Peached TV

Scare Actor Vi who sees you around the park, shrieking with your friends as some of the free-roaming actors simply appear from behind you, the butcher sharpening his knives against each other making you and your friend jump into each other's arms and scurry away. You’ve got one of the orange bands on your wrist, neon enough that in the blacklight of the haunted house will still light it up for the actors to see. Your friends all wore similar ones, with varying colours of the traffic light system the company had implemented to let the actors know customers' comfort levels. With an orange band, you were letting them know that you could get scared easier than the one or two friends you have sporting green bands, but weren’t at risk of a panic attack or potential emergency situation like your friend in the red band currently trying to hold back tears after walking by the creepy doll currently following your group behind. Vi has to bite back her laughter behind her mask, just in case any customers notice her and hear the noise, because that creepy doll is her sister Powder — or Jinx as she’s been calling herself as the doll — and she seems to gleaming with delight at the reactions she’s getting from your group.

You wouldn’t say you were frightened by these things, after all if you were you simply wouldn’t have come. You prefer a slasher movie over a traditional horror, so the revving of a chainsaw simply brings a shriek of laughter past your lips instead of a scream but you still find yourself falling for the jumpscares, clutching your friends upon instinct before falling into a fit of giggles. Or, when one of your more easily frightened friends arms is the one you fall into, scurrying off out of the scare actors clutches. And, not that you’d admit it to any of your friends, secretly you found yourself getting turned on by the danger and fear these kind of movies and attractions created. It wasn’t uncommon, plenty of women had kinks for masked men and women, some books even dedicated to getting fucked by a masked killer or murderous creature (and you totally don’t have a kindle library full of books like this). It had seemed like a waste not to come when the attraction had popped up and announced they would be opening  two weeks before Halloween and, with some convincing from your other friends, you’d bought a ticket. You’d scanned their website beforehand, comforted by the safety regulations and efforts their team went to so they could ensure customer comfort — but that didn’t stop you (and your friends) stopping by the make-shift bar to swallow down some liquid courage… Or three before finally making your way to the line for the main attraction: the murder house.

Two of your friends ditch the line before you’re even halfway through it, three don’t even line up for it — were already self aware at that point that they weren’t built for it — but by the time what remains of your group is at the front of the line, you’re partially regretting not ditching sooner. It’s not that you’re chicken, it’s that with the alcohol buzzing in your veins, your heart racing in anticipation and the recollection that this is literally designed for you to be chased like this is a life or death situation, you’re probably not in the position you would have been before the ‘liquid courage’. But still you listen as the guy gives you the explanation of what will happen, just in case you guys weren’t aware. A group goes in, a five minute headstart per group, chased around by multiple killers, picked off one-by-one, if somebody survives you get final girl or final boy sashes, or simply the last survivor if preferred. Actors are allowed to touch, grab to remove, etc but once ‘killed’ you are simply taken to one of the back tunnels and brought to the exit. Confirmation that no abuse, harm or injury will occur during the game. You suppose it’s something he’s contractually obligated to do, perhaps to ensure the company doesn’t get sued for not disclosing everything — now you’re wondering if anyone has ever sued one of these places… Your eyes wander off, unfocused as you imagine that case and how it may fare going to trial — only for your eyes to focus back in on one of the windows at the entrance of the murder house, to a cloaked figure with a ghostface mask staring blankly in your direction. Unconsciously you draw your bottom lip between your teeth, thighs shifting to relieve the ache that follows as your cunt starts to throb at the thought of getting fucked by the one behind the mask. You drop your gaze, trying to shake the thoughts out of your head (very much aware you’re surrounded by your friends) and focusing your attention back on the guy and nodding when you notice your friends doing so. 

There’s a sense of unease over you the further you move through the house, the group's collective movements clumsy from the tipsy nature of the remaining five of you but otherwise an eerie silence. You had come in with confidence, well prepared for the jumpscare from the ill-hidden ghostface — only nothing had happened yet, and the further you move through the house the more uneasy you feel. The floorboards creek under each step you all take, each of you clutching onto someone. You’re trying to see where it is you’re walking into, but even with the blacklight in parts, it’s too dark to get a real idea of the layout.

Two of your friends are ‘killed’ by the Butcher in what you now realise was the kitchen, one thrown down a chute that makes meat grinder noises after and the other thrown over his shoulder and taken to the meat locker behind the curtain. The three of you remaining have no shame about sprinting out of there as fast as you can and when you manage to make it to the upstairs, realising it splits to three possible exit routes you all do the one thing you curse movie characters for doing: you split up.

The blood curdling scream one of your friends lets out gives you the sick sort of relief that you chose a good path, the silence from another keeps the nerves rattling through your system that you haven’t. You’re not entirely sure how the hell the layout of this murder house works, are you supposed to make your way back downstairs somehow? Is there a secondary staircase — like the layout in That’s so Raven? No- No! Now is not the time to get distracted thinking about childhood tv shows. You make your way to what looks like a typical teenage girls bedroom, the lights killed except for a singular lamp at the far end of the bedroom illuminating an old home phone. You grit your teeth, waiting for the inevitable shrill  ring of the phone but you still almost jump out of your skin when it does. You laugh shakily, more so at yourself for still reacting even when you knew it was coming and grab the phone to “answer”

You assume it’s an automated message, something they play for all visitors to ensure everything moves quickly but your breath catches when you hear your name from the receiver. It’s spoken through a voice changer and your eyes light up in recognition, Ghostface. The actor you’d seen through the windows earlier, who you’d anticipated earlier in the game — this must be their assigned room. You hear your name called again teasingly, trying to regain your attention. “That is your name, right? I just want to make sure I know who it is I’m looking at” Such a cliche line, ripped from the movie and yet you gasp in surprise when you feel a body pressed to your back, a blade coming up to your throat. The phone falls from your hand, bouncing on the carpeted floor of the bedroom set as a hand comes up to your waist to hold you firm against Ghostfaces’ body. You shiver at the hard press of something firm at their crotch, the thought of it turning you on more than the fear had done before. You crane your head to the side, feeling both a sinking sensation that you’re about to lose the game — be ‘killed’ off — and the unmistakable sensation of your pussy dripping so much arousal that you’re sure you can feel your underwear soaked, flush to your cunt. You murmur a soft, broken please — for what, you’re not sure; for the ‘killer’ to spare you, for them to fuck you? A shaky breath falls from your slightly agape mouth again as their hips grind against your ass, the ever present hard length pushing against you. “How about I let you live… If you do something for me”

Distantly you’re aware that, at any time, someone can walk in and find you… like this. They’d pulled you into one of the back rooms, some cold hallway and then another room, it was bare apart from some throw blankets and a couch but it had hardly mattered when you’d ended up with your pants shoved down, ass up and exposed while they played with your arousal, toying with your pussy almost as if torturing you.

You feel shame heating your cheeks when their knife, which you’re beginning to think isn’t as fake as you’d believed, is stabbed into the couch cushion and the familiar voice orders you to ride it. “Don’t get shy, slut. I saw how your cunt started dripping.” They say, hands coming to your hips to guide you down to ride the thick handle. It's hard, the plastic sinking into your tight heat with minimal issue and it’s stabbed into the couch far enough that you don’t have to worry about the blade being inside of you — but you’re still comforted by the other person's hand at the base making sure you don’t accidentally pull it out.

The knife is soaked by the time Ghostface decides enough is enough, a hand grabbing a fistful of your hair and ordering you to stop. Carefully you’re made to clean it up, lips wrapping around the handle and tongue laving at the taste of yourself. For each whimper, each moan that you let out around it, you can feel them rocking their hips and grinding their cock against your wet pussy hard. It’s a tease, the plastic head nudging your poor, oversensitive clit and every time you beg for them to just “Do it, fuck me, fuckmefuckme— please, jus’put it inside” you get a spank or a pinch, sometimes both, to your clit. “Demanding and yet—” the knife is brandished to your throat again and you don’t even notice it’s the blunt side of the blade, just needy whimpering and moans filling the air. “I’m the one in control.” “If I want to fuck—” A ragged noise rips from your mouth, the strap sinking deep inside of you with one solid thrust and taking you by by such a surprise that you swear you almost cum right on the spot. “This tight pussy,” Another hard thrust, pushing you chest first into the back of the sofa, the cushions muffling your garbled slurring.“then I’ll fuck it.”

Getting fucked so roughly, pussy split by the onyx black strap beneath the costume that all you can really do is take it. The inside of your thighs growing tacky with your dripping arousal as it thrusts deep and fast inside of your cunt, so tight that they growl in your ear about how they’ll have to find you again and keep fucking you until you’re fucked open perfectly by them. Every slap of your pussy, your tits, squeeze of your throat has you getting closer and closer to your orgasm which has you squirming in an attempt to get off their cock. Are you still playing like you don’t want it, or that you don’t want to cum yet?

Wrapping their arms around you, keeping you still and fucking up into you until you’re cumming all over their cock, your moans echoing around the room. You’re lucky the ‘backstage’ area is soundproofed or the other guests would have heard you. 

You leave about ten minutes later, looking a bit more presentable and snuck back into the room Ghostface inhabits as promised. Somehow it’s not questioned how or why you disappeared for 20 minutes but when you do make it to the exit, you don’t say a word as the final girl sash is placed over your head and across your body. It’s your secret, the workers and your friends don’t need to know you earnt it by whoring yourself out to one of the scare actors. And when your friends decide an hour or two later, after an absurd amount of carnival-like food and drinks, that it’s time to go home you wave off the offer for a ride home and tell them you’ve got other plans.

Vi gets off work twenty minutes later, a rogue-ish grin on her lips as she sees you sitting on one of the picnic benches in the assigned food vendor area. She’s got her work bag thrown over her arm, uniform and mask tossed in there ready for the next day as she climbs over the bench to sit next to you. It’s with practiced ease that she pulls you in for an easy kiss, which you happily respond to with a grin. There’s still enough people around that she stops after a moment or two, not deepening it or moving further. “Thanks for waiting for me, baby. Did you have a good time?” She asks, but you can hear the underlying question your girlfriend doesn’t want to ask out loud — not here at least. “Yeah, Vi. I had the best time. Think we might do it again”

crisp snow shatters under your feet. with haste you run, arrows fly by off crossbows towards your direction–and others alike you. your coven hunted, slaughtered in front of your eyes, not much of them were left when you arrived–even less now that you left.

your skin burns where your clothes have been torn. all for yourself now, you were not going to die by witch hunter’s hands.

a witch shrieks, her guts spilling from her stomach as a witch hunter’s dagger guts her. “from my blood to my sisters', may we burn the men who rue us–from their blood to my blood, maker make them burn.” she mutters her last words, her body lights up in flames that consume the bodies of the two men who bounded her, killing them too.

the men shrill, piercing your ears. 

you run past lightning struck trees, blackened and charred–just like many of her sisters. you mutter words, summoning souls that rip through the ground and swallow up the few men that trailed you.

only when you thought you had a chance. you were completely wrong.

something wrings through the air, and it surrounds you. netting. it bounds your hands behind you and heavy weights on it drag you into the ground. face full of piercing cold snow. you screamed, whaling against your restraints. they burn, god, they burn.

