.

I giggled at Satoru’s dramatics, turning on my other side to face him, “You okay?” I playfully returned his question from earlier.

“Yeah, the best.” Satoru exhaled, wiping his forehead before turning to look at me. He leaned over to peck my lips once… twice, then slowly slid the condom off his dick before slipping off the bed and standing. He tied a knot on the end of the condom and tossed it into the wastebin in the corner of my bedroom. And I appreciated this view of the man walking around naked my room in his full glory, insanely cut and toned all over. The view of his round, muscular butt when he bent over to retrieve and throw away the condom’s foil wrapper was particularly cute. Satoru turned towards me again as I comfortably slipped under my duvet, “You want some water?” He asked.

“Yeah, um, see that white pull-out cabinet under the vanity?” I pointed to it on the opposite side of the bedroom, “There’s a mini fridge in there with glasses and a water dispenser.”

“Well, that’s fucking genius; I was about to go back to the kitchen.” Satoru admitted, instead making a beeline for the mini fridge and filling up a tall glass of water. He returned to the bed and carefully passed me the glass as he slipped under the covers with me.

“Thank you.” I took a number of long sips, nearly drinking half the glass in one go. I passed the glass back to Satoru and he took a short swig before reaching back to rest it on the bedside dresser next to him.

“Of course.”

We gazed at each other for a moment, and I suddenly got up and reoriented myself so that I was straddling Satoru under the covers, a pleased and giddy grin on my face. I rested my hands on Satoru’s chest and felt him gently grasp and knead my hips with his thumbs in response.

“What’s gotten into you?” Satoru cracked a smile, curious to my sudden excitement.

I was just feeling playful. I bent close to Satoru’s ear, “You.” I whispered, “You got into me.” I started with a kiss to his cheek, then kissed down his neck, then to his chest…

“Mm…” Satoru hummed affirmatively, “It was really fun, huh?”

I sat up again and nodded with a smile, next pressing my mouth to Satoru’s in a brief yet passionate kiss. He spoke up again when I broke it.

“You wanna go again?” Satoru challenged with a raised brow.

I flipped my long curls behind my shoulder and tucked a loose strand behind my ear, sure that my hair was a complete mess now, but I was quite unbothered at this point, “Yes.” I nodded, and our lips came together once again—immediately diving into a series of quick, excited, and heated kisses, until Satoru suddenly broke away.

“Shit.” He let go of one of my hips and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“What?” I asked, a little concerned.

Satoru met my gaze once more, “I don’t have any more condoms.”

“Oh.” I bit my lower lip in realization and blinked down at Satoru laying beneath me.

“You on birth control or anything? If so, I could show you my negative test results if you wa—”

“I’m not.” I interrupted. I hadn’t been since I broke up with my ex… Work had picked up so quickly since I’d moved back to Tokyo two years ago, I hadn’t even thought about it. Well, not until now.

“Fuck.”

We simply stared at each other in silence, the unspoken, next natural question on both of our minds hanging heavy in the air: Should we just do it anyways?

[anonomi]

Random training mode bits about the player in relation to the 'bot' team

You don't actually live on base with your team. After the day's fighting is over, you just suddenly disappear. Sometimes for days, months or even years, until you suddenly come back to fight during setup. Spy once tried to follow you. He doesn't talk about what he saw.

Sometimes when you come back, your outfit changes. You go from wearing nothing but the standard uniform, to wearing a hat you probably got from the dumpster, to having a hat that is somehow casting a cloud over it? And it's raining snowflakes on you? Medic and Engineer have tried to study it but it's like your hat is glued to your head and it won't come off. They've given up on it, but sometimes they're concerned you'll get sick from it.

The only person you ever directly interact with is Medic, and that's to thank him after he heals you. He brags about this to everybody and says that if even you can be polite and grateful, then the rest of the team damn sure can too.

Your team often tries to talk to you, but you never seem to understand. You look at them, but aside from your eyes following them, your expression is completely blank and you never directly reply. They continue regardless.

You have a limited vocabulary that they've placed into different categories (voice commands). Rarely you say something that deviates from this but it is often in single letters or swears. Spy has tried to decipher what they mean but nothing makes sense.

Your voice is whatever class you're on. The only person who's heard your 'real' voice was Scout, who heard you speak through his headphones. He always talks about it but nobody believes him.

Sometimes you show up in a different class and body. The way they know it's you is because you never quite look right. The majority of the team hate seeing you wearing their body and most will avoid you like the plague until you change.

Sometimes they give you items to differentiate yourself or to hide your face. Sometimes you put these things on. Sometimes you scrap them and turn them into other hats or weapons. Sometimes you just throw them away.

You do not die right. The only thing that can kill you immediately is a headshot or backstab. Everything else you live through, even when your clothes are soaked with blood and you are barely breathing, you never stop until your body literally drops.

You show up to every Smissmas Party and even give people gifts. It's always something manufactured by Mann.co, weapons and hats. You don't seem to care who you are giving it to (you once gave Sniper a wrench and Medic a can of BONK!) as long as you are giving something. You never open the presents they give you unless they stick it in a sock with a candy cane. You never eat the candy cane. You never eat anything.

