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stsgooo · 8 days ago

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PU$$Y GOT MORE M⛧RDERS THAN SHIBUYA.ᐟ 𝐌⛧𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐑#𝟐 — 𝐎𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐮!𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨, 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮

⛧ 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞: nov 2nd, 1:17pm ⛧ 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞: cosplaying + dubcon + public sex + exhbitionsim + creampie + squirting + dirty talk + humiliation + bimbo!reader + pet names (bunny) ⛧ 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐬: 5079

𝐚/𝐧: eta—tysm @yung-notorious for the beta!

𝐧𝐧𝐧 𝐦.𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐨𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐮!𝐠𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐦.𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

“Bunny, hurry! Over here! We’re up next!”

Stepping out from behind the makeshift curtain. Gojo spots you immediately, his grin widening as he waves you over. Excitement is practically radiating off him while nervousness is rolling off of you. Your heart thumps in your ears over the prospect of going on stage in front of hundreds of people in a cosplay of all things.

This wasn’t just your first time cosplaying—it was your first anime convention ever!

Toru had convinced you not only to come along but to join him in a couples cosplay contest. Under normal circumstances you would have refused but it was the only way he’d hold up his end of the deal of participating in the dreaded 'No Nut November.'

The cosplay couple Gojo chose for you both was Loid and Yor Forger from Spy Family, wanting to start you out with something easy for your first time. Yet getting into Yor’s black sleek assassin dress was anything but easy as Gojo spares no expense on realism even having the dress corsetted.

Gojo as Loid is decked out in Loid's classic light green three-piece suit and blonde lace front wig. His piercing natural baby blues lend to Loid well and he is everybit of charming and statuesque as the actual character.

Well, as long as the lil’ freak didn’t open his mouth.

“Can I at least get a good luck kiss since you didn’t want to give me a good luck BJ earlier?”

Gojo whispers, wiggling his brows with a goofy smirk as he interrupts your worried thoughts. You sigh at your boyfriend being nothing more than a hopeless perv at all times, but ultimately you give him a quick peck on the cheek without much fuss. The butterflies raving in your stomach are making you more agreeable at the moment.

“Come on Bunny, I know it's ‘No Nut November’ but you don’t gotta be so stingy with the kisses, a tiny bit of that cute ecchi tongue of yours in my mouth would be enough.”

Gojo pretends to pout and you roll your eyes. He’s definitely cum just from you kissing him too nasty before. In fact, he was practically guaranteed to blow every time you sucked on his tongue the tiniest bit. Thankfully, all that puts a limit on the amount of kissing and PDA he could do with you in public.

“Don’t push it, digidork!”

Saving you from further harassment over kisses, the announcer dressed up as a cute blue haired girl, that Gojo identifies as Hatsune Miku, tells you it’s your turn.

Initially you’re terrified to step on stage, but as you both stride onto the runway, you realize that a cosplay contest isn’t all that different from the few modeling gigs you’ve done—just with a much, much nerdier vibe.

And honestly, you have to admit, it’s way more fun!

Unlike the stiff, subdued atmosphere of fashion shows, this audience of fans and otaku is anything but reserved. Their cheers, hoots, and applause fill the air, electrifying the room. The energy peaks as you and Gojo flawlessly nail the intricate poses he’d made you practice. With the amount of effort Gojo had put in, people no doubt mistake you both for pro cosplayers and you quickly start to eat it all up.

Pleased with how quickly you adapt, Gojo is so overjoyed that he decides to up the ante with an impromptu pose. Grabbing your hand, he twirls you effortlessly, spinning you into a graceful dip. This brings one of your thighs to rest against his hip, causing your already snug dress to ride up even higher.

The crowd erupts in cheers at the sight—the flash of extra skin, combined with what looks like Loid!Gojo leaning in for a kiss, delivers exactly the kind of fanservice they are craving.

What actually secures your win though is the moment you, in a panicked fluster, smack the absolute dogshit out of Loid!Gojo. The force of it made him drop you as he staggered back.

Upon realization of what you'd done you were mortified—god, would you be disqualified now? Or kicked out of the convention all together?

Your reflexive aversion to what you thought was Toru’s perverted over-the-top PDA in front of so many people happened so fast you didn’t have a chance to stop yourself. But your horror quickly turned to bewilderment as the crowd, initially silenced by the sharp echo of the slap reverberating through the hall, instantly erupted into a frenzy of cheers and laughter.

Only having seen a few episodes, you had zero clue of the bashful dynamics between the two when Yor perceives any type of affection from Loid and practically beats his ass because of it.

To you, it was pure, unintentional chaos—to the crowd, it was coordinated perfection.

Winning first place, by a unanimous decision, was no surprise to anyone. You had to admit even with the unexpected hiccup that cosplaying was actually really fun!

After the awards ceremony, you and Gojo still linger in the main stage area before another panel starts, snapping pictures with fellow cosplayers and con-goers. You really hadn’t expected to enjoy cosplaying so much but the sheer energy and attention you get from it is downright addictive!