“father. i’ve got the daughter.”

the man lifts your body like a bag of leaves, tossing you to the side so you could face him. your eyes burning with hatred, anger. his white hair, as white as all the snow. the eyes, blue as ice. it engrained in you–you were to die by the hands of this retched witch hunter.

he pulls out a dagger, silver glimmering against the moonlight. you look up at the moon, it is the end–at least the night sky was beautiful, on your last day alive.

he grabs you by the net, his eyebrows stitched together inspecting it’s damage. he doesn’t think much about it, until he places his blade tip on your chest, right at your heart. his eyes bore into you, the same look of disgust fills him–witch hunters and witches despised eachother so. his lip curls, sneering, “i feel sorry for you.”

you hiss, growling at him. nothing you could do would free you from these restraints, especially not under his heavy hands. you had nothing left in you, no more curses, no more power. hours and hours of chase ends here.

“i feel sorry that you were born a witch–i hope you experience a different life when you are reborn.” he mutters whatever christian bullshit he did.

you feel him press his dagger the weight of his body pushing into it. “i would still choose to be born a witch, i would still choose to kill you witch hunters–do not act so holy, you are a human who hunts other humans–”

“witches are not human.” he spat.

you snicker, dark laugher exits your ice ridden lips, “do i not look human to you?”

“you do,” he said, “such beauty was wasted on you.” his weight presses the dagger into you, you close your eyes–waiting to join your sisters in afterlife.

nothing. his blade–snaps in half.

his breath chokes, he breathes heavily staring at his blade as he holds it up towards him–only the hilt remains. “how is this possible?”

“you don’t know everything about witchcraft, murderer.”

his blue eyes were now filled with revelation, maybe even fear. it was your last chance, so why not do your worst. he was distracted now, hands shaking looking for his witch-hunting father.

you hum, “my master, my maker–trust your powers in my hands, allow me inside his mind–let me feast on his weaknesses.”

the white-haired man shrieks, holding onto his head. your eyes draw back, glazing white–your lips mumble and utter foreign words to witch hunter’s ears. his ears bleed and your mind plays with his. 

yet, lucky for him a man that looked similar to him–just much older comes to his aid. pulling his son away. for you to see him for a split second before it all goes dark.

──────⊹⊱✫⊰⊹──────

the eerie everlasting sound of dripping water on cobblestone. the room is cold, humid–only fresh air coming from the vents near the ceilings of this so called prison.

your arms are bound behind you, chaining you to a metal beam centre of the room that was surrounded in cells in a circular shape. extravagant looking architecture for a prison. you look above to see a cresent shape that let the sunlight in and surrounding you, hung up around the shape, dill and lavender to ward off witches and evil spirits–fuck, it repels power or say, your ability to connect to your maker.

your feet are bare. coat removed only leaving you in your long shirt and dress, tattered like a mess. you can hear talking outside the heavy metal door ahead. your head rests on the beam, sighing at your own defeat.

satoru listens as his father marches around his war table. “it cannot die is what you say?”

“it cannot be pierced or burned, sir. we have tried what we can,” one of the older witch hunters spoke.

satoru’s mind wanders to the witch under their feet, he looks through the vents in the meeting room knowing that she was right down there.

“so what do we do?” his father looks to him.

satoru stands from his seat, “i don’t know, father.” it was the truth. 

“where is it’s mother.” his father refers to you. satoru slightly flinches at the way he did.

the witch hunter speaks again, “gone, we have no eyes–nothing on that witch. the mother was the coven leader, it would not leave it’s kin behind, we may be able to use it to draw out our most powerful enemy.”

satoru’s mind jumbles. barely listening in as they came up with their own conclusions and try to make solutions that clearly wouldn’t work. his father makes all the men leave, to have a conversation with his son.

“son, i may have an idea.”

──────⊹⊱✫⊰⊹──────

he faces you now. the same white-haired boy that hunted you. with his father you believed. you hear his father talk to him, calling his name. somehow you felt as if the father believed you were incapable of understanding him.

“if she can’t be killed how will she pay for her crimes?” satoru asks his father. your crimes? what crimes did he speak of, witchcraft?

many others are behind them, watching as they come up with a way to deal with you.

his father had an evil look in his eyes, a disgusting grin grows on his lips, “there are other ways to torture and destroy your enemies, my son. it will pay for it’s crimes, you will take it’s power, pride and most importantly it's dignity.”

your dignity? you feel your heart falling into your stomach at the thought. how dare they. the men seemed thrilled, a solution was made. 

“father, are you serious? you want me to–you truly want me to take her–”

his father holds his shoulders, “satoru, it may seem horrible my son, it will disgust you–but don’t have to look at it, pretend it’s that girl you like. use it as you wish, a hole is still a hole.” he hands his son some cloth. leaving his son standing in front of you. he’s nervous you can tell.

satoru was given an order, and he must complete it. his fellow brothers made sounds of disgust, knowing what satoru was told to do. no man would willingly stick his cock inside a witch, a digusting creature, not even it they were the last being alive.

“good luck with that thing, who knows–it may have teeth under its skirt.” his best friend says to him before everyone makes their way out leaving him to actually do his task. 

he watches the way you kick your feet trying to get away from him. his father's words were clear, you can clearly understand what was about to happen. face filled with loath–lips curled ready to spew him with horrid words.

he grips the fabric, dropping to his knees in front of you. “the things i do, only because he asks. fuck, but justice must be served.”

“what justice do you refer to,” your tongue is vile, spitting venom at him.

satoru shudders. taking the cloth, shoving it into your mouth between your teeth and tying it around your head–gagging you. you whine and whimper against him, resisting his touch. 

“i don’t want to fuck you,” he says, eyes unable to meet yours, “you should be dead. that would've ended all of this.”

you groan into the gag, words he can’t understand are spoken.

“you are a witch. your death serves justice, unfortunately for us all your skin can’t be penetrated–they believe that this should destroy you. so please, just let me make this quick.” he tries to sound like he was giving you some sort of mercy.

you face him. making him look you in the eye. he can hear it slightly, your words muffled by the gag, “monster.”

he sighs. undoing his pants. satoru knows this is what he must do, he despises the thought so he must take his father’s advice and imagine you as someone else. he pulls at your legs, dragging you against the floor towards him with loud sounds leaving your covered lips.

the chain rattles. he knows that if the herbs didn’t protect him, he would be dead. he recalls what you did last time, he felt as if his brain was melting.

“stop struggling, we can get this over quickly.”

he touches his cock, his really large girthy cock. for a vile man, he was attractive and you hated it. his cock can’t get hard, at all. he’s frustrated, he didn’t want to be around you this long and this was just making it harder. he knew it was because of the way you looked, tied, chained, and gagged. it made him want to throw up.

your eyes are wet, after all the fighting trying to resist. he sighs loudly, his large hand comes up to your face and rips the gag down–soaked in your saliva, it hangs over your neck.

“fuck you, fucking disgusting murderer. if i am ever freed i will feed you to the souls of my undying master.” this doesn’t make it better. he’s even more annoyed after hearing your voice. it's loud, sharp like blades in his ears.

satoru grabs your legs with his hands, positioning himself between them. he’s on his knees looking down at you whilst you lay on your side with your hips turned to him. the chain behind you apparent to him. your face is turned to him with a sneer painted on your lips.

“do you think i want to fuck you?”

you scoffed, rolling your eyes at the white-haired man in front of you, “all men want to do is fuck.”

“i don’t want you fuck you, you’re a witch.” he spat.

your eyes dart towards his cock, now growing slightly, “yea? why is your little cock getting hard then? at the sight of a witch, naked beneath you.”

he can’t help his body. his chest heaves as if the room had just grown hotter and hotter. his hands slide up your legs and reach for your dress–he rips it with his knife, a new one since the other broke on your heart. he leaves you bare in your underwear. 

he stares too long at your covered cunt that you make a remark, “i have eyes you know, you seem far too keen on the thought of taking me, i do believe your cunt shouldn't be wet if you weren't feeling like taking my cock inside you either.”

“shut the fuck up.” he doesn’t want to entertain you any longer. he leans over your body. one hip of your dig into the ground as he grips the side of your underwear and pulls it off your body. your ass falls out of them with a nice bounce, the shape makes satoru gulp.

he can’t. fuck. he can’t find her attractive. he knew her already found her face hot. if only she wasn’t a witch would he be truly about to feel these type of ways without the guilt. “forgive me.” he touches the cross around his neck, "i must, for world to be cleansed of witchcraft."

you laugh, loudly and menacingly. “cleanse? you're going to cleanse the world of witchcraft with your cock? unbelievable what you absolute idiots think. are you going to go beg your god in church after this–oh my, my holy father forgive me for fucking a witch, forgive me for filling her with my cum–my poor soul."

“i wouldn’t have to do this if you would just die,” he shouts. you enjoy making him mad, the way his face gets all red and hot when he’s shouting. makes your smirk grow bigger and bigger.

he notices this, that he’s only feeding into your game. all witches do is play games with their prey, he wasn’t going to let it happen. god, he wanted to take that smirk off your face.

his finger finds its way towards your womanly parts. making your jump and shriek, “get off me–witch hunter. or i will erase your bloodline.”

you’re angry. he likes it too, something about it–such a powerful creature under his mercy. he places one of your legs over his shoulder, and he gets a good look at what you were like down there. just like any other girl, somehow it surprised him. he’s drawn to it, like an animal seeing a puddle of fresh delicious water after a long drought. 

his heavy palm rests on your stomach, slowly guiding itself towards your cunt. you splutter words choking on your own breath, he doesn’t seem to care at all. whatever you said, whatever you do–helpless. it was your punishment for not dying.

“maker, why must you betray me now. where are your gifts when i need them.”

“your witch language won’t work here–”

you cut him off right away, “i know dipshit, if it worked your eyes would’ve been outside your skull by now.”

he chuckles, your venomous word does nothing. never once had he been so comfortable hearing witchcraft being spewed. the prison worked its magic. your eyebrows stitched together in frustrated, he seemed to have learned to tolerate you.

his fingers fondle your curves, feeling the ridges as it reaches your cunt. it’s wet, hot, and plump. his rough calloused fingers feel at the slit, parting them to reveal the raw pulsing flesh inside. your hips wobbled trying to get away from him but his grip with his other hand tightens as he pulls you further up his shoulder. his face looms over you.

even if you seemed like a simple person, just a girl. he knew in truth you were a witch, you’ve had blood on your hands. the threats you spewed, evil reincarnated. devil worshipper and satan’s slave. your witchcraft is your doom. but here now, you were nothing but a pretty girl.

“you deserve this, you know. i hope it hurts.” he speaks, eyes glow with aversion.

you lift your head, “fuck you.” spit lands on his pretty face. he scoffs. his lips are in a tight line, his tongue juts his cheek.

──────⊹⊱✫⊰⊹──────

he’s trying. he’s trying hard to resist the pleasure. he thrusts into you angrily, pent up with frustration that seemed to have built up. your left hip digs into the cobbled floor, grinding against it at his pounding.

he’s flat on his knees resting on his own ass, thrusting up into your body. leg resting on his shoulder. the angle is strange, he’s going deep and hard–only making it difficult for himself. he tries to keep as much distance between the two of you, even if the desire to completely fold over top you and rut you into the ground kept growing inside him.

your left leg slides under his crotch as he tries to thrust harder–as if it would make things painful for you. you had your lip between your teeth, biting out any sound he wanted to hear. face trying to keep as still as possible with only the mere twitches of your eyebrows whenever you’d feel the bulb of his cock enter and leave your body.

his frustration is peak, he’s not getting the right thing out of you and it annoys him. “s–say something, w-witch.”

your moans bubbled at your throat, “say what? what would you like me to say.” your eyes glare at him, as it was usually facing the wall away from him.

satoru drops your leg, it falls into the crook of his left hip sitting there. his palms slapped into the ground near your shoulders, his breath hitting the side of your face as you press your cheek into the cold floor. 

he’s exhausted, for more reasons than one. he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to be getting out of you. pain? no, you were giving him nothing. the only thing that was painful was him resisting his urges to cum, fuck, it was so hard. 

he didn’t like the way your cunt swallowed him. he totally didn’t like the way you grew wetter and wetter the deeper he went, how the ridges and waves inside your cunt strokes his cock, trying to milk it. he must’ve been bewitched.

“did you curse me or something?”

you laugh, turning to face him, “what? you’re saying i used my voodoo magic on your cock, that my cunt feels so good that you can’t help but almost drench my walls with your cum–huh?” your lips curled into a demented smirk, “you just like the way i feel, witch hunter, you like fucking witch cunt.”

his chest heaves. the only skin on skin you feel is his long–thick girth lodged far inside your stomach. he kept still during all this but you can still feel his cock twitch, wanting more.

“i do not enjoy, fucking, witch cunt.”

you scoffed, “oh yea? how come you keep stopping, as if resisting your urges–your boy urges to just cream yourself inside me.” 

his hand reaches your throat, he chokes you turning your head to face him as he looms over you. his chest–covered in his decorated leather brushes against your covered breasts.  “this is your punishment. you should feel something.”

he rips a thrust through you. “and w–why, is it that you are the one in pain–witch hunter,” you voiced.

satoru’s light blue eyes have turned dark, lustfully and angrily. “why is it that god gifted a monster like you this?”

“gifted me with what?”

satoru breathes heavily, thinking of his words, “your face, your body–the way you feel. such a horrid creature gifted with such beauty and for what?”

his words felt odd, inside of the pits of your gut it flutters–he compliments you but offhandedly. insulting your kind yet, somehow displaying his attraction to you.

“in this room, under your control,” you began, trying to breath through his hold, “i am just a girl, i was always just a girl–who knew witchcraft. i'm not an animal, creature or monster.”

satoru opens his mouth to speak but somehow nothing came out.

“you believe me to be the monster?” your hand reaches for the blade he kept sheathed, broken, he doesn’t even flinch when you lift it in his face, “how much blood have you spilled with this thing, because i know–in my own hands, i have never spilt blood.”

“witchcraft is a sin–”

you clicked your tongue, scoffing, “and murder is not?”

“you may never have killed,” he starts, letting your throat free, “but it doesn’t change the fact that you work for the devil, tasked with his calls–he asks and you abide, yes?”

“yes. just like you, and your god. but you slaughter witches.”

he huffs, “my god doesn’t tell me to kill witches–”

“then why? what tells you to hunt and slaughter girls who play with magic in their fields, in their homes away from men. where in your little leather book does it tell you to cleanse the world of petty witchcraft. and while you're at it, where does it tell you that having your cock inside of me, does the job?” you’re cocky, using his words against him.

“it doesn’t.”

you toss his knife, dropping your hand, “men are clouded by desires, satan help me, you all desire what you don't understand and cannot have. lust is your undoing."

“you act like you have no desires, do you feel nothing during all of this?”

you rolled your shoulders, “you mean what you’re doing with your pathetic cock?”

“just because you bite your tongue and resist, doesn’t mean i can’t tell you’re enjoying it–after all, you said you are merely a girl. i am merely a boy, this is what we were created for–”

“oh, so you know what you’re doing? beats me, i thought you were a virgin with those weak little moves.”

he sighs, rubbing the center of his forehead with the back of his hand, “fuck. i’m going to gag you again., you can't stop running your mouth.”

“do it.” your voice purrs, leaning towards his pretty pink lips, “we both know, you enjoy the way i run my mouth. is it because all the girls in this village are scared of you, they respect you so they never speak against you?”

“shut up.”

you hum, rolling your hips seeing the way his eyes nearly roll back whilst his cock gets stroked by your drenched walls, “they don’t dare speak against you, you men and your power. but oh, i am not scared of men and definitely not–you.”

“and here, i am not scared of you either–your tongue is vile, rotten like your magic. but in this room, you’re nothing but a dainty flower that i could step on and break.” he stands his ground.

“then break me.”

the temptation is there. instant. he wants it, he wants you to beg him. it had turned into a game, of who could prove the other right more. the position you were in compromises you. 

hips wide open, leg thrown over his thigh as he ruts you at an insane angle. he traps you with his arms. his forearm laced under your neck holding you to face him, incapable of leaving the gaze of his lusting eyes. his other arm holds him up, the space between you is small–not enough for him to make large thrusts to instead lots and lots of deep slow ones, drags and pulls.

your ass lifts off the ground to allow him more room to space out his penetration, the rhythm he plays at proves he’s experienced, but hell, he knew he’d never been so desperate to get something, anything out of someone before. “do you feel nothing?”

you swallowed, defending your pride, “no.”

“you lie,” he moans, his face is flushed. he grabs your hair, pulling your neck back. “i know you feel, something.”

he flips you over, and his cock slips out–it burns as if it didn’t want to go. he throws you around. god, again. he drags your hips up, levelling you onto your knees. you’ve got no arms to move–they’re chained.

his eyes brush past them, he grabs it–it clangs. you arch upwards, straight up and on your bare knees only–god they hurt. you hear yourself gush below, the burn after his intense fucking, and the edging that you kept doing to yourself to resist.

his crotch centres behind you, and he drops lower so his cock aligns with the curve between your ass. he grabs your throat with his palm–his hands already made large marks on them earlier. he pulls you into him. head up and resting on the crook of his shoulder right next to his lips that brush and breathe into your ear, “you’re gonna beg me, witch.”

“in your dirty dreams.”

he shakes his head, laying a bite on your earlobe. it did feel like a goddamn dream. a witch hunter bends you to his will under his cock. fuck. your mother and sisters would never let you live this down if you even lived after this.

his cock stands tall and proud, covered in white pasty arousal. he rubs it’s head against your cheeks, falling into the crevices he pleased. he uses his hand the bend his throbbing erection down, pointing to the ground before letting it fling up and smack your cunt.

“fuck.” words leave you unwillingly. he smirks behind you, his face getting the whiff of your earthy scented hair.

he thrusts between your thighs, letting his bulbous head nudge against your clit, slipping past your slick over and over. “beg.”

“i would never.” your voice fails you. flattering whenever it would touch your clit. his hand slides over your hips and stomach, down towards where he knew would break you.

his fingers slip down cupping your cunt, finger prodding at your wet folds–abused by his cock. your clit so sensitive you shake and writher when his touch is flat against it, he rolls it in his fingers, nipping and pulling. he swirls it making your cunt slop, and gush out onto the shaft of his cock. “fuck, oh–fuck.”

“come on, witch. beg me, beg me to fuck you.” his voice dripping with lust, his tongue slips past his lips and he flattens it against your neck. his lips close on the spot, teeth baring and he sucks on it, marking a witch of all things.

it feels good, too good that it felt like torture now. was this truly the punishment his father intended, definitely not. your chest heaves. you had nothing left but your pride, why should you give it up? yet the thing that could convince you was under you, toying with your holes.

you bite your lip, nearly making them bleed, “okay, fuck. witch hunter–fuck, oh gods. fuck me.”

“more, beg more.”

you whimpered, as his fingers go further–dipping itself into your cunt sopping just for him. “please, master. forgive me for this.” you turn to face him, his lips were so glossed and plumped–leaving a burning mark on your neck, “use me, witch hunter, please just fuck me like i’m yours.”

“good.” he bends his cock with his hand, aligning at your throbbing hole, “i pray my god forgives me too. because i will destroy you.”

“do your worst, witch hunter.”

within one rut his whole cock stretches you beyond your restraints could hold. the wrists you had bounded shake the chains, you were probably bleeding through the cuffs. fuck, the stretch is intense but it burns so good. his girth gapes you fully. his cock surpasses its limits now that you were actually allowing it, the tip kisses your cervix. the bulge from the angle noticeable from the front–your stomach fills with his shaft.

you bite on your lips, muffling your cries. “don’t, let me hear you.”

“oh–okay, fuck, it feels too good, satan will burn me in hell.” you cried, drooling out the corner of your lips at his pace, fucking unforgiving.

his teeth capture your shoulder again, thighs slapping your asscheeks. his cock balls deep inside of you, they slap against your cunt hard “we will both be burning in hell together for this, witch.”

──────⊹⊱✫⊰⊹──────

beneath him you face the herbs that fall towards your face. a leaf drops onto your cheek–it disintegrates making your lips curl into a smirk. your fingers twitched, eyes watching as the herbs began to falter.

“witch hunter.” you crook your head towards him, “your herbs are dying.”

“what?”

your hands free themselves from the iron restrains, flattening against the harsh wet stone floor. he sees the look on your face, it twists filled with a different motive. 

“it’s about time, i’ll let you live but everyone else will die. my sincerest apologies.” 

he tries to grasp for his other blades. but what would that do, poor witch hunter? absolutely nothing. “no, you’ll stay here.”

you sneered, standing with your tattered clothes. he cowers away, he could smell the magic. “why would i do that?”

“after everything–” 

“after you fucked me, you mean? a bit of cock isn’t going to make me forgive them–i will tear them limb to limb for my murder of my sisters, my dear witch-fucking-witch hunter. now, step out of my way.”

end note: : P i will look over this again tmr but im just excited for it rn so i wanna post it kek // feel like the ending is a bit weak but it leaves it open ended enough to do a part 2 if i wanted to // clearly i am not posting them in order haha whooops i get vibes to write things and i grind yano

© moongumi 2022. all rights reserved, do not copy and publish my writing anywhere else.

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It was the fourth time in the past few minutes that he’s babbling those very words into your perspired skin. The fourth time. 

He was broken.

Managing out only a few throaty whimpers when you’re shuffling onto your elbows, all you have to do is give one fluttering squeeze of your gummy walls before something hits your arched spine with a wet splat!

Multiple. Tears. 

“F-fuuuuck–” He’s hissing, sexy baritone thickened with clingy sobs. And the only thing sloppier than Toji’s unsteady tone, was his cock. Ruthless. “Fuck- fuck fuck fuck–”

“Need a lil’ h-help, baby?” You find yourself purring, head tilting ever-so-slightly over your shoulder to bare Toji with even more of your scented throat. Clouded wafts of it puffing over to his darkened features and making him gasp– “Because-”

In only a split-second, you’re not even sure what you were about to say - what happened other than Toji shoving you face-first into the cushy pillow in nanoseconds. 

Staggering strength leaving the bulging biceps on his big, beefy arms flex, and you keening away into your soft landing. Boneless legs stumbling onto the bed once he tilts his bodyweight onto yours and makes you stumble, “T-Tooji—!”

Oh, the sound of his name in your honeyed tone makes Toji’s hulking voice break out in shivers. 

“S-s’it turn you on ta see me like this?” Punctured with solid, pounding plaps! of his bloated tip against your springy cervix, such a staggering size that tenderized every sliver inside your heated cunt without even trying. His massive arms tremble, “To see me a-all pathetic and ngh- weak?”

Weak. 

But the way he was pinning you down onto the creaking bedcoils and slamming jagged bruises onto your mounds of flesh from behind was anything but.

“M-maybe?” Oh, he definitely was fucking you stupid - because you find yourself giggling. Globs of slippery drool overspilling from your slack maw and drenching the puffy pillow underneath you. So wet n’ utterly filthy that it makes your thighs squeeze, “You’re s-so cute, Toji.”

“Don’t- don’t you fuckin’–” Immediately leaving one spank on your puffed-up clit. Two. Three, just for good measure- shit, Toji really can’t help but bring those sappy, glazed-over fingerpads to his mouth and sucking. 

And the sugary sweet taste makes the man moan. 

“Fuck- fuck, did that p-perfume make her taste even sweeter or what?” 

Before you know it, Toji’s hard, Herculean front is sagging downwards into yours - hunching over, collapsing. He can barely keep his eyelids held open, let alone his glissading body. 

Sinking you ever-deeper into the plush mattress, you swear you could count each and every rock-hard ab pressing into you. The curvy massage of Toji’s pecs rendering your mouth to let off a soft mewl.

And he’s rough above you. Still fucking you in a way that makes your sturdy bed splinter. Dark tufts from Toji’s happy trail scratching the very tip-top of your papping ass with every merciless whack.

“Gonna tell ya a s-secret-” He spills in breathy puffs against your ear, nuzzling the pointed tip of his nose against where your perfume was the most potent. Drinking you in. Gasping. “-b-better not tell ngh- anyone- got it, ma?”

And you almost get the urge to tilt your head back and confirm that this was really your Toji.

Because not only were his choked-up words making you dizzy, so was the way that he sounded right about not. Voice numerous octaves higher, cracking. 

You’d have half the mind to tease him about it if the entirety of your fuzzy head wasn’t completely overtaken by simply the thought of Toij Toji Toji-

“Oi- oi!” Three harshly repeated smacks to the side of your cheek wrench you from your little daydream, until you’re being manhandled with a few fingers around your throat to gaze up at the man himself. Growling, “N-no zonin’ out on me just yet- gotta tell ya h-how much it turns me on, too…”

Oh? Oh.

And as soon as he starts, he can’t stop. Can’t slow down the prattling words spat into your mouth - all teeth and something lecherous. 

You’re squealing once one of his splayed-out palms rover to the bumpy outline of him fucking a tummy bulge into you. 

Skimming across until he could practically feel the rapid ba-dump–! ba-dump–! ba-dump–! being crashed into all your magical spots, “L-look at you taking it allll. Look how hard I am- feel how hngh- fucking hard–” 

He doesn’t even have to finish his sentence for you to know. For you to feel.

Another heavy gulp of the thick air surrounding you two - of that familiar candied smell - and he’s like an animal. Swollen cock stretching your goopy walls until they were wiiidely agape, throbbing a few solid centimeters wider in circumference. 

“How fucking big. Yeah? Hngh- t-takin’ it all like a big girl, aren’t ya?” 

Getting harder just from the perfume. From you. 

One hand desperately claws at his own bustling bulge, the other smearing over your overstuffed pussy.

“O-oh, god-” Your eyes sprint needily to the back of your head, head pushing into the soaked pillows. Toji’s ministrations were heavenly, rubbing quick, jerky heart all over your sugar-coated clit. Faster. “K-keep doing that n’ m’gonna c-cum.”

“M’only getting harder. Needier- fuck, I need you-” Swirling his fat thumb in circles right on time with his globular tip, “My big girl- w-with her ngh- big perfumes. Fuck-” You don’t think Toji even registers when he plants a delicate peck where your scent was the strongest. Moaning. Before pressing two more, three, four- “Don’t want- Need you to c-cum f’me. Need to feel that ngh- pretty pussy cum ‘round my big fuckin’ cock.”

You’re raking your nails down his toned forearms, “Close. C-close.”

“Fucking cum.”

And when you so, your silken soft walls are squeezing Toji’s veiny shaft so tight that it takes him everything in him to fuck you through each white-hot peak. Dragging you across your starry high and then some-

Wiping away a trickling spray of his own drool, Toji feels himself laugh - low and humorless. You’ve found his weakness.

♡ NANAMI KENTO - Mr. CEO

Nanami Kento was a gentleman. The perfect sweetheart.

But that was the complete opposite of the way that said Nanami Kento currently had you shoved face-down into his cool mahogany office desk, your delirious tears spilling over in rippling puddles over the expensive wood while he fucked you like he hated you.

“Fuck-” he’s spitting into your open maw, fingers loosening his overpriced tie. Your popped ears ring with a sharp riiiip–! once he tugs your tight satin skirt even higher, rough. “Fuck- not again, darling.”

Before you can even think of gurgling out any coherent syllables, his ragged palm comes striking down on the surface mere inches away from your face with a deafening SLAM!

Meaty thighs rippling with copious shivers from right behind you - Nanami was letting himself heave, he was letting his muscular body pin you down. Sliding the ladder-like ridges of his abs down your arched back.

“Shit. Shit shit shit- not again. M’not supposed ta-” Cutting himself off - gasping - and it’s a sheer miracle that he can even manage to wrench out those growling words at this point. Breath puncturing with a low ah! ah! ah! after every hit of his toned hips against your ass. “I don’t…don’t know why-”

Almost…feral.

You’re both letting your heads drop down at a drunken pace to catch the splat! of those first few ribbons of cum being slipped past your folds. 

Every bludgeoning inch of Nanami’s coral pink crownhead plugs your leaky hole full. He’s fucking in those dewdrops of seed to maze across your gummy walls, leaving sweltering hot geysers pooling on your cervix.

So hot. 

And in the corner of your eye, you’re catching him reel those powerful hips back until only the very tip of his swollen cock was softly pecking your entrance. “Can’t- can’t stop cumming- fuck!”

“Wh-what?” You’re not sure if you heard him right.

“Can’t stop, m’sorry–” He draws a slow five circles around your quivering hole with the very edge. A glossy white lip gloss that cakes over your pussy folds like icing. “Won’t stop cumming. Haaah- your cute cunt…s’drivin’ me mad.”

You feel Nanami’s round-ended thumb plug up the weeping orifice right in the middle of his cockhead, trying- failing to stop his trickling rivulets of creamy seed. Before letting out a pained huff and filling you once more to the very brim–

It was so much. Too much. And it just pained him to not be all sunken inside your hot, pretty pussy.

You whimper at the taut stretch, stumbling onto your unsteady elbows to peek at your husband. “I-is everything alright, Ken?”

Desperate.

You haven’t seen Nanami look this gone - eyes so hooded they were almost shuttered closed, mouth forever parted in awe, cheeks burning with a bright red blush - since the first time he ever fucked you.

So warm and dizzy. 

Your fluttery walls squeeze involuntarily around his puffed-up veins, as if you’re trying to memorize every jagged pattern. Heart racing once leans in with a vulgarly handsome snarl-

“Still here.” He gruffs out a throaty murmur into your rapidly beating pulse, teeth nipping dangerously over the drumming staccato as if to warn look what I can do, my love. And the expression plastered all over his face is nothing if not crazed, “Still there.”

Fuck, that same mantra over n’ over again.

“Wh-what do you mean, Ken?” It takes everything in you to voice out, even the leaking cum that Nanami scoops up dutifully doesn’t compare to just how much wetter your cunt gets at the hoarse baritone of his voice. He was so effortlessly sexy.

“It’s- it’s still there, darling.” And you’ve never heard your stoic husband sound so…ruined. Like he was on the verge of crying - or damn near breaking you in half. Or both.

And how could Nanami Kento have become the boss if he didn’t multitask?  

He was still pounding long, rummaging inches into you after every syllable spoken - hitting the bruised and battered target of your g-spot with a sickly sweet ba-dump! every single time. Not even slowing down to let himself catch his breath after his previous orgasm.

He wouldn’t.

He couldn’t.

Because even though Nanami’s molten eyes were stinging with tears from the utter sensitivity, even though he could feel his hefty balls flinch tenderly every time they thwacked against the front of your cunt - he still found something dark and deep inside of him begging for more more more. 

Body moving before he could even control.

In only nanoseconds, Nanami interlaces a clawed grip around your throat to haul you up like some glamorized doll. Eyes widening, he buries his face into the crook of your neck and gasps.

“Th-this-” And Nanami Kento never stutters, he never lets his statuesque facade crack with the beginnings of something that almost looks shy. Your stomach twists at the way his cerise lower lip wobbles adorably, “-what is this, my love?”

“Hmm–? Oh.” And then it finally hits you. “A n-new perfume?”

Although it looks like it wasn’t just a perfume. Fuck, you should’ve looked at the packaging a little closer. 

But Nanami doesn’t answer. He doesn’t utter a word. Does nothing but let his lungs drag in a generous heaval of your scent.

And it’s enough to send his needy cock crashing into the very bottom of your sloppy pussy. Your hands scramble for anything - and land on the golden name plate emblazoned with CEO NANAMI while he draws up a looong wet glide. Prying apart the papping mounds of your ass to rut into you impossibly deeper. 

Nanami’s vision clouds and he’s not sure if it’s from the force of the countless orgasms or simply you. His gorgeous wife. 

Wait- wife?

Before he knows it - before he can stop himself - he’s babbling away, “Marry me- marry me, my love.”

“But…” You’re reaching over to tangle your fingertips through his dishevelled strands of gold with a smile. Thumbing away that perspired furrow in his brow, “We’re already hah! married, Kento.”

Oh?

And Nanami Kento trusts you above him. Which is why he finds his eyes rovering down to steal a glance at your pretty ring finger and- oh. You were right. 

“Mhm— tha’s me, Kento. Your husband.” He’s breathing out, one hand tracing over the staggeringly large rock homed prettily on your wedding ring. 

And the other- the other was letting his fat fingerpads swipe down your buttery slit, topping itself with sweltering hot ounces of cum. Before promptly pushing past your wobbly lips, “Now suck ‘nless you want the whole office to hear about your ph-pheromone perfume.”

♡ GETO SUGURU - T-take it, dammit-

“You- you bitch.” Geto Suguru looked so pretty like this - amethyst eyes fighting to stay open in anger and need, curtaining inky hair splayed out like a halo underneath him. Each growling snarl of his only growing raspier by the minute, “Fucking knew this would h-happen, didn’t you?”

Did you just hear the oh-so-suave Geto Suguru stutter?

And it’s just about all you can do to keep yourself from snickering, hands planting precariously onto the delicious curve of his deltoids. The bulging flex of his toned muscles makes your mouth water, “Oh? I don’t know what you mean, Sugu—”

Geto’s rolling his eyes - but his hips were speaking a completely different language. Rolling up off of the sticky hold of the bedsheets to give your g-spot a good, lengthy skim of his ruby-red tip.

He’s tugging one shackled wrist, “S’that why ya have me in this, gorgeous?” 

Ah, and how could you forget your favorite part about tonight? 

Those fuzzy pink handcuffs that you’d goaded your dear boyfriend into wearing, all smug smiles and chuckles until you’d leaned down to give him an innocent peck. And then let him smell-

“Sh-shit. Look what you’ve done t’me.” He’s hissing into your loosened mouth, snatching your pouted lips into such a bruising, bruising kiss. Sharpened canines digging into your bottom lip, he practically gulps in the breaths of your special perfume. “You and th-this heavenly pussy and that- godforsaken pheromone perfume.”

You were making a fool out of him - all with a “special perfume” that he’d bought for you at your pleas. Idiot, he didn’t even read the box before gifting it to you.

Geto throws his head back with a drawling grunt when the only reply he gets is your pretty smile. “Fuck- fuck!”

Voice pitching up in volume higher and higher- and he was sure he looked crazed right about now. Hips rutting cleanly off of the mattress to spearhead you with so many copious inches. More. 

It was already hard enough keeping himself smooth n’ composed every time he usually sunk past your velvety walls - you drove him wild without even trying. But now? 

Now this stupid “perfume” of yours was here to do the very same thing, only tenfold because it was his beautiful girl wearing it.

Oh.

Geto thanks he can feel himself going wild.

The extra heavy-duty handcuffs sing out a metallic creak–! once he tugs particularly harshly, trembling fingertips aching to feel every inch of your glissading body. You were riding him at such a maddening tempo. Your hips hitting the very back of his generously curved balls, before gyrating your puffy clit down in a slooow grind up his toned abdomen — but he wanted more.

It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough when Geto was like this.

“When- when I break out of these oh!” With every empty threat puffed out into the heady air, Geto finds his achingly hard cock weeping even more thick rivulets of pre. Lungs filling up with hypnotic volumes and volumes of that scent. He can feel himself fucking tearing up, “F-fuck you.”

He was so sexy like this. 

Trying oh-so-desperately to pretend that those collisions into your gooey depths didn’t have his toes curling, heavy lids falling shut to hide away just how fast Geto’s eyes were sliding to the very back of his head.

You’re arching a brow, “Oh? What was that?”

Lips sleazing backwards into a pussydrunken grin, you had the inkling that Geto didn’t even realize what he was babbling away at this point. He couldn’t even think. “I-I said fuck-” 

Mouth still moving. Soundless.

And all it takes is a mere touch of your sensory fingertips caressing his sweat-lathered temple to render Geto speechless.

“W-wait—” He breathes out, and he sounds hysterical right now. Venomous tone lilting countless octaves higher and wobbling as if he was about to break. His chest caves in with a low please–! once you’re streaking your digits through his silky hair, shivering as if being shocked with a thousand voltages. Pulling. “Not fair. Not fair not- fuck tha’s not fair t’me, gorgeous.”

You already knew that the pheromone perfume had some…aphrodisiacal effects. But it seemed that Geto was extra sensitive to it. Cute. 

“Yes, and?” Just for good measure - oh, you were thoroughly enjoying this - you’re trekking your stray fingertips to latch onto the gleaming curve of his throat. Bringing your scented neck even closer-

“Oh.” Geto’s snarky mouth now floods with a silvery plash of scorching hot saliva, fucked out of him after every resounding slam! of your hips down on his. You watch as his weightily lidded eyes glaze over with a film of something murky.

Continuing to wrench needily at his restraints. Desperately. It was like a second nature for Geto to touch you and right now he was ruined. You can’t help but ogle the rounded flex of his biceps-

“Gonna- fuck.” He whimpers - whimpers - out, nose crinkling. It made you much too drenched when he leans in mindlessly to rub the buttony tip of it against yours in a lazy kiss. Maw slacking every time you pumped his achily swollen cock across your most tender spots, the orifice of your hole massaging his reactive shaft so greedily. “M’close…”

Whispering, right now, as if it was the most dear confession. 

Because Geto Suguru never came before he’d made you reach your orgasm at least five times over.

But right now he was teetering right over the very high edge of it, so close. His thick, sculpted thighs push up from behind your motioning body to urge your bounces vulgarly faster, skin-to-skin. 

“C-close.” And it sounded almost pained if you didn’t feel the way it was accompanied by a hastily slipped spasm of Geto’s ballooned-up crownhead against your cervix. Too close. His beautiful head lolls backwards against the tear-streaked pillows, “M’gonna- m’gonna-”

Before snapping up furiously again when your merciless pace stops.

And all you can get out is a not-so-innocent, “Whoops.”

All you can get out - because it takes Geto exactly two split-seconds to snap! those useless pink handcuffs off of him and flip the two of you over to tower over you in all his glory. Speckles of frustrated sweat slithering between his bulging pecs and down onto your heaving body.

He’d let you have your fun, already.

Geto moves slow. Calculated. 

Leisurely meandering his face all over your thrumming throat, your tits, everywhere and anywhere that godforsaken pheromone perfume was calling to him. Taking in looong languid breaths of it - and each time he did, he’s fucking up into you like he didn’t even realize. 

Pounding you into the drenched silken sheets with all girthy inches of his circumference, branding it into your slippery womb like he didn’t want you to forget. 

You’re hit with the sudden remembrance that there was a reason you had to tie Geto up. 

And that is when you catch his gaze - wide, unfocused. Feral. 

Oh, you were fucked. 

So very fucked. 

“So.” Geto shatters your anticipatory realization with a throaty few syllables, hoarse like he wasn’t even ready for himself to speak at that point. Without a single warning, he spits - right in your mouth once. Then twice onto two slender fingers, before giving your cunt a stinging spank. “Ya gonna beg for mercy now or later, gorgeous?”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - H.O.T.T.O.G.O.

God, if this was any other time then maybe Choso would’ve felt embarrassed about the way he was letting his clammy palms cling onto your waist like he never wanted you to let go. 

Because he didn’t. Would never. 

Huffing and puffing out clouded puffs of air into the sticky valley of your chest, he’s just so drunk on you. Can feel himself veering lazily into the pillow, drenching it with gumdrops of thick saliva. It takes everything in him to lift his head and puff in smoky breaths of your pheromones.  

And it makes him burn. So hot rutting up into you, skin-on-skin. 

Probing veins scouring your every nook and cranny, ruthless shaft the complete opposite of just how delicately he was boring down at you. Choso was nudging his ballooned-up cock past your puffy hole like he was making you melt around him.

Making you break - just as much as he was right now. 

And the only thing hotter is the way the slithering muscle of Choso’s pierced tongue lolls outwards to skim the buttery splotches of cum scattered across your tits from before. Shiny Prince Albert’s cooling you hardened nipples.

Eyes reeling to the very hidden backs of his hooded lids, he’s moaning at the salted caramel taste of himself. “S-so hot. So soft inside, m’ l-losing my mind.”

You’re just soaked skin-deep with him. 

And you’re blaming it all on that strange perfume - a pheromone perfume - that that assistant had dabbed on you at the store. You’d forgotten just how…sensitive curses can be to smells. 

How feral.

Finding your heart racing at the way he was narrating off every single thing, every single twitch inside you that slid across your gluey magical spots. “S’that so, Cho?”

Usually, Choso would nod away deliriously to your every word. Usually, he would prattle on sweet, sweet simperings of his very own.

But right now, you watch in slight awe as the pale skin of his pretty cheekbones scorch over with a brightly blossoming blush. The heat of it so feverishly hot that you can almost feel it, and Choso bucks his hips wildly into you with a low keen at the back of his throat.

“D-don’t call me that.” He’s straining out through a shiver. Lower lip fussed until it was a pouted cherry pink. You swear the moment Choso leans closer you see his long mahogany lashes glisten with tears. His big, beefy arms finding their way around your body, “S’gonna…gonna make me cum. Gonna- fuck!”

As if to prove his point, the perked hill of his fattened cockhead splits with glossy white swabs of pre. Buttering up your deepest insides and promising more. 

You’re tugging him in ever-closer, the look in your glassy eyes so loving that he feels his length pump greedy ounces more and swell. Growing girthier - pushing your glutinous walls further n’ further apart just from the way you’re staring at him. 

How he loved you.

You hum, “But I want you to, Cho. No need to be shy.”

Something in him breaks. And just the thought of it is enough to make the special grade in front of you drool.

Slick rivers of spittle streaming from between his jaw, unhinging when he inches in to gift your surprised tongue with a weighty splat! of webbed spit. He breathes out past the breathless bubble, “No no no no- D-don’t say things like that, baby– I’m not…myself, right now.”

Tasting him. All of him.

The sugary sweet coating lathers your tastebuds and makes you whine, your legs stumbling around Choso’s toned hips. You can feel every tense of his toned core, count all eight of his washboard abs, “S-s’this the ngh! pheromone perfume, baby–? Maybe I should wear it more hck! often-”

“No.”

No?

And Choso can bash himself for interrupting his lovely lady later - but right now, he was frenzied. 

Gulping voluminous lungfuls of that scent - of you. 

Deftly practiced fingers entrap your plummy clit and roll over not circles, not hearts- no, the letters of his name over n’ over. Branding the perked hood of your nub until you could feel your eyes burst with stars, Choso was ravenous. 

“S’because- because it’s you.” He gasps out thickly, smooth baritone unsteady under the weight of all those tears painting smudged eyeliner down his pretty cheeks. “Your scent, n-not that ngh- perfume.” You’re flinching at the looong drag of his scratchy tastebuds dragging over your scented throat. Or, well, previously scented throat. He was addicted to you. “You have me- have me in heat, lil’ human, n’ it’s making me…”

Wild.

If Choso was any lesser man then he would’ve dragged you halfway down the bedcoils and thrown your legs haphazardly over his shoulders. Folding you in half to pound you into the mattress until you were dumb.

But, luckily for your dripping cunt, Choso was that lesser man right now. 

He doesn’t think he feels alive - can’t even register his wheezing breaths once he’s manhandling you into the densest possible mating press. 

Strong biceps rippling, chest heaving-

His fuzzy brain only sparks with recognition when Choso’s heavy breeder balls clench once, twice, thrice at the way your drooling pussy was laminating his rounded curve with a slimy coating of slick. That’s when he can feel himself actually startle, actually see.

And fuck, was it a sight enough to make him cum if he wasn’t so entranced with that prettily awestruck look on your face. 

“Can’t even feel m-my legs, baby-” He’s spitting through clenched teeth, stray strands of coffee brown plastering all across his sweat-slicked forehead. And something in Choso’s voice was…dark. Dangerous. You were in trouble. “-can’t th-think of anything but ngh- breeding this pretty pussy right now.”

Oh.

Oh.

That’s what he meant by a heat.

“Mhm– my clever girl.” Shit- did you say that out loud? Rewarding your cutely spellbound mind with a hefty thud! thud! thud! right onto what feels like your lungs. He had all the time in the world to fuck you stupid, after all. “My mate.”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - Sweetener

“H-heh- say that again, silly human.”

“A pheromone perfume.” You’re squirming impatiently, words sticking to the back of your throat in saccharine gasps. And even the tiniest of gyrations leave Sukuna’s ruby-topped heads kissin’ sultry circles around your weeping hole. 

Leave you wanting more.

Snickering, “A fucking- pheromone- what?” 

The monstrous king of curses displays you with a rugged sneer that makes your folds even more impossibly watery. Just for those stupid words stumbling from your mouth, you’re gifted with one - two - three solid spanks, elongated black nails curling into the stinging mounds of your ass. 

It’s all you can do to grapple on helplessly to the mountain of his toned shoulders, fingers clawing red train tracks that look more like kitten scratches on him. “K-Kuna–!”

“Don’t K-Kuna me, brat.” Raw need coats the scorching innards of your mouth when he only rolls his crimson eyes, burning hot. And out of all four of Sukuna’s beefy arms, it only takes one to latch onto the curve of your hips and hover you unstably over his doubly swollen cocks. Tutting, “What? You think some h-human perfume will control Ryomen Sukuna. I must’ve fucked ya dumb already.”

So mean.

But Sukuna always did have a soft spot for you.

And all is a single criss-cross of your wobbly arms, kiss-bitten lips puckering up into the beginnings of his only weakness – your pout. 

“Fine. Fine, spoiled girl.” It works.

Yet, you’re shivering at the thwack! thwack! thwack! of his doughy-tipped fingers swatting your plump clit. Pecs puffing out with pride and smugness when your eyes glaze over at them and you stare.

It happens all at once. In an instant. 

As soon as both of Sukuna’s round, throbbing cockheads crown the edges of your drooling pussy - he leans sultry inches closer and finally, finally smells it. That. 

That scented perfume you’d found in your king’s centuries-old treasury, untouched and just ripe for your picking. For Sukuna to get hit with a thorough blast of it off of your heated skin, simply taking one whiff to addle his honed senses.

Undoing years upon years of painstaking training to make your great king of curses halt, jagged canines baring you with a predatory snarl. “Th-think this can affect oh-”

Who was he against you? 

Your entire body vibrates when Sukuna’s chest rumbles with something carnal. Bursting from the very depths of his chest and making you shiver.

The thunderous noise has barely even stopped ringing in your ears before he’s latching on two massive hands to your waist and pulling you in. No care, no hesitation - nothing but drooling with the anticipation of being buried inside your slick-flooding pussy.

He needed it.

And he can feel his head fall headily backwards at the shuddering thud! of Sukuna’s two proud tips skimming the ends of your spongy cervix. Hooked fangs snatching onto the jut of his bottom lip at the bouncy recoil- 

Fuck, he didn’t want to separate from your gummy walls for even a split-second. Even if it was to let your hips bounce in lecherous swivels up n’ down up n’ down up n’ down.

“Sh-shit, you’re in so ngh- deep.” 

It’s a slow tempo, but you never got used to the stretch that was Sukuna’s staggering sizes. 

Both aching cocks were so unfairly long and hard that he didn’t even have to try to smear his puffy veins over your awaiting g-spot. You swear both lengths reached well over a foot, and just having him bottom out had you scrambling to caress the inflated tummy bulge he was fucking into you. 

Your jaw hangs open, a syrupy waterfall of saliva dribbling all over your chin. You’re not sure if Sukuna even registers the way he’s tenderly swiping away the overspilling excess with a fat thumb. 

“Kuna?” You have to stop yourself from almost flinching away, feeling oh-so-shy at the burning heart-eyes in his gaze. The way a fourth arm was patting the sinful cylindrical outline leading up from your puffy pussy. Reaching an arm to stroke his sweat-matted pink locks, “A-are you okay?”

The moment your fingers skim any part - any minute millimeter - of Sukuna’s body, he’s whimpering. Whimpering. 

And if that was the worst of it, then maybe he could have gathered up some semblance of his shattered dignity. 

But Sukuna isn’t simply making pretty noises - he’s cumming. 

One touch. And a thousand torrents of cum sugarcoating your claggy walls. 

So much of it. Too much of it - it sweeps through your gluey walls and forms a little puddle ‘round his bulky bases. Creamily filthy mixtures of seed and slick ringing Sukuna’s base, they hit your perked clit with a wet pap! each time you’re milking him through his peaks. 

“D-did you just-”

“Shut up.” He bites back, leaving you no time for the realization to sink in - before curling a vice-like hand around your throat and making you slam down your hips. “Shut up.”

Sudden, striking hits that bruise the curve of your ass just as much as it bruised your battered insides. You were so hot. So soft that it made him dizzy. Melty depths being contracted around thick lengths, the pace at which your greedy pussy was swallowing him up almost made the king want to whine-

“O-oh my god.”

It did make him whine.

With a creaking squeak! of cushion, Sukuna’s sculpted hips lurch off of the decadent royal mattress in repeated ruts. Animalistic.

“Shut up- I s-said ngh- s’not my fault.” He spits out, angry dewdrops of steamy pre being streaked out in twin ribbons into the back of your cunt. “Not my fault you just feel so- so ohhh- f-fuck you, brat. I-if the rest of ‘em found out…”

But Sukuna already knew he was weak for you. He knew.

Just not to this extent. 

Not till just a simple cloud of your scent made his vision swim, a fresh wave of drool slipping n’ sliding from between the traitorous slit of his mouth. Both of them.

“M-mhm–” You find yourself smiling - maybe from his reaction, maybe from the way you were being fucked so thoroughly right. The knobbled tops of your knees skid easily across Sukuna’s drenched lap when you straddle him even even tighter, “S’that why-”

He wanted you to shut up. He needed you to shut up or else he was going to fucking cum again. 

Which is why his second cursed mouth opens wiiiide to puff your cunt with steamily clouded pants. Before rolling out his tongue and dragging up the entirety of your bulging pussy. All overfilled with him.

“A-another word–” Sukuna’s seething through clenched teeth, but it’s no use. None. Not when the way you lean in to listen closer is enough to make the king blush, “-a-and I make you walk a- ngh! around the entire day with my cum all safe n’ sound inside..”

♡ INO TAKUMA - “U-use me?”

“Wh-what?”

And for the first time in hours, Ino manages to meet his hazy chestnut eyes with yours. Shivering. Half-lidded. “Use me.”

Fuck.

You thought your beloved boyfriend would regain his senses by the second round- no, perhaps the third time’s the charm.

Okay, maybe the fourth? The fifth?

But even after six looong rounds, your splintered bedframe was still trilling with shrill creaks; sagging uselessly on one end as strong, tannish arms stick ever-closer to your body like glue. Folding you into the meanest n’ tightest full nelson possible. 

Still scorching. Still needy after getting hit with just a waft of that pheromone your friends bought you as a joke. A joke. 

But this was anything but.

Ino can’t even bring himself to wipe away the wads upon wads of slippery drool leaking from his maw after every mushy thud of his globular cockhead against the very back of your goopy cervix. He can’t even think.

“Puh-please.” He’s hiccuping, soft tipped fingers clawing near the sweaty crown of your head to push you further down. Lapping a lazy stripe up your scented neck, “Just one more– ngh! Need you t-to use me to make yerself cum once more, sweetness.”

“M-more?”

And oh, your voice was warbling with such cute disbelief that it makes Ino groan. “Yes. Yes.”

Planting a few more vicious plunges of his strawberry pink tip into the target of your favorite sweet spots - Ino’s favorites, too. Especially once your puffy pussylips part with numerous geysers of slick, flooding translucent rings at his base. 

All without even looking up from your neck.

He can’t.

Ino’s entire body wracks with tremors when he even tries to pull away a mere inch. Two. All that he can manage before nuzzling back in with heavy repeated pants.

You’re only getting wetter - and that maddening little perfume one you? Only stronger. 

He swears - fuck, maybe he’s going crazy - that he can smell just how close you are, how your tummy’s tightening into wiry knots. 

“But- but are you sure, baby–?” Your fingers scratch at the tawny ends of his damp locks, a primal itch so heavenly that he almost purrs. “M’wondering if you even can-”

“I can-” He’s cutting you off, free fingers straying down to the slightly-softening base of Ino’s furious cock and squeezing. Rutting up into you with wild abandon, “I can. I can- promise, sweetness, I promise.”

“Taku–”

And throughout Ino’s hazy mind, your words ring out like a death sentence. Like a punishment. Causing him to snap open his eyes with a sharp intaking gasp, round-topped curves of his knees manhandling your thighs further n’ further open.

You whine at the burning smear, head throwing backwards in a way that makes his slow rovering over your neck break away-

And if Ino was upset before, then he’s simply devastated now.

Sounding like he’s on the verge of sobbing, “No. No no no no no- don’t run, pretty.” Like catnip. Like a moth drawn to your frame, he’s wrapping his jittery forearms around you until you could count every twitch of his sculptured forearms. Crushing you in close. “Look at yourself- smell yourself. Fuck, I need it. M’not asking, m’b-begging you to use me like a…toy.”

He almost wishes he could bring himself to lurch away from that haven of pheromones dabbed across your skin. 

Almost wishes he could do anything else but swivel a fat thumb across your weepy folds, bringing it allll the way up to his eager nose to steal a long sniff. 

Filthy. 

But it’s exactly what makes Ino’s swollen cock perk up with an animalistic flinch inside of you, probing into the target of your g-spot dead on. 

“Shit- shit— y-you just got so much bigger.” Your vision flashes blissful white when his length stiffens into even longer n’ sold inches, swabbing at your precious cunt with pressurized pounds. And whatever ounces of blood left in his melty mind? Oh, they’re sprinting all the way down Ino’s boiling veins to end up bloating his throbbing cock. 

Getting hard just by the smell of you.

“O-oh.” You’re being bounced on top of his toned pecs when they dip with a sudden hitched breath. “Yes. Yes yes yes, jus’ like that. Love everythin’ about this ngh- pussy, she’s started smelling sweeter e-even here, too. Fuck, you’re a goddess, pretty.”

Sounding as if he was in such heavenly agony - husky voice cracking a few octaves higher. His hold so vice-like on you that you can already feel yourself bruising. 

Sloppier. Needier.

Shit- Ino needed to see that dumbstruck look surely being fucked onto your face. He’s finding himself moving - body before mind - to face that reflective, floor-length mirror propped up at the end of your bed. 

He always knew that thing would come in handy.

You’re croaking out a moan at the wet texture of Ino’s mouth watering, sprinkling your heated skin with spatters of spit.

But who could blame him?

It was such a sultry sight - to watch your bloated lips be pried apart by his reddened circumference, spraying out saturated glazes of your sweet, sweet juices each and every time. 

“See? See?” Ino’s murked puffs tinge with something higher-pitched and wild. Pearly white edges of his teeth sink into your delicate lobe, and make your skin break out in goosebumps. “How fucked you have me. Think m’gonna hngh- die if I don’t fuh-fuck this pretty pussy. If I don’t make you cum-”

Shit, he doesn’t even want to imagine the thought.

Your kiss-bitten mouth slackens into a loose oh! “Wanna- I wanna cum, Taku—” Twisting your head ‘round to face him with a slight pout that makes his entire body jolt.

“Y-yeah?” So, so pretty with a dopey smile being spread all across his face, you’re leaning in to kiss the cratering dimple at the edge of his plump lips. “C’mon. Fuck back into me- ngh- use me ta make yerself cum.”

You’re heading his every word, thighs aching at the fatigued pain of bouncing your hips in a resounding pap! pap! pap! Grinding your treacly slit all the way back into his fattened balls, “L-like this?”

“Atta girl. Harder, now.” His brows furrow. “Harder.”

More more more.

Words petering out halfway into a snarl at this point, you glimpse at the glint of Ino’s sharp canines peeking through the mirror. “Fuck me. Fuck me, pretty.”

“Taku.”

And you’re not sure who wanted you to cum more - you, or your feverish boyfriend. 

But your spellbound self had some semblance of an answer when the sound of his name on your honeyed tongue makes Ino flinch as if hit with a zillion volts of electricity.makes him dart down a hand to grace your neglected clit with an oh-so-rude pinch.

Ino’s fuzzy brain wasn’t even working enough to remember those patterns you loved so much. To remember just how to make his body move.

All he knew was that he needed this.

Needed the way you’re arching your spine into the perfect curvature against his glissading front, head thrown back with a mewl of Taku—! once you finally tip over the edge.

He finds his mouth falling gape, “Y-you’re so fucking hot.” Eyes locked on the trembly image of you in the mirror, he fucks you through every white-hot peak of your high. Babbling away,”Did your dear Taku m-make you cum, sweetness? Does it feel good? 

Oh, the audacity of him to tip a few thick digits underneath your chin and force you to nod. 

Giggling, “Thought so-” And then it happens. Then, he leans in for a sweet, sweet kiss as he usually does - only to be wafted with a murky cloud of pheromone perfume. Again. You watch as Ino blushes a soft pink, “Hey, p-pretty…so…”

♡ GOJO SATORU - Everyday is everyday.

Everyday means everyday - and it still wouldn’t be enough. Not even after so many countless rounds and rounds.

Never, for a Gojo Satoru that has to grit his pearly white teeth viciously to stop himself from using just an ounce too much of his strength on your pliable body and breaking you. 

Snarling canines peeking out just when he nestles your legs over two broad shoulders and bends down, down, down in half. 

“Hngh- please—” Your chin hits the heaving edges of your chest at the burn of the sheer stretch. Gojo’s muscular thighs sticking against your own and pressing into the inflated little pouch he’d made at your tummy. Filled to the brim with his sappy cum-

“Th-that’s all your fault, y’know–” He’s hissing, handsome jaw clenching desperately to stop those tremoring keens from invading his words. He fails. And Gojo can already tell by the smug smile curling your lips, “-all b-because of you and that fuck! damn perfume.”

Nevermind that he was the one that bought it for you in the first place - some niche, overpriced brand dropped straight into your lap. 

Nevermind the fact that he had come up with the idea. 

Oh, you should’ve known that this is what wearing pheromone perfume around the strongest would get you.

Because Gojo Satoru was breaking - shattering. 

Every pressurized thrust of his leaking out a new wave of overstimulated pre frosting up your slicked entrance. Accompanied hand-in-lecherous-hand with shockwaves of cursed energy that make your unbolted furniture drag magnetized centimeters all the way towards the creaking bed. 

“Sh-shit your p-powers—” you’re whining, eyes widening at the hazy sight of blue lightning flickering across Gojo’s sweat-lathered body. 

“My p-p-powers, huh, sweetheart?” He’s leaning in to whisper, eyes wide. Wild. Breath hitching so many octaves higher that it sends your spine arching with a goosebumped chill. All into his awaiting touch, “And whose- fault- is that—?”

You’re not sure if you’re a genius - or just plain idiotic. Because even feeling the withheld power being those very same soft palms holding your boneless thighs up, you find it in yourself to snark. “Yours.”

And Gojo almost stops. 

If that didn’t torture him just as much as that would torture you, that is. Instead, he’s slowing down to sleazy drags n’ grinds pressing gluey peck after peck on your cervix. 

Such sweet, sweet leisure - yet, his words were tense. He breathes out a shallow cloud of air, “Whose?” 

Gojo’s tone was dangerous. And his battering rams even more so.

“Y-y- ngh!” Saved by a particularly hard slam of all his copious inches digging into your glutinous g-spot, it leaves a bulky circular branding that stings deliciously with every targeted buck.

You can feel yourself slowly being fucked into stupidity with every swash of thickly viscous cum swirling around your insides. And you already know by the buzzing pressure around his cerulean eyes that he was taking unfair advantage of his Six Eyes to make sure his veiny cock reaches each and every single spot inside your pretty pussy.

Locking your dangling ankles with one hand behind his head - the noticeable flex of Gojo’s pale biceps makes you moan. 

Trapped. 

Oh- how pretty you were like this, he muses, eyeing the wobbly quiver of your needy lips. Both of them. And you were so loud, too - your saturated cunt so desperate to chat up at him with ringing squelches that carry over your adorable noises. 

Maybe he should let you hit him with a waft of that special pheromone perfume more often.

His round nostrils flare, hyper-sensitive senses greedily gulping out each ounce and waft you’re letting off. Every repeated pap! of Gojo’s hipbones follows one of his choked-out syllables, “I said- Whose?”

Someone sobs - and only a few sloppy seconds do you realize that it’s you. Words coming out helplessly garbled, “M-mine.”

At that very moment, a dimly-lit lamp across your heady bedroom shatters. 

Sharp shards of glasses bounce off the two of your fervently glissading bodies, limitless. 

But if that was taxing for the strongest - then he doesn’t show it. Not even a sign. Gojo only angles his hip a few degrees to the right to bounce into your spongy cervix even harsher. In rough, jagged strokes as if it was nothing.

In fact, by the filmy glaze overtaking his hooded eyes, you think that it might just be nothing. You think that he might not even have realized what was happening. 

Pressing a drunken trailway of kisses down the helpless curve of your calf, he grins. Toothy. Animalistic. “Atta girl.”

Pulpy soft tips of Gojo’s fingers slide sneakily down to your messy pussy, drivelling up slow slides up and down your teary entrance. Just until you were getting comfortable - just until you were letting your guard down. Silly girl. 

Before slipping past your tight ring of resistance and prying you open doubly. And oh, you should’ve expected that when Gojo gets the job done - he’s going above and beyond to make sure you remember it. 

That you’re his.

Pummeling right into the throbbing bullseye of your g-spot, the edges of his long digits hit that spot so hard that you find yourself bawling. Eyes snapping open- before promptly closing as you cum.

Your high is a shock - a white-hot mess of such euphoria. 

Tipping right over the edge - and it might’ve been a surprise to you, but Gojo saw it coming a mile away with those special eyes of his. Chuckling to himself at the velvety smooch of your sappy walls milking every inch of him.

“There we go- there we g-go, my girl.” He’s pumping you so thoroughly full that you feel your vision blur, the vibrating buzz of Gojo’s cursed energy being fed into you with each strike. “Cum- cum f’me. H-heh, all because- because of me-”

Your tits bump up into his plush pecs, sensitive nubs of your nipples brushing against his rosy pink ones. You’re reaching out a trembling hand to cup Gojo’s pretty face - one he leans into and kisses. “T-Toru—!”

Just about all you can manage out.

And your orgasm might not have been a surprise to him, but Gojo’s own absolutely was.

It happens in a split second - just after that nickname spills from the honeyed tip of your tongue. 

Gojo’s snowy lashes flutter upwards, sweat-slicked brows raising all the way to the edges of his silky fringe. Bubblegum lips parting into an oh! only falling further and further slack with every creamy ribbon shot upwards into you. 

It floods, it pours. And you can feel your flooded pussylips overspilling before he’s even halfway through his orgasm.

Oozing out glutinous wads of cum with every pump - Gojo had no rhythm now, he had no rhyme. Nothing but the carnal need to push every ounce of his fatly beading seed deeper n’ deeper into your pretty pussy, heated pink crownhead swirling out what feels like hearts at the very door to your womb.

You’re so full you could explode-

A hand rovers over that inflationary bulge - bigger now. “Oh, sweetheart…”

Was that really your loving boyfriend? He sounded so ruined right about now, hoarse. You couldn’t even blink your eyes up to make out the expression on his face because the lights had exploded. Possibly in every ward of Tokyo.

You feel it before you see it.

The familiar, shrill puff! of that pheromone perfume being sprayed on you- what? 

With a sharp gasp, you’re looking back n’ forth between the shiny sheen of liquid spritzed once more over your skin and Gojo’s ever-loving smile.

“Oh, whoops.” Soft snickers punctured with a loooong sniff of the air - of you. And Gojo’s eyes take on a predatory glint that makes your entire body wrack with shivers. “Better hope you’re on ngh- b-birth control, girl.”

“...”

A/N. Fun fact, the entirety of Sri Lanka had a six hour power cut while I was writing this because some monkey jumped onto a power line </33

It was around two in the morning now—not that you were aware, too consumed by the way time flew when you were having fun. Too much fun, really; you almost forgot that tonight’s escape was strictly forbidden. The lights blinded you, and the music had surely blown your eardrums out—but you hadn’t stopped smiling. The bodies pressed around you, the heat building up and leaving a shiny layer of sweat on your skin as you danced in circles. The rhythm of the bass was distracting, almost a blurring vibration from the object buzzing on your side, tucked inside the waistband of your skirt. Took until you walked away from the dance floor to grab a drink of water that you were aware of your phone ringing. 

Once glance at the caller receipt and a chill runs down your back. Caitlyn Kiramman. 

The call rings through and just then do you notice the amount of times she’s called you–they’ve called you. You feel your heart race, gripping your phone tight as you move your way through the crowd to step somewhere quiet. With a quick sigh, you pick up when they call again.

You lean against a wall, breathing in a deep sigh, the weight of your decision finally hitting you.

You hit the green button just as it rings again.

"Hey, Cait," you say, your voice unsteady, even to your own ears.

"Are you aware of the time?" she says, her voice icy—too controlled. Too calm. A cold shiver runs through you.

You glance at your phone again. 2:36 a.m.

"I—" Your words catch in your throat, your heart racing with a mix of guilt and the adrenaline still humming through your veins. The excitement of the night is quickly replaced by the heavy weight of reality.

"Do you realize what you’ve done?" Caitlyn’s voice is the sharp crack of a whip, yet it carries a sense of something darker—a warning wrapped in cool detachment. You can feel the weight of her gaze even over the phone, the silence between her words stretching like a promise of something you’re not sure you can handle.

You swallow hard, your mouth suddenly dry. “I didn’t—"

“I know,” she interrupts, her voice like ice, but there’s something dangerous beneath it. 

The intensity in her words hits you like a punch to the gut, the reality of the situation fully crashing down. You’re no longer in control—Caitlyn is. You had your fun, and now you’re in for it.

"Look outside," Caitlyn commands, her voice steady but with a bite of authority that sends a shiver down your spine. "I have someone waiting outside for you."

Just as she’s said, your eyes glance outside the windows and there lies a car–the driver inside already making eye contact with you. Your stomach twists, the adrenaline from earlier now mixing with a rush of guilt. You knew this would come—knew the price for your defiance was inevitable.

"Now, before I have to come get you myself," she adds, a thread of danger lacing her words. The message is clear: she’s over it–and you’re sure Vi is too.

Taking a deep breath, you head toward the exit, your mind already racing with what’s to come. You don’t want to face either of them, but it’s far too late to turn back now. No worded apology will fix this.

The closer you get to the exit, the heavier your steps feel, as if the weight of your choices is pressing down on you with every movement. The music from inside the club feels like a distant echo now, swallowed by the pounding of your own heartbeat. Your mind flashes back to the night—your defiance, the rush, the adrenaline that now feels like a distant memory compared to the looming consequences you’re about to face.

You reach the door and step outside into the cool night air. The car is parked just a few feet away, the engine idling as the driver remains silent, staring straight ahead. The man sitting in the driver’s seat doesn’t need to say anything; you can tell from the way he’s watching you that Caitlyn’s already made it clear what he’s here for.

The car door opens for you, but you hesitate for a moment, glancing at the club one last time. You could run. You could try to get lost in the night, to make a break for it and leave everything behind. But deep down, you know better than to think you’d get away that easily.

With a resigned sigh, you step into the car. The door shuts with a soft thud, and the man pulls away from the curb without a word. The city lights blur past, and the car moves through the streets with an almost eerie quiet. The tension is palpable, and you know it’s only a matter of time before you reach them. The silence feels suffocating, the weight of the situation pressing down on you from all sides.

Every minute that passes is another reminder that you’re out of control, and the reality of what you’ve done is starting to sink in. They may not be here right now, but you know they’ve already made sure you’ll pay for this. The man driving doesn’t say a word, but you can feel the gravity of the moment in the way he steers the car, his focus unwavering.

It’s not until the car slows down that you realize where you are—outside your place. He opens the door for you, wishing you a goodnight before he drives off. You take a breath, trying to shake off the buzzing energy from the night, but it’s not quite as easy as you thought. You may have snuck away tonight—may have done what they told you not to do just to get a rise out of them—but now, stepping into the house, you can feel the weight of that decision hanging over you.

The living room comes into view, and there they are. Caitlyn’s lounging on the couch, perfectly poised, effortlessly elegant, head resting on her hand. Next to her is Vi—arms crossed, leaning casually against the wall, eyes glinting with something darker. Caitlyn looks up as you step in, her eyes immediately locking with yours and raises an eyebrow–Vi following. This was the moment you’ve been waiting for, this is what motivated you to have done the things you’ve done.

Caitlyn doesn’t move, doesn’t say anything at first, but her eyes never leave yours. The silence stretches, and for a moment, it feels like she’s waiting for you to speak first. To admit what you’ve done. But Caitlyn never rushes. She waits for you to come to her.

Vi, on the other hand, doesn’t have the patience for silence. Her arms uncross, and she steps forward, her eyes narrowing. “You think you’re clever, huh?” Her voice is low but sharp, full of frustration. She’s angry—so angry—but there’s something else in her eyes too. Something that only makes her more dangerous. "Sneaking out. Breaking the rules. You really thought you could get away with that?"

You meet her gaze, a smirk tugging at your lips. "Maybe I wanted to see if you’d catch me."

Vi’s jaw clenches, and for a moment, it looks like she’s about to step forward and do something—anything—but Caitlyn’s eyes flick to her, and Vi freezes. Caitlyn doesn’t have to speak. She doesn’t need to raise her voice to get people to listen. Her eyes look back to you, “get yourself to our room.”

It’s all she says, and now she waits for you to scurry away like the little mouse you were. And you do, one foot after another you make your way down the hallway. You know what to do once you’ve walked in, but instead of doing it–you make one last taunt by keeping the skimpy skirt and off the shoulder shirt outfit on. You hear them talking outside, hushed whispers–one sounding like a melody, the other sounding frustrated–heated. Ten minutes later and they’re entering the room, your body shuddering under their roaming eyes.

“Firstly, you remember your safeword–yeah? Repeat it to me.”

You pick at your nail, “red.”

“Secondly. Repeat all the ways you’ve disobeyed so you’re aware of why this is happening.”

Vi walks off for a moment, walking into the walk-in closet while Caitlyn stands there waiting–eyes steady on you.

“I snuck out, I wore a skimpy outfit, I went with friends you don't like, and I went to the bar you told me not to go to.”

Caitlyn hums, “how we’ve decided to punish you is as follows. One, you won’t be coming tonight. Two, you will receive ten slaps to your cunt. Three, we will be using you until we feel you’ve learned your lesson. Understood?”

You nod and Caitlyn’s quick to grab your jaw tight–pulling you to face her directly–a gasp leaving you. 

“Answer me” she says cooly.

“Yes,” you say, hands coming up to hold onto her wrist, “yes, I understand.”

Vi walks out then, strap settled on her waist. She maneuvers you onto your back, pushing your legs to either side of you–your short skirt riding up and revealing you bare to her. A huff escapes her at the sight, “such a fucking whore.”

She brings her hand down on your thigh, grinning at the gasp you let out. Her length slides between your thighs, rubbing just right on your clit. 

“I bet your cunts still molded to this dick,” she whispers, watching as you clench around nothing each time she slides her length past your hole and up to your clit. You grip the bed sheets, rolling your hips. Her hands come to grip your waist, holding you still. 

“Nuh uh, none of that.”

She moves her length away, her hand replacing where it once was–fingers circling your clit. Whines spill from your throat, pleasure building before she snaps her hand right down onto your cunt. All that pleasure slips away, the feeling now burning. Your eyes snap open, looking up at Vi. 

She’s rubbing your clit again, “count. What number was that?”

“One…”

She cracks her hand down again. “Two...” And again. “Three–!” And again. “F-four–!” Repeatedly until she's reached ten and your cunt’s swollen and red. She spreads your folds, “fuck–look at you. Turned on by that?”

You’re panting on the bed, chest rising and falling–happy you got that out of the way. Behind your head you hear the bedsheets rustle before Caitlyn’s straddled right over your head, glistening cunt right over your face. No words spoken as she grabs your hair and jerks your head forward onto her. You understand, licking a stripe up her–hearing her moan above you. It’s then that Vi pushes in, her length spreading you out wide. You momentarily stop eating Caitlyn out to cry out as she slowly drives each inch in. Caitlyn’s disapproving of you stopping, so in response she lowers her hips to push herself against your nose and lips again.

Vi takes notice and slaps your ass, “don’t get lazy. Eat her out.”

Your tongue works on her again, your moaning vibrating against her clit just right. Vi’s now nestled in you, grinding her hips up–tip of her pushing against that spongy part, the one that lets you see stars. With Vi fucking into you, and Caitlyn rubbing her wet cunt all over your tongue–you’re in heaven, mind floating away. You may have enjoyed the club for the time being, but this is where you feel you belong. 

Vi sets a pace, one that could be described as rough–bruising. It repeatedly hits that spot, one time you swear you saw white flash in your vision. You try your best to be consistent with Caitlyn, but at this point you just have your tongue spread–letting her work you how she wishes. She reaches her edge first, body suffocating you for a moment as she comes–thighs shaking on either side of your head. When she sits up, you gasp for air–sputtering on your moans as Vi continues to use you like a rag doll. She looks down at you, sweat trailing down her abs. She’s fucking you so good you’ve forgotton it’s a punishment and you weren’t allowed to come. 

She watches as your face begins to contort, and hears the way your breaths get higher pitched. Caitlyn does too and she angles herself–hand gripping your face to turn towards her. 

“Need to come don’t you, mm? Want to so badly? What is Vi fucking you so good?”

You nod at everything she’s saying and she connects her palm to your face–not too harshly but enough that it stings. She’s quick to grab your face again, forcing you to look deep into her eyes.

“Answer my questions, tell us. Or are you too much of a cock slut to think right now?”

You shake your head, “no! No, it–ah shit! It feels so good... thank you..”

Vi only hums in response. Caitlyn lets go of your face, rolling her eyes, “she’s too fucked out to give a good enough answer.”

She rests her hand on Vi’s hip, pressing a soft kiss to Vi’s cheek, “you can stop now, she’s had enough.”

Vi looks to Caitlyn, almost a little confused, “but I’ve just started–”

“I have other plans.”

Vi responds, pulling her length out despite your small protest. Now at this point your mind’s fuzzy, subspace having taken over–too consumed and focused on pleasure. All of what was bratty earlier is gone. And they know that. Caitlyn’s expression is amused as she speaks to Vi again, “have her suck you off. Do so until she’s teary eyed, letting you use her however, mm?”

Vi nods, leaning down to grip your hair, repeating to you, “hear that?”

You nod, “yes... yes, I heard her.”

“Then get on your knees.”

The blanket falls with you as you slide your body onto the ground, far-away eyes looking up into Vi’s. She slaps her length on the side of your cheek, chuckling at how your bottom lip lowers just slightly. 

“You get dicked down for four minutes and you’re already a mess,” she comments, teasing her tip between your lips.

Your eyes shut when she slides it all the way through, tip hitting the back of your throat. Already tears spring to your eyes, hands gripping at Vi’s thighs. Vi holds onto your hair tightly, moving your head up and down on her length–face fucking you. It’s absolutely hot. 

Caitlyn watches it from where she’s settled herself on one of the single-person couches in her room, watching the endeavor with a gleam in her eyes. The sounds of you swallowing her length, choking on it occasionally are the only sounds in the room–and it’s what the two of them want. For you to hear how embarrassingly whorish you are. 

Vi pulls you off her length with a harsh tug on your hair, and you look all the more wrecked. Your eyes are blotchy, lips red, tears trailing down your face, chest heaving air. Vi looks back to Caitlyn, “what do you think?”

Caitlyn hums, “no. not yet.” 

After a quick little kiss session, Vi leaning down to meet your lips for a bit–her length is being pushed right back between your lips, hips continuing their pace all the while Caitlyn’s lip quirks from where she sits.

"anything for you, princess," he coos softly, leaning down and pressing a little kiss on your clit. it's so light you barely feel it but then he's peppering kisses on it, your wetness starting to get on his lips and making each press of his lips sticker and wetter. "s-sugu-!" before you can even beg for more, his mouth is on you. his tongue is so wet and hot on your cunt, it feels like he was drooling for you.

"does she taste good? how wet is she, suguru, c'mon, tell me, tell me how that pussy tastes, pretty please?"

"mm, satoru, it's almost as if you wanted to be between her legs."

"who wouldn't? she's so pretty, she's squirmin' so cutely, my pretty baby, my needy little mochi, her pussy's always so creamy and warm and messy, god, i miss it right now."

"shit...stop talking like that, you're gettin' me flustered, should i-"

"s-sugu, please, keep going," you so politely ask. it's unbearable how cute you are, it's taking everything in him to keep being nice, to keep treating your cunt nicely. he knows satoru is mean and practically bullies your pretty slit almost every day, but he wants to be the nice one, the one who you go to when your 'toru' is being too mean. yet, you're making it so fucking hard when you look at him with lidded eyes that beg him to be rougher with you...

but he knows he's done for when satoru whispers something in your ear that has your eyes fluttering a bit and gets a pretty little gasp from you. those gorgeous eyes—oh, do you have little tears in them too?—connect with his and he's fucked.

"s-suguuu, please," you coo to him, moving your legs to hook over his shoulders and pull him closer to the apex of your thighs. "i need your mouth on my pussy r-really bad, please don't tease me." you take a pause and squeeze your eyes shut, whining a little as satoru coos for you to keep going. "g-give my...my messy cunt attention, suguru..."

suguru shakily sighs and the next thing you know, his mouth is smushed against your pussy, his tongue hungrily swirling against your clit as his hands grab onto the fat of your thighs. he doesn't know what gojo told you in order to hear you say that, but he's silently thanking him as he messily sucks and slurps at your juicy cunt.

it's so hot, all it takes is a few swipes of his tongue and you're gushing everywhere. suguru lowers his head to dip into your hole and he moans. he missed this, missed the sweet taste of your juices on his tongue as you squirmed and moaned for him, your boyfriend's best friend.

"fuck, i-i can hear how wet she is," comes satoru's pitiful whine, his hand dipping down to swipe at your clit as suguru focused on lapping up everything that dripped out of you. "lemme help, lemme help, wanna help you get her creamy, sugu." the feeling of suguru groaning into your puffy folds has you keening, arching your back against satoru's chest. oh, he's in heaven watching you both. "yeah, you didn't know she could cream, didya? put your fingers in her, sugu, put 'em in that sticky little pussy 'n' angle up."

reluctantly pulling his mouth off you with a wet sound, suguru slips two of his fingers in you. he doesn't miss the cry of his name, but he really doesn't miss the delirious giggle and moan when he angles his fingers up, rubbing against that spongy spot.

"f-fuck, she's dripping..."

"go on, fuck her with your fingers, you know you wanna see her make a mess. make her fucking cream, suguru, get her prepped. maybe t'day she'll let you put it in...oh, based on your face, she just clenched on your fingers, yeah?"

his fingers are still swirling around your clit, his other coming down to press on your abdomen. he can hear you getting wetter, your little whimpers turning to moans as you slur their names desperately. he wants you to lose all thoughts, only able to think about him and suguru...yeah, he wants you all soft and sweet so he and his best friend can try and slip into those warm, slick walls.

"mmn...she's really creaming...god, pretty girl, can you cum for me? i wanna see you cum on my fingers. satoru, move your fingers, the poor thing needs my mouth on her."

"hmmm, suddenly you know what she needs? ehehehe, you're learninggg, suguruuuu!" if you had turned to look at satoru, you'd see the charged look in his eye, blue eyes practically glowing with insanity. his hand grabs a fistful of suguru's hair and pulls his face directly into your cunt, unable to handle any more of this. he wanted to see you cum on suguru's face.