Sometimes you just stop. In the middle of battle or standing in spawn, you just stop and stand there, breathing in your perfectly controlled way. You don't even react when you're being attacked, you just stand there, bleeding and staring without acknowledgement. Sometimes the team makes sure you stay safe by standing guard or moving the fight further up to leave you alone. You can stand still for days at a time.

You always find the team. It doesn't matter where they are, if you left them in Junction and they've moved onto Dustbowl, you will always find them. You will come back from wherever you've been, wearing a different hat or the same one you wore 3 years ago, and you will settle yourself in line with the team, and they will greet you and you will say nothing back.

[consumable-clots]

Dell

"Male", he/him, 165cm, Hyperdyne Systems 120-A/2

Role: Medical officer/biologist

Assignment: Special Research Vehicle - Solaris

Backstory:

Although Dell is the same model synthetic as Ash, he was made in an earlier round of releases. Minor differences in software/hardware specs means his capabilities also differ slightly.

He was brought on to the Solaris, a W-Y and 3WE funded special research vessel, as part of the early test run of synthetic officers on long-haul flights. Their medical officer had just retired and they needed a replacement.

Dell incurred some manufacturing defects, he was put on watch in case there was significant damage instead of being destroyed outright. His issues were deemed minor and so he was put on the B-grade product catalogue. It was Jude Wilheard, the Solaris' chief engineer's idea to check the cheaper synthetics.

Personality and mannerisms:

As a crew mate he's well-meaning but dense. Unlike Ash, he's very wary of the crew's health and safety, but also easily moved to action by their collective bravado and impulsiveness. (there is no voice of reason on this boat, sorry)

He is terminally curious but lacks situational awareness, often leading him into trials and tribulations ranging from walking into doors to getting caught in fights that he could have avoided.

A bit too willing to trust humans and has a hard time recognising red flags. He's also skittish and easily shaken and has a tendency to stall/freeze up in unfamiliar situations. Which means he often gets into trouble and can't get himself out.

He has a one-track mind and dedicates himself to his work and enjoys learning about alien lifeforms (very much not aware that he's in a horror movie world.)

The speed of his processing is slightly below target for his specs and is noticeably slower than the current models. Due to the less than stellar comments from the company's product testing department, he underestimates his abilities and is often unsure of his own judgement. He's also a bit of a people-pleaser and wants all humans to like him very much, is easily manipulated, and becomes frustrated quickly.

Participating in human activities is a key part of his daily life, and he's heavily involved with the humans' personal lives. His crew is very close with him and they all function as a single unit, very in sync with each other's habits and needs.

Something else that differentiates him from Ash is his body language. He moves in a meandering, unhurried manner rather than the sharp and purposeful way most synthetics carry themselves. Dell experiences a lot of emotions and expresses them often, he's quite animated and easy to read.

Easily excitable, friendly and gullible, his personality is quite a surprise to those expecting the detached demeanour of most synthetics, almost the opposite of Ash.

Appearance and other physical attributes:

A man in his mid fourties, short and slightly chubby. Looks almost exactly like Ash except for a 'scar' on the left side of his head from an injury that's hidden by his hair and the slightly discoloured splotch under his left eye. It's barely visible and most people don't notice unless its pointed out.

Compared to Ash, Dell has a 'kinder' looking face, his standard expression is more placid, which sometimes gives people the impression that he's an airhead.

While it's not immediately obvious from the outside, his right hip joint is structurally malformed and causes the limb to rotate inwards which also affects the positioning of his leg. The deformity does not impact his mobility much aside from a noticeable limp and uneven stance, he walks slowly to minimise the effect. Most days he doesn't need a mobility aid unless the misaligned components become worn down, requiring maintenance.

Wears a different outfit/uniform that's more suited for field work

Durable woven, water-repellent synthetic fiber work jacket with the sleeves rolled up to the elbow and matching cargo pants. Muted grey-green with a slight shine.

Inner layer is a white, sleeveless high-necked shirt

Often paired with white, wrist length cotton PVC dotted gloves

Off-white, steel-toed work boots

Solaris and Weyland-Yutani patches on the jacket sleeves

Green cotton cadet cap

Extendable cane with built in stun gun function (Wilheard's design)

Misc. info:

Likes to play with bugs and make entomology mounts

Powers down to sleep mode during night hours. Sleeps curled up in a ball and sleepwalks if alone due to faulty motor suppression mechanism

Battery issue resulting in reduced time span between charges

Infographic of the A/2s for comparison

[beefromanoff]

Project Mockingbird Ch. 2

summary: they arrive at the compound, where some are eager to meet the new girl and others...not so much.

pairing: Bucky Barnes x OC

author's note: this got so much more traction than I was expecting with the prologue and chapter one, I tried to get this one up quicker to keep it going! thank you so much for reading, xoxo

chapter list

_________________________________________________________

It turns out that flying on a jet was a hell of a lot faster, and smoother, than flying commercial. Or as a stowaway on a cargo plan. Neither of which Charlotte enjoyed, but sometimes you just have to make do. It was around 7:30am when the jet touched down on a long airstrip in the middle of a vast forest. 

Both women had dozed off during the flight, the pancakes and alcohol lulling them to sleep with the hum of the engine making it nearly impossible to resist. They taxied through down the runway under the cover of the woods before entering a clearing. There was a massive hangar open before them, several different types of aircraft visible through the open garage door. This seemed to be the most corporate of the fleet, with the rest ranging from tactical to full blown heavy artillery. 

Charlotte sat up in her seat, peering out the window. The nerves were hitting her for the first time. She saw a handful of uniformed men and women working in the hangar, performing maintenance on the aircrafts. 

“Good morning sunshine,” Natasha smiled, still tucked under a blanket. 

“Morning.” 

“Welcome home.” 

When the ramp opened, an eager uniformed man scampered into the cabin. “Agent Romanoff.” He saluted, waiting for her to nod before he continued. “How was the flight? Can I take your bags?” 

“Don’t know, I slept through most of it.” She gestured to the duffel bag and small suitcase Charlotte had retrieved from the hotel before they left. “You can help Ms. Rossi with her bags.” 

Giving a tight-lipped smile, Charlotte followed Natasha down the steps. Unabashedly holding her heels by the straps, Nat strode across the concrete floor to a set of sleek looking doors. Doing her best to ignore the questioning glances, Charlotte kept her eyes straight ahead and followed the one person she knew into unfamiliar territory. 

The doors led to a hallway with elevators to their right. The noise coming from the end let her know the hallway opened up to a larger room, one that sounded like it was already bustling with activity. To her relief, Natasha hit a button on the elevator instead of continuing towards the noise. 

“I’ll show you to your room first. I figured you’d want to get settled in, get cleaned up.” 

“Thanks,” Charlotte nodded. “I think I have glitter in more places than I even knew existed. And I smell like tequila.” 

“There are worse things to smell like.” Natasha grinned as they stepped out into another lobby area. “This is the training side of the compound. The hangars, weapons manufacturing, shooting range, training facilities, it’s all over here. This is where the SHIELD agents work. It’s the more…populated side.” She gestured out the window at a dozen trainees jogging. “They don’t live here. The only ones that do are the ones on the team.” 

“You mean The Avengers?” Charlotte raised an eyebrow. 

“You could say that,” She gave a wry smile. “I prefer to say roommates.” 

They stepped out into the fresh air and Nat pointed out a black ATV. The breeze felt nice on her cheeks as they drove down a paved path across the grounds. The entire thing seemed to be completely secluded, as if it were dropped in the middle of the woods. Charlotte couldn’t even see the entrance to the place. They passed a few smaller buildings, which Natasha dubbed storage and “room to grow”; as well as a beautiful lake off to the left. Marveling at the fog spread across the water, she didn’t realize they’d made it to their destination. 

The building in front of them had a similar exterior to the last one they’d come from. It was gray, very modern looking, though smaller than the training side. This one seemed to be only three or four stories tall, but it extended out over the water with balconies jutting from the higher levels. 

“This is the residential building. Most of us stay here full time, but some of us have rooms at the Tower in New York City, too. You can come next time I go up there, if you want. It’s more peaceful here, though. Personal preference, I guess.” She opened the door for Charlotte to walk through. “First floor is a private training facility, second is storage and a theater room, third and fourth floors are rooms, and the fifth floor is a common area, kitchen, and a meeting room.”

They stepped into another elevator where Natasha punched the button for the fourth floor. “I put you on my floor. Just so you’d have a friendly face.” She paused. “Although, sometimes the team can be a little too friendly in their own right. I don’t see an issue with them warming up to you.” 

The doors slid open and they entered a small common area with doors on every side. Natasha led her to a door on the far wall and gestured for her to enter. “We can set up your keypad in a minute, everything here is print based. Some people had trouble keeping track of their keys.” She rolled her eyes, but Charlotte was too enamored with the room to notice. 

It was plain, just the bare bones of a room, but it was perfect. A big, king-sized bed bathed in sunlight from the window behind it. Large closet and an even bigger bathroom. She dropped her duffel bag on the floor and looked around. 

“You’re welcome to decorate or do whatever you want, it’s all yours.” Natasha smiled as she watched her take everything in. “Here, let’s set up your keypad so I can give you some space. I’ll leave my number, just let me know when you get bored or hungry or feel like socializing.” 

She closed the door behind her, leaving Charlotte to settle in. 

I think this will do. She thought as she sank into the plush bedding. 

__________________________________________________

“I just don’t understand why you didn’t tell me.” Bucky grunted as he slammed his fist into the punching bag. 

“I did tell you,” Steve protested before being interrupted. 

“No, you told me we found someone with potential HYDRA affiliation. You said the team was working on tracking her down and making contact.” Bucky stopped hitting the bag to snarl his words out. “What you didn’t say was ‘Hey buddy, there’s a chance we found someone kept in the same hellish lab as you and we’re trying to get her to come shack up with us. Oh, and she may or may not have been bred to kill you.’” 

Sighing, Steve sat on the bench next to the sparring ring. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I just didn’t know how to say it.” 

“You mean you didn’t know how I’d take it.” Fists slammed into the bag.

“Well,” He raised an eyebrow. “Is that such a stretch?”

“I think I’m handling it pretty well.” Bucky gave a forced smile as he stepped away from the punching bag, beginning to unwrap his right hand. 

“It was my idea to keep the details under wraps,” Nat’s voice echoed from across the training room as she walked toward them, wet hair darkening the collar of her sweatshirt. “I didn’t mean for it to seem like we were keeping things from you. There’s just so much we don’t know.” 