Before you know it, you’re fully leaning into the spotlight—posing dramatically and soaking up the admiration like you’re the one whose the otaku nerd in the relationship.

Of course Gojo was into it as well as he posed with fangirls who all gush over him being 'the most perfect Loid ever!' Gojo smiles as he'd worked hard to make today the perfect con "date" and winning was just the start! He wanted to set the stage to get you to do this again with him in the future.

Yet after the crowd around him disperses and the event area begins to clear out, he finds you aren't where he last saw you. It takes some looking around for him to realize you are actually right where he left you, just surrounded in sizeable horde of sweaty nerd otaku.

Eagerly hanging onto your every word they snap endless pictures. Even candid ones when you weren’t posing.

Gojo’s bottom lip juts out in an exaggerated pout as he watches from a distance, having resigned himself to the sidelines. While he is a bit sour at how captivated they are by you, a new thrill—the thrill of being cucked having all of these otaku captivated by and stealing your attention takes over.

It's twisted he knows, but as much jealousy as Gojo wants to feel watching the swarm of loser otaku crowd around you—he's getting more turned on by watching them drool over you.

Not to mention Gojo absolutely adores seeing you actually enjoy one of his hobbies and being able to experience it with you. The fanboys were just apart of it, he'd knew you'd be popular anyway—you were already the hottest girl on earth to him!

Yet as time goes on and the crowd only grows bigger Gojo notices he hadn't accounted for how these shy and awkward otaku, now in their natural habitat, would swarm you so aggressively like an infestation of pesky roaches.

What had started as a small, thrilling twinge of being cucked a little had grown into something far more frustrating when 15 minutes turns into 45.

The longer they monopolize you, the more they keep you from being able to enjoy the con with him—and you still had to hit up artist alley and the studio booths!

Real jealousy starts to simmer within Gojo as he watches them bombard you with endless questions.

“D-Do, you have a cosplay name?!”

One of the otaku asks you.

“Um, no, people just call me Bunny I guess.”

You shrug with a small giggle that has the otaku swooning harder and Gojo clenching his teeth.

“Kawaii Bunny-hime~!”

“Cosplay Queen Bunny~!”

“Anime Goddess Bunny~!”

“C-Can I-I follow you on IG, B-Bunny-hime?”

You were only a few dozen a way from 7k followers on IG, you could use these simps for some extra engagement. They looked like the type you could ignore and they'd still like everything.

“Sure, I suppose…”

The crowd of otaku cheer as Gojo sneers—you were giving out your IG?!!? You only just started letting him tag you in his posts!

“Oh thank you, our favorite pro-cosplayer, Bunny-chan!”

HAH!? You were only doing this because he asked you to! You were his cosplay goddess Bunny damnit!

Gojo tries to temper his envy, but all reasoning snaps once a particularly slimy round otaku stumbles forward, his pimply cheeks (that looked like it had never seen a washcloth) flushed at the request he so boldly asks you while looking straight at the ground.

“Um, B-B-Bunny-chan…c-can, you s-step on me please, Mast—ah, er—Q-Queen?”

“Step on you!?”

The question has you incredulous before the realization of exactly how much power you had over these pathetic otaku virgins dawns on you. You weren’t sure why you thought this level of deranged simpage was Toru exclusive, your boyfriend was way hotter but unfortunately cut from the same cloth as these desperate nerds.

You stifle a smirk, power tripping as you feign boredom like the request was a chore. Pointing towards the floor the otaku instantly drops to his knees. Surprised at how easy that was you step forward to the pathetic otaku on the ground gazing up at you—only for Gojo to angrily snatch you away before you could even lift your foot off the ground.

Taken by surprised, you are thoroughly gagged as he pulls you away from your group of otaku simps, leaving them in the dust to blink dumbfoundedly.

Hauling you off to a more secluded area of the con, Gojo leads you straight into the men’s bathroom before he releases you.

But by now you’re pissed and your wrist aches a bit from him dragging you across the convention.

What was that all about!?

However, just as you’re about to give Toru a piece of your mind, he suddenly whirls around. The sight stops you cold—his face flushed bright pink, his puppy-dog eyes shimmering with unshed tears teetering on the edge of spilling down his puffed cheeks.

Bewildered as to why he's the one upset, you decide to tread cautiously.

“Toru? Toru—tell me what’s wrong baby… "

He doesn’t answer right away, his pained whimpers are the only sound as he struggles to hold back the tears.

"C'mon tell me what's wrong...did they sell out of that gangbang figure scene you wanted? The limited edition Bible Black one?”

"No, B-Bunny—worse than t-that..."

Worry creeps in, as you know he's been talking non-stop about wanting that figure so you couldn't imagine what could be worse than that—yet your lip curls once Gojo finally speaks and you are reminded exactly who you are dealing with.

“*sniff* Y-You were really gonna step on that guy before you even stepped on me, B-Bunny? D-Do you *sniff* not love me anymore?”

Gojo grumbles, genuinely hurt.

For real???

That’s what he’s upset about!?

“W-We haven’t even tried dominatrix play yet, Bunny! *sniffs* I-I thought I’d have to wear you down a lot more first...”

Oh for fucks sake!

You resist the urge to roll your eyes and let out the deep breath of exasperation you are holding.

God, why does your rich hot ass boyfriend have to be such a lil' freak!?

Even though you promised to step on Gojo when you got home, maybe even add a kick in too, that wasn’t good enough for your pervert boyfriend’s fragile feelings.

And now for some reason—even as tears still pooled threateningly on his soft white lashes—he was sporting a raging boner.

Argh, why now...

Mumbling you shake your head. You had to be going insane as the situation tugs on your guilted heartstrings much to your own dismay.

“Ugh, I can’t believe I’mma do this… “

Swallowing your aversions, you knew just the thing to cheer him up.

”...The back stall Toru—now!”

The rules?

Simple.

You’d give him a pussy job for exactly 5 minutes. No touching you or feeling you up otherwise and not for a second longer.

Most importantly?

No cumming allowed.

No breaking ‘No Nut November’ or you swore you’d never go to another con with him ever again.

As if the tears in his eyes had never existed, Gojo instantly perks up. His demeanor skyrockets at the prospect of finally getting his cock even a little wet after two and a half grueling days of abstaining from your ecchi angel pussy.

And that’s how you find yourself pressed against the wall of the very back stall, your dress bunched up around your waist and your panties dangling off your heel hooked around his hips. The other leg barely steadying your heel on the ground as his oppressively long cock glides through your slick ridden folds. The teasing drag of his length against your bare pussy, bumping clumsily over your clit makes your breath hitch as you try to not show can reaction.

In absolute bliss, Gojo’s eyes are clenched shut, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip hard enough to leave marks as he braces his other arm against the wall behind you. Every swipe of his cock through your slick folds is deliberate. Building a steady rhythm, Gojo savors every fraction of a second he gets to spend with his cock rubbing against your core.

Clinging to the fraying edges of his control, doing his best to actually be a good boy and keep his shit together—lest you never go to another con with him again.

Your sleek cosplay starts to develop wrinkles as it bunches not only on your hips but your hands. Twisting the fabric in your hands you attempt to resist the burning need to just tilt your pelvis up a little more while pulling his hips forward so Toru’s cock can slip inside you.

Girl, you gotta stay strong though!

“Shiiiiit, Bunbun—I-I wanna fuck your pussy s’bad baby… does my pretty lil' onnahole miss me? God, shes fuckin’ she’s soaked!”

Gojo’s body lurches forward slightly, his Adam’s apple bobbing visibly as he swallows hard, fighting off the urge to cum. He can’t risk looking down—nor let his eyes catch the way your sexy Yor cosplaying cunny is sliding along his cock. God, if he does it’ll all be over—and if he wasn’t going to fuck you for the remaining 27 days then he wanted to make this last and savor every second of grinding through your sopping heat.

“Ngh—HAH! Y-you better keep your p-promise, T-Toru!"

Stammering, a sheen of sweat blossoms across your skin. Originally, you’d convinced Gojo to agree to NNN as a way to give your poor, overworked cunny a break from his degenerate hentai-inspired kinks.

After all, the Halloween season of dressup and cosplay had been a never ending marathon on both you and your throughly fucked lil' pussy. But now, as his length messily drags through your pussy, memories of how good it feels to be stretched and filled by Toru flood back, leaving you questioning everything.

Did you really need a break at all?

Wasn't two days enough?

You bite your lip, barely suppressing the whimper that rises in your throat. Every swipe of his cock over your clit sends pulses of pleasure rippling through you, and you can feel every ridge, every vein throbbing against your sensitive nub.

Gojo had trained your prissy lil cunt well, and it was maddening that an otaku like him could subdue you from how hard he’d have you crying on his cock from the very first time you fucked him.

Truthfully, these days even if your tastes weren’t on a freaked-out supreme level like his, you initiated sex just as much.

Maybe if…

No!

You had to hold strong!

If you made an exception now there’s no way he’d continue on with it the rest of the month and you couldn’t let him think you’d actually missed all his crazed otaku sex fantasies.

God you needed this to be over—how much time is left again!?

Grabbing your phone out of your boobs, you sigh in relief.

You just need to hold on for 30 more seconds…

Now 20 seconds…

Just 10 more seconds….

“Okay, Toru time’s u—”

Out of nowhere, the bathroom door bursts open, and a loud group of flood in, their chatter echoing off the tiled walls.

Sheer panic races through you. Eyes wide as saucers, you hurriedly clutch at Gojo, hoisting your other leg up to wrap around his hips in a desperate attempt to hide your heeled feet from view beneath the stall. The sudden movement causes him choke on his own spit as the timing—perfectly aligned with a deep, measured thrust—causes him to ram his engorged cock fully into your core.

Gojo tries to keep his voice from cracking as he bottoms out inside your moist sticky cunt, the head of his cock pressing firmly against your cervix.

Trembling, the fear of the moment overwhelms you and in response you tense around his cock tighter. You cover your mouth, muