The dressing room feels too small with him inside it, the silk curtain drawn closed, shutting out the world. You’re in front of the mirror, cheeks hot, your reflection wrapped in pale pink lace. The set is soft and delicate—sheer cups trimmed with bows, satin ribbons tied snug at your ribs, a frilly skirt that flares sweetly around your hips but does nothing to hide your legs. White garters dangle down, ribbons trailing like you’d been gift-wrapped just for him.

Gojo leans against the wall at first, arms crossed, sunglasses low, his grin spreading as his gaze drinks you in. He whistles, low and slow, the sound curling around you like heat.

“Damn.” His voice is velvet and teasing, but there’s a rough edge under it. “That’s not lingerie, that’s a weapon. Dangerous. You’re dangerous.”

He pushes off the wall, steps closer, and suddenly he’s behind you in the mirror, tall and imposing. His hand brushes your waist, fingers ghosting over one of the delicate ribbons.

“Spin for me,” he murmurs, not really asking. “Let me see all of it.”

When you hesitate, his grin widens, playful but commanding. He tilts his head, eyes gleaming behind the shades. “C’mon, baby. I’m spoiling you—I get a show, don’t I?”

You turn slowly, the skirt swishing around your thighs, and his tongue clicks against his teeth. “Sweet as candy,” he says, leaning down near your ear. “And just as addictive.”

His fingers tug lightly at the bow on your hip, testing the knot, his breath warm on your skin. “You know the problem with this set?” he drawls, lips quirking. “It’s way too easy to take off. I’ll definitely be buying it.” He pauses, a smirk curling slow and wicked. “Hell... I’ll buy the whole damn store if it means I get to see you play dress-up for me again.”

The mirror reflects the way he’s looking at you—like you’re not just wearing the lingerie, but you are the luxury he’s indulging in.