Bucky frowned. “Seems like there’s quite a bit you do know.” 

“I’ll tell you anything you want.” She smiled, always able to walk the line between cold sarcasm and genuine warmth. 

Natasha took a seat on the bench next to Steve, both of them watching Bucky as he threw the sweaty tape away. He stayed quiet for a moment, thinking. 

“What’s her name?” 

“Charlotte. Charlotte Rossi.” 

“Where’d you find her?”

“Most recently, the high stakes room at the Wynn.” Nat smirked. “Prior to that, I saw some patterns that caught my interest and dug a little further.” 

“I read the file.” Bucky’s face was stoic.

“Do you have any memory of her? Any recollection?” 

His brows knit together, thinking. “No. I don’t remember much from that…from those years. Fragments, maybe. If I saw her face it might, I don’t know, might bring something back.”

Steve watched his friend carefully, looking for any sign of distress. Bucky seemed calm, controlled, albeit a little strained.

“Where is she?”

“Upstairs.” 

Bucky nodded slowly. “She’s here…for good?” 

“To be determined. My offer wasn’t exactly for a week’s vacation.” Natasha stood, putting a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry I wasn’t up front with you on this. I promise not to go around you again.” 

“I get it.” He looked at Steve. “I know I don’t have the best track record for handling questionable information.” 

Grinning, Steve stood to join them. “What? You think throwing Sam out of a moving Quinjet because he told you he’d be leading point on the mission was an overreaction?” 

Bucky ran his tongue over his teeth, suppressing a smile. 

“No, totally reasonable.” Nat elbowed him. “Just like when he ripped the arm off of Tony’s last suit because he said Bucky’s arm was a ‘war relic’,”

“Alright, point made,” Bucky groaned, shrugging her hand off and walking towards the door.

_____________________________________

Charlotte: is it too late for breakfast? 

Natasha: I know I said there are no stupid questions…..but ;)

Charlotte: music to my ears

Natasha: meet me outside the first floor elevators in 5. 

Charlotte slipped her phone back in her pocket, grinning. Thank God superheroes have a sense of humor. Well, at least one does. She made a mental note to ask if FedEx delivered to the compound, as she was in dire need of an online shopping spree. The majority of her clothes were tailored to Vegas, where she’d taken up residence the past few weeks. With the way she drifted from place to place, it wasn’t uncommon for her to leave an entire wardrobe’s worth of clothes in a hotel closet when she left town. For this trip in particular, she’d brought a few of her absolute favorite dresses, three sets of heels, and two designer bags she’d treated herself to after a particularly lucrative poker win.

Unfortunately, not much of her attire lent itself to casual daytime wear. She had a pair of jeans and trusty white sneakers, and luckily a plain white tank top shoved deep into her suitcase. Unless there was some kind of Avengers’ gift shop on the premises, she’d be repeating this look pretty much daily. 

She made her way to the elevator and when the doors slid open on the first floor, Natasha stood waiting for her. A tall, clean cut blonde man stood next to her, who Charlotte recognized instantly. 

“Hi…” She stepped out cautiously as the duo grinned. 

“Charlotte, you remember Steve.” Nat seemed to be the most amused of all three of them. The man nodded, holding his hand out for her to shake. 

“We were never officially acquainted.” His handshake was firm but his eyes were kind. “Steve Rogers.” 

“Sorry about that,” She pursed her lips. “I thought you were coming after me for my lack of patriotism.” 

Steve chuckled. “From what I’ve heard, you tried to represent our country too. Maybe we’re not so different.” The sharp look Natasha shot him as he referenced her Team USA mishap didn’t go unnoticed. Charlotte didn’t seem to take offense, simply raising an eyebrow as she carefully considered her response. 

“I think I can stick a landing a little better than you.” Her face was blank, but her eyes crinkled at the corners ever so slightly, an almost-smile. 

“I don’t doubt it.” Steve smiled. “Welcome to the compound.” 

“Thanks.” Charlotte kept her eyes on him as he led the trio through the doors. 

Natasha fell into step beside her, showing her unspoken camaraderie. Years of undercover work had honed her ability to read body language and pick up on cues undetectable to anyone else. As she watched Charlotte over the past twenty-four hours, she noticed several things. She was calculated, but not cold. Her humor was dry and she kept a poker face throughout most of her interactions, hints of a smile showing through as she warmed up to someone. She was quick-witted, but seemed to think through her replies thoroughly as she decided if someone was trustworthy or not. A familiar tactic for someone who wasn’t sure who they could rely on. Her persona was confident, relaxed, assured. Her body told another story. 

When she stood, her posture was erect. Her weight was slightly shifted forward on her toes, like someone prepared to cut and run at any moment. She could stand still, facing the person in front of her, but her eyes would flick around to every detail happening around her. She presented herself like a predator, but her behavior was that of prey. 

It made sense. She was taken, put through horrors beyond comprehension at the hands of HYDRA. Prey. She was altered, trained, brainwashed to be an elite fighter, an assassin. Predator. But now? She was somewhere in between. Not quite a predator, not quite prey. 

As Natasha strode down the path towards the main building, she couldn’t help but feel like even Charlotte didn’t know which category she fell into. 

“This is the cafe,” Steve gestured when they walked into the largest building. Charlotte recognized it as another entrance to the same place they’d left earlier that morning. This was where all the noise was coming from. It was a large room, flooded with natural light from the floor-to-ceiling windows. There were two dozen circular tables in the middle of the room, most of them empty. A few had small clusters of people in navy blue windbreakers or jackets, all emblazoned with the trademark “A” of the Avengers. There was a kitchen area to the right, a long countertop spanning part of the wall. “They serve three meals here every day, it’s all up for grabs. This is where all the agents and recruits eat while they’re here. We have a kitchen back in our building, but unless one of us feels like cooking, there’s not much more than dry cereal there.” 

They walked towards the kitchen, a few agents pausing as they walked through the room, looking at Charlotte over their clipboards and conversation. Natasha pulled open the door to a commercial sized refrigerator, revealing a massive selection of food. Everything from fresh fruit to Smucker’s PB&J sandwiches. Eyes wide, Charlotte glanced at Natasha. 

“Have at it,” She nodded, grabbing an apple and biting in. 

When they’d sufficiently raided the kitchen, Steve led them out another set of doors to a patio area. To the right, they could see the edge of the lake peeking around the treeline. To the left, there was an open field, the targets on the far end indicating a shooting range. Charlotte lowered her arms and let the barrage of snacks tumble onto the table. 

“I didn’t think superheroes ate junk food,” She raised an eyebrow, pulling open a bag of mini-donuts. 

“Superheroes don’t, Avengers do.” Nat winked and stole one from the packaging. “Plus, not all of the agents here are combat focused. There are plenty who work in the control room or in tech and engineering and don’t have to give a shit about being mobile.” 

“Well here’s to not being mobile.” She held her chocolate milk in the air and the three of them toasted, just in time for a dozen agents to jog by on the path out in front of them. 

Bucky stood on the path around the lake, hidden under the cover of long morning shadows. He watched as Steve raised his plastic chocolate milk into the air, appearing to cheers with the two women at the table. One was Natasha, the other he assumed was the new girl. Charlotte. 

She was around Natasha’s size, a little more overtly muscular. He could see her toned arms clearly thanks to the tank top she was wearing. They seemed relaxed, talking and laughing. He took a deep breath and looked down at his phone. 

Five Minutes Ago

Steve: Come meet us on the patio by the range. You can meet Charlotte. We’re showing her around. 

Sighing, Bucky shot back a reply before shoving his phone into his pocket. 

Bucky: Sorry - told Sam I’d help him with something. Next time. 

He turned and resumed his run around the lake, going the opposite direction of the compound. Steve glanced up from his phone, brow furrowed, just in time to see black hair disappearing around the treeline.

[vardhaanfashion]

The Essential Guide to Men's Socks: Styles, Trends, and Quality

Socks are a fundamental part of men's wardrobes, offering comfort, protection, and a touch of personal style. This guide explores various types of men's socks, current fashion trends, and highlights Vardhaan Fashion, a leading manufacturer and supplier based in Delhi, India.

Types of Men's Socks

Understanding the different types of socks helps in selecting the right pair for any occasion:

No-Show Socks: Designed to remain hidden beneath shoes, these socks are ideal for loafers or low-cut sneakers, providing a sockless appearance while maintaining comfort.

Ankle Socks: Ending just above the ankle, these are suitable for athletic activities and casual wear, pairing well with sneakers.

Quarter Socks: Reaching above the ankle but below the calf, quarter socks offer additional coverage and are often used in sports.

Crew Socks: Extending to the mid-calf, crew socks are versatile and popular for both casual and formal attire.

Mid-Calf Socks: Also known as trouser-length socks, they are typically thinner and worn with formal shoes.

Knee-High Socks: These extend up to the knee and are often used in formal settings or specific uniforms.

Over-the-Calf Socks: Providing maximum coverage, these socks are ideal for formal occasions, ensuring no skin shows when sitting.

Compression Socks: Designed to improve circulation, they are beneficial for long periods of standing or travel.

Athletic Socks: Engineered for sports, they offer features like moisture-wicking and extra cushioning.

Dress Socks: Thin and sleek, dress socks complement formal attire, often in neutral colors or subtle patterns.

Novelty Socks: Featuring unique designs and vibrant colors, these socks allow for personal expression.

Boot Socks: Thicker and longer, boot socks provide comfort and warmth when wearing boots.

Current Trends in Men's Socks

Men's sock fashion has evolved, with several notable trends:

Bold Colors and Patterns: Bright hues and intricate designs are in vogue, allowing men to showcase individuality.

Sustainable Materials: Eco-friendly fabrics like organic cotton and bamboo are gaining popularity due to environmental concerns.

Statement Socks: Socks with unique patterns or messages serve as conversation starters and reflect personal style.

Athleisure Influence: The blend of athletic and leisure styles has brought sporty sock designs into everyday fashion.

Retro Revival: Vintage-inspired socks, such as those with stripes or classic patterns, are making a comeback.

Choosing the Right Socks

Selecting appropriate men socks involves considering factors like material, occasion, and personal style:

Material: Cotton offers breathability, wool provides warmth, and synthetic blends can enhance durability and moisture-wicking properties.

Occasion: Formal events call for dress socks in neutral tones, while casual settings allow for more expressive designs.

Fit and Comfort: Proper fit prevents issues like slipping or bunching, ensuring comfort throughout the day.

Vardhaan Fashion: Excellence in Sock Manufacturing

Based in Delhi, India, Vardhaan Fashion is a leading manufacturer and supplier of a wide range of socks, including men's, women's, and children's varieties. Their commitment to quality and innovation has established them as a trusted name in the industry.

[hariomtmt]

"Manufacturing Processes Used by Mild Steel Dowel Bars Manufacturers in Sweden"

INTRODUCTION

Mild steel dowel bars are indispensable in the construction industry, especially for enhancing the durability and stability of concrete structures. Known for their exceptional strength and adaptability, these bars play a crucial role in ensuring efficient load transfer across joints in pavements, slabs, and other structural applications. This article explores the intricate manufacturing processes employed by Mild Steel Dowel Bars Manufacturers in Sweden, focusing on precision, quality, and innovation.

1. Raw Material Selection

The manufacturing process begins with selecting high-quality mild steel, known for its optimal balance of strength and ductility. Manufacturers in Sweden adhere to stringent quality standards to ensure that the raw material meets the requirements for construction-grade dowel bars.

2. Cutting and Sizing

Once the raw mild steel is procured, it is cut into specific lengths based on the application requirements. Precision cutting ensures uniformity, which is essential for effective load transfer and durability in concrete structures. Advanced cutting tools, including laser and hydraulic cutters, are often used to achieve accuracy.

3. Surface Preparation

Surface preparation is a vital step in the manufacturing process. The steel is cleaned to remove impurities, such as rust, grease, or mill scale, that may affect its bonding with concrete or its durability. Abrasive blasting or chemical treatments are commonly used for thorough cleaning.

4. Heat Treatment for Strength Enhancement

To enhance the mechanical properties of mild steel, manufacturers employ heat treatment techniques. This process improves the tensile strength and resilience of the bars, making them suitable for high-stress applications. Controlled heating and cooling cycles ensure uniformity and consistent quality.

5. Corrosion-Resistance Coating

Mild steel is susceptible to corrosion, especially in harsh weather conditions or when exposed to moisture. To mitigate this, manufacturers in Sweden apply protective coatings, such as epoxy or galvanization. These coatings not only extend the lifespan of the dowel bars but also ensure compliance with environmental and safety standards.

6. Straightening and Finishing

After heat treatment and coating, the bars are straightened to ensure they meet precise alignment specifications. Advanced machinery is used for this step, eliminating any deformations and achieving a smooth, uniform surface.

7. Quality Inspection and Testing

Quality assurance is a cornerstone of the manufacturing process. Mild Steel Dowel Bars Manufacturers in Sweden conduct rigorous testing to ensure that the bars meet international construction standards. Key tests include tensile strength analysis, corrosion resistance evaluation, and dimensional accuracy checks.

8. Packaging and Distribution

Once the dowel bars pass all quality checks, they are packaged using materials that protect them during transportation and storage. Proper labeling and documentation ensure that the bars reach their destination with traceability and compliance intact.

Advantages of Swedish Manufacturing Processes

Precision Engineering: Swedish manufacturers utilize advanced machinery and technology to achieve unmatched precision in dowel bar production.

Sustainability Practices: The focus on eco-friendly methods, such as recycling and reducing waste, aligns with Sweden's commitment to sustainability.

Compliance with Global Standards: By adhering to stringent international construction norms, Swedish manufacturers ensure that their products are recognized worldwide for quality and reliability.

Conclusion

The meticulous manufacturing processes employed by Mild Steel Dowel Bars Manufacturers in Sweden highlight their dedication to quality and innovation. From raw material selection to final packaging, each step ensures that the dowel bars are robust, durable, and suited for a wide range of construction applications. These processes set a benchmark for the global industry, making Sweden a leader in the production of high-quality mild steel dowel bars.

[newwillinium]

The Desert Rangers of Fallout New Vegas

Okay so I think the NCR Desert Rangers kind of suck, especially in comparison to their direct inspirations from Wasteland. Let me explain.

Okay so ultimately this boils down to the fact that the Desert Rangers. . . do not and never existed in the Mojave or the game world.

So backstory time. So the whole reason that the New California Republic is in the Mojave in the first place is because of their relationship with the Desert Rangers and the potential of using Lake Mead and the Hoover Dam to solve their resource issue back home.

It was their treaty with the Desert Rangers that gave them the mission and duty to secure the region from the hostility of Caesar's Legion after the Desert Rangers were pushed out of Arizona all the way into Nevada and the California wastes.

The survivors agreeing to merge themselves into the New California Republic's Ranger Corps a few years before game start.

And when we come to New Vegas and exploring it's gamestate what do we find?

Not a single bit of evidence that the Desert Rangers ever existed outside of the Monument at the Mojave Outpost. No letters, no computer logs, no Rangers who walked away rather then join a Imperialist power, no Ex-Rangers, No Centurians wearing bits of Ranger armor (The Centurians of Caesar's Legion form their uniforms out of the enemies they defeat up to and including a BOS Chapter and they have the hipplates of the NCR Ranger armor incorporated), their Chief is a NCR Ranger from Redding, every generic Ranger only has dialogue referring to the NCR Rangers as a whole and the NCR.

The Desert Rangers do not exist and did not exist in the game world as designed. There is no evidence of them anywhere in the game, and only exist to be poster-boys for the NCR and to be talked about how badass and cool they are.

And I would like to contrast with their direct inspirations.

The Desert Rangers from Wasteland 1, 2, and 3.

The Desert Rangers of Arizona are descended from the Army Corp of Engineers and they basically exist to be problem solvers. They are Diplomats, Monster-Hunters, Vigilantes, Engineers, Detectives, and feel whatever role they are required to do in order to help nurture communication, traded, and the growth of civilization in Arizona, New Mexico, California, and eventually Colorado.

And the Desert Rangers fuck up. A lot.

Perhaps the most infamous point of this is when they kill a rabid dog, and then kill the dog's furious owner when he charged them with a pellet gun. Unknown to them, the Kid survived, and as he grew so did his hate and he formed a rival group to the Desert Rangers known as the the Red Scorpion Militia.

The Desert Rangers do not rule >!this is a major issue in Wasteland 3!<, they do not conquer. They protect those independent townships that agree to be under their banner, and survive off of their own foraging, donated supplies, and the weapons and armor they themselves manufacture.

They're basically. . .think Fallout 4's Minutemen under a more centralized structure.

And the thing is that it's clear that the Wasteland Desert Rangers are implied to be the same as those in New Vegas. The Lore doesn't line up between the two now franchises, given the hundreds or so years between their nuclear apocalypses and modern day, but this is a inspiration for the series dating back to Fallout 1 with the companion Tycho whose grand-daddy was a Desert Ranger.

And with how important the Desert Rangers are to the impetus of the major main story conflict in Fallout New Vegas, how much they are the poster-boys for the game and NCR faction as a whole, and whom they are directly inspired by.

The Desert Rangers suck in New Vegas.

Because they do not and never did exist.

[machinebd]

Single Channel Electronic Pipette MPA-10000

Sagartexbd Single Channel Electronic Pipette MPA-10000 feel shockingly lightweight with a brought down center of gravity and compact plan. The MPA Arrangement is worked with a tall exactness venturing engine and too liberates clients from costly outside calibration administrations with straightforward calibration capacities (for both volume and weight) which can be performed in-house. With these highlights clients can be guaranteed of reliable, solid comes about and realize uniform pipette operation for both amateur and master alike.

The plunger of the Single Channel Electronic Pipette is controlled by gently squeezing a key with the ball of the pointer (like pulling a trigger), whereas keeping up all fingers in a normal, easy hold. No longer will hours or days of pipetting cause torment in your thumb.

Features of Single Channel Electronic Pipette MPA-10000

Accuracy/repeatability not subordinate on human factors

Stress-minimized, pain-free operation utilizing the forefinger

Easy calibration (alteration) with the Client CAL function*1*2

Calibration and show by either volume (µL/mL) or weight (mg)*1

Accurate pipetting conceivable with other manufacturers’ tips

Dedicated glass tips and silicon connectors available

Multiple apportioning (MD) mode with programmed starting volume adjustment (pre-dispensing)

Mixing (Blend) mode for homogenizing solutions

Reverse operation for precisely apportioning gooey samples

Increased resistance to drop impacts with cushioning on the head*1

Aspirating and apportioning speeds flexible to 5 diverse levels each

Storage for up to 9 programs

High resistance to acid/organic solvents

Quickly separable, autoclavable lower portion (121 deg C, 2 atm, 20 minutes)

Adjustable tip ejector reach

Extended finger hook

Power supply by either a rechargeable battery or exchanging (100-240V) AC adapter

Multiple AC connector plugs (A, BF, C, S)

Auto control OFF function

Specifications

Capacity Range: 0.1 to 10 ml

Lithium- ion rechargeable battery

Adapters (UBX310052-10ML)

Tipes- 1 Pcs

[materialsscienceandengineering]

Creating 3D-printed materials that shrink more precisely

From houses to hearing aids, three-dimensional (3D) printing is revolutionizing how we create complex structures at scale. Zooming down to the micro and nano levels, a process known as two-photon polymerization lithography (TPL) allows scientists and engineers to construct objects with microscopic precision, which has wide-reaching implications for industries ranging from medicine to manufacturing. In computing and communication, for instance, TPL can be used to develop new optical materials, such as photonic crystals that can manipulate light in new ways. However, despite its promise, some challenges to fully harnessing its potential still exist. Chief among these is the challenge of achieving uniform shrinkage and feature sizes below the wavelength of visible light, which is essential when it comes to advanced light manipulation. Addressing this challenge, a team of researchers led by Professor Joel Yang from the Singapore University of Technology and Design's (SUTD) Engineering Product Development pillar —in collaboration with their counterparts from the Industrial Technology Center of Wakayama Prefecture in Japan—introduced a new method that ensures even shrinkage of 3D-printed structures when heat treated. This further refines the usage of TPL in producing high-precision, nanoscale features.

Read more.

[a2zskills123]

PREPRATION OF A BUEATY SOAP || A2Z SKILLS Manufacturing encompasses a diverse array of processes and technologies aimed at producing a wide range of products, from everyday essentials to specialized components. Take wires, for instance: these are typically manufactured through drawing processes, where metal rods or strips are pulled through dies to reduce their diameter and achieve the desired thickness. This method ensures uniformity and strength, crucial for applications in electronics, construction, and industrial settings. On the other hand, the production of bottles involves molding techniques such as blow molding or injection molding. Blow molding heats plastic resin into a molten state and then inflates it into a mold cavity to create a hollow shape, used extensively for beverage containers and packaging. Injection molding, meanwhile, injects molten plastic into a mold under high pressure, ideal for producing intricate shapes with precision, like medical vials or automotive parts. Both wire and bottle manufacturing rely heavily on materials science, engineering precision, and quality control measures to meet stringent specifications. Advances in automation, robotics, and sustainability practices are transforming these industries, reducing waste, improving efficiency, and expanding design possibilities. Overall, manufacturing processes like these exemplify the intersection of innovation, engineering, and practical application in meeting global OUR LINKS:

TIKTOK: https://www.tiktok.com/@a2zskills YOUTUBE: https://www.youtube.com/@A2ZSKILLS-123 FACEBOOK: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=61562585190878&sk=about INSTAGRAM: https://www.instagram.com/a2zskills123/ VIMEO: https://vimeo.com/?signup=true TUMBIR: https://www.tumblr.com/dashboard HASAHTAGS : #satisfying #manufacturing #molding #shorts #A2Zskills #thermacolplates #thermacol #clay #tips #tipsandtricks #tutorials #prank #youtubeshorts #youtube #manufacture #manufacturer #ytshorts #material #materials #science #sciencefacts #technology #equipments #wires #work #design #efficiency #hacks #reducingwaste #electronic #automobiles

[udhhyog2]

In-Depth Look at MS Seamless Pipes: Features, Applications, and Benefits

Introduction to MS Seamless Pipes

MS seamless pipes are a crucial element in various sectors, prized for their strength, resilience, and uniform construction. Unlike traditional welded pipes, seamless pipes are crafted from a single piece of steel, which ensures a smooth, continuous surface. This seamless design enhances their performance in demanding applications. At Udhhyog, we offer a comprehensive selection of MS seamless pipes that adhere to the highest standards of quality, catering to diverse industrial and construction needs.

Understanding MS Seamless Pipes

1. Production Technique:

The creation of MS seamless pipes involves heating a solid billet of mild steel and then piercing it to form a hollow tube. This process does not involve welding, which results in a pipe with no seams or joints. The seamless construction provides enhanced strength and the ability to withstand significant pressure and stress.

2. Key Features:

The seamless nature of MS pipes ensures a uniform wall thickness and structural integrity, making them capable of enduring high pressure and various environmental conditions. This smooth, continuous structure helps reduce the risk of weak points and potential failures.

Applications of MS Seamless Pipes

1. Industrial Sector:

In industrial applications, MS seamless pipes are crucial for handling high-pressure fluids and gases. They are extensively used in sectors like oil and gas, chemical manufacturing, and power plants. The robust construction of these pipes ensures safe and reliable transport of substances under intense conditions.

2. Construction and Engineering:

MS seamless pipes play a significant role in construction projects. Their strength and durability make them ideal for structural applications, such as support beams and columns. They are used in various construction frameworks where reliable load-bearing capacity is essential.

3. Automotive Industry:

The automotive sector benefits from MS seamless pipes for manufacturing high-stress components. These pipes are used in vehicle parts that require precise dimensions and the ability to withstand significant mechanical stress, contributing to the overall durability and performance of the vehicle.

4. Water Supply and Irrigation:

In water supply and irrigation systems, MS seamless pipes are utilized for their ability to handle high-pressure water flow efficiently. They are employed in pipelines, irrigation systems, and water management infrastructure to ensure effective and reliable operation.

Benefits of MS Seamless Pipes

1. Superior Strength and Durability:

The seamless design of MS pipes provides superior strength compared to welded alternatives. This makes them capable of handling high pressure and heavy loads without compromising their structural integrity. Their durability ensures long-lasting performance in challenging environments.

2. Consistent Quality:

MS seamless pipes are manufactured with a uniform wall thickness and smooth surface, reducing the risk of defects and failures. This consistency contributes to their reliability and performance across various applications.

3. Economical Choice:

While offering high quality, MS seamless pipes remain a cost-effective option. Their durability and low maintenance requirements contribute to overall savings, making them a practical choice for numerous applications.

4. Easy to Install and Maintain:

The installation process for MS seamless pipes is straightforward due to their uniform structure. Additionally, their low maintenance needs help reduce operational costs and enhance system efficiency.

Choosing the Right MS Seamless Pipe

1. Evaluate Application Requirements:

When selecting MS seamless pipes, it is essential to consider the specific requirements of your application, including pressure ratings, temperature conditions, and environmental factors. This ensures you choose the appropriate pipe for your needs.

2. Verify Specifications:

Ensure that the MS seamless pipe specifications match the requirements of your project. Check dimensions, wall thickness, and material grade to confirm they meet the necessary standards.

3. Source from a Trusted Supplier:

For high-quality MS seamless pipes, choose a reputable supplier like Udhhyog. Reliable suppliers ensure that you receive pipes that adhere to industry standards and deliver optimal performance.