gojo is addicted to filming you while fucking !
gojo satoru was addicted to filming you.
it had started innocently enough—or as innocent as anything ever was with him. one lazy sunday morning, when you were still half-asleep and riding him slow, he had grabbed his phone from the nightstand with that mischievous grin and whispered, “just one video, baby. for my eyes only. i wanna watch how pretty you look when you come on my cock.”
now it had become a ritual.
every time he fucked you, the phone came out. sometimes he set it up on the tripod in the corner of the bedroom so it captured everything in a wide angle. sometimes he held it himself, filming close-ups of his thick cock stretching you open, the way your body moved with every thrust, the slick mess coating his shaft when he pulled out just to push back in deeper.
he loved the sounds most of all.
“listen to that,” he would groan, angling the camera down between your bodies so the microphone caught the wet, filthy squelch every time he bottomed out. “hear how sloppy your pussy gets for me? fuck, baby, you’re dripping down my balls.”
he always made sure to get your face too—the way your eyes rolled back, the way your mouth fell open when he hit that spot inside you, the broken moans and whimpers of his name that spilled out when you were close.
“say it louder,” he would demand, voice rough as he fucked you harder, his free hand gripping your thigh to spread you wider for the camera. “tell the camera who’s making you feel this good. who owns this tight little cunt.”
you always gave in. “you do, satoru—fuck—only you—”
he saved every single video.
they were stored in a heavily encrypted folder on his phone titled “private collection🤍,” with a little heart emoji he thought was subtle. there were dozens now. some were short clips of you sucking him off in the back of the car after a mission. some were long, hour-long tapes where he edged you for ages before finally letting you come. there was even one from the time he fucked you against the floor-to-ceiling window in his penthouse while the city lights glittered behind you.
he watched them when you were away.
when you were on a solo mission, or visiting family, or just busy with work that kept you late, he would lock himself in his bedroom, pull up the folder, and pick one at random. sometimes it was the one where you were riding him reverse cowgirl, your body moving as you took every inch. sometimes it was the one where he had you folded in half, legs over his shoulders, pounding you so deep the camera caught the bulge in your lower belly.
he stroked himself slow at first, matching the rhythm on the screen, groaning your name under his breath. “fuck, look at you… taking me so well even when i’m not there.”
his hand sped up as the video got filthier. he loved the parts where you begged—when you were crying and whimpering “please, satoru, fill me up, i need your cum.” he always came hard to those, thick ropes spilling over his fist while he watched himself on the screen.
after he finished, he didn’t delete anything. he just wiped his hand off and sent you a quick text:
toru: miss you. watched our video from last thursday. you looked so pretty crying on my cock. can’t wait to make a new one when you get home.
you always replied with something flustered and needy, and he grinned like an idiot, already planning the next tape.
he would send you short clips while you were at work—a ten-second snippet of him thrusting into you from behind, his hand fisting your hair, the sound of skin slapping skin loud and clear. the message always came with the same caption:
toru: thinking about you. hurry home so we can film the sequel.
he never pressured you to let him post them or share them. those videos were strictly for him—his private collection, his dirty little secret. he watched them when he was stressed after a long day, when he was horny and you weren’t around, when he just wanted to relive how perfect you felt wrapped around him.
and every time he filmed a new one, he made sure to whisper against your lips right before he started recording:
“smile for the camera, baby. gonna watch this one later when i’m all alone and missing this tight pussy.”
then he fucked you like he was trying to make sure the next video was even better than the last.
because gojo satoru didn’t just love fucking you.
he loved keeping every single moment of it forever.
so he could watch you fall apart for him again and again.
even when you weren’t there.
