#gojo ghostface

At first, you wonder if you can reject him. You’ve been trying to peek under the loin cloth of the guy next to you and you’ve got an understanding of what he’s got under there. It feels kind of like spinning for a good prize and landing on a mystery box or something. Eyes are on you as you lift your hand to let the masked man pull you up from the floor and guide you into the closet. Once you’re inside, you find that you’re able to lock it from the inside. It’s dark and a bit cramped, big enough for two horny people to rut against each other in here though. It’s dark but the bright lights that stream from underneath the door are enough for you to see him in front of you. He lumbers over you, at least six feet tall. His stature is almost familiar, but you let the drink you downed when you arrived impair you a little, putting your mind at a well-deserved ease.   

The mask looking back at you is a little chilling, gives you a little electric shock to run up your spine and excite you. You put a hand on Ghost Face’s arm and bite your lip, ready to mention that your seven minutes is counting down. He interrupts you first. “You still look good.” And his voice comes out muffled behind the plastic, but you recognize it well enough.   

The man lifts a large hand with black fingernails to slide his mask up, exposing his sharp chin before anything else, and unveiling himself to you. After almost minutes of staring at him in disbelief, you shake your head. Of course. “I m-missed you...”Of course. Satoru extends a hand to you just as he did before. Of fucking course, this is happening to you. You push the offending hand away and take a step back from your ex. His bright hair shines even in the dim light of the dusty little room, still as pretty as ever. You couldn’t miss the dust of pink on his pale skin even on the darkest of nights.

You should’ve guessed that it was him. He’s dressed from one of his favorite movies and the scent of his cologne that’s been bleeding into your nostrils is now so familiar that you almost can’t believe you didn’t recognize it immediately. The hand that you brushed away makes a quick return but makes contact with your shoulder this time, a thumb smoothing over your bare skin. His touch isn’t something that you’d ever forget. You look down just in case your expression dares to betray you while you’re trying to stand your ground with your ex-boyfriend.  

Gojo doesn’t miss the way your knees seem to nearly buckle. How could he with the way he’d been staring at your pretty legs since he laid eyes on you when you walked into the party? He sat down with those spin the bottle guys and beckoned you over to play too with a plan in mind. Fear, guilt, lust, and love all pooled in his eyes at once and the closet isn’t nearly dark enough to hide emotions as complex as those. Satoru doesn’t hide them from you. His hands cautiously make their way to land on your hips to pull you closer to him. He looks down at you and listens to the way your breath stutters every time he does something you don’t entirely expect him to. He can feel your heart racing as he pulls you tight against his chest, thumping wildly inside of you. He makes him sigh, knowing that you both can still get each other’s hearts racing like this.   

His lips brush against your neck, now that he isn’t hiding behind a mask anymore and he’s allowed to let his lips and hands do all they want to do. He feels the longing, digging up from the pit he buried it in deep in his heart. It claws its way out and releases itself in the form of holding you with all of its strength, despite the fact that you aren’t struggling against him.   

You know that it’s wrong, that you broke up with Satoru for a reason. It felt like a good reason at the time but now, he’s here in front of you again after all of this time spent avoiding each other. He nips at your earlobes as you two begin to move slightly against each other, just itching for friction. With his hands tangling in your hair and his face leaning in so close to yours that you can feel his long lashes tickling your cheeks, Gojo’s kiss causes all those feelings to claw themselves out of the bottom of your heart and you forget exactly why you ended things with him. He mumbles against your lips in the middle of the kiss. “Sorry, mhmm. I know I’m wrong, but I’ve missed you baby doll.” Your braless cleavage presses against him and causes him to moan in the middle of his words. “Think about you sometimes... sometimes when I’m...” Satoru breathes against your mouth and deepens the kiss as he tries to drink you in.   

His tongue presses yours back, taking your mouth and staking claim on it as he kisses you and grips your hips, kissing you delirious. Satoru pulls you impossibly closer and makes his hardness evident against your softness. He groans into your mouth like a man living his wildest fantasies, kissing his dream girl.   

It takes all of your strength and what remains of your sobriety to press your hands against his strong chest and push him away. When he feels you pushing back, he wills himself to pull away from the dizzying kiss. He looks through the darkness and looks you in the eye, nevertheless, searching for any indicator that you didn’t want that, that you want out of this game. The two of you stand in silence and listen to the sound of your heavy breaths fight against the deafening music of the party. “I know this shouldn’t be happening,” He whispers, voice thick with desire that he can’t seem to hide from you anymore. “Can’t help myself. You need to know how much I’ve missed you. I missed this.” Two fingers motion between your bodies.   

He means to give you a moment to respond, to breathe, but Gojo loses control with you and pulls you in for another gasping kiss. This time, he grips your chin with a strong hand to keep you where he wants you. You feel yourself getting caught up in the moment with Satoru just like you always do. You’re barely able to hear the sound of the mask falling from your hands to the pantry floor. You don’t mean to... You don’t think you mean to... but you kiss him back with just as much desperation and let your fair share of moans exit your mouth to be swallowed up by his. That same hardness breaks through his pants and jabs your thigh promisingly, like a missile seeking heat. You separate your mouths this time but Satoru clings to you like a lifeline. A thin film of saliva connects the two of you at the lips and gives you a good view of how desperate he looks when he’s short on breath and gasping through swollen lips. His blue eyes that used to glow so much seem to darken with lust clouding them. Pale hair sticks to his forehead, further proof that he let himself get worked up easily.  

“Satoru,” He sighs again, even louder, when he hears his name on the silky air of your voice. Irresistible. “This is more than just wrong, you know? Did you totally forget what you did to me?” You have to hold back tears just at the memory of why your relationship ended with Satoru. Looking at him like this is hard, all in spite of his endearing beauty. Pretty ocean eyes grow pleading with every second they stare at you.  

He feels his heart wretch as you drudge up his past mistakes. He can almost see every fragment of pain in your eyes, and he knows that he doesn’t deserve to ever live it down. It’s still hurting you. The pain that he caused is still bobbing at the surface of your mind. “Wish I could take it back; you have no idea how much. I st-till love you.” He takes a step closer to you, his hand lifting to brush a strand of hair away so he can soak in the full picture of your face. “I made a mistake, but I still want you.” All those speeches he rehearsed every night in bed before falling asleep seem to fall away and he compels himself to speak from the heart with you. Seeing you here, out of your dorm for once, smiling and in this sexy costume awakened something in him. Does he awaken anything in you? Anything at all? “I can’t resist you anymore.”   

Satoru sighs and lifts your chin to look him in his eyes again, captivating you with the pieces of the sky he has trapped behind the glossy orbs. He tells you that he understands if you hate him, tells you that he knows he deserves to be hated. He tells you what all of your past boyfriends have, that he’s changed. He tells you what he told you when you broke up with him, that it didn’t mean anything. Gojo whines for you. “I’ve been working on myself, and I’m not the same guy that I was before.” He reaches out, hands searching for your wrists this time to hold your hands and better convey his feelings. “I can’t let you go this time.” You need to know that.  

Before Gojo gets the chance to trap you by your wrists, you listen to the little voice in the back of your mind and pull away from him. You shake your head and pull the strap of your top back over your shoulder so no one can tell that you even let him touch you while locked in the confines of the closet. You don’t think you can find the strength to forgive him so easily. What would that say about you? That you’re weak? That you just accept apologies from every guy that flashes you those puppy eyes? “No, Satoru.” You have to fake the sterness in your voice.   

He doesn’t let his heart drop again when you deny him. He always planned to work for this, to not give up. He’s not letting you go. Satoru’s hands finally find your smaller ones in the dark and he holds you again. “Please, give me one chance. I’ll do anything. Anything.” He stresses his words like a man begging for his life. “Stay with me tonight and let me show you that I’ve changed. Let me show you that I am a better man now.” And you’ve never heard a voice plead so much in your life. “Let’s pretend everything is okay between us again. The way it was before.” His eyes beg you; his voice is softer than you’ve ever heard it, like he’s losing you all over again.   

He knows that he’s taking a chance, but he can’t let you go without trying. He holds his breath as his words hang heavy between the two of you, awaiting your answer. Satoru looks like a puppy to you right now. You think back on the way he dropped to his knees and held you by your legs, allowing you to bury your fingers in his snowy locks. He cried and begged for forgiveness from you but didn’t receive it because you weren’t ready to give it to him yet. Is it time?   

You study the longing expression that your ex wears, the desperation he can’t mask wells up and when it reaches its pitch, he’ll explode and get a mess all over you. He bares all of his feelings proudly and uses them to beg for another chance to possess your heart. This isn’t what you thought you’d be doing tonight. You dressed scantily, came to a campus Halloween party, and got buzzed because you just wanted to have some meaningless fun tonight. You wanted to meet a guy to hook up with that you’d never talk to again. That’s what normal people do. They don’t go back and forth with over-dramatic exes like this. I look down in defeat, feeling the burn under your skin fizzle out. “Satoru,” You whine. You can’t keep denying him. It gets harder every time you have to.   

You reach up and cup his cheeks, studying his face that you already know so well. You can’t puzzle out your feelings for Satoru right now. It’s all you know. Now isn’t the time for feelings. The two of you have been drinking and you’re both locked in a closet at a party with a timer going just on the other side of the door. Leaving here empty-handed would kill him and you do know that you don’t want that. You wonder if you could still get what you want from him tonight though. “Satoru, could we just... pretend we don’t know each other?” Between your legs is still damp and your skin is still burning from the way his hands greedily devoured your skin, lips all over your neck. Your body can’t forget the way he pressed his against yours and kissed you without shame. That feeling isn’t going away, and you won’t be able to puzzle out feelings of forgiveness until it does.  

A wave of confusion and hope comes over Satoru as you cup his cheeks in your soft hands. He turns slightly to kiss your wrist while he’s got the opportunity. His heart races behind the dark robes of his costume as he agrees to play different roles for the time being. He put the mask back on, adjusting it to make sure it covered his identity. “So, who am I now? And who are you?” If not seeing him makes it easier for you, he’ll play that part. All he really wants is you. A smile played on his lips behind the mask unbeknownst to you. “We can play pretend, if it’s what you want.” Your ex stepped to you, only the shortest distance he could stand between you to begin with. “It’s fine, really, baby. I’ll let you change your mind about me as many times as you need to.”  

Once again, Satoru’s hands find their way to your waist, and he pulls you against him again. This time, you don’t feel a flurry of emotions behind the motion. His eyes spare a moment to search yours, trying to see if there’s any indication of your true feelings. All he can do now is play along, knowing that he pled his case, hope that this will lead to something good. He wished he could slip the mask off and kiss you again, but he just let his hands explore your body instead. He delicately feels your soft skin under his fingertips. “Fuck,” He whispers. He missed this so much.   

You can’t help the whimper you let out at the feeling of his large hands grip your flesh in generous amounts. Satoru touches you like you’re still his. He touches you like he never forgot how, like he runs over his memories in his head all the time so they’re still fresh in his mind. The need between your legs grows at the notion that it may be true. “Well, you’re Ghost Face.” Your voice changes, goes sultry. “I guess that would make me your victim then.” You look at your ex through your lashes, all your desires now on display in the depths of your gaze. “So, fuck me like a stranger, and don’t go easy on me.” It’s all that you really wanted tonight. Satoru puts his hands on you obediently. He’s going to make sure you get exactly what you need. 

Your ex catches himself smirking under the mask. He reaches for your wrists, gripping his kiss and cuffing you against a bare wall. “I won’t then,” He whispers against your bared neck. “I’m gonna give it all to you, rough and hard. Gonna fuck every emotion into you and make you feel it all.” Gojo says this almost as if he’s taking an oath against your body. His voice is husky, his breath is hot on your damp skin. He’s seductive behind the costume. He leans in and promises this to you. You watch as he pulls his robe over his head, his shirt beneath along with it and exposes his naked abs to you. His v-line remains covered by the fabric sewn into the mask to make it a hood. 

He steps back and undoes his belt, whipping it out of the loops and stepping out of his pants. The way you look at him is hungry, as if you missed him just as much. He’d salivate at the thought of you locked up in your dorm, finger-fucking yourself to hot memories the two of you made together. He tosses the clothes aside, leaving himself in his boxers and still donning the mask as you’ve requested. The party just on the other side of the door roars on without the two of you.   

He runs a hand across your cheek and lets one lone digit slink along your jawline, gentle but possessive all the same. Seeing Satoru’s body like this after so long of being away from him does nothing but stir up old feelings. You feel yourself weakened beneath his gaze. Did you really miss him too? You haven't let yourself think of him in so long and it makes you think that maybe you share his feelings. Despite promising yourself that you wouldn’t fall back into old relationships that weren’t good for you, you pull your top off and match his pace.   

Satoru gazes at your body as you expose yourself to him. He drinks in your sight. He can feel the heat rising from his body, hard dick straining. “God,” He mutters, voice thick with lust. He swallows down hard. “You’re as beautiful as I remember.” He steps closer to you, once again touching you in ways that he’s fantasized about every night for so long. His lips conquer yours in a searing kiss, his tongue tangling with yours once again as he explores your mouth, tasting you like the delicacy you are. He groans into this kiss too, hands moving to squeeze your ass under your skirt only to find that you’re without panties tonight. For a selfish minute, he’s glad that he spotted you as soon as you walked in the door, so beyond glad that he saw you before some other prick did. He’d hate the idea of some other guy getting to feel you get wet for him without any barriers between his fingers and your cunt.   

You moan when he multitasks, a hand gripping one of your asscheeks and the other working its way between your thighs to feel the slick gathering there. You’re dizzy from the feeling but Satoru mumbles something about being impatient, followed by a rushed apology, before he’s manipulating your body to turn spread your legs so he can clumsily slot himself between them as if it’s his rightful place. He makes you shiver when he pushes his hard cock against your bare clit for a moment, just to suck in a breath at the feeling he’s been dying to have back. He can tell that you want him just as bad now. With the way that you’re pushing in breath after breath and sucking in gasp after gasp, trying to remain the level-headed one. “You don’t know how bad I’ve wanted you, can’t believe I ever lost you.” Satoru pushes his clothed bulge between your legs and gives the both of you much needed friction.   

You moan as he ruts against you helplessly, as if chasing a feeling he knows he’ll never have again. “Stop talking like that,” You snap a little, feeling overwhelmed because of his feelings. “We’re strangers, remember?” He sighs in frustration, remembering the game.   

He stands tall, his erection still straining against his remaining clothing. He wants to groan at the stress of there still being remaining clothing on either of your bodies and does something about it. Satoru puts a hand behind your back and unsnaps the delicate bra clips, letting the fabric fall to the dusty floor and be forgotten about. He licks his lips when your breasts bounce free. He cups your tits in both hands and caresses you, gaining a few moans from the touch. The caresses turn bruising soon though and he relishes the shocked squeak you let out. “Since you want me to fuck you like a stranger, that’s exactly what I’ll do.” He says this sternly, as if giving you exactly what you’ve asked for is going to be some sort of punishment. There isn’t room to talk about his tone though, not with him manhandling you behind the mask and turning you to bend over the shelf.  

Your ex delivers a few smacks to the supple flesh of your ass, two smacks likely too loud to not stir up rumors amongst the other partygoers but he doesn’t seem to care much about that right now. How could he when he’s got you here submitting to him like this? After daring himself to call or text you and never allowing himself to, after thinking of you and you alone when he’s in the dark of his own dorm room, pathetically fucking his own fist until cum is running like water down his midriff. He’s got you here now though, legs trembling like a newborn fawn and a steady drip of arousal for the owner of this house to question later into the night. Satoru uses his heavy hands to lift your skirt up to your abdomen and separate your tight cheeks, exposing both your holes for him to leer at as if he’s never seen them before. He agreed to fulfil your needs, agreed to just be some hung stranger you fucked at a Halloween party but it’s harder than he thought it would be. He thought it’d be easy to take you like a stranger would.   

But, fuck, how do you expect that of him when he still knows your body so well? He stares at you as you shiver under his gaze and seductively poke your ass out as if to ask him to finally give it to you. How can he play this game with you when he still remembers every curve on your body, every little mark, and where you liked to be kissed or bitten? Satoru sighs when he realizes that there’s no way he could fuck you again without giving it to you how you like it. He breaks your rules for a moment and lifts the mask up to lean down and kiss your shoulder and then leaves a few on your neck, his lips tickling you. You brace yourself on the pantry shelf and screw your eyes shut at the feeling.   

If Satoru had never revealed his identity and touched you this way, you’d be able to guess that it was him behind the mask with ease. The way he gives you his affection is so recognizable; you’d never have to think twice about who was behind you in the dark.  

“It’s harder than it looks,” He excuses himself, excuses the kisses. Your ex put the mask back over his face. You have no idea how much harder it is than it sounds, he thinks. Your little ‘fuck me like a stranger’ sounds like light work when it’s drunkenly demanded on the airy voice of a goddess. It’s not possible when you’re still as heaven sent as you were when the two of you were together.  

You hear Satoru’s heavy breaths behind the mask. It’s muffled so you can almost trick yourself into thinking that he is some random frat asshole that you’ve gotten drunk enough to touch. “Isn’t Ghost Face supposed to stab me with something?” You challenge, poking your ass out and presenting your puckered lips to him. The cool air is a stark contrast to the main room, permeated with the body heat of a million strangers.  

The challenge burns in his veins again and he’s back to groping you with renewed determination. He can’t resist, one of his hands strictly gripping your hips, keeping your black skirt from falling back down and depriving him of being able to see your wetness. All for me, he thinks, all that mess for me and no one else. He pulls his boxers down with his free hand and groans when his cock bobs free into the chilled air. His tip leaks and throbs, pink and painful. He uses his strong hand to push your back into a sharp arch, pretty ass presented to him like fine dining. He lets his eyes flutter shut as he positions himself at your entrance and lets a throaty groan flow into the air. “Mine,” He breathes out, slipping up again. Satoru growls this as he thrusts into you, cock filling you up like the hole in your body was carved by mother nature specifically just for him.  

Pressure builds up against your spine immediately, as if Satoru could fuck your straight into a wheelchair with his length. Your ex can feel your tightness, feel your walls closing in on him. He stares down at you as you grip the shelf and has to stop himself from doing something too familiar like reaching down to hold your hands or rub soothing circles into your back as he feels you slowly adjusting to him. Then he remembers your request, to not take it easy on you. It prompts him to roughly grip your hips and slam into you again. He bites his lip at the strangeled cry you let out at the unexpected brutality. This is what a stranger would do to you though. A stranger would fuck you without his familiariy, without a shred of graze and only cheap booze driving him to exert himself like this. He pulls out slowly, watching carefully as his thick length reappears from within the confines of your cunt. When he shoves back in, Satoru has to bite his lip again to keep from whimpering.   

Your heat envelopes him and he feels as good as he always has. Perfect thickness and length. You forgot how fucking good Satoru felt. He bruises your hips as he starts slamming into you, reaching deep inside of your core like always. He fucks you with his cock as if it’s all yours, as if to tell you that he’s never given it to anyone else – not even while the two of you were apart. “Do you like this? Me taking you in public like this, like a dirty little secret? It’s what you wanted, right? That’s why we’re playing games like this, right? Playing strangers?” Your ex taunts you from behind but he keeps his promise to fuck you full of his deepest feelings. Each thrust is different from the last but just as powerful. The sound of his skin repeatedly beating into yours is loud. Your skin claps, sounds most certainly loud enough for anyone to hear on the other side of the door.   

If that’s the case, you allow yourself to moan as loudly as you need to. Satoru would swallow those sweet moans right up to if you’d let him take this damned mask off and make love to you instead. He can tell that you’re feeling good though, so he chokes his own needs down and fucks you hard from behind, rattling the stocked shelf and letting baked goods fall to the floor to join the piles of discarded clothes. “Fucking me so good, Gojo.” You moan.   

Satoru growls when you call him by that name, his fucking family name. He puts a hand under your chin and lets it fall down to your throat, never slowing the punishing pace he’s set for you. He grows sloppy and brutal, lifting you to press your back against his abdomen with the grip he’s got on your throat. “Say my name. You know my name.” You nod and let out a repeated sound in agreement. “Then say it. Moan it out loud for me, baby doll.”   

The moan you let out is the most erotic thing he’s ever heard in his life, and he’d like to have it downloaded to his phone so he can jerk off to it every day until he dies. “Satoru,” It comes from between your lips, soft as silk, sweet as saccharine. It’s desperate and almost out of character. Satoru loves it when you say his name like a scripture, like it’s where you put all your faith.   

He rocks his hips into you and buries his head deep inside like a parasite, feeding off every fluid your body can produce. Your ex keeps his thrusts long and deep, corporal and punishing and his pace unyielding even through the fatigue building up. He works you out as he stretches you with his length. While you’re willingly doing what he asks of you, Satoru begs you for more. “Want you to cum all over me. Can you do that, baby? Can you do that for me? Gush all over this cock and mark it as yours for the rest of my life.” His words are desperate and as well thought out as anything else he’s said to you all night. It’s all he ever thinks about anymore.  

He continues his thrusts and lets his sweaty skin stick to yours as he covers presses his chest against your back. You clench around him at those words. “Let me feel you lose control.” He can feel his own orgasm building up in no time, surprised he was able to last this long inside of you. He knows you’re getting there when you begin pushing your hips back and fucking him just as hard as he fucking you. “God, how could you ever say we don’t belong together? What a fucking... lie,” He grunts his declarations out, words coming out heavy like his breathing. “We belong to each other. Nobody can fuck you like this.” Hot tears sting Gojo’s eyes as he fucks you full of his passion, heated body sticking to your own. “Not one of those other girls can make me feel the way that you do.” He cries behind you, tears dripping onto your hot skin and making you moan even louder. 

You always get so unabashed when he’s able to get you this close to breaking. He likes you best like this. He likes when he can feel your body tremble under his as you screw yourself on his dick, pushing for a more than deserved orgasm. You let out a strangled cry when you feel his thrusts become more urgent. He always gets sloppy when he’s close. You curse as you feel him hitting the most toe-curling spot inside, one that he always finds so effortlessly. Your body tenses at the buildup of pleasure. Your moans grow louder as it rushes at you and when it hits you, it washes over you like an oasis in a harsh desert. You cry at the feeling of Satoru using the gift that is his body to make you come undone and feel pleasure that’s almost beyond this world. When you come, it’s an unrelenting spray that coats the skin of his pelvis; exactly what you needed and exactly what he asked for.   

The feeling of your body trembling, walls seizing around him and spasming erratically is enough to push him over the edge. Your moans really send him spinning, delirious with more pleasure than his body can handle. He lets out a guttural moan, wishes that he could live in this moment for an eternity, and fills you with his release. Satoru slams into you one last time, punctuating what the two of you have just done. He tries hard not to collapse against you and pants heavily, hands fondling you all over as you bask in your afterglow. “That was... so good,” You moan, fingers still gripping the shelf that you’ve both cleared of its contents.   

When Satoru pulls out of you, his spent cock is glistening with your combined fluids. He leans back and wipes the sweat from his forehead as he watches you turn back to face him. While his hand is up, wiping his face, he pulls the mask off again and lets you get a good look at the love he wears on his face instead. “I hope that was exactly what you needed.” He spits out. You don’t answer, making quick work of putting your bra and shirt back on. His cum dribbles down your thigh, a testament to what just transpired. It doesn’t matter anymore though.   

You don’t look at him again, wiping the cum from your leg with a dish towel. He lets out a grunt of disapproval, not liking the way you’ve gone cold on him once you’re no longer riding the waves of pleasure he gave you. He doesn’t wait for your permission to grip your chin again and looks you in the eyes, finding the animosity has returned in such a short amount of time. He leans in and kisses you, nonetheless. The kiss is gentle, practiced and careful. He’s tender, a contrast to the way he fucks you but not out of the ordinary for how he always kisses you. He’d wait an eternity for you to forgive him for his past if it means he could have the privilege of kissing you sweetly like this every day.  He doesn’t let you go, ending the lovemaking in his own way. Satoru cups your face in his hands and presses his forehead against yours, not daring to open his eyes to view your animosity for him again. “I’m sorry,” His words are heavy with his love. “And I’ll wait for you.” And they bleed into your soul. You want to forgive him. You shake your head and don’t forget the pain he caused you, the way that you promised yourself you wouldn’t. Satoru doesn’t even open his eyes when you push him away from you again and turn on your heels, exiting the closet that the two of you have just destroyed.   

Satoru’s heart aches. His knees almost buckle. He knows that he can’t undo the past, can’t take back what he may have done when he was less of a man and more of a boy. He knows that ruthless sex isn’t going to fix this. Begging won’t fix this. All he can do is prove to you again and again, as many times as you need him to, that the two of you are meant for each other. Your bodies won’t do things like that so easily with other people and next time, Satoru will be sure to make an even more compelling case. If it’s what you really need.   

As you walked toward Gojo’s apartment, an eerie chill hung in the air, like a fog that clung to your skin. Gojo had teased you all day about a Halloween “surprise mission,” but you hadn’t expected the strange quiet that awaited you. 

When you reached his door, it was already slightly ajar, the lock glinting faintly in the dim hallway light.

A sliver of unease wormed its way into your chest as you nudged the door open, peering into the shadowed room. 

The usual warm ambiance was absent, replaced by a stark quiet that heightened your senses. A glance at the side table confirmed the phone was off the hook, emitting a faint static hum, underscoring the silence. 

Every instinct warned you to turn back, but curiosity—and a thrill of anticipation—compelled you forward.

“Gojo?” Your voice was barely above a whisper as you stepped into the dim room, the door clicking shut behind you with a finality that made your heart race.

You turned around towards the door you had walked through, and there he stood, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Surprise, y/n,” he drawled, his voice slipping through the mask, each word a blend of teasing danger and the familiar confidence that only Gojo could command.

He wore the infamous Ghostface mask, its dark, hollow eyes concealing his mischievous blue ones.

He wore no robe like in the movies, opting instead for a tightly fitted black T-shirt that clung to his chest and shoulders, showing off every defined line of muscle. 

The fabric stretched taut over his biceps, accentuating the power in his arms as he leaned with a relaxed yet dangerous posture.

The sight of him like this, the usually playful and teasing Gojo now shrouded in this eerie, dominant persona, made your breath catch in your throat. 

Something about the Ghostface mask paired with his physique—the tension of the shirt, the hint of strength radiating beneath it—ignited a deep thrill inside you, one that mixed arousal with an edge of fear. 

You couldn’t look away; every inch of him was mesmerizing, from the way his chest rose and fell to the sharpness of his silhouette.

“What…what is all this?” You managed, a flicker of nervous excitement betraying you.

“Just a little game for Halloween,” he replied smoothly, his voice dropping into a husky whisper as he advanced toward you. “Don’t you trust me?”

He was close enough now that you could smell the faint scent of his cologne mixed with something sharper, like the thrill of an approaching storm. 

Before you could respond, his fingers brushed your cheek, then slid into his pocket. When he pulled his hand back, you noticed the familiar black fabric that he usually wore over his eyes.

The sight of it sent your heart racing. He dangled it before you, a devilish grin no doubt hidden behind his mask. 

“Eyes on me until you can’t anymore,” he murmured, stepping behind you.

You felt his breath, warm and steady against the side of your neck as he slipped the blindfold over your eyes, plunging you into absolute darkness. 

With your vision obscured, the rest of your senses sharpened, each one waiting, straining for the next sound, the next sensation.

“Can you see anything?” His voice was low, resonant, like a spell that thrummed in the quiet.

“No,” you whispered, the thrill of surrender making your body hyper-aware of his proximity.

“Good,” he said softly, a smirk colouring his words. “Let’s keep it that way.”

He moved in front of you, his fingers grazing your collarbone, igniting a heat that spiralled outward, consuming any lingering hesitation. 

The air grew heavy, and without your sight, you were acutely aware of every movement, every touch. His hand drifted down, his fingers teasing along your arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

“Do you feel that?” he whispered, fingers ghosting over your skin, barely making contact.

You nodded, every nerve ending attuned to his touch, the anticipation building to a near-unbearable level. 

His hands trailed down to your wrists, firm but gentle, guiding them up as he pinned them above your head. A low chuckle escaped him as he shifted closer, pressing his body against yours.

With the blindfold still on, you could only imagine the look on his face. 

“You’re trembling,” he noted, his tone somewhere between teasing and curious.

“I—” You began, but the words died on your lips as he tightened his grip slightly, heightening the sense of restraint. The feeling of him controlling every move, every shift, drove you wild.

The air shifted as he moved, his lips brushing your ear. 

“Are you afraid yet?” He asked, his breath warm against your skin, making you shiver.

“Maybe,” you replied, your voice barely a murmur.

“Good.” His response was a low growl, a delicious edge that left you breathless.

He moved one hand lower, grazing your hip, pressing you back until your body was flush against the wall. 

His fingers tightened around your wrist, and then you felt it—a sharp, stinging sensation as his hand came down in a swift, calculated spank against your ass. 

The sting of it spread heat through you, a rush of adrenaline and desire that left you panting.

“What was that for?” You gasped, struggling to steady your voice.

“For testing my patience,” he replied smoothly, his fingers trailing along the curve of your hip. “I think you need a reminder to behave.”

You swallowed, breath coming in shallow gasps as he delivered another spank, harder this time, his hand lingering afterward, the warmth of his palm searing into your skin. 

The pressure of his touch kept you grounded, the stinging warmth a constant reminder of his control.

“Do you feel that?” he asked, his voice low and dark, laced with a possessive edge that sent shivers down your spine. 

“The way your body reacts when you can’t see?”

“Yes,” you breathed, voice trembling as he leaned in closer, the mask grazing your cheek.

With your vision gone, each touch felt amplified, each kiss more consuming. 

You felt his fingers press firmly against your neck, tilting your head as he grazed his lips down your jawline, slow and teasing, his breath hot against your skin. 

Your senses reeled, straining to capture every movement, every sound, every inch of him.

The sound of his laughter echoed in your ear, sending another thrill of excitement through you. 

“You’re completely at my mercy now, y/n,” he murmured, his voice a dark promise. “And you’re going to love every second of it.”

He held you firmly as his other hand continued its exploration, dragging down your sides, slipping beneath the fabric of your shirt as he pressed his body against yours, every inch of him demanding and relentless. 

Each sensation, each teasing caress and firm grip, blurred together, becoming part of a visceral experience that consumed you.

Finally, you felt his hands slip to your waist, gripping you firmly as he brought his lips back to your ear. 

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked, the hint of a smirk audible in his voice.

“No,” you whispered, every word weighted with desire. “Please… don’t stop.”

“Good girl.” The words sent a flush of warmth through you, and his grip tightened as he leaned in closer, pressing a lingering kiss to your neck before he dragged his lips downward, each movement slow and deliberate, his mouth a torturous blend of tenderness and dominance.

Every touch, every word, every whispered command heightened the sensation, his control absolute as he continued his exploration, making you feel as though you were suspended in the dark, caught between fear and longing, utterly and completely his.

His gloved hands slipped down your waist, pausing just below your hips before kneeling, his hot breath brushing against the skin of your inner thighs.

“Relax, sweetheart,” he murmured, his tone so soft and deceptively comforting, as if he weren’t about to drive you out of your fucking mind. 

One hand slid up, slipping between your thighs and nudging them apart. 

His fingers grazed you with the lightest touch, teasing until you were aching, his chuckle reverberating in the quiet. “Already so needy, aren’t you?”

You bit back a moan, clenching your fists as his mouth closed over you, finally pressing his tongue against you. He started slowly, agonizingly gentle, savouring every reaction you gave him. 

You gasped, gripping at the fabric of his shirt, completely helpless to the onslaught of sensations as his hands held you firmly in place, fingers digging into your hips.

The contrast between his soft, warm mouth and his unyielding grip sent jolts of pleasure racing through you, each stroke of his tongue a calculated torment. 

His pace quickened, and soon, he was relentless—alternating between firm, slow licks and rapid flicks of his tongue, consuming every whimper, every breathless gasp you let slip.

“Please… Gojo,” you whispered, voice breaking as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge, his pace never faltering, only intensifying as your hips began to buck against him involuntarily.

“Oh, you’re begging already?” He taunted, pulling back for just a moment, letting his hot breath tease over your sensitive skin. 

“I’m not stopping until I feel you fall apart.” With that, he returned, mouth working over you with an intensity that bordered on overwhelming. 

His tongue teased and traced patterns, alternating between fast, shallow licks and deep, thorough strokes that left you writhing.

The pleasure built up so quickly, so intensely, that your legs began to tremble. 

You tried to shift away, but his grip tightened, holding your hips steady as he took his time with you, relentless in his mission to coax every sound, every shiver, every broken gasp from your lips. 

You were barely aware of anything except him—the feel of his hands, the insistent pressure of his mouth, and the blackness behind the blindfold that left you vulnerable to his every whim.

Finally, with a soft, desperate cry, you came, your body tensing as waves of pleasure crashed over you. 

But Gojo didn’t stop. Instead, he continued, driving you higher, his mouth never leaving you as he licked and teased, drinking in every tremor, every aftershock. 

The overstimulation hit hard, every stroke of his tongue now almost unbearable, sending jolts through your oversensitive nerves.

You tugged on his hair, gasping, “Please, Gojo—I can’t…”

“Oh, you can,” he replied, his voice low and commanding. “You’re going to keep taking it for me, just like that.” 

His hands held you firmly, his mouth working with renewed vigour as he continued to draw sounds from you you didn’t even know you could make. 

You were dizzy, your world a swirl of sensation as he mercilessly pushed you toward another peak, your body shuddering as the second wave of pleasure crashed over you.

Finally, when he seemed satisfied with your thoroughly spent state, he pulled back, leaving you panting, weak, and trembling. 

He rose, tugging the blindfold slightly, letting his fingers trace lightly over your cheeks as he did. 

You barely had a moment to recover before his lips brushed against your ear, voice low and commanding. “Now, turn around.”

Dazed and more than willing to obey, you turned, feeling his strong hands guiding you forward, pressing you up against the wall as he moved behind you. 

His hands roamed down, gripping your hips as he nudged your legs apart with his knee, pulling you close until you could feel him, hot and insistent against you.

“Look at you,” he murmured with dark satisfaction, his hands sliding up to grip your waist as he positioned himself behind you. 

He held you there, relishing the way your body stretched and adjusted to him.

A low, rumbling groan escaped Gojo’s lips as he began to move, each slow, agonizingly deep thrust pressing you harder against the wall, his hips meeting yours with a rhythm that was both relentless and electrifying. 

The way he filled you—thick and hot, stretching you in ways that made your knees weak—left you breathless, gripping the wall for support as he set a pace that was anything but gentle. 

Each inch of him pressed into you, nudging against every sensitive, over-stimulated spot that hadn’t yet recovered from the waves of pleasure he’d already pulled from you.

Your entire body felt hypersensitive, every nerve alive and attuned to the sensation of him inside you. 

Each thrust was like a spark, setting off shudders that rolled through you as he sank into you fully, pulling back just enough to let you feel that maddening drag before plunging in again, harder, deeper. 

You couldn’t help the soft whimpers that escaped, your body unable to keep up with the sheer intensity of his movements.

“Fuck… you feel so good,” he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction as his hands found your hips, holding you steady while he took his time, savouring every reaction you gave him. 

His fingers dug into your skin, pulling you back to meet each thrust, leaving no room for escape, only the blissful, intoxicating friction as he buried himself to the hilt with each drive forward. 

His pace grew more erratic, hips snapping harder against you, filling you so completely it was dizzying.

Overstimulated and utterly overwhelmed, each motion made your body clench around him, the pleasure bordering on too much as he continued, knowing just how to push you past every limit. 

It was both unbearable and addictive—the heat, the fullness, the way he moved in you as if he were claiming every inch. 

He groaned low and ragged, his voice rough in your ear as he whispered, “You’re so tight, so perfect… God, I could fuck you all night.”

Every thrust hit a different, more sensitive place inside you, igniting sparks of pleasure that grew with each movement. 

The world faded, narrowing down to the heat of his body pressed against yours, the heavy slide of him filling you, stretching you in a way that made you tremble. 

The intensity of it was all-consuming, your body completely given over to him as he continued to drive into you with that ruthless, almost punishing rhythm, each thrust pressing you closer to the edge.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he murmured against your neck, his voice a mix of soft encouragement and unyielding command. 

His hands tightened around your waist, fingers digging into your skin as he anchored you exactly where he wanted. 

His hot breath tickled your ear, his mouth pressing soft, teasing kisses along your neck before he whispered again, voice dropping to a low, rough edge. 

“I know you’ve got one more in you… don’t you?”

The depth of his thrusts sent a shiver down your spine, his cock filling you to the point of almost painful bliss, each movement coaxing you closer to the edge he was holding you at. 

His grip on you didn’t falter, and you could feel the slight tremor in his fingers, a clear sign of just how hard he was holding himself back. 

“I wanna feel you, every last bit of you,” he continued, his voice thick with need. His hips pressed even deeper, grinding into you as he thrust again, pulling a helpless moan from your lips.

“Come on,” he coaxed, his tone both a plea and a command, each word sending a fresh rush of desire through you. 

“Cum for me, right here, right now, while I’m still inside you.” He didn’t relent, didn’t slow, his movements unyielding as he chased that final reaction from you, his voice breaking into a low groan as he added, “I want to feel every last bit of you falling apart around me.”

His hands found your wrists, pulling them behind your back, holding you in place as his pace quickened, his grip bruising as he drove into you with abandon.

With a final, desperate cry, you let yourself go, the pleasure blinding and overwhelming as you gave in completely, your body clenching around him as he groaned, hips bucking as he followed, his grip tightening as he held you close, riding out the waves of pleasure together.

He didn’t let go right away, keeping you pressed up against the wall, his body still flush against yours. 

After a moment, he leaned close, a satisfied, almost cocky chuckle in his voice as he whispered in your ear, “Now, was that spooky enough for you?”