"i'd never expect to see you dressed like this." a sly grin would appear on his attractive; though very punchable face. with gritted teeth you'd reply..
"welcome to linnie's maid cafe, master. my name is ..... n i'll be your maid at service today." eyebrows furrowed in irritation; knowing he's enjoying your humiliation, his eyes shamelessly glued to your figure in that stupid maid costume. you place a cutely decorated menu infront of him.
he looks down at the menu, then he gaze rises back to your face ''...dont have an appetite for food right n-"
"have a look at our menu, i recommend the cutesy cutesy rice omelet." before toji could open his big mouth; again to make a snarky remark, you cut him off
"ah ah ah toji! before you make a dum- i mean, a request, make sure you read the cafe's etiquette." you rolling your eyes and prancing off to cater for another costumer, the soft hum of cafe tunes and the sweet smell of fresh pastries
"think i found a new pastime." toji murmurs leaning his face on his fist as he watches you work...
ꉂ dream (sum): Teens in your town are turning up dead—mutilated by their own nightmares. The solution? A government-issued pill that creates dreamless sleep. But you're taking your chances! Dreams are the only place where all the hott senior boys line up to rail you! Tonight, though, someone new joins the lineup—ancient, hungry, and hellbent on turning your wet dreams into a bloodbath. Will you survive?
ꉂ nightmares (cw): based on nightmare on elm street 2. freddy krueger. freddy! sukuna kinks: teratophilia, size difference, virgin. everyone in this fic is 18+ senior in HS. horror but also humor/crack. *warning*—this fic makes fun of small town evangelism/religious frenzy. gooner!reader. nerd!reader. sheltered!reader. wet dreams. mentions of death/murder. brief mentions of one-sided delulu!reader x other jjk men (𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮, 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨, 𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢, 𝐭𝐨𝐣𝐢, 𝐢𝐧𝐨, 𝐤𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐨). heavier mentions of gojo (dreamjo) as readers dream bf. true form!sukuna, double pen and voyeurism, masturbation. (also a few horror movie/tv show easter eggs if you catch them!)
ꉂ kills (wc): 7.8k of ?
ꉂ a/n: hope y'all enjoy p1! had to break up as i start going crazy when the draft hits 10K.
𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐦.𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 || 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏 || 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐
Your favorite hobby is sleeping.
Not exactly thrilling, but in this dead-end town? Girl, dreams are all you’ve got.
So it’s no wonder why on a Friday night you're racing up the stairs just to get in bed.
Not like a shut-in like you gets invited anywhere anyway—not since middle school at least. Your bible-thumping mother treats anything past sundown like a one-way ticket to hell.
She’s also the reason why you’re still a senior at nineteen.
After listening to your pastor’s fire-and-brimstone sermon about ‘Satan’s curriculum in secular schools’ (or whatever that means). Apparently cutting paper animals and licking glue was too “spiritually risky” so your kindergarten enrollment was delayed.
From there your social quarantine only escalated—no playdates, no sleepovers, no extracurriculars—unless it was church related.
Eventually, your childhood friends gave up even trying. You don’t even blame them. With your brick-like fossil Nokia phone you couldn’t even download any social media apps to keep up with them.
Sure, you’ve technically been a legal adult for a while but for now you’re biding your time until graduation. You’ve already got a full ride to an out-of-state college lined up behind your parents’ backs. So missing out on being blackout drunk in a field somewhere wasn’t exactly tearing you up—there would be many more opportunities in college to drink that didn’t involve trying to dodge cow shit.
But there IS one thing you definitely feel like you’re missing out on—
Dating.
Boys and dating are two things your parents, especially your mother, would absolutely not tolerate until marriage.
No exceptions.
Not even a chaste courtship with Ino—the good-natured, boy-next-door who played acoustic guitar for the church choir—was allowed.
You still cringe thinking about the first (and last) time he bought you a popsicle from the ice cream truck one summer. Of course, your mother snatched it right out of your hands then gave you both a scathing 10-minute lecture on how popsicles are a ‘slippery slope to orally sinning.’
You’d say she put the fear of God into Ino, but honestly?
Ino seemed way more afraid of your mother than of God—especially with the way he’s avoided you like some biblical plague ever since.
Not that you were too heartbroken.
Sure, Ino liked you. Like a lot.
But you mostly just liked the idea of being liked.
Still, the fact remains that beggars can’t be choosers and Ino is sweet enough that you would’ve let him be your first kiss.
With a sigh, you shut your bedroom door—not that it mattered when it didn't even lock.
Your mother has a sixth sense for depravity and always knows the worst possible moment to barge in.
You can’t even goon in peace.
So something perfectly normal for a nineteen-year-old—like a vibrator? Yeah, no.
You’d never risk bringing one into the house. Your mom wouldn’t just ground you—she’d send you straight back to the Lord himself.
Tossing your hoodie on your desk, you dig through your drawers for your favorite sleep shirt: the faded one that says Crystal Lake Camp. The yellow, worn cotton is basically the closest thing you own to illicit contraband.
It used to belong to a hot camp counselor at the church-run summer camp your parents dumped you in last year, hoping it would “instill moral character.”
(Spoiler: it didn’t.)
Thankfully, every camper and counselor got the same oversized shirt, so it was easy to swipe Counselor Kashimo’s from the laundry pile without anyone noticing.
And yeah... you shamelessly didn’t wash it for like a month. Not until the woodsy, storm-soaked scent of the punky, blue-haired hunk faded completely.
Nostalgia clings to it like old cologne as you change and enter your bathroom.
Sigh. Your nightly routine is as dull as ever. Brushing your teeth on autopilot, you rinse and glance up at the mirror. Gaze catching on your reflection, you just stare.
Same tired eyes. Same boring hair. Same pouty lips, still tasting faintly of berry chapstick—untouched by anyone else’s.
Well, anyone real. (Doesn’t hurt to stay ready, though.)
While staring in the mirror you often imagine Suguru Geto—your school’s unnervingly charming student council president—standing behind you, just out of frame. One hand ghosting over your neck, the other trailing down your spine as he leans in to whisper something unhinged in that smooth, reverent voice of his.
You don’t even need to close your eyes to picture it.
You’ve rehearsed this scene so many times before in your dreams you can practically see him in the mirror behind you.
A familiar heat pools low in your belly as you quickly flip off the light and exit the bathroom.
Eee! You’re so horny—you need to get to bed like asap!
Your panties are already soaked, clinging to your heat as you kill the light and melt into the mattress—settling in like a seasoned whore slipping into her usual spot on the curb, ready for the night.
Daydreams are one thing—but lucid dreams? A whole different beast.
Vividly visceral, they’re the only place you start living the way you were meant to. There you can flirt like a slut, wear skirts with nothing underneath and kiss boys your mother would definitely deem to be demons.
And in your dreams? They might as well be devils.
Bending you over desks, pinning you to lockers, in their hedonistic hunger they are too down to stuff you full at the drop of a hat—usually more than one of them at the same time too.
You smile to yourself, already squirming just from thinking about your favorite senior boys who make up the main cast of your delusional dream harem.
First up—
Toji Fushiguro—quarterback of the football team, built like he does prison workouts for fun (which is convenient as prison is exactly where everyone thinks he’ll end up).
He’s got a sexy scar on his lip, a black ‘67 Impala he calls “Baby” and allegedly a secret kid according to the rumors.
You’re pretty sure he’s repeated a year or two if not flunked out entirely—no one’s ever seen him in a class. Moonlighting as the school’s resident plug, Toji just shows up to deal, wreck the other team on game days and rail a cheerleader in the parking lot before dipping. As long as he keeps winning, no one seems to care.
The only place to reliably spot Toji is at his part-time gig at the local auto shop. You started tagging alone so much your dad thinks you’ve developed an interest in cars—but really, your interest lay in seeing Toji. You know without fail, the second your dad’s back is turned, Toji will tower over you wearing that deadly smirk and ask if you need anything “checked under the hood” while he licks his thumb like he’s prepping it just for you.
He’s grimy and disgusting.
Far beneath any self-respecting standards of the modern woman.
And yet?
You’d let him raw dog secret baby #2 into you—no questions asked.
Even so, you could only imagine the shotgun marriage your parents would force upon you so a much safer option would be…
Gojo Satoru—the basketball star that’s six feet of snowy-haired chaos with dazzling crystalline eyes and a mouth that never shuts up.
He has no concept of the term “inside voices” and half of what he says is utter nonsense. Yet somehow the devastatingly attractive goofball still manages to be the school’s resident heartthrob.
Once you ran into him while he was skipping class on your way back from the bathroom. Thinking he’d ignore you, you were completely blindsided when he complimented your Digimon keychain like it was the coolest thing he’d ever seen—right before having the audacity to ask if he could borrow your hall pass.
And of course—like the absolute simp you are—you handed it over without a second thought before he could even finish the question.
Pleased, Gojo purred out a thanks with a wink, tongue peaking out between his lips
And then you blacked out.
No, seriously—like full-on collapsed.
You came to twenty minutes later in the nurse’s office with a goose egg on your forehead and Gojo looming over you amused as fuck at you giving him an actually legit reason to skip class.
Now he calls you ‘anemic girl’ in the halls and occasionally tosses you a hard candy like you’re some random stray he adopted. He’s given you 16 so far and you’ve kept every single one—carefully hoarded like relics—in a shoebox shrine under your bed.
Obviously.
Although there is never a dull moment around Gojo’s chaotic energy, sometimes you crave a little order. Someone more on the straight and narrow to keep you on track. Someone like…
Nanami Kento—head of the disciplinary committee.
Nanami is the only senior who people sometimes mistake for an actual teacher as he dresses like he already has 3 kids and holds down a grueling 9-to-5. One thing is for sure though, those khaki slacks that Nanami wears are most definitely working overtime as they have absolutely no business showing off just how double-cheeked up he is (and still being within the dress code).
Nanami carries a clipboard stacked with half-pre-filled detention slips like he’s just waiting for someone to fuck up. His moral compass is so rigid it could be registered as a weapon.
And if the outline in his pants is any indication—so could his dick.
One morning, you were sprinting through the halls, already late, when Nanami caught you. Flushed and fumbling, you spat out some half-baked excuse about helping a teacher.
Nanami didn’t blink. Just stared right through you like he’d already clocked your piss-poor lie and filed it and you under ‘pathetic’.
Yet in a rare show of mercy, noting your otherwise perfect attendance, he simply adjusted his glasses and let you off with a cool, “don’t let it happen again.”
You could’ve cried in relief—which, in hindsight, would’ve been way less humiliating.
Instead, nerves had you whimpering out a needy, “Y-Yes, sir.”
It was the one time you ever saw him falter—just briefly—before he smoothed it over, raising a single brow. But the faint curl of his smirk and the darkening heat in his eyes as he turned away nearly brought you to your knees.
You would’ve gladly taken in-school detention and correction right then and there—which, unfortunately, left you fantasizing whether Nanami detentions come with safewords.
Still, there were times when the thought of answering to anyone in your already sheltered life felt suffocating—and that’s when you craved someone more free-spirited. Enter...
Choso Kamo—the art freak burnout with a facetat, who’s always “getting air” behind the gym with the other stoners, the smell of weed and acrylic paint always trailing behind him.
Notorious for that pale, sleepless Edward Cullen look, Choso’s eyebags all but screamed he hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep since leaving the womb. And if expecting him to sparkle didn’t keep you staring at him more than the whiteboard during class, the way he toys with his labret piercing using his tongue barbell definitely did the trick.
You’ve watched him do it enough during fifth period to know—deep in your depraved little soul—that he eats pussy like it’s his last fucking meal.
But the most disarming thing about him?
That brooding emo-boy exterior melts into golden retriever sweetness any time he talks about his younger siblings.
Surprisingly sentimental, you once caught him tearing up at his locker over a crayon drawing his little brother Yuji hid in his lunch bag, along with the message to—“half a gud dae at skool :)” scrawled in glitter gel pen. When you handed him a tissue, he looked up at you with glassy puppy-dog eyes and whispered a broken, “Thanks,” like you’d just saved his life.
You can’t decide if you want to wreck him or swaddle him but either way?
Choso is your Roman Empire.
And finally…
Suguru Geto—class president. What healthy ovulating girl didn’t want Suguru?
Smart, commanding and terrifyingly magnetic—Suguru’s morning announcements feel more like political rallies. He’s got the presence of a world leader and the aptitude of someone who’d absolutely start a murderous apocalyptic sex cult.
One that you’d be first in line to pledge yourself to, collar, chains and all.
Especially when he smiles that polite, unnervingly deliberate smile.
Geto is always top of the class. Always ten steps ahead.
Like he could correctly guess the color of your panties—and then know exactly how to talk you out of them for "the cause."
Your parents might’ve put you off religion, but you’d still worship at his altar any day of the week—even if he was Damien in the flesh, horns tucked beneath that gorgeous spill of raven hair.
One time during an assembly, Suguru stated that, “devotion breeds obedience”—while staring dead at you.
Your panties haven’t been dry since.
All-in-all, with such a powerful teen dream starting lineup, of course it made the perfect sleepy-time goon fodder
Or at least—it used to.
Then the deaths started.
Peculiar ones. Grotesque in that slasher-movie kind of way that even left investigators rattled.
Too violent to be self-inflicted, yet no signs of forced entry, no murder weapon, no DNA—no trace of anything, really.
Like their dreams themselves were killing them.
The few who survived long enough to wake up? None of them stayed sane. Every single one was institutionalized. And all of them raving about the same thing: A pink-haired monster who crawled into their heads and twisted their worst fears into blood-soaked nightmares.
The only thing anyone could confirm? It only happens while asleep.
And it wasn’t just at night either.
A girl in your Biology lab—Riko—nearly jammed a scalpel into her own temple, convinced there was a giant bug burrowing into her brain.
She would’ve done it too, if class president Suguru hadn’t reacted fast enough—snatching her wrist and shaking her awake just in time.
Soon all over town, whispered rumors and wild theories began spreading like wildfire.
The cops blamed a new wave of hallucinogenic drugs.
Churchgoers (your mother included) pointed fingers at violent video games and action movies.
But the older folks, the ones who’d lived here long enough to know where the skeletons of the town were buried, blamed something else entirely—a curse.
An ancient and particularly malevolent one at that.
The local folklore of the town’s founding told of a vengeful spirit—one from an evil man from nearly a thousand years ago who could control the souls of others.
One who was burned, quartered and his body sealed away for his blasphemous sorcery.
Supposedly, he wasn’t even from the area and among the founding settlers of your town were the guardians of the sealed parts and they scattered his remains across it.
But these were just stories. Just silly hoodoo.
Or it was until Yu Haibara died. The pastor’s son.
Bright, kind and beloved with no moral vices nor enemies to blame—that’s when the fearful frenzy truly hit.
Yet somewhere in all the chaos, someone suggested a desperate, off-the-cuff fix—Dreamless sleep.
And shockingly?
It worked.
The deaths stopped. Just like that.
Naturally, what followed was a strict curfew along with mandatory, state-distributed, sleeping pills were handed out to every teen in town. The heavy stuff—the kind that shoved you right past REM and into a dreamless, black void.
