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TAKE A HINT

“Get your hands off my hips or I'll punch you in the lips. Stop your starin' at my—hey! Take a hint.”

𓏲𝄢 Dollie's Note: A little late but this is for all my girls out there! Happy International Women's Month! And I know I said I'll be back on Monday, but I can't help it.

The neon lights of the Roppongi lounge blurred into a hazy hum of bass and expensive perfume. Shoko leaned against the velvet booth, an unlit cigarette dangling from her lips as she watched the crowd with the clinical exhaustion only a woman who works in a morgue could possess. Beside her, Utahime was nursing a plum wine, her posture stiff as she tried—and failed—to ignore the group of men hovering at the edge of the table like persistent fruit flies.

“You know,” one of them said, leaning over the back of the booth, his breath smelling of cheap whiskey and overconfidence. “A girl as pretty as you shouldn't be alone.”

Utahime didn’t even turn her head. She just tightened her grip on her glass, her knuckles turning as white as the scar across her nose. “I’m not alone,” she replied, her voice dropping into that dangerous, low register she usually reserved for Gojo. “I’m with my friends. And we were having a private conversation.”

The man didn’t budge. If anything, he leaned closer. “Friends are cool, but wouldn't you rather have some real company? There’s three of us for the three of you... or if you like, we can all swap for each round.”

The guy’s grin was oily, sliding across his face as he looked between the three of you with a gaze that lingered far too long, clearly he hadn't noticed the way Shoko’s eyes had narrowed into sharp, dangerous slits or the way the temperature at the table had dropped by ten degrees.

Shoko finally reached out, not to take his hand, but to flick her unlit cigarette right into the center of his chest. It bounced off his expensive shirt, leaving a tiny smudge of tobacco.

“Swapping rounds?” Shoko’s voice was like ice clinking in a glass. She leaned forward, the shadows of the booth making her dark circles look like war paint. “Statistically speaking, you wouldn't survive the first round with any of us. I can bet my liver you don’t even know where a clit is.”

The guy blinked, his face flushing a humiliated shade of red as his friends snickered. He opened his mouth to snap back, but his gaze landed on you instead. You were tracing the rim of your glass with a manicured nail, your lips painted a deep, blood-red that looked almost black under the strobe lights. You looked up at him through your lashes, letting out a soft, low hum of amusement.

“And what about you, sweetheart?” he sneered, reaching out to let his palm rest firmly on your hip. “You seem a bit more reasonable than your friends. How about you let me buy you a drink?”

You didn't pull away. You just tilted your head, the dark silk of your hair spilling over your shoulder as you leaned into his space. But before he could even celebrate the win, the air in the booth turned suffocating.

Utahime slammed her glass onto the table, the plum wine sloshing over the rim. She was on her feet in a heartbeat, her hand clamping down on the guy's wrist with enough force to make his bones creak.

“Get your hands off her hips,” Utahime hissed, her eyes glowing with a flicker of power. Before he could even whimper a response, Shoko was there, holding a silver scalpel she’d pulled from God-knows-where, twirling it between her fingers with terrifying ease.

The man tried to scoff, a desperate attempt to regain his dignity, but the sound died in his throat as Shoko spoke. “You’re sweating,” Shoko said, her voice an eerie, flat monotone as she stepped into his personal space, the tip of her scalpel catching the strobe light. “Heart rate is elevated. Pupil dilation is inconsistent. You’re terrified, aren’t you?”

Before he could stammer out an answer, Shoko’s hand blurred. The silver blade didn't draw blood but the man let out a pathetic yelp as the top button of his designer shirt popped off, sliced clean through the threads.

“I’ve seen exactly what the inside of a man like you looks like,” she whispered into his ear. “It’s remarkably boring. Just a lot of grey matter and wasted potential. Would you like to see for yourself?”

The man was shaking now, his breath coming in shallow gasps. Utahime finally released his wrist, but not before reaching into his jacket and casually snagging his wallet. “You saw three women and thought you saw prey," she said, downing the rest of her drink. “That is always the greatest mistake of men like you.”

You leaned back against the velvet, crossing your legs as you watched him tremble. You reached out, using a single index finger to tilt his chin up, forcing him to meet your gaze and that dark, blood-red smile.

“Thanks for the tip,” you hummed, sliding a single, crumpled dollar into his breast pocket and patting it twice. “Go buy a mint. Better yet, buy the whole box.”

𓏲𝄢 Dollie's Taglist: @sugurusmistress, @kentoxadella, @falsedivide, @veejiez, @sugurusbadhabit, @naoyasmainbitch, @valberryboos, @love-d-luxe, @lalune33, @namgisho

𓂃 ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝑯𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝑰𝒏𝒗𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔

Leave your name here, darling, so you never miss an invitation to the dance.

Graphics courtesy of the ever-lovely @/dividers-are-us.

My OC, Kaizuma Sayoko. She's the school counselor sent by the higher-ups to keep an eye on Itadori. Her technique is Obedience (mind reading and control on unsuspecting victims -minor commands-, and control over matter as well, aka telekinesis and telepathy). She's an ENTP and 28 years old. I'll talk about her relationship with other characters soon!