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Heβs a fucking wreck.
You donβt even know it. Donβt know how many times heβs come with your name on his tongue, how many hours heβs wasted in the dark, cock in hand, watching you live your little life through the countless cameras he installed.
Youβre just sitting there, on your bed, knees tucked to your chest as you read a bookβsome old psychology shit. Nerd. Always have been. Always will be.
Gojo exhales through his teeth, hand wrapped around his cock. He fists it slow, dragging the pleasure out, because if he goes too fast, heβll cum too soon, and he wants to make this last. You shift a little, turning the page, completely oblivious to the fact that heβs watching your every move, jerking off to you like the depraved fuck he is.
A wet smack fills his ears as he tightens his grip, pumping faster. His other hand moves down, squeezing his balls, the thick weight of them aching with need. He hasnβt fucked anyone in weeksβhasnβt wanted to. No one gets him hard like you do, not when youβre so fucking innocent, so fucking pure, untouched. A good girl.
His good girl.
Even if you donβt know it yet.
The thought makes his cock twitch. He groans, rubbing a thumb over his slit, slicking the tip with pre-cum as he watches your fingers absentmindedly touch your lips. Itβs unconscious, just a little habit you have when youβre deep in thought, but it makes his brain short-circuit.
Fuck, he wants to ruin you.
He strokes himself harder, imagining what it would feel like to have your mouth on himβimagining how it would feel to have you on your knees, choking, gagging, crying, those pretty wide eyes looking up at him like heβs God. He wants to shove his cock so deep down your throat you canβt breathe, wants to break you open and fuck you until you canβt think straight.
You sigh, stretching your arms over your head, and your oversized shirt rides up just enough to expose the soft curve of your waist. His breath catches. His hips jerk up, fucking into his own hand like a desperate animal.
βFucking hell,β he pants, jaw clenching.
He shouldnβt be doing this. He should be studying. Sleeping. Something.
But he canβt stop.
Not when youβre right there. Not when youβre so fucking closeβso blissfully unaware that you belong to him.
The thought of you finding out sends a shiver up his spine. What would you do if you knew? Scream? Cry? Try to run?
God, that would be fun.
His hand moves faster, grip tightening, his whole body tensing as he chases his high. Heβs so close, so fucking closeβ
And then you stand up.
His breath hitches.
The camera feed wobbles as you stretch again, and thenβ
You turn.
And look directly into the lens.
Gojo freezes.
His heart slams into his ribs.
You canβt see it. You shouldnβt be able to see it. Itβs hidden, carefully placed. Thereβs no way youβ
But your gaze lingers. Suspicion flickers across your face. And then, your lips part. His cock twitches violently.
Fuck.
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