No dreams meant no monsters.
No monsters? No mysterious murders.
Unfortunately for you, it also meant no wet dreams.
It’s been almost a week since your last one and you’re on the verge of crashing tf out.
Forget killer nightmares—at this point, it’s the built‑up tension in your core that feels lethal.
Your one escape—poof, gone. Just like that.
God, you miss getting railed in every depraved way your real life refuses to allow.
Unlike the rest of the town—currently drowning in shared hysteria—you’re keeping your head.
Thankfully, you literally just covered something like this in your psych textbook.
To you, the “dream murders” sound like a perfect storm of sleepwalking, mass panic and one very real killer no one’s caught yet. You’re not about to knock yourself unconscious any longer while everyone else plays catch‑up.
So tonight? You don’t take the pill.
The second your mother’s back is turned, you spit it into your mint tin for safekeeping.
You’d flush them, but hey—never know when they’ll come in handy.
Maybe once this all blows over, you’ll spike your parents’ nightly chamomile and finally sneak out.
Toji did say to stop by if you were ever in need of a tune‑up… and you wouldn’t mind letting him pop your hood—among other things.
Settling deeper into your pillows, you release a few cleansing breaths. You’re too eager to see who your subconscious picks tonight—or maybe something more collaborative?
Yeah.
A gangbang sounds like the perfect ‘welcome back’. Every hole and limb filled, twisted into tools of pleasure, used exactly like the desperate little slut you are.
With a hum you close your eyes and allow your mind to drift into sleep. There’s no way you could’ve known that the thing haunting this town wasn’t just real—it had locked onto you the moment your brain dared to fall into REM.
Inside of your dream world, you awake in the boys' locker room.
Nice.
Looks like you’re getting that gangbang after all.
Although you're no stranger to the boys’ locker room in your dreams, something about this time feels off.
The rows of lockers stretch farther than they should, looming taller, their metal faces dull and streaked with grime. Overhead, the lights flicker with a jaundiced glow, casting jagged shadows across pale concrete walls. The air buzzes with the sputter of dying ventilation and reeks of damp metal, mold, and something almost bloody.
Technically, it’s the same room. But it feels... wrong.
Too quiet. Too empty. Like a space between spaces.
Then again, it is the boys’ locker room—nobody expects it to smell like a field of lilies.
Then you glance down at your outfit.
No cheer skirt. No pom-poms.
No thigh-highs, chokers, or themed S&M ensemble.
Just the ratty Camp Crystal Lake sleep shirt you passed out in.
Yeah… that’s definitely not normal.
“Hey, cutie…”
Oh!
Eagerly, you shove the weird vibes to the back of your mind the second you hear a familiar voice echo behind you. The setting was never the main event in your dreams anyway—you’d fuck on a cardboard box in an alley if the dick was good.
“…ya know you’re not supposed to be in here.”
Fresh off the court and glistening, Gojo rakes a hand through the messy white strands clinging to his forehead. With the other, he lifts the hem of his jersey just enough to wipe the sweat from his face.
“…but I won’t tell if you won’t.”
Your eyes trail down his exposed waist, savoring the definition of his glistening abs. You follow them as they dip into a deep V-line, the waistband of his shorts hanging dangerously low, teasing tufts of well-kept fuzz.
Gojo chuckles, clearly enjoying the way you’re eye-fucking him like he’s girl dinner.
“See something you like, doll?”
He winks.
Thank god you never pass out in dreamland, although you do erupt in shameless giggles out of glee of seeing Gojo.
Of all your guys lately, Gojo’s been showing up the most—your unofficial dream boyfriend.
So you’ve gotten used to this version of him—Dreamjo, as you’ve dubbed him.
No doubt nerfed by your subconscious, your brain probably built this version of him off that one time he called your Digimon keychain “sick as hell”—which means the man has serious dork potential.
Real-life Gojo? A walking ego-trip in Airforces.
Dreamjo? Still cocky, but also nerdy and endlessly down bad.
And you do mean endlessly.
Whether he’s center stage or getting gleefully cucked by the rest of your lineup, he plays his part.
So no—you’re not even a little mad that he’s the first to greet you after your dream drought.
“You missed my game again.” Gojo pouts, swaggering toward you until your back hits the lockers with a hollow clang. “Hard to focus on the court without my lucky charm in the stands... dressed like my personal guardian angel in that slutty Angewomon cosplay.”
You roll your eyes.
You’ve never actually worn the cosplay—even in your dreams. It’s just one of those weird lore bits your subconscious cooked up for him and now Dreamjo won’t let it go.
But that’s part of the fun—letting your mind run wild, turning fantasy into fact.
Whatever. This is your dream.
Your rules.
And Dreamjo? He always falls in line.
“Urgh, just shut up and fuck me, Toru!”
You mean it to sound commanding—but it comes out breathy, desperate and you can’t keep up the femdom act for long.
“C’mon… let’s hit the showers. You’re already filthy.” You whine as your hands roam his sweat-slick abs, fingers slipping under his jersey to grope at his pecs.
Gojo groans, gripping your waist, before dipping lower to mold his hands into your fleshy bare bottom.
“Mmm, so you did miss me…” His voice is hot against your ear, lips brushing your lobe before he nips at it. “Y’know it’s been even longer for me... especially since you cucked me last time.”
If you weren’t already feral, that line might’ve given you pause—lore aside, your dreams always reset.
But you’re so hard up your brain automatically switches off when his long fingers ghost over your already soaked folds.
Your mouth crashes on his, hungry and impatient, making Gojo groan into the kiss. Lifting you with ease, he carries you toward the showers.
Expecting to be pinned to a tile wall with steamy water pouring over you—you blink in confusion when Gojo sets you on a bench, a wild gleam in his eyes.
“Aht-aht… I’m the messy one, baby. But you’re not dirty enough for a shower. Not yet, at least.”
Great. Even your own mind is edging you.
Not that you don’t love Dreamjo’s games—his teasing is half the fun. But tonight?
You’re wound far too tight to mess around.
“C’mon, princess. Get nasty for me, please? And I’ll fuck you just how you like it.”
You pout for show but of course, you already know what he wants. Dreamjo’s wired into the most crazed parts of your subconscious afterall.
Gojo peels off his jersey and tosses it at you.
Catching it on reflex, the jersey is damp with sweat and adrenaline. You don’t hesitate to pull your own top off and slide it on instead.
Urgh, the oversized fabric soaked in jock pheromones feels clammy and damp against your skin. Sick.
And yet somehow your pussy’s even wetter than before as you bury your nose in the material, inhaling like it’s life support.
“That’s it,” Gojo breathes, voice thick as he palms his cock through his shorts. “Take a nice, lonnnnng whiff, babydoll.”
Gojo’s musky amber scent hits like a slap: the tang of salt and heat with an undercurrent of something primal. You squirm on the bench, thighs rubbing together, belly molten with slow, coiling heat.
“Heh, now turn around and show me how messy my nasty girl’s pussy gets sniffing my musty jersey.”
You think about mouthing off, maybe rolling your eyes—but the way his scent is sinking into your skin brain makes it impossible to deny him anything.
“Toruuuuu….” You whimper out complaints, but you obey—because the sheer depravity of it only makes you more desperate to be fucked.
Turning around, knees digging into the bench, you lift Gojo’s jersey around your hips.
The basketball hunk whimpers out a moan as you arch—back bowed, cunt spread—two fingers parting your folds. A thick string of slick drips from you, glossy and obscene, smearing on the bench beneath you.
Glancing over your shoulder, you catch the sight of his shorts hitting the floor—his cock already leaking globs of pre as he strokes himself slowly, eyes glued to the gorgeous mess between your thighs.
“C’mon, my pretty goonette princess…” Gojo as groans his own need seeps through. “T-Touch yourself…”
Turning back around to face the lockers, your fingers circle your fluttering hole, gathering creamy juices to smear on your clit.
“S’toruuu c’mon… am I not wet enough for you yet.” You slur out his name, trembling with raw need to feel his thick cock inside you.
Exposed to the air, you squirm, the cool draft making your muscles spasm as you fight to keep yourself spread.
“Jus’ a second, doll…,” Gojo pants out. He’s so close now you can feel his warm breath tickle your soppy folds, “...lemme get a better look.”
The sounds of a lewd schlick-schlick, fill the room as Gojo fists his cock. You’re tempted to groan remembering how stupid sensitive he is—almost as bad as Dreamcho (Choso)—who often busted from just one look at your sloppy pussy.
Gojo better not fuck around and cum before actually stuck his dick in you.
“Hurry up, ’Toru n’ fuck me before you c—”
You freeze as warm liquid splashes your backside as wet gurgles bubble up behind you.
He came.
Urgh fuck—fine.
You’re taking matters into your own hands now. You’ll just have to ride his twitchy, oversensitive cock until it’s hard again, no matter how much he cries or begs for mercy.
Wait. You’re cooking, not a bad plan, all things considered.
As much as you wanted to be manhandled, bent over and used like his personal onnahole—there’s something equally delicious about wrecking Satoru. Riding him half-hard while he sobs under you, limbs quivering from overstimulation, his cock slipping in and out of your creamy cunny before you grind your clit against the feathery soft hair on his pubic bone.
Yup, you’ll take it—you’re still gonna give him plenty shit about it though.
“Toruuuu! You dummy, I told you not to—”
Whipping around, you stop when you don’t see him.
He’s gone.
What?! He was just right behind you!
Wiping a hand over your backside, you roll your eyes when your fingers come back slicked in thick red liquid.
Blood.
Oh. My. God—did that dork seriously get a nosebleed before even putting it in again!?
Well… wouldn’t be the first time the little perv squirted blood mid-thrust trying not to cum too fast.
But where the hell did he go?
Not like you can see anything now with steam rolling in the area like a tsunami, swallowing everything until the whole room’s bathed in a sickly haze.
Looking around frantically you spot it: a single bloody footprint leading deeper into the locker room.
Okay. That’s way too much blood for a nosebleed.
Your stomach tightens.
“S’toru?” you call, voice pitching high. “It’s okay, I’m not mad! Wouldn’t be the first time you bled all over me…”
Shit. Maybe the sleeping pills are still in your system, messing with your ability to lucid dream. Or maybe your poor, dick-deprived subconscious has finally snapped.
Okay. This dream is officially a bust.
And with nothing to show for all that buildup with Gojo, there’s no way in hell you can stay still. Your hips rock against the bench, chasing friction like a dog in heat.
No, girl—focus!
You sit up, close your eyes, force a breath.
With a shaky sigh, your fingers snake back between your thighs—just a few light circles. Just enough to quiet the needy throb at your clit so you can concentrate.
“Okay. Malaysia. Beach. Gangbang. Any guy—go!” You chant it under your breath like a spell.
Nevertheless when you open your eyes, you’re still in the same musty old locker room full of steam.
Fuck. Well at least the blood’s gone.
But Satoru is too, every single trace as realize you’re right back in your old sleep shirt.
What the actual fuck!?
BANG!
You jump as a loud crash echoes from the far entrance near the football field.
Heavy footsteps drag as the sound of metal screeches like nails on a chalkboard.
“Toji?!” you call out. Though your gut’s already telling you that’s no football cleat.
The steps stop.
Silence.
The hiss of steam thickens it’s angrier and choking what little visibility you have left in front of you.
BAM!
A locker slams shut—closer this time.
You squeak, heart jackhammering... but your fingers don’t stop.
They move faster now, shaking with horny panic, the tension somehow is making you even hotter.
God, you just want some cock is that too much to ask!?
“T-Tojiiii…daddy? Is that you? I’m really pent up—come fuck n’ me already…”
Still no answer.
Fuck—maybe if you could just get off a lil, maybe you could reset this weird dream spiral?
“Toji, stop playing around! I’m serious—I’ll…urgh, I’ll even eat your ass this time…how does that sound?!”
Yeah, you were getting pretty fucking desperate alright if eating that caveman’s ass was now on the table.
A low growl resounds through the locker room just as the lights above stutter—then flicker violently.
Then—
Blackout.
Every bulb dies at once… except one.
It buzzes overhead, flickering weakly, drowning you in static and shadows. A singular light casts you in rouge.
The rest of the room disappears into heavy black fog.
Unnerving? Sure.
BUT—the red haze reminds you of something.
That sleazy adult video store you snuck into when your parents allowed you to visit your aunt’s place in the city for your bday—who, frankly, didn’t give a single rat’s ass what a nineteen-year-old got up to.
The place was sensory overload—neon buzzing like a live wire, shelves of sex toys and cursed DVDs. You remember the sticky faux‑leather peep booth seat, the moaning through the wall—and that flicker of real flesh on the other side of the viewfinder.
And now?
It’s like you’re the star. On display. Center stage.
And the idea of one of your dream boys dragging you into a sleazy backroom for a “demo”… yeah, you’re already dripping for it.
Your fear slips the leash, devoured by the hunger igniting in your core.
Well you might as well put on a show then!
Your frame control is shaky, but you force it—closing your eyes and gritting your teeth until it appears in your hand: a long, fat, ridged pink dildo. It’s curved just right for maximum g-spot stimulation and features a giant knot sitting atop two heavy balls at the base.
Sigh. It’s a start.
“Looks like I’ll just have to fuck myself againnnn, if no one wants to put their big fat cock in my wet lil holeeee!” you shout into the haze, voice frustrated with need.
Equipped too with a suction at the bottom, you hurriedly slam it down onto the metal bench as you straddle it. Steeling yourself, thighs trembling, you sink down—inch by greedy inch—until a desperate moan tears from your gut.
You’re being extra loud on purpose, hoping someone hears. Anyone.
Oh sweet relief! The ridges scrape perfectly along your walls. Building up more pleasure, you tweak your nipples, moaning again as they stiffen with every flick.
Not enough.
Dropping your hips hard, the toy slides in deep with a wet, obscene squelch, knot popping past your entrance, stretching you wide.
“Mother-fuck!”
Spasming around it, you feel a wave of release rippling through you.
But even gasping, hunched over on the bench, your thighs clenching—
You wouldn’t be satisfied with mere solo play.
“Slutty ass nerd, ya mean you couldn’t even wait f’er me, ma?”
Relief washes over you—Toji!
Oh thank fuck!
Finally, sweet salvation.
Wet from the showers, water carving down golden skin and sculpted muscle to soak into the towel slung low on his hips, tented over his girth.
He looks positively delectable coming out of the fog.
And unlike Dreamjo, Dreamji didn’t fuck around—he just fucked.
Except… something’s wrong again.
Argh! You try to shove the thought away—desperate to stay in the moment—but then you see it.
The scar.
It’s on the left. It’s supposed to be on the right.
You’re not Toji.
The second the thought crystallizes, the illusion ruptures.
To your horror, Toji's skin begins to bubble like wax in a furnace, melting off in thick, gleaming globs. His flesh is sloughing off from the bone, muscles bulging as his left side bursts open, a chuck missing from his torso.
You scream, unable to move—still speared on the knotted toy, legs paralyzed. Your hands fly to your face, eyes clenched shut like a child praying the monster away.
The air fizzes with something sinister as you fight to reboot your dream once more.
Yet when you dare peek one eye open.
The locker room is normal again.
Pristine and silent, no corpse, no red blood nor haze.
But your heart seizes as realization sinks that you are not alone.
A foreign presence consumes the room. It’s overwhelmingly oppressive.
For a moment you struggle to even breathe under its weight.
Then a voice cuts through the silence, soaked in venomous delight that grips you in feat.
“Figures the only other person in this pathetic town who knows how to control their dreams is a filthy little whore.”
A masculine figure steps into view.
There’s a bleeding red aura clinging to him as he looms above the lockers—eight feet of muscle and malice—shoulders squared beneath a haori that drapes from him prominently like a war banner. His chest is bare, skin the color of desert stone, marred with old scars and writhing with black markings—symmetrical, like incantations meant to cage something.
There’s just too much of him. Too much presence. Too much mass. Too many arms.
Wait—four? Four!?
You count again, just to be sure—fuck.
Yep. Still four. Each one outfitted with razor sharp claws too.
Yet most striking of all is his face—almost beautiful in a twisted, uncanny way. Four fiery crimson eyes glower down at you. Two in the right place. Two more set in a mangled, flesh-twisted mask along his right cheekbone.
Buffer than Toji.
Taller than Gojo.
More tattoos than Choso.
And with a commanding presence that would put both Nanami and Geto to shame.
Oh, this creature is giving major demon daddy vibes …and is that?
Holy Shit.
Your eyes widen at the monstrous grin stretching across his stomach—teeth jagged like carved ivory, lips peeled back around an obscenely meaty, drooling tongue.
Okay….This is definitely not where you thought the dream was going.
Your imagination is good—but this?
This had to be aftereffects from the pills. You haven’t even been allowed to watch enough sci‑fi or fantasy to dream of something this elaborate.
But one thing’s for certain—you abso-fucking-lutely have a monster-fucking kink now.
Sukuna growls as he stalks forward toward you, moving in the space like gravity bends for him alone.
“One, two…Sukuna the Curse King’s coming for you.”
Releasing a shrill cry, your pussy pulses feverishly around the dildo inside of you—shit you almost came from just looking at him—omg, how humiliating! (although you now sympathize a bit more with Dreamjo and Dreamcho).
Watching you wiping spittle off of your chin, with damn-near hearts in your eyes, Sukuna’s upper lip curls as he feels your fear lessening the closer he gets.
“Couthless woman.” Sukuna sneers. “Did you hear what the fuck I said?”
You nod rapidly, biting your lip, every nerve in your body screaming for you to run is easily overpowered by your pussy practically sobbing for you to stay.
“Uh‑huh,” you breathe excitedly, eyes still focused on that vulgar looking tongue flicking out from his stomach, “I, uh—something about you… cumming in me?”
Sukuna stops dead in his tracks, blinking with all four eyes.
“…You—What? No, whore. I said I’m coming for you, brat—as in I’m going to fucking kill you.”
Lost in your arousal, your dream brain doesn’t register the actual threat—it just chalks it up to your slutty-ass subconscious cooking up its most diabolical scenario yet.
Guess you weren’t so immune to the hysteria after all, well might as well enjoy it.
“Yeah—demon daddy, mmm fuck—murder this pussy!” you moan, desperate to swap the plastic for cock inside you for a real one.
If the rest of him was any indication, his dick would be like a goddamn tree trunk.
Oh you’d break for sure.
You can’t wait!
“Demon?” Sukuna snarls, eyes flashing. “I’m a curse, you insolent brat.”
With a lazy flick of his claw, a gash splits open across your thigh.
The pain hits instantly. You scream as blood gushes—hot, thick, and far too real.
“Keh. Figures,” Sukuna sneers. “Bet if I cracked open that slutty little skull, all that’d ooze out is cum.”
A white-hot bolt of agony surges through you leaving your nerves tangled in something raw and electric. Confusion coils tight in your gut as the pain on some level feels exhilarating.
Shit. Knife play too? Really?
You’d laugh at your ever-expanding kink list if you weren’t seconds from blacking out.
The pain doesn’t fade, it gets worse.
No dream logic. No mercy failsafe. Nothing kicks in to soothe it.
Okay, this is getting a lil too real.
Frantic, you clamp your eyes shut, trying to force him out. Force the pain away.
But it’s still there—throbbing louder, sharper, deeper.
There's a siren blaring through your soul. Telling you something’s pushing in, peeling apart your dream from the inside out, cracking open your subconscious like a ribcage.
And the more you resist, the more it hurts.
Your breath falters. Your chest tightens.
All that shit you brushed off—the whispers, the rumors, the monster hiding in the dreams?
It’s real.
“Bingo, you ditzy whore,” Sukuna purrs evilly. “Finally catching on? If I kill you here—in your dream—you die for real.”
Your eyes fly open, breath hitching.
He’s inside your thoughts too?!
“Of course I am.” Sukuna’s grin widens.
“If I can crawl into these vapid, dick-obsessed dreams of yours, I can root around wherever else I like as well. There’s nothing you can hide from me.”
Those last words bypass your ears entirely—hot and sticky, slithering straight into the depths of your mind.
“I don’t just know your fears... I bathe in them.”
Well damn…
“Ahhh, so you get it now,” Sukuna drawls, laughter echoing off the lockers.
“You’re fucked—and not the kind you’re so desperate for. But don’t fret. One of us’ll enjoy it, pet. I’ll take my time… peeling the ski—”
“Wait!” You throw your hands up—palms out, halting.
“Sorry—, not to interrupt but... speaking of fucked...,” you cut in, words tumbling as your brain trips over the spiral it's in. “Just walk with me here—let’s say you did actually fuck me—would I lose my v-card in real life too?”
Sukuna stops. Not dramatically. Not ominously. Just... stops.
His whole face slackens in unfiltered disgust that anyone could have terminal brainrot to this degree without quite literally being braindead.
To add insult to injury, you simply blink up at him in earnest, like you actually expected him to take that obscene drivel seriously.
You had to be categorically insane.
Sukuna grits his teeth. “Exactly what in the fuck is wrong with you, woman?”
You have to fight to suppress a giggle at that—beacause honestly?
A lot.
But you do not have the time—nor emotional bandwidth—to unpack all of that right now. Not when the only problem you care about is still leaking so audaciously around the knotted dildo still lodged inside of you.
“Look, uh, Sukuna, right? This cut sucks,” you wince poking at it, “but I’m still not totally sure you’re real. I’m like, 85–90% there.”
You cross your arms, unconvinced. “There’s just this stubborn little 10% whispering that I made you up to rail me. I mean… there’s a mouth on your tummy for crying out loud! Why else would you have a tongue that big if I’m not supposed to ride it!?”
Sukuna exhales sharply through his nose, resisting the urge to slam his head into the nearest locker.
You have no idea how powerful your dreams are. Consuming your soul would amount to dozens of others. Your subconsciousness is a loaded weapon—and you’ve turned it into a hedonistic fuck circus, it’s pitfull.
“It’s to tear the flesh off the bones of women and children before I devour them.”
Sukuna roars, the sound shaking the lockers with unseen force. The mouth on his stomach splits wider—dagger-like teeth bared, tongue thrashing like a whip—clearly meant to terrify you.
Unfortunately for him, all it does is make you cream harder around the dildo as you tilt your head, genuinely considering it.
“Mmm. Yeah, okay I can see that too—but it honestly looks wayyyyy better suited to devouring pussy and breeding children, Curse Daddy.”
Curse Daddy!?
Sukuna lets out a guttural snarl as his aura lashes out in fury—but it’s no use.
If he had the power to kill your infuriating ass, he would’ve done it ten minutes ago.
But it’s been a week since he last fed.
The whole town’s gone dark—one big dreamless dead-zone.
And you?
Even with fear buzzing under your skin, your brain short-circuits the second you look at him. There’s no room for survival instincts in that slutty little head of yours.
Just one thought on loop:
What his monstrous tongue, thick n’ velvety, would feel like thrashing inside of your pussy, flicking at your cervix.
For once, the Curse King is at a loss.
He’s fed on nightmares for centuries.
Roamed the minds of tyrants, zealots, serial killers—hell, even a few professional whores.
But never—not once—has he met a creature so catastrophically, proudly down bad.
Did you never leave your house?!
“With my mom? Tuh. I’m lucky she lets me go to school,” you snort, catching his thoughts.
You grin as his face falters.
“Figured if you’re poking around in my brain, I could poke around in yours. It’s called home field advantage, Curse Daddy. You’re in my dream, remember?”
Malice hums in the air and the tile beneath Sukuna’s feet cracks.
But you don’t flinch.
Because Sukuna has already said too much and upon that confirmation the power dynamics decidingly shift.
“Anyway, judging by how much this fucking leg hurts, I’m bumping you up to a solid 99.9% real. And since you’ve already murdered your way through half this shithole town, you already know how ass-backwards it is.”
You press on.
“Hate to break it to you, Curse King—but your reign of terror? Yeah, that’s over. Everyone’s doped up on prescription elephant tranquilizers. Nobody’s dreaming about anything anymore.”
Sukuna growls something under his breath about modern bullshit—how no tincture or herb in his time ever blocked dreams, only enhanced them.
“I’m SAYIN’!” You throw your hands up, equally annoyed. “We need our dreams! I haven’t been properly fucked in a week and it’s starting to show!”
Your leg throbs, pulsing hard enough to break your focus.
Wincing, you groan and slowly lean forward, using the leverage of your body weight to slide off the dildo. There’s a salacious pop that echoes once you are free of it, catching Sukuna’s attention as his eyes track the tantalizing trail of slick shimmering as it drip-drops down your plush thighs.
Indecorous slut.
Yet staring a moment too long, Sukuna’s eyes immediately flick to your face.
Oop, busted! You smirk. “Anyway, if you’re really just a dream demo—”
“Dream curse,” Sukuna sneers. “I’m The Curse King, you crude little cumdump.”
“Right,” you mutter, rolling your eyes.
Big difference.
“So, as I was saying—If you kill me, you lose your only power source. You feed off nightmares—but you’re still standing here, aren’t you? That means you can survive in normal dreams too. So if I’m gone then you’ll fade away, huh?”
You cross your legs and fold your hands in your lap, playing fake diplomat which leaves Sukuna scowling at you harder.
“Let’s cut a deal, then!”
Sukuna narrows his gaze but allows you to continue, he had little choice otherwise.
“I let you squat in my dreams—for now. But no nightmares. No trying to murder me nor anyone else, seems fair, right?”
Sukuna scoffs at you, all four of his arms crossing. “Tell me why the fuck would I want to squat in some horny brat’s cock-crazed delusions?”
“Because you’d be alive, jackass! Uh.. and maybe…” You clear your throat. “...maybe I could make it worth your while?”
Sukuna glares at you menacingly, seeing your pathetic attempts at tempting him.
“If I have to suffer, so do you,” he snarls. “And you think, someone as powerful as I would stoop to fucking some sad twitchy virgin who’s desperate for male validation?”
Biting your inner cheek, you bristle, your hands clenching into fists as you stand to face him, bare and bloodied.
“I never said I wanted your approval, you dream creeper!”
Sukuna laughter is full of dark amusement.
“No, you didn’t—and yet that vulgar ass cunt of yours is practically penning me a puddle of love poems every time you glance at my stomach.”
You don’t need to look down to know he’s right.
Yet the vibes are still undoubtedly set to ‘fuck this guy’ as your indignation builds.
“You’re nothing but a fraud, you know that!?”
Rage, arousal, and defiance crackle through you like live wires.
“You couldn’t kill me even if you tried. You’re too weak. You’re nothing but a big sad bully,” you snap.
“And now that I have an idea of how this whole dream shit works—you don’t even scare me anymore!”
In a flash Sukuna is in front of you. The size-difference apparent as his body dwarfs yours and all light cast upon you.
“So do what you want. Cry. Brood. Fap in the corner for all I care!”
Your determination only grows stronger as you stand your ground, finally assuming your the title of deity of your own subconscious domain.
“Fuck you, because after I fix this leg and I’m going and getting my shit wrecked like I should have been doing all along!”
Because god knows how much time has actually passed—you might have to wake up soon!
You challenge Sukuna, eying him up and down. “And that's worse right? Sentenced to rot slowly, not quite dead but wholly dismissed in the mind of a ‘silly little slut’ who you couldn’t even scare enough to kill.”
For a moment it’s quiet, only your huffs of exertion filling the space.
Then, just as suddenly, the room shakes more violently than before as rows of lockers begin to explode in shockwaves, the ceiling cracking like it might collapse entirely.
Through the chaos and rubble, Sukuna’s eyes glow sharply, locked on your form.
“I’ll kill you yet,” he hisses, “That’s a promise.”
Ignoring him, you fling open the door of a mangled locker that has fallen on its side.
What pours out is an otherworldly light, bright and swirling, reshaping into a portal to the deeper parts of your mind where your real sex-crazed dreams await you.
Glancing back over your shoulder, you blow him a kiss.
“Try it then, Curse King. Let’s see whose kingdom this really is.”
And with that, you step through—the portal vanishing along with you.
The realm rapidly dissolving, Sukuna seethes in the crumbling dark.
𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓼? then please 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 or 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠! you can also join my gen. 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 or contribute to the 𝐛𝐢𝐦𝐛𝐨$𝐟𝐮𝐧𝐝.
ꉂ a/n: i will release p2 of plug!reader (final edits), incel!naoya, elevator p2 and then come back to this before working on invisible man!gojo. [if i didnt mention it no im not working on it right at this second, yes i do plan to finish it, please don't bug me about it :) ]
accepting p2 tags below (100 cap) if you are already on gen or kinktober list you will be tagged automatically.
choso who loves when u ride him, his rugged hands on ur ass as u grind ur cunt on his length. he’s a mess, his eyebrows furrowed as he immersed himself in the way u looked down at him like u owned everything that was him, his pillowy pink lips parted as whiny moans spewed out of his mouth like a fluid river. “fuh-fuckkkkk… u-ur so pretty baby mnghh..” he’d whine with his glossy eyes glued to ur pretty face. i mean, who wouldn’t be a wreck? the way u would move ur hips in a circular motion whilst still slamming ur self down onto his pelvis at an agonizing pace, the way u would every so often leaned down to peck his puffy lips n the way ur tough facade began to fade when his fat tip would slightly graze against ur g-spot. slowly losing himself everytime u would clench ur warm walls around his girth, it was all too perfect,even the part when u continued to ride him even though he had already spilled his thick silky cum into ur warmth.
he’d grip ur ass so tightly as he pushed himself impossibly deeper into ur heat, kissing ur cervix in the process just to spurt his creamy seed into ur womb, “awh choooo,” u whined as u slowed ur hips “that was alot, no? think you’ve been pent up, huh?” you teased as he nodded his head profusely. “s-shit, mhmm.. been so worked up angel..” he said as he wiped a bit of sweat off of his head. “then ya must have some more f’me, right?” u said tilting ur head to the right as u began to ride him again. “wha-what are you doin.. i just came, don’t have anymore f’yo- fuckk!!” he groaned softly when u bounced up n down on his thick cock, “shh it’s okay cho” you smiled at him, reaching a hand down to rub his rosy cheeks with ur thumb. digging his nails into ur hips as he tried to get u to let up on ur pace, “ple-easeeeee, c-can’t- hah fuckin take it babyyyy..” choso whimper as tears brimmed his waterline. not responding to him, u sped up ur pace, his sleepy looking eyes widening as he tosses his head back. if he wanted to say something, now he couldn’t, all words were stuck in his throat only letting a string of whines pass through.
“too much ‘s too much, gna cum f’you again baby!” he simpered as his hips involuntarily buck up to meet ur thrusts. it was so much, his eyes squeezed shut, biting his bottom lip in a attempt to stifle his moans- which did not work btw tears rolling down his pink cheeks,spilling his hot sticky cum into u once again as he cried out ur name. “fuck choso, ur cryin..” u watched in awe, ur hips slowing down to a maintainable pace so he could ride out his orgasm. once he came down from his high, he looked at u like u we’re a psychopath “u almost rode me to death, i mean it felt good but i felt like i was dying!” he said dramatically as he stared up at u, watching a smile form on ur face. his theory of u being a mad woman checked out when u said “chooo, i still haven’t cum yetttt, think you can go again?” u say batting ur eyelashes,putting on the most irresistible face u could. u knew u won when he threw his head back into the pillow with a groan. he just couldn’t resist u n u knew it!
a/n: hiii guysss, i just wanted to whip up something real quick so im sorry for any spelling mistakes n stuff !!
⚠︎ (mdni) Thinking about Gojo Satoru with both hyperspermia and hyper-viscosity.
He's so embarrassed about it at first — shying away from being intimate with you due to the sheer amount of cum he produces. Not only that, it was incredibly thick, too. The way it just kept coming over and over through heavy pulses, creamy rivulets that keep oozing their way out of his cock even after he thinks his orgasm is over...
But Satoru was lucky to have a partner as understanding as you. Admittedly, you didn't quite know what to do the first time you were face to face with such a spectacle.
You were done sucking his cock, having hollowed your cheeks in just the way Satoru liked, tongue flicking out to prod at the plump veins snaking down his length. It was enough to have the man before you biting his fist, hips jerking in a poor attempt to fuck your throat.
You let him, of course — letting out a chorus of wet gags that'd make a nun blush. His dewy tip hit the back of your throat repeatedly, face screwing in pleasure when you tightened around him and milked him for all he was worth.
But then his orgasm rapidly approached. Satoru could feel it with the way his balls were suddenly beginning to heave, tightening up on him after you dug your tongue into his slit. He pulled you off without warning, ignoring your whines of protest and cumming.
He didn't cum in messy ropes that sprayed out of him in a way that'd be relatively easy to clean afterwards.
No — Satoru's cum poured out of him in thick, slow moving streams that stretched and clung to each surface it could reach. When he came on your face, your lashes were coated in the potent substance. It left your lips glossy, slowly sliding down your chin and between the valley of your breasts, the sensation lasting hours after you had both cleaned up.
When you convinced him to let you swallow for the first time, Satoru warned you of the possibility of you choking. And you did — spluttering around his cock as your throat worked to accommodate the sudden feeling of being utterly stuffed full.
You gulped down the mess loudly, nails digging into your boyfriend's thighs as it dribbled out of the corner of your mouth in fat globs.
Satoru apologised profusely afterwards, but he noticed that a large part of you enjoyed it — watching as you pulled off of his length, gasping for air and fingering at the wet strings of spit and cum joining your lips to his groin.
You cleaned him up, of course, eagerly lapping up the mess until Satoru was writhing from overstimulation.
Then there was the matter of thoroughly stuffing your pussy up to the brim next. Your boyfriend had no problem getting hard again, sobbing into your mouth as he held you down in a mean mating press — balls thwacking against your ass as he pummelled his aching cock into you.
Satoru ends up cumming in bucket loads, letting out a choked groan into the warmth of your mouth as another round of goopy cum shoots out of him and into you instead.
It takes long seconds for Satoru to stop cumming inside of you, tears leaking from his eyes as he pulls out and and watches your pussy struggle to hold it all in.
Your puffy folds are glistening, your stomach was slightly bloated — and his eyes are on the way your pussy inevitably pushes out his load with a filthy squelch, legs shaky. Satoru can only moan at the sight, grimacing when his cock treacherously jerks before him.
But who better to handle his wretched orgasms if not for a very eager you?
inspired by this post by @pearlescenthoney, I love your mind ugh
18+. the many times you & higuruma get caught at work.
I. case one: the evidence locker ( 8:12 PM )
higuruma hiromi is dark pressed suit, two rings on his long fingers & a moral compass that always points north. you’re a paralegal with skirt 3cm below the dress code & a magnet in your molars that has hiromi’s compass swiveling south.
you’re tugging on his tie now. “come onnn, ‘ruma. please?”
a paralegal should not be referring to their boss as ‘ruma. they also should not be dragging him into the evidence locker at 8PM to look for a ‘missing file’ he swears doesn’t even exist. you’re currently doing both. and higuruma lets you.
your lips are summer sticky & far too hot. your hand’s in his hair now, nails on his nape, his palm bunching at the folds of your skirt. your breath’s ridiculously hot in his mouth as you huff & puff against his tongue, shoving him against the lockers. hiromi slaps your ass when you dare to let out a whine.
BANG !
the loud sound jolts your bodies apart. higuruma’s palm is still on your thigh—“hiromi ?!”
“the auto-lock,” his palms drag over his face. he breathes, “it’s eight-thirty. the basement seals automatically till the morning shift.”
he lets out a low, frustrated groan that vibrates through your rib. even now, you’re still pressed against him, half-clothed tits pressed into his chest as his thumb grazes circles on your hip. he dials a number with his other hand, ignoring the sloppy, gloss-drenched kisses you leave on his jaw as he speaks to the security desk at the end of the line.
half-an-hour later—after higuruma’s stewing & you calming him down with apology head, complete with your hair tied in a sympathy bun of course—the heavy metal door drags open. a security guard armed with a flashlight walks in. he’s greeted with the sight of higuruma buttoning your shirt, sympathy bun long come undone.
you’re free. and you’re in so much trouble.
★ Y/N L/N ⎯⎯ DISCIPLINARY RECORD.
offense: UNAUTHORIZED AFTER-HOURS ACCESS & BREACH OF SECURITY
punishment: Written warning & $500 Penalty fine for Emergency Override.
issued by: Levi Ackerman, Chief of security.
CC: Higuruma Hiromi, [Y/N] [L/N]
‘the evidence locker is no place for ‘private deliberations.’ and keep in mind all audio is recorded. in no world should the word ‘tight’ be moaned in an emergency distress call.
II. case two: encrypted outlook thread ( 12:21 PM )
higuruma hiromi ought to teach you a lesson.
frankly, you’re the worst paralegal he’s had the mispleasure of working with since joining pearson hardman. he can’t help but envy his rival, phoenix wright, and his paralegal, maya fey!
you’re much too forgetful, too busty, too disorganized. at 9AM today the files for the high-priority danganronpa case were due on his desk. they didn’t reach him till eleven, and you had the audacity to add on a sticky note labeled ‘sorry!’ and ‘meet me downstairs for some apology head ;)’. higuruma hiromi has concluded that you never learn.
so he decides he’ll teach you himself.
Subject: Investigative Documents for Danganronpa Case
From: Higuruma Hiromi
To: [L/N], [Y/N]
Y/N,
Not only were the documents I requested for prep late, they were also extremely disorganized. This is a serious case regarding kidnapped and murdered children, and I suggest you exercise some more seriousness and be more meticulous in your conduct. You also left an implicit sticky-note attached to the files. I suggest you come visit my office, lest I file a formal complaint.
Regards,
Higuruma Hiromi
—
Subject: RE: Investigative Documents for Danganronpa Case
From: [L/N], [Y/N]
To: Higuruma, Hiromi
Counselor,
Are you threatening me with a complaint? I’m just doing my job. I did notice your tie was a bit crooked today, though, so I’d be happy to come fix it for you when I swing by your office. Or take it off completely. Let me know when you’d like me to drop in and fix those files!
Regards,
Y/N L/N
—
Subject: RE: RE: Investigative Documents for Danganronpa Case
From: Higuruma, Hiromi
To: [L/N], [Y/N]
Y/N,
You can come fix it now. And then I’m going to fix the way you think you can talk to a Senior Associate. I will lock the door, and you will not be released till you admit exactly how much of a headache you’re deliberately trying to be. Don't test me, [Y/N]. I’m a very patient man, but even I have limits.
Higuruma Hiromi.
ー
Subject: RE: RE: RE: Investigative Documents for Danganronpa Case
From: [L/N], [Y/N]
To: Higuruma, Hiromi
ruma,
i suck at corporate speak 😭 are u saying ur gonna eat my pussy orrrrrr
—
Subject: [SECURITY ALERT] KEYWORD FLAG / SERVER SCRUB
From: Hange Zoë (IT Department)
To: Higuruma, Hiromi; [L/N], [Y/N]
CC: Human Resources (General Inbox)
Hi Hiromi, [Y/N],
Just a friendly heads-up: I’m running the quarterly server audit and the 'harassment/explicit' keyword filter just went off like a fire alarm on your thread. Specifically because of the word 'pussy.’
Sorry to intrude on your corporate sexting session! I’ve paused the sync to the main server, but the automated log has already been forwarded to the Senior Partners. You guys might want to check your calendars. Erwin at HR just opened a new 'Conduct Investigation' folder with both your names on it (uh oh!)
Best of luck to you both! And Y/N, I could be wrong, but I think his last message was implying BDSM; though I don’t doubt he’d be willing to eat you out as well!
Happy eating!
Zoë Hange
★ Y/N L/N ⎯⎯ DISCIPLINARY RECORD.
offense: MISUSE OF COMPANY COMMUNICATION CHANNELS / EXPLICIT DIGITAL CONDUCT
punishment: Mandatory 2-hour 'Digital Ethics' Webinar & temporary monitoring of all outgoing firm emails.
issued by: Erwin Smith, Head of Human Resources.
CC: Higuruma Hiromi, [Y/N] [L/N]
‘It has come to our attention that the Danganronpa Case thread was used for ‘personal negotiations,’ that which our investigative committee has concluded were most likely inappropriate. Please refrain from using the firm’s Outlook servers as your personal Wizz/Tinder moving forward. And Higuruma, we expect better from you. Please report to room three on floor six after lunch break. The door will not be locked.’
III. case three: company zoom meeting ( 5:04 PM )
higuruma hiromi thinks he’s so fucking smart.
he also thinks he’s the king of calendar invites. so when he tells you to send out an email for a company zoom meeting for 6PM but set the zoom’s actual time to five, he supposes his intellect rivals god.
“you’re late, y/n,” higuruma’s voice is close to guttural. he’s laid back on his desk chair, tie loose, legs spread, hair impossibly messy. and you’re knelt on your floor, laptop on your thighs.
you’re sporting the cutest little bath robe higuruma has ever seen. you’re grinning at the screen, cheeks peach-dappled & lips bent in a clumsy smile,
“hi, ‘ruma! wanna see my tits?”
lord, how higuruma adores you !
and who is he to say no? he leans back against his seat, swivel chair groaning with a creeeaaak. he’s already unzipping his pants as you begin to shrug off your pretty pink robe, breasts glazed over & supple in the fluorescent light.
a tiny, bright green notification pings at the bottom of the screen.
[Participants: 48]
higuruma freezes. then rises up, palm curling off his shaft & inching towards his keyboard.
slowly, agonizingly, he clicks on gallery view.
forty-six pearson hardman employees stare at him back.
erwin smith looks like he just witnessed a war promised to him 2000 years ago. hange zoë has a measuring tape held up against the screen. his rival, phoenix, is making a face that reminds him of the many memes of that one streamer you’d often send him—i show meat? levi ackerman has already left the meeting—he knows because the notification flashes at the corner of the screen.
and right there in the center box? harvey specter, senior partner of pearson hardman ltd, has his chin in his hand & eyes intensely locked on to the screen.
is he looking at your breasts ?
oh right, you! you’ve been calling out for the past one minute now, completely unaware of the other forty-six employees watching your wet nipples glisten in the light.
“‘ruma? ‘ruma? ugh, is this thing on?”
higuruma slams his laptop shut. it bangs louder than the gunshot that killed charlie kirk.
★ Y/N L/N ⎯⎯ DISCIPLINARY RECORD.
offense: PUBLIC INDECENCY / TOTAL BREACH OF FIRM REPUTATION
punishment: Termination of Employment (Effective Immediately)
issued by: Harvey Specter, Senior Partner ; The Board of Directors.
CC: Higuruma Hiromi (RESIGNED), [Y/N] [L/N]
‘Hey guys! Harvey here. So after a meeting with the rest of the board, we’ve come to the decision to terminate your employment. Higuruma, your resignation letter has been duly received. Gonna be completely honest, that was the last thing I ever expected to see in a corporate meeting. But you two really spiced up my evening, thanks! I tried to negotiate with Jessica and the other directors on your behalves, but sadly they weren’t having it.’
P.S: ‘Nice cock, Hiromi! Very impressive both length and girth wise. And sorry for sneaking a peak at your chest, Y/N. At the very least, your boob job looks very natural. Best of luck to you both!’
thinking about two virgins trying to convince each other that they’re experienced
“satoru, virgin loserness just naturally oozes from you” you roll your eyes, legs crossed over his lap as ur head laid on the sofas arm rest. you and satoru lazily lounged on the couch, his strong thighs still noticeable under his batman pajama pants as he sat manspread like it was his purpose, and a white shirt that he somehow made sexy. you, in a lousy excuse for sleep shorts and a shirt from your university’s store that you got as an acceptance gift.
some cheesy romcom acting as background noise, long forgotten ever since this conversation erupted. this is how most friday nights went. sleepover between two bestfriends , giggling n’ gossiping, snacks and conversations that most bestfriends wouldn’t be comfortable having with each other, like the one you were currently having. “says you, freakin’ dork” his head snaps in your direction at the accusation, “actin’ like you’ve gotten laid before, hilarious” he chuckles going back to whatever bullshit he was watching on his phone.
“i don’t have to act like it, because i have” a fake hair toss is thrown his way along with a small ‘hmph’ that makes satoru grin. “maybe with ur pillow, sure..” satoru mutters before a pillow connects with his head. “ow??” he dramatically gasps before putting the pillow you threw at him under his arm. “i’m just speaking the truth you refuse to!” satoru plucks your thigh.
“that’s your reality, not mine.” you lie, “i had my first time with my ex, i thought you knew this?” digging yourself deeper into your lies. “no, i didn’t know about that, i’ve been your best friend for how long?” satoru caresses his chin with his thumb and pointer as if he’s lost in thought “and this is the first time i’m hearing about it” his face deadpans at you as if he came to the conclusion that you’re fibbing. “well i don’t have to tell you every little thing satoru. just like you dont tell me about all of these supposed ‘hookups’ you have so often.” you cross your arms across your chest, eyes leaving his very punchable face.
“what,” satoru pushes your legs off of his lap so he could scoot closer to you before hovering over your laying figure, face inches away from yours “you jealous or somethin’?” his teased, smirking in your face. using one your pointer finger to push his face away from yours.
“how could i be jealous of girls who don’t exist” you tease back with a fake smile before deadpanning again. “they are very real and they’re obsessed with me, thank you very much” satoru winks at you.
of course girls are always following satoru around on campus like lost puppies but he has never actually done it with them, right? with satoru always being the topic of conversation, you do find it weird how you’ve never heard of satorus sexual antics.
you finally sit up wanting to entertain him, not knowing that you were both rocking in the same boat. “oh yeah? show me how you do it then, toru” you turn to face the man. secretly something in you always wondered how satoru fucked or if he even fucked at all? maybe he made love, would lay you down gently on his sheets that smell of him, leave a trail of soft kiss down your stomach before lapping on your clit like a parched kitten whilst whispering sweet nothings into the air…. or maybe he’d shove your face into his pillows, his fingers digging into your hips as he digs you out, slamming his hips into you so deep you could feel him bulging in ur lower stomach, grabbing you by your hair to spit in your mouth before slapping your cheek leaving a hot sting behind.
you knew it was perverted and wrong to think about your bestfriend like that but you just couldn’t help yourself. it was only made worse whenever you’re all alone and bored out of your mind, leaving you to get all hot and bothered at the thought of your bestfriends undeniable sex appeal. thinking about him doing more than just the small kisses he’d leave on your cheek and the lingering touches he’d leave on your skin.
“y-you want me to show you?” his face heats up, leaving a noticeable rosy color on his cheeks “might be too much for your virgin eyes” satorus stutter is quickly covered by false confidence. “i’m sure i can take it” your words made him gulp “come on, dont make it weird satoru.” his eyes follow you as you get up from the sofa and stand in between his manspread legs. “let’s reenact it” you say looking down on him.
“okay, w-well first i take ‘em by the hips like this..” his hands shake as he grabs ahold of your hips, a familiar feeling like when he’d place his hand on your hips to brush past you. “ ‘n i bring ‘em on my lap” he gently guided you to sit ontop of his lap, his confidence leading you to believe he was telling the truth about being experienced in this craft.
your thin sleep shorts being almost no barrier against his pajama pantsed crotch. satoru was beginning to internally panic, swore it would never go this far, yeah you’ve kissed a couple of times, left not-so friendly lingering touches on each other, and flirted as much as you breathed but he never would’ve thought he’d have his best friend on his lap getting ready to dry hump him.
“then i- fuck- make ‘em grind on me like this..” he lied through his teeth. truth is, he’d never done anything like this! he believed he was telling on himself by the way his fingers trembled as they grasped ur hips, the way his breath staggered and hitched as he felt the plushness of your hips, and his eyes glazed over as they raked over your figure. his hands travel from your hips, to your butt as he drags you back and forth on bulging crotch. “just like this..” he grunts, his cock rock hard under you, while his eyes are glued to where you both meet.
“shit.. i know ur lying satoru” you huff out, trying not to react when you clit catches on his bulge. satorus eyebrows furrow “m’ not lyin’! you’ve just never done anything like this, so you wouldn’t k—angh!—know!” he flips your accusation back onto you. you don’t even retort back, instead you straight your back so you can take control. slowly grinding ur hips on the thigh his cock was laying hard against. satorus hands that once rested on ur hips, fly to your hips as he tries to halt your movements.
his actions only making you speed up. you notice the way his eyebrows are pinched together, his breathy whimpers become uncontrollable, and the dumb way drool begins to slip from his lips— all telltale signs you’ve seen in your favorite twitter videos that he was about to blow his load. “h-hah..” you gasp out when he rolls his hips up into your slick shorts “look at you toru!” your thumb swipes over his drool coated lip, wiping the drool on his shirt. satoru looks like he’s in a trace when his eyes finally meet yours. while you’re too busy teasing him in his messy state, you fail to notice his nimble fingers slipping under your thin shorts until he rolls your slick clit under his pointed n middle finger.
“toru! that’s n-not fair” you whine as your hips involuntarily buck against his touch, distracting you from getting him off as you chased his fingers. your hands are quick to shimmy his pj pants down just enough to free his throbbing cocking. satoru sucks air through his teeth when he feels your soft hands wrap around his precum glazed cock. “fuck- grip it tighter baby..” he sputters out as his fingers circle around your slick hole before pushing in with no mercy. he doesn’t wait for you to adjust to his finger before massaging through your walls in a ‘come hither’ motion.
“mmngh—! s’ fuckin’ good!” clenching around his fingers as you spat down onto his cock, creating enough slick to freely move you hand up n down on his cock at the immediate fast pace you set. the pleasure becoming all to overwhelming for the both of you, this “reenactment” turning in a competition to see who will crack first. you continued to stroke satorus length, pressing a thumb against his tip every now and then to make him whimper n whine, until you felt a knot building up in your stomach.
hot pressure becoming unbearable as satorus fingers never faltered. the soft ‘click click click’ sound of his middle fingers, massaging deep inside against where you’re weak, his thumb tracing circles on your puffy nub, was all too much for you! “m’ gonna—fuck! don’t stop!” barely giving him a warning before your walks clench around his fingers tight enough to make him groan. you let out a string of incoherent babbles and moans as you make a mess on his fingers. he watches in awe you fall apart from something so simple as fingering, deepening his belief that you must be a virgin like him. he’s snapped out of his head when he realizes even throughout your orgasm, you never stopped your movements on his cock.
rubbing your palm against the tip, using you free hand to stroke his length like you’ve read about online, only makes satoru squirm under you. “mmngh- y-your hand feels so- fuck! good.." satoru bit his lip, trying to suppress the high pitched moans threatening to spill from his swollen lips. “f-fhuck.. wait-baby, wait!” the trembling man under you panics at the pleasure
chest heaving, stomach twisting, his toes curling, plump pink lips slightly parting but no sound leaves it. his hand grips your wrist in a attempt to stop you but you persist anyway. hot spurts on his seed coats your hand and his pj pants as he groans. his beefy forearm moving up to hide his face in embarrassment as his hips buck to chase the last of his release.
a minute goes by of nothing but the noise of both of you heaving and process the moment. satoru is the first to speak, “i’m a virgin.” he says with his arm still slung over his face. “me too” you respond without missing a beat.
“then that’s settled” his arm comes down, revealing a cheeky smile you know all too well. the type of smile that screams trouble
“maybe we can show each other how to do it?”
a/n: sorry for being a deabeat writer :/ this idea/trope has been sitting in my drafts for a while, n it’s honestly just too cute!!!
like wdym we r trying to convince each other that we’ve done it before??
i hope u enjoyed it n hopefully there will be more to cum!!
thinking about two virgins trying to convince each other that they’re experienced
“satoru, virgin loserness just naturally oozes from you” you roll your eyes, legs crossed over his lap as ur head laid on the sofas arm rest. you and satoru lazily lounged on the couch, his strong thighs still noticeable under his batman pajama pants as he sat manspread like it was his purpose, and a white shirt that he somehow made sexy. you, in a lousy excuse for sleep shorts and a shirt from your university’s store that you got as an acceptance gift.
some cheesy romcom acting as background noise, long forgotten ever since this conversation erupted. this is how most friday nights went. sleepover between two bestfriends , giggling n’ gossiping, snacks and conversations that most bestfriends wouldn’t be comfortable having with each other, like the one you were currently having. “says you, freakin’ dork” his head snaps in your direction at the accusation, “actin’ like you’ve gotten laid before, hilarious” he chuckles going back to whatever bullshit he was watching on his phone.
“i don’t have to act like it, because i have” a fake hair toss is thrown his way along with a small ‘hmph’ that makes satoru grin. “maybe with ur pillow, sure..” satoru mutters before a pillow connects with his head. “ow??” he dramatically gasps before putting the pillow you threw at him under his arm. “i’m just speaking the truth you refuse to!” satoru plucks your thigh.
“that’s your reality, not mine.” you lie, “i had my first time with my ex, i thought you knew this?” digging yourself deeper into your lies. “no, i didn’t know about that, i’ve been your best friend for how long?” satoru caresses his chin with his thumb and pointer as if he’s lost in thought “and this is the first time i’m hearing about it” his face deadpans at you as if he came to the conclusion that you’re fibbing. “well i don’t have to tell you every little thing satoru. just like you dont tell me about all of these supposed ‘hookups’ you have so often.” you cross your arms across your chest, eyes leaving his very punchable face.
“what,” satoru pushes your legs off of his lap so he could scoot closer to you before hovering over your laying figure, face inches away from yours “you jealous or somethin’?” his teased, smirking in your face. using one your pointer finger to push his face away from yours.
“how could i be jealous of girls who don’t exist” you tease back with a fake smile before deadpanning again. “they are very real and they’re obsessed with me, thank you very much” satoru winks at you.
of course girls are always following satoru around on campus like lost puppies but he has never actually done it with them, right? with satoru always being the topic of conversation, you do find it weird how you’ve never heard of satorus sexual antics.
you finally sit up wanting to entertain him, not knowing that you were both rocking in the same boat. “oh yeah? show me how you do it then, toru” you turn to face the man. secretly something in you always wondered how satoru fucked or if he even fucked at all? maybe he made love, would lay you down gently on his sheets that smell of him, leave a trail of soft kiss down your stomach before lapping on your clit like a parched kitten whilst whispering sweet nothings into the air…. or maybe he’d shove your face into his pillows, his fingers digging into your hips as he digs you out, slamming his hips into you so deep you could feel him bulging in ur lower stomach, grabbing you by your hair to spit in your mouth before slapping your cheek leaving a hot sting behind.
you knew it was perverted and wrong to think about your bestfriend like that but you just couldn’t help yourself. it was only made worse whenever you’re all alone and bored out of your mind, leaving you to get all hot and bothered at the thought of your bestfriends undeniable sex appeal. thinking about him doing more than just the small kisses he’d leave on your cheek and the lingering touches he’d leave on your skin.
“y-you want me to show you?” his face heats up, leaving a noticeable rosy color on his cheeks “might be too much for your virgin eyes” satorus stutter is quickly covered by false confidence. “i’m sure i can take it” your words made him gulp “come on, dont make it weird satoru.” his eyes follow you as you get up from the sofa and stand in between his manspread legs. “let’s reenact it” you say looking down on him.
“okay, w-well first i take ‘em by the hips like this..” his hands shake as he grabs ahold of your hips, a familiar feeling like when he’d place his hand on your hips to brush past you. “ ‘n i bring ‘em on my lap” he gently guided you to sit ontop of his lap, his confidence leading you to believe he was telling the truth about being experienced in this craft.
your thin sleep shorts being almost no barrier against his pajama pantsed crotch. satoru was beginning to internally panic, swore it would never go this far, yeah you’ve kissed a couple of times, left not-so friendly lingering touches on each other, and flirted as much as you breathed but he never would’ve thought he’d have his best friend on his lap getting ready to dry hump him.
“then i- fuck- make ‘em grind on me like this..” he lied through his teeth. truth is, he’d never done anything like this! he believed he was telling on himself by the way his fingers trembled as they grasped ur hips, the way his breath staggered and hitched as he felt the plushness of your hips, and his eyes glazed over as they raked over your figure. his hands travel from your hips, to your butt as he drags you back and forth on bulging crotch. “just like this..” he grunts, his cock rock hard under you, while his eyes are glued to where you both meet.
“shit.. i know ur lying satoru” you huff out, trying not to react when you clit catches on his bulge. satorus eyebrows furrow “m’ not lyin’! you’ve just never done anything like this, so you wouldn’t k—angh!—know!” he flips your accusation back onto you. you don’t even retort back, instead you straight your back so you can take control. slowly grinding ur hips on the thigh his cock was laying hard against. satorus hands that once rested on ur hips, fly to your hips as he tries to halt your movements.
his actions only making you speed up. you notice the way his eyebrows are pinched together, his breathy whimpers become uncontrollable, and the dumb way drool begins to slip from his lips— all telltale signs you’ve seen in your favorite twitter videos that he was about to blow his load. “h-hah..” you gasp out when he rolls his hips up into your slick shorts “look at you toru!” your thumb swipes over his drool coated lip, wiping the drool on his shirt. satoru looks like he’s in a trace when his eyes finally meet yours. while you’re too busy teasing him in his messy state, you fail to notice his nimble fingers slipping under your thin shorts until he rolls your slick clit under his pointed n middle finger.
“toru! that’s n-not fair” you whine as your hips involuntarily buck against his touch, distracting you from getting him off as you chased his fingers. your hands are quick to shimmy his pj pants down just enough to free his throbbing cocking. satoru sucks air through his teeth when he feels your soft hands wrap around his precum glazed cock. “fuck- grip it tighter baby..” he sputters out as his fingers circle around your slick hole before pushing in with no mercy. he doesn’t wait for you to adjust to his finger before massaging through your walls in a ‘come hither’ motion.
“mmngh—! s’ fuckin’ good!” clenching around his fingers as you spat down onto his cock, creating enough slick to freely move you hand up n down on his cock at the immediate fast pace you set. the pleasure becoming all to overwhelming for the both of you, this “reenactment” turning in a competition to see who will crack first. you continued to stroke satorus length, pressing a thumb against his tip every now and then to make him whimper n whine, until you felt a knot building up in your stomach.
hot pressure becoming unbearable as satorus fingers never faltered. the soft ‘click click click’ sound of his middle fingers, massaging deep inside against where you’re weak, his thumb tracing circles on your puffy nub, was all too much for you! “m’ gonna—fuck! don’t stop!” barely giving him a warning before your walks clench around his fingers tight enough to make him groan. you let out a string of incoherent babbles and moans as you make a mess on his fingers. he watches in awe you fall apart from something so simple as fingering, deepening his belief that you must be a virgin like him. he’s snapped out of his head when he realizes even throughout your orgasm, you never stopped your movements on his cock.
rubbing your palm against the tip, using you free hand to stroke his length like you’ve read about online, only makes satoru squirm under you. “mmngh- y-your hand feels so- fuck! good.." satoru bit his lip, trying to suppress the high pitched moans threatening to spill from his swollen lips. “f-fhuck.. wait-baby, wait!” the trembling man under you panics at the pleasure
chest heaving, stomach twisting, his toes curling, plump pink lips slightly parting but no sound leaves it. his hand grips your wrist in a attempt to stop you but you persist anyway. hot spurts on his seed coats your hand and his pj pants as he groans. his beefy forearm moving up to hide his face in embarrassment as his hips buck to chase the last of his release.
a minute goes by of nothing but the noise of both of you heaving and process the moment. satoru is the first to speak, “i’m a virgin.” he says with his arm still slung over his face. “me too” you respond without missing a beat.
“then that’s settled” his arm comes down, revealing a cheeky smile you know all too well. the type of smile that screams trouble
“maybe we can show each other how to do it?”
a/n: sorry for being a deabeat writer :/ this idea/trope has been sitting in my drafts for a while, n it’s honestly just too cute!!!
like wdym we r trying to convince each other that we’ve done it before??
i hope u enjoyed it n hopefully there will be more to cum!!
▶︎︎ SCREAM VI (starring . ghostface! geto, gojo, & choso)
synopsis . In which your ‘killers’ soon realize you’re not stuck with them but they’re stuck with you…
content . afab!reader, three/foursome, squirting, non-curse au, oral sex, established relationship, reader gets kinda passed around, men teasing one another, dirty talk, unprotected sex, established relationship, fear play, lowk feral reader, cuck!Geto, rough sex, praise, overstim, degrading, tw: spitting, pet names, filth (cùm eating), pussy slapping, teasing, chojo sneak bc i cant help it, a hint of knife play, etc.
word count . 9.6k || author’s note: in honor of the new scream movie coming out tmr i thought i’d go ahead and repost this from kamitv—if it looks familiar, that’s why. banner art by the lovely @/aransmind!!
“You want me to wear that and chase you around the estate?”
“Yeah, and when you find me…”
“I fuck you instead of killing you.”
“Mhm!” You hum cheerfully to your rather concerned boyfriend whose lap you’re currently sitting on.
Those dark raven strands of hair framing his gorgeous face sway with the light tip of his head to the side as his naturally slim eyes narrow at your overly excited expression, “And I’m doing this, why?” Geto questions.
You let out a giggle, which only confuses him even more. “Because Scream is my favorite franchise and Ghostface is hot… Duh.”
It’s as if the man only falls for you more and more every day. Geto’s been with you for roughly two years now and yet you’ve never revealed this sudden… mask kink you clearly have. He likes the Scream franchise just as much as you do and the idea of chasing you around and eventually fucking you in costume definitely excites him.
So there you are; sitting in his lap and pouting, steadily snaking your arms around his neck and pulling yourself in close before you plant a chaste little kiss on his lips.
“C’mon Sugu, I know you’ve thought about it before,” You point out to him in a low purr as your lips depart from his.
The hands that’d been calmly resting on your hips suddenly grow intrigued as they slide up to your waist and give you a soft squeeze, “I really haven’t.” He admits honestly. You can see it all in his eyes that he silently agreed to this the moment you brought out that stupid mask.
At his soft admission, a gleaming smile spreads across your face, “Okayy, well you are now… So is that a yes or what?”
He pretends to think for only a moment longer, glancing off to the side in faux thought before landing those pretty lilac irises back onto you, “Yeah, sure. Tomorrow's Halloween so, we can do it then.” Geto tells you.
And that was all it took.
Halloween night was here before you even had time to fully prepare for it. The entire day you weren’t able to stop thinking about the moment Geto would walk through the front door, dressed in all black with that overly attractive ghostface mask cloaking his equally beautiful face.
Your heart was racing in anticipation as the sun began to set outside and the clock ticked closer and closer toward the time of which he would return home from work. You knew he’d be there no more than thirty minutes after and all you could do was wonder how this all would go down.
Clad in only one of his oversized white t-shirts, you distracted yourself by mindlessly scrolling on your phone as you awaited the moment he’d get home. Any second now and you’d hear that lovely security chime go off—
You jump a little in your bed when your thought is cut off by an incoming unknown number. If you weren’t buzzing with excitement before, you damn sure are now because it’s clear your boyfriend is going out of his way to play into this with you. There are practically small hearts in your eyes as you tap that enticing green button on your screen to answer the phone.
Biting back a smile, you’re quick to bring the phone up to your ear, “Hello?”
An almost low-quality distortion to the person’s voice is instantly recognized by you—it wasn’t Suguru’s voice at all, it was that infamous voice changer that spoke to you. “Why don’t you wanna talk to me?” A man asks, and you know this line all too well.
Hell, you know the entire dialogue. This is exactly why you sit up in your bed and hold back that smile of yours like your life depended on it. Tilting your head into the phone, you glance around your bedroom, “Who is this?”
“You tell me your name, I’ll tell you mine,” The ‘mystery’ man continues.
You had to slap a hand over your mouth to keep yourself from giggling right then and there. Your dark little fantasy was becoming true right before your very eyes and it had a sliver of excitement slipping down your spine. Sliding out from your bed, you take small steps toward the nearby window and glance outside.
Scoffing softly, “I don’t think so.” You quote, straight from the first Scream. You’ve seen the movie enough times to recite the whole thing word for word, even his lines.
It’s a bit off-script how things go from here on out but, that’s the goal.
“Aw, you’re no fun.” He purrs. Even with that damn voice changer, you’d recognize that purr any day. You know this is your boyfriend and that only has your body heating up with each passing second.
Now you’re left to improv a bit. “Think so?” You reply as you pull your bedroom curtains closed and turn away from the window.
“Oh I know so, sweetheart. It’s Halloween night and you’re doing nothing to celebrate.” The man on your phone points out.
You’re walking out of your room now and taking a careful peek into the dimmed hallway. “And that makes me not fun? What am I supposed to do to celebrate Halloween aside from dressing up and maybe handing out some candy?”
He chuckles. “You’re a smart girl, I’m sure you can figure something else out.”
“Let me guess,” Your brows raise a little, “I should be watching scary movies?”
“That depends. You like scary movies?” There you are, right back onto the script.
“Uhuh,” You hum in response with a slight nod as if he could see you.
“What’s your favorite scary movie?” And there it is, infamous line one of many. You nearly let out a dreamy sigh knowing that it’s nothing but your boyfriend on the other end.
Allowing yourself to smile this time, you trek down your hallway and towards the staircase. “Uhhh, I dunno,” Of course you know, but where’s the fun in saying it so soon?
“You have to have a favorite. What comes to mind?” Every scratchy distorted-pitched word that pours from the man’s mouth has anticipation bubbling within you.
You sigh. “Uhmm, Halloween!” As you recall that answer straight from the movie, you turn to your staircase and allow your eyes to scan the first floor of your home.
Most of the lights are on so it’s not too dark or anything but you really are curious whether or not Geto has made his way inside already.
“Y’know, the one with the guy with the white mask who walks around and stalks babysitters?” You quote flawlessly yet again. You’re such a fanatic for the Scream franchise that you’re loving every single second of this.
“Yeahh,” He purrs again, making your heart involuntarily flutter.
You begin to slowly descend down the flight of stairs, “What’s yours?”
“Guess.” He orders on the other end.
Pausing halfway down, you glance over to your kitchen. The light is still on and everything is exactly the way you left it. “Uhm, Nightmare on Elm Street?” You soon reply.
“Is that the one where the guy had knives for fingers?” The way your boyfriend knows every word to this just as well as you do makes your stomach churn in affection just a bit.
Your voice turns enthusiastic and you continue your steps down, “Yeah! Freddy Kruger.”
“Freddy, that’s right.” He continues, “I like that movie—it was scary.”
“Well the first one was but the rest sucked.” You’re downstairs now, looking around at the way all the blinds in your home are open. Did you leave them like that for this exact reason? You don’t remember.
“Mhm,” ‘Mystery’ man hums and you swear you can picture the smirk on his face as he utters the next infamous line. “Soo, you got a boyfriend?”
You pull your lower lip into your mouth for a second before smiling, “Why? You wanna ask me out on a date?” Now you’re making a right to enter your living room, heading toward your couch placed in the center.
“Maybe. Do you have a boyfriend?” He asks again.
You pause for a second. This literally is your boyfriend so, surely he wants you to play into this question, right?
“No.” You chirp simply.
You can hear the smile on his face even through that stupidly attractive voice changer, “You never told me your name.”
You know what comes after this and you can’t help but begin to look around as you plop down on your couch, “Why do you wanna know my name?”
It’s silent over the phone for a long couple of seconds
“Cause’ we wanna know who we’re looking at.”
Your heart surprisingly sinks as those words hit your ears. We? That’s not… how that scene goes. He was supposed to say that he wants to know who he’s looking at. There’s no we? Where the hell did he even get that from??
For the first time since you picked up this damn phone and started this whole thing, you’re actually a bit nervous. Chuckling loosely, you try to play it off as your eyes glance around your living room, “What do you mean, ‘we’?”
There’s a shuffling over the phone for just a moment. Then, you hear that distorted voice again, but the pitch is slightly different. “C’mon, princess. You’ve seen the movies, you should know by now that there’s hardly ever only one killer.” The man says.
Eyes all over every corner of the house, heart thumping slightly in your chest, you can feel your anxiety rising within. “I… I don’t understand.” You murmur softly.
And then… all the lights go out with a loud noise coming from somewhere outside. If you weren’t shaking in fear before, you damn sure are now. Your eyes go even wider and you move to put your phone on speaker, clicking your flashlight on right after.
“S-Suguru, this isn’t funny! I like the movies ‘nd all but I’m not the biggest fan of being scared, you know that.” The person(s) on the phone can hear the clear trembling in your voice as you stand up and point your flashlight to whatever area your eyes land on, searching for any signs of anyone.
There’s a snicker over the line. “Oh but this iss funny, sweets.” The tone changed again—it’s still distorted in that famous Ghostface pitch, but it’s not Suguru nor the person who’d said something before. “You look sooo scared right now.”
Aw hell, that lets you know he (or they) can see you right now. Which is just great considering you can’t see shit aside from darkness and the few areas of your house that your light lands on. You’re scared to leave the living room but… you’re also terrified of staying right where you are. You don’t know how many Ghostface’s are in your house right now and you don’t know what the hell Suguru has planned for you tonight.
“Stop playing around! Turn the lights back on and quit this scary shit, Suguru.” You huff out into the call, taking one step to your right and hearing the floor creak below your foot.
The house is eerily quiet—which is ridiculously concerning considering how he-, they can see you but you can’t see them at the moment. How the hell are they talking to you without you hearing them? They are in your house now, right??
“You said you wanted to get fucked by Ghostface, baby.” The voice returns, as does that natural purr, letting you know it’s Geto talking once more. “You never said how many…”
You slowly walk around your couch and shift your flashlight toward the blinds, trying to get a look outside your windows. “Are you serious? That sounds insane. How many of you are there?!” Your gaze flicks toward the nearby staircase and you only scare yourself as your eyes get lost in the darkness of your home.
Geto’s still talking, “Including me, there’s three of us. How does that sound, hm? I’m obviously not gonna make you do anything you don’t want to but, you do know who we all are.”
You swallow thickly. “Do I?” This time your words leave in a whisper and you swear you hear a shuffling coming from upstairs.
Lord knows you’re scared out of your mind right now. But, it is comforting to know that whatever this is, your boyfriend is in control of it all. You trust him more than anything, so there’s no real reason to be scared… right?
“Mhm. So how ‘bout we play a game?” Your boyfriend requests, and the sound of him smiling again is heard through his tone.
You stop walking entirely and your eyes are fixated upstairs as you flash your light up there. “Okay Jigsaw.” You snort, “What… What kind of game, huh?”
He sighs, almost sounding as though he were sitting back against something. “The one you and I were going to play. Y’know, you run around ‘n hide but if I find you, I fuck you. Let’s continue that but… with two others.”
“Suguru, you’re gonna let two other guys fuck me?” You’re beyond baffled by this whole thing. Never in a million years would you have expected this from your boyfriend. This is the same man who got mad a while ago for the way some guy who was all flirty with you at a restaurant…
Geto hums deeply, “S’long as you’re okay with it and they find you before I do, yeahh.”
“I didn’t know you were into that…” You reply, moving a hand to tug his shirt further down your body. Knowing that there was more than just him in the area right now made you a bit self-conscious.
“Didn’t know you were into masks but the Ghostface thing really does it for ya’, huh?” Suguru snaps back with that sass you know and love.
“I mean…” You shrug, “Yeah.”
“Right. So then, the game is simple. You try to hide and whoever finds you first; fucks you.”
“That’s it?”
“Oh, nooo. There’s more to this baby…” You swear you hear a creak upstairs—coming from somewhere down the left end of the hallway. It gives you the chills as Geto continues. “See, I know how loud you are when you cum so… tonight, I want you to be nice and quiet.”
You gulp, “What happens if I’m not?”
“Another one of us will find you.”
“Oh—“
“…And join in.” He steadily adds on with an amused smile on his face that you obviously can’t see right now.
Your heart races at the thought alone. “Oh.”
Just for extra consent, Geto tilts his head against the phone, “That alright with you?”
“Yes… but, wait do I still have to be quiet even if there ends up being two of you guys fucking me…?” You lean to the side a bit and aim your light toward the direction you heard the creak, spotting no one and no signs of life whatsoever.
“Yep.” Geto replies with a teasing pop of the ‘p’.
“But—“
“Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll do fine. After all,” The voice changer clicks off and Suguru’s tone is nice and clear with you, “Y’know whose cock you’re supposed t’get loud on.”
You feel yourself throb at the sound of his voice without that stupid filter, puffing out a little sigh in reaction to his lewd words.
“Oh, and by the way…”
“Huh?”
The voice changer clicks on one last time and he chuckles. “They’re already in the house.”
——
Okay, you knew Halloween was one of Suguru’s favorite holidays but shit you didn’t expect him to go all out like this.
Not one, not two, but three Ghostfaces in your home searching for you right now? You’re lucky the house is big and there are plenty of places to hide but fuck is your anxiety through the goddamn roof as you sit in the empty tub of your first-floor bathroom. The door is shut but not locked and you’ve got the tub curtain pulled closed, just in case one of them does happen to stroll in.
Obviously, this wasn’t the best hiding spot in the world but you wanted them to eventually find you. You were scared in the beginning because of how unexpected this was but now you’re just as excited as you were when you first received that infamous phone call and recited all the lines with your boyfriend.
As soon as the call had ended, you clicked your flashlight off and snuck around in search of a hiding place—which is roughly how you ended up where you are now…
Now you’re left wondering who would find you first. Well, that and who the hell is under two of those masks. You suspect one of them is Gojo Satoru since that’s your boyfriend’s best friend but the other guy… you’re not too sure. Geto said you knew him but that still doesn’t help much.
Your boyfriend has a lot of friends that you know. Which one does he trust enough to let them have their way with you??
After maybe fifteen minutes of sitting in the tub, you start hearing someone outside the bathroom door. Footsteps shuffle by and you can tell the person went off into your kitchen. Then you hear the sounds of doors and cabinets opening, all of which make your breath hitch.
It’s so nerve-wracking and exciting waiting for someone to swing open the bathroom door. The footsteps soon pass it again and you let out the faintest sigh.
…Only to hear those steps halt not too far off from the door. Then, they turn and your body stiffens up entirely as each thump against the hardwood floor draws closer and closer to the door. You can’t see it because of the shower curtains but, there’s a shadow at the bathroom door.
Then you hear a small clinking sound, followed by a very soft… thump? Almost as if someone were leaning against the bathroom door to listen.
It was so scarily exciting that you had to move a hand over your mouth to keep yourself as silent as possible. After which, it’s all so very motionless.
There’s no sound, safe for someone walking around upstairs, and you just know someone’s outside the bathroom door right now. Your heart sinks into your ass the moment you hear that doorknob turning torturously slow until it’s lightly pushed open.
Then, there are but two soft steps taken inside and you don’t hear it but the door is closed behind whoever just entered.
They could be coming in to just use the bathroom… riiiight?
That’s extremely naive of you to think but a girl can only hope. Another step is taken deeper into the bathroom and that soft clinking sound you heard before is getting louder. It’s faint, almost like… jewelry or… necklaces slapping against one another gently. Jewelry… Necklaces… Which one of Geto’s friends do you know wears a lot of jewelry...? C’mon, think.
Necklaces… rings maybe… piercings—
The very second it clicks in your brain who this might be, you practically flinch right out of your skin as you spot a knife slowly moving to slide the bathtub curtain open. As the curtain is pulled open, you’re met with the tilted head of someone in a Ghostface costume.
Your eyes are all wide on them and you genuinely have no idea where on your body this guy is looking but the mask is actually quite scary when it’s all dark and neither of you is making any sudden movements.
His head slowly angles to the opposing direction, just like Ghostface often does in the movies, and you gulp loudly. The curtain is pinned to the wall by the knife in his hand and you think you’re sweating.
“Scared?” His voice is deep. Familiarly deep. It quickly confirms your suspicions of who’s face may be lying beneath that iconic mask.
With your eyes all frantic along what’s covering his face, noticing the bits of blood and cracks decorating it, you swallow thickly yet again. “Choso?” Your voice is hardly above a whisper and the air feels so heavy with tension.
His hand moves away from the wall and the knife, which you hope is fake, is placed on the edge of the tub with a soft tapping noise emitting into the still air. Then he takes that same hand and lifts it to pull his mask up to the right side of his face, revealing his expression to you as he crouches down to your eye level. You quickly feel your fear die off and it’s replaced with… something else as you study his face. There’s fake blood splattered on his skin, makeup extending the tattoo along the bridge of his nose, and piercings that stand out against his facial features.
“The tub, really?” He whispers to you, chuckling softly and flashing this kind smile at you that makes you feel overly warm inside. “S’this the best you could do? Y’know if I was a real killer you’d be dead right now, right?” Choso teases, all of his words kept in a low voice.
You roll your eyes and shift against the cold tub flooring, “I wouldn’t have hid in here if you guys were real killers, I’m not dumb.”
His lips curve into this sexy yet lazy smirk and you can feel your heart fluttering in your chest. You had a thing for Choso way back before you started dating Geto and it seems as though your body hasn’t forgotten why. “Yeahh?” Choso chastises with another tilt of his head, “Think you would be the final girl?”
Leaning forward a bit, you nod. “No, I know I would.”
Choso lets out a hum before biting his lower lip for a moment. Then, he lets it fall from in between his teeth and you think you’re in a trance. “Oh she’s cocky, huh?” He teases.
You smile at him and then push up to stand on your knees. Leaning all the way forward, you slowly reach for the knife and take it into your hands. Then you move to hold the tip of it right underneath his jaw and the sound of his breath hitching hits your ears just right.
You openly stare at his lips and watch the way his smirk slowly transcends into a full cocky smile. “Y’know that’s not fake, right?” Choso hushes out to you.
The knife is carefully caressing his skin as you trace it up slightly to his chin, “It’s not?” You ask innocently, placing your free hand on the edge of the tub and watching how he slowly moves to sit on his knees so that he’s looking up at you.
His face is all pretty from this angle, big brown doe-eyes batting up at you so softly, such a pretty face of dark innocence presented before you. Who’s really the ‘victim’ here—you or him?
“Nah,” Choso whispers, “That’s a real knife.”
“Why would you carry around a real knife?” You ask in an equally soft tone as your brows twist up in confusion.
He shrugs. “Honestly, I was gonna ask if you were into a bit of knife play…”
His words make your mind stray away from the situation at hand. Your imagination is quick to push out ideas and all sorts of scenarios that could have occurred with this knife of his had you not looked so scared when he first saw you…
“Are you?” The question in return makes Choso’s gaze flicker into something way more lustful than it was moments before.
He scoffs, “Am I? Why would I ask you about it if I wasn’t.”
“So… What, you wanna cut my clothes off of somethin’?” You ask carefully, steadily slipping the tip of the knife along his jawline.
Choso just barely nods his head in response.
“Y’know it’s funny you say that and yet you’re the one on your knees with a knife held up to your chin right now.” You point out with an all-knowing grin plastered all over your face.
Choso bites back a laugh. It’s cute that you think you have the upper hand here. “You and I both know that could easily change in a matter of seconds.” He claims.
And y’know, maybe it’s because you found yourself turned on by this whole game or maybe it’s simply because you wanted to fuck Choso but either way—you do not shy away from testing that theory. All you said was a simple ‘prove it’ and you found yourself in quite the position moments later.
It was one thing that Choso managed to easily gain a hold of the knife once more but it was another thing entirely that he was able to swiftly and quietly get you out of the tub and into his arms. All without even so much as grazing you with that sharp weapon too.
It was almost impressive, in all honesty.
Somewhere in the mix of all that, he ends up placing the knife down and soon has you sitting on the bathroom counter. Well, had you sitting on the bathroom counter—it quickly becomes a lot more than simply that.
Choso used that lil’ knife of his to cut down the center of your (Geto’s) shirt and was quick to have you all exposed to his overly greedy eyes. You were wearing nothing more than this lacy black set beneath that oversized shirt so it wasn’t much to get you unclothed.
One second he was cutting your shirt open and the next his lips were on yours. Then his pierced tongue was in your mouth and your arms were around his neck, tugging him closer to you and feeling his hard cock poking you through the thick layers of black clothes between you and him.
Which is exactly what led to the way you are currently.
Choso now has your legs spread wide open for him and his clothes are hardly even off, safe for the black cloak-like jacket that slipped off of his shoulders and the way his pants have been tugged down. He’s got on this black compression shirt and you spot the layered chains/necklaces hanging from around his throat that you heard earlier. Now leaning back slightly against the mirror behind you with your eyes set down between the two of you, you’re left watching the mean slap of Choso’s leaky cockhead against your clit.
“Cho,” You whispered out pleadingly. He’d been doing this for the longest—tapping his thick cock against your clit and then rubbing it from side to side against you, feeling the way you leak onto the counter below and hearing those faint whines escaping your throat.
Then he has the nerve to have the sluttiest expression on his half-revealed face, eyes all low-lidded and glued to your exposed pussy, bottom lip locked in between his teeth as he holds back his own breathy sounds of pleasure, and brows all tense as if he’s not the one torturing the two of you like this. “Shiiiit,” Choso rasps out, sliding his cock down slowly and pressing his fat tip against your weeping hole. “Suguru was right, this pussy is s’fuckin’ loud ‘n messy…” He breathes.
Your lips are all parted and all you can do is pant softly as he lifts his tip away and then slaps it against your cunt again, listening to the shlick tapping sound that comes from your sex.
Almost in a daze, he glides his cock up and down your wet folds, “Look at herrr,” Choso purrs, “All wet f’me. Can’t believe he’s lettin’ us fuck you.” His hips push forward a bit and you feel the way his heavy shaft glides against your cunt instead of inside like you so desperately want him to.
You have to suppress the needy whine that threatens to escape your throat, holding one hand slightly over your mouth. “Choso, please.” You whisper beneath your palm.
He pulls his hips back and angles his tip back down to your entrance, pushing forward ever so slightly and teasing that tight ring of muscle, not trying to really push himself into you at all. “What is it, princess?” Choso taunts, smirking as he lifts his eyes up to your face, “Want me to fuck you?”
You throb at his words, nodding as if a second longer would have you pronounced dead. “Please,” You whine, trying your best to wiggle your hips forward.
Choso leans forward and moves his lips right up your ear, his breath all warm and tickly against your skin. “Yeah? Y’want my cock inside you that badly?” He says with another faint push of his hips. Every word that leaves his lips has you dripping all over him.
It’s not until you move your hand away from your mouth and place it on the counter space behind you, and whisper, “Yes Choso, just put it all the way in already, I’m losing my fuckin’ m-mind…” Your last word leaves a little shaky due to the way he suddenly moves a hand over your lips.
Pressing his palm against your mouth, you grow confused until you look over to the bottom of the bathroom door and see a shadow moving by. Yet another Ghostface was nearby.
Choso, not yet wanting to ruin his alone time with you, presses his lips further against your ear, and his other hand grips your thigh tightly. “M’not ready t’share you yet so, be really fuckin’ quiet f’me, alright?” His warning confused you for half a second before you felt him roll his hips forward with a sharp snap at the end, stuffing you full with every hard inch of his cock in one go.
Your eyes tear up and your mouth hangs open under his hand, a strangled moan escaping your throat. Choso’s dick is so stupidly big, reminding you of your boyfriend in more ways than one. Unlike Geto though, Choso’s got this ruthless right curve and just drags against your sweet spot with every small movement he makes, the rest of his cock felt throbbing and twitching wildly against your sodden walls.
He lets out a choked grunt against your ear and you can feel him humping his cock deeper inside you with these small maddening little thrusts. “Does he even fuck you? S-Shiiit…” Choso lets his thoughts be vocalized against the crown of your ear and you only squeeze around his girthy shaft. “S’fuckin’ tight.. God-, fu-uck…” His voice has this pretty lil’ crack at the end that makes you soak his cock even more, sloppy juices leaking all out from where the two of you are connected.
Choso has to tug his hips back a bit and he completely forgets that he recently heard someone walking by the bathroom as he mindlessly thrusts right back into you. Your eyes meet the back of your skull and you groan into his palm. The wet gurgles and squelches from your pussy are what draws attention to the bathroom, if any.
Which is something you can’t even control, especially not with the way Choso goes from short grunts in your ear to moaning delightedly against your skin and fucking his thick cock into your sinfully warm cunt. Deep and almost passionate strokes are made into you and he can’t help but rid his hand from your mouth at some point. Moving it back to your thighs, he sprawls your legs out even wider so his cock can dig deeper into you.
With your jaw still hanging open, the sounds of him fucking you against the counter slowly grow louder and louder. You’re trying not to moan but it’s so hard with him—Choso knows how to use his cock all too well and his eyes are studying your face so he knows where exactly he should be thrusting. Just the slightest shift of his hips causes drool to leak from the corner of your lips and that makes him flash this fucked-out little smile.
Choso leans up closer and his body sandwiches against yours for a moment. You swear you can feel his angry cockhead prodding at your guts because fuck is he in there deep. Not to mention how orgasmic it is to feel him drag his pierced tongue against your chin, lapping up the mess of drool from your face before shoving the muscle into your mouth and forcing you to suck on it.
That leaves your moaning drowned out for a bit and Choso takes the opportunity to pound himself into you like a damn madman. Your legs quickly begin to feel like jello in his hands and you couldn’t even focus on sucking on his tongue anymore. Then, he pulls his mouth away, just barely, and the two of you are staring deep into each other’s eyes as his pace gets faster. His hips are so sharp against you and you can feel his weighty balls slapping against your ass with every mean and pronounced thrust.
Your breath mingles with one another and you’re both so fucked out that you don’t even realize you’re a lot louder now until you spot the bathroom door cracking open in your peripherals. It barely makes a sound as it’s pushed open slightly and all you see is yet another person wearing a Ghostface mask—the sight alone and the clear eye contact you make with them leading straight to your orgasm.
The second Ghostface stands motionless, doing nothing more than watching the blissful way your eyes lull to the back of your head and you release this sweet moan of Choso’s name. Choso, oblivious to being watched right now, is so close to emptying himself inside you.
“F-Fuck,” He huffs, tipping his head back and looking up to the ceiling for a moment. “So tight… I’m gonna c-cum if you keep squeezin’ me like that.” His voice fluctuates here and there but by the time your eyes roll back into place, the bathroom door is shut and that second Ghostface is now standing right behind Choso.
You flinch and Choso chokes out a grunt at how tightly you just clenched around his cock. The second Ghostface is slow to lift his mask up a bit, only revealing his mouth with this recognizable snake bite piercing that has your cunt gripping onto Choso even tighter. Then, the man leans to Choso’s ear and practically scares him into cumming inside you.
“What do we have here, hm?” Gojo whispers, making Choso’s hips stutter against you. He then reaches a gloved hand around Choso and your neglected clit is met with his thumb swatting over it, “Can’t believe you found her first. S’not fair…” Gojo hums softly with a slight pout.
You have this dumbfounded look all over your face and you may be fucked out of your mind but you swear Choso’s cock is almost harder inside you. The two of you curse in unison as Gojo rotates his thumb against your clit in a sensual circle motion, making you clench again and Choso rolls his gaze back—only the whites of his eyes visible to you.
“K-Keep rubbin’ her like that,” Choso pants with a soft moan. “She’s so fucking tight… I’m gonna die in here, s-shit.” He curses dramatically.
Gojo flicks his thumb upwards against your clit with a nasty trickle of your slick oozing out onto Choso’s cock. “You’re not gonna die, Cho,” He says in a chastising tone with a smile on his face, taking his free hand to pull his mask further up so that you can see his eyes.
You watch the way Gojo looks over Choso’s shoulder and stares at Choso’s lengthy cock disappearing in and out of your slobbering pussy. Gojo feels his own dick throb against his pants, pressing himself a bit closer to Choso and moving to talk into his ear. “I mean look at her,” Gojo directs, leading to Choso focusing his hazy gaze onto your face. “You’re already fucking her to tears, you’re not gonna die, heh. You’re fuckin’ her good.”
That last praise is what causes Choso to slump forward against you and roll his hips harshly against you—followed by which is a thick spurt of cum as he finishes inside you with a broken groan pouring from his lips. All as Gojo keeps his thumb on your clit, despite his hand getting squished in between you and Choso’s body.
Then Gojo smirks and leans in toward Choso again, “There ya’ go, good boy. Let it all out inside her. Jus’ like that…”
You don’t think you’ve ever been this… ruined before in your life. Watching Gojo tease and praise Choso like that while you were still being fucked and your clit was being stimulated led to you abruptly squirting. Choso’s cock slips right out of you and Gojo removes his hand just so that both of them could watch you let out that filthy lil’ stream.
Choso’s completely out of it as he watches your pussy spasm wildly. “Holy…” He whispers, hardly able to finish the rest of his statement.
Gojo clicks his tongue, “Suguru didn’t tell us you were a squirter. Or, has he never made you do that before?” He asks, slowly lifting his eyes up to your face.
You look like you’re about to pass out, your body all sweaty as you lean back against the mirror again and pant heavily. “He… hah, f-fuck, h-he has.” You squeak out softly.
Gojo hums before looking back down, allowing Choso to step (stumble) back slightly past him so he can catch his breath. Then, once Choso is completely out of the way and the space between your legs is left vacant—Gojo lets out an alarming chuckle.
He watches the way Choso’s cum dribbles out of your overstimulated cunt, glob after glob leaking out so prettily that Gojo can’t help but crouch down to get a closer look. Your eyes lazily follow his snowy head of hair and watch as his face is repositioned in between your spread legs. He moves his gloved thumb to your pussy lips and sloshes that mix of you and Choso’s cum around against you.
Then, Gojo flicks his gaze up to you and you gulp. He looks you dead in the eyes before spreading your lips further apart with his thumb and leaning forward. Your jaw drops in shock as Gojo cups his mouth against your pussy and suckles the mess from Choso into his mouth.
You whine, “S-Satoru—oh, w-wait,” You’re left gasping as you shoot a hand down to his hair and grip him tightly.
Gojo groans deeply and you feel his tongue lap against your saturated cunt leisurely. Moving up and down in a sloppy filthy manner, your legs are trembling while Gojo cleans you up casually.
Choso’s sitting on the nearby toilet seat now, batting his lashes at Gojos actions in shock. “Satoru you… you know I just—“
“Mhmm,” Gojo mumbles into your pussy, pulling his lips back just barely to allow a cool slap of air to hit you. Then, he swallows. “You both taste really,” Gojo leans back in to kiss your cunt, “Mmph… fuckin’ sweet.” He murmurs against you before slithering his tongue inside you.
Your back arches and your legs move to close around his head as your fingers tug desperately on his locks of hair. “S’toru,” You mumble, “Fuck. Please… mgh, n-needa’ break. I-I can’t—“
Gojo tilts his head and smiles into your honeyed slick, “Sweetheart,” He rasps against you, suckling on your taste for a moment longer before pulling off with a wet pop! “I jus’ got here ‘n you want a break from me already?” He says, pushing out his bottom lip to pout. “That’s so mean.”
Before you even get the chance to argue with that, he’s diving right back in and eating you out like a man staved. Sucking, licking, kissing, spitting—Gojo’s between your legs in some kind of trance as he drools all over his current meal. He’s such a messy eater too, his actions quickly leading to the lower half of his face being coated with remnants of you.
After a bit, Choso seems to have collected himself and he’s soon standing up. His pants have been hastily pulled up and you’re too lost in the overstimulation Gojo’s giving you to realize Choso is approaching you too. When your eyes lift, you see Choso with his Ghostface mask back over his face and his phone held in his right hand.
Cocking his head to the side, he looms closer to Gojo and sneaks a, now gloved, hand into his bright white tufts of hair, prying his mouth away from your cunt with a harsh tug. You watch with teary eyes as Choso holds his phone up to Gojo’s face, and hums out a low, “Smile.” With the voice changer turned on.
Gojo sparks a toothy grin and his expression is all high in pleasure. He looks faded out of his mind, simply off of eating you out alone. The flash from Choso’s phone lights up the bathroom and within the picture he just took, only your legs are visible dangling over Gojo’s shoulders. They’d just recreated that infamous photo you see around this time of year all over your socials. Usually, the victim would be laid out stomach first on the floor and Ghostface would tug their head up by their hair but, this definitely works too.
“Atta’ boy,” Choso praises after he’s taken the desired amount of pictures.
Gojo looks up to you and he’s pretty sure he can see little hearts in your eyes as you glance back and forth between him and Choso. “You don’t mind, do ya’? We wanna have somethin’ to remember this by,” He tells you.
You simply shake your head no and both of the men in front of you smile. Choso then nods his head a little before using his grasp on Gojo’s hair to shove him back down in between your legs—earning a surprised hum from your throat and a muffled groan from Gojo’s.
Despite the little Surprise, Gojo gets back to work with his mouth and you end up leaning forward a bit in surprise. Choso moves over to the side a bit and he feels you drop a hand to Gojo’s head to give him a light push away so he can ease up on you. In contrast to this, Choso steals your attention by wrapping a free hand of his around your throat. Your eyes shoot up to him and you’re met with the eyes of Ghostface since he’s got the mask back on.
Purposefully, he does that head tilt again. So slowly does it tip to the side as Gojo’s teeth graze your clit, causing you to let out a pleasureful yelp. “Fuck!” You gasp, to which Choso removes his hand from Gojo’s hair.
Creeping up along your body, Choso grabs a greedy handful of your breast before leaning in. “That was loud, princess. You’re gonna get us all caught,” He snickers to you.
Your bottom lip quivers and you think the sight of it makes Choso feel bad. He takes his hand off of your tits for just a second to pull his mask up and then returns his gasp. Both of you have the same idea in mind but it’s you that reaches for him this time, tugging him in so that his lips can meet yours again.
And then it’s just sloppy from there on out. Anyone with ears could walk past that bathroom, or anywhere down stairs for that matter, and hear the sliding of lips over one another followed by gurgled gasps and barely muffed goans. Choso’s making out with you while he plays with your tits in his hands and Gojo’s still lost in between your legs.
Your whole body feels like it’s on fire and your head is beginning to spin from how good you feel everywhere. It only gets worse when the two start muttering praises out to you.
Dragging his lips down to your chest, Choso hushes out these elated whispers, “C’mon pretty girl, don’t tap out on us jus’ yet.”
Then there’s Gojo who moves to suck on your inner thigh. “Yeahh, don’t tap out. Let us make you feel good, baby.” He hums into your skin.
The counter beneath your ass is a slippery wet mess just like the bottom of Gojo's face and all the way down his neck with the way he let your juices trickle along his skin as he ate. All three of you get a little lost in the moment for quite some time. So much that you all seem to forget there’s supposed to be a third Ghostface.
Who, unknowingly, ends up silently opening the bathroom door and catching the way his two friends have his girlfriend all spread out ‘n ruined like some slut. Geto swore he almost came in his pants at the sight alone. You don’t seem to notice he’s standing there and you’re the only one facing him. His eyes are all over your wet expression, watching and listening to you moan two other guy’s names.
He didn’t even want to say anything. Geto just wanted to remain where he was and watch because lord knows if he joins in he won’t last longer than a few seconds. So, he does exactly that—going completely unnoticed there for a while.
Up until Gojo pulls his mouth off of you for a second. He looks up to see Choso decorating your chest in hot kisses and wet hickies, the two of you constantly making eye contact with one another before he moves his lips to yours again. Fuck just watching you two was hot. So hot that it makes Gojo wonder where the hell his best friend is at and why he’s missing out on all this.
Which is what leads to him turning around to glance back at the bathroom entrance, quickly spotting Geto standing there leaning against the door frame. Well, shit. It’s in that moment that Gojo realizes he sees the appeal in the whole Ghostface thing because fuck is his best friend just as hot as everything and everyone else in this damn room.
After Gojo, you’re the next person to realize your boyfriend is now present, and then Choso seconds later. Each of you have this face as if you’d been caught doing something you weren’t supposed to but that little detail is irrelevant given how Geto could care less about how he was the last to find you. And sure, he may have watched you run into the bathroom earlier and could’ve gone in there to scare you a while ago but, watching Choso and Gojo eventually find you and then listening to them interact with you from outside the bathroom was far more entertaining.
—
So, one thing led to another and…
You find yourself laid out in your bed all over again, this time accompanied with three men. Geto was the first to get himself situated—seating himself not too far away from the bed and telling you to “put on a show for him”.
By this point, who were you to even question him? If Gojo and Choso were leading things before, they damn sure aren’t now because it’s you who’s ordering them around and letting them know where you want them. Starting with you on all fours, showing off that arch that Geto has had you perfect over the years. Then your legs part slowly and Gojo’s behind you in a trance as he watches you move a hand to spread your cunt open for him.
“You spoil us, sweetheart,” Gojo rasps in a low pitch, voice slightly hoarse from how long he’d gone without talking earlier.
You wanted to focus on him some more but a pair of fingers are placed on your chin and your face is quickly redirected to the second man of need. The moment your head turns, you’re met with Choso’s fat cockhead right in front of your face. Batting your lashes, you’re slow to look all the way up to him and see the way he’s smirking down at you.
“‘Could get off on that look alone, y’know.” Choso comments deeply in reference to your wide glossed over eyes and how close his tip is to your lips.
Gojo’s behind you frowning at the way Choso stole your attention yet again. In an attempt to, at least, have your mind on him once more, Gojo simply pushes his hips forward and eyes the sloppy part of your pussy spread against his pink tip. He hears it, Choso hears it, they all hear the way you gasp softly. It’s like they’re all hyper aware of every sound or slight movement you make.
Immediately after, your hips are wiggling back and Gojo’s quick to palm the fats of your ass. “Finally givin’ me some attention now, huh?” He quips.
You pull away from Choso’s touch just to look back at Gojo. “Suguru should’ve told you guys, I hate bein’ teased.” The way you force yourself back on him not even a second after that last word is leaving your lips has Gojo’s jaw falling and his fingers curling into your skin.
“W-Woah sweets, you could’ve warned me f-first…” He stammers, eyes dropping down to your greedy cunt swallowing up his lengthy inches of cock like it’s nothing. Gojo had to bite back a whine as he listened to the syrupy squelches that came with each backward push of your hips. “Fuuck, don’t stop. Give it t’me, baby.”
Gojo doesn’t even have to move yet and you’re already letting off a shaky moan, driving your hips back carefully and feeling him fill up every inch of your cunt. He’s all dazed while he watches his aching cock delve deep inside you, inch by inch—you take him like you were fuckin’ made for him.
The man is just dazed. He understands why Choso said he was gonna die earlier becuase fuckin’ hell he’s not even all the way in yet and you’re already clamping around his veiny shaft with no intention of ever letting go. And the goddamn arch you have, they way your ass looks all pretty backing up against him—
Gojo’s thrusting forward before he even realizes he is and his hands slide up to your hips to hold you nice ‘n steady. Your legs shake and your jaw mirrors his with the way it just hangs open. Then there’s your eyes and the way they roll back, a delicious moan exiting from deep within your throat.
He definately fucks you harder than Choso was earlier because you can feel his cock everywhere—he has you so stupidly full and dumb on his dick within seconds, landing a mean hand down onto your ass amid his thrusts.
“Ohh fuck, Suguru y’had this pussy all to yourself all this time?” Gojo grunts. “…S-Selfish bastard.”
Gojo’s hands are arguably slimmer than your boyfriends but his grip on you is just the same. Hence why you can’t do anything as he tugs you back to meet his rough pounding. Hell, all you’re left with is a brain full of nothing as your head turns to face forwards and you unconsciously look up at a stunned Choso.
His hand is wrapped around his cock and despite being right in front of your face, he’s definitely jerking off to they way Gojo’s fucking you (or maybe just to Gojo himself, who knows). When Choso does look down, you see his brows twist up and his lips part.
Your mouth is already hanging open so clearly you’re silently offering to help him, right? Which is why he angles himself toward your gape mouth and grunts, “Open up f’me pretty girl, nice ‘n wide…”
And you do, widening your mouth for him to slide his cock in steadily. Choso hisses at the sensation, the underside of his cock gliding down the center of your slobbering wet tongue so lewdly that it makes his teeth grind together. God, if you weren’t every bit of perfect like this. He watches the way his dick fills your mouth and feels how ridiculously tight your throat is as he eases his hips forward.
Almost in unison, Gojo and Choso and up tossing their heads back—one letting out a guttural groan and the other releasing a sweet moan. You’re soaked just about everywhere. Your pussy is sobbing and dripping around Gojo’s cock and your mouth is hardly any better with the way drool is dribbling down from your chin and onto the bed.
All as your boyfriend is losing his ever loving mind.
Geto came twice in his hand already and yet he’s still bucking his hips up into his fist. He’s never been this hard in his life. Something about watching you get absolutely ravaged by his two friends just make his dick throb in ways he cannot explain. You look perfect too, so damn angelic despite the rather sinful situation you’re in. There’s a creamy mess of cum slicked up and down Geto’s length from the thick tip to his base.
You’re busy getting fucked to tears (again) by Gojo and Choso, one of which has a heavy hand on your head encouraging your throat further around his curved cock and the other keep’s snapping his hips against your ass with his weighty balls grazing your clit every now and then.
You’re all so screwed. This is like something straight out of a damn porno and yet you didn’t care. Hell, you could hardly fathom enough thoughts at the moment to care.
And of course all three of them are just babbling all sorts of things to you, teasing you, taunting you, making you dizzy with pleasure.
Gojo’s back there spreading your ass apart and watching how wet you’ve gotten his dick, smiling sinfully at the sight. “Look at this pretty girl,” He grunts, “Takin’ my cock so. fucking. well. ungh.”
Then there’s Choso, nodding along as if he agrees with Gojo’s groaned words. His fingers are buried into your hair and by this point he’s fucking your face at the same rate Gojo’s fucking your cunt. “Her throat’s even better—shit. Y’should see how her lips look wrapped around me right now. Especially when I get,” Choso pauses just to give his hips one tortuously slow push, making you deepthroat his angry cockhead. “Right here, f-fuck.”
Again, Geto’s on the side just losing himself at the moment. You make the mistake of glancing over at him and his eyes lock with yours. Geto’s bottom lip is quivering and you watch his hand jerk himself off faster, his legs shifting open and closed as he overstimulates himself. Some nerve you had to look at him as if you don’t have two cocks inside you right now.
“M’gonna cum,” Geto’s muttering to himself over and over in some fucked-out little mantra.
Watching his head toss back and the way his Adam's apple bobs up and down is probably one of the sexiest sights. The Ghostface mask is all pulled up and his hair is splayed out in a mess of strands.
You end up gagging around Choso when Gojo hits your sweet spot for the sixth time in a row, your fingernails clawing against the sheets below. That’s all it takes for Choso to pull out and come undone all over your face without warning. In his defense, he wasn’t expecting your throat to tighten around him like that so suddenly…
Geto’s not too far behind, cumming in thick ropes with a sexy groan of your name leaving his lips—a sight you barely get to see because then Gojo’s leaning over you and your torso is suddenly pressed down against the bed for a moment. Then, you’re tugged up by a harsh grasp of your hair and Gojo’s fucking you even rougher than he was before, pressing his lips right against your ear.
“Fuckin’ slut,” He degrades so suddenly, wraping a free hand around your waist just to swat a finger over your clit again. “Look at this mess,” Oh, he’s just mean all of a sudden. Gojo lets go of your hair and turns your face toward him, leaning in and… licking the remnants of Choso’s release off of your face, again.
Your breath hitches and you wish you could have said something snarky but then you’re shoved right back down onto the bed. Gojo shifts his gaze to Choso, who flinches at the sudden eye contact, and then motions for him to come closer.
Once he does, Gojo grabs him by the jaw and pulls him in. “Open your mouth,” He breathes out hotly.
Choso bats his lashes at the man but doesn’t hesitate, parting his lips and taking the extra step as to sticking his tongue out. Gojo spits right onto the center of it and then smirks, “Good boy, now swallow it ‘n taste yourself f’me.”
It’s right about then that you release for the nth time of the night, followed by you squirting again due to the exchange you just heard between those two men. Then, as you wait for the stars in your vision to clear out, you hear Choso gulp loudly.
Half-way smiling to himself, Choso scoffs. “Guess you were right… I do taste pretty sweet.”
