Gojo is a creep.

π“π‘πž π‘πžπ π‹πžππ πžπ« ~ 𝖉𝖔𝖓’𝖙 π–—π–šπ–“. π–Ž π–†π–‘π–—π–Šπ–†π–‰π–ž π–π–†π–›π–Š π–žπ–”π–š.

Gojo is a creep.

People don’t think he is.

They see the perfect grin, the lazy confidence, the untouchable, effortless genius.

They see his charm, his easygoing nature, the way he flirts and teases and never takes anything seriously.

But he is. A creep.

He knows what color panties you’re wearing today.

He knows what you had for breakfast, what time you leave your apartment, the exact moment you step into your classroom.

He knows how often you go to the bathroom, how long your showers take, how you bite your pen when you’re stuck on a problem.

He’s watched you through your windows.

He’s heard you whisper his name in your sleep, curled into your sheets like you knew he was standing just outside, breathing against the glass.

He’s stolen thingsβ€”hair ties, chapstick, the socks you forgot at his place, the panties he pulled off your trembling legs the first time he fucked you.

He’s collected you.

Every sigh, every frown, every stifled moan when he forced his cock inside you and told you to shut the fuck up. Every tremor of your body, every single way you crumbled beneath him.

And nowβ€”right nowβ€”you’re trying to run.

He’s got you pinned, your hands locked in one of his, your legs struggling uselessly against his thighs. Your face is turned away, refusing to look at him, even as he yanks your flimsy excuse for a shirt up to expose your bare skin.

β€œYou always act like you hate me,” he breathes, dragging his tongue up your jaw, pressing his lips to your ear, β€œbut your body fucking loves me.”

You shake your head. β€œNo—”

β€œNo?” He laughs, shifting his hips, grinding his clothed cock between your thighs, letting you feel how hard you make him. β€œThen why are you wet?”

He presses two fingers between your legs, dragging them through your slick folds.

You freeze.

He groans, biting his lip, grinning so wide it hurts.

β€œFuck, you’re soaked, baby. You wanna tell me that’s just biology? Some involuntary reaction? That deep down, you don’t want me splitting you open on my cock?”

His fingers press deeper, teasing, coaxing, forcing a reaction.

You whimper, biting your lip so hard it might bleed.

β€œCome on,” he purrs, kissing down your throat, licking at your pulse. β€œYou know you’re mine. I’ve been watching you long enough to know everything about you.” His fingers curl, stretching you open, forcing more slick to coat his touch. β€œSo be a good girl and take it.”

He undoes his belt.

The sound makes your whole body lock up.

He smirks.

β€œThere’s no use fighting.” He pulls his cock out, thick and hard and way too big. He nudges your entrance, dragging the leaking tip up and down your folds. β€œI already own you.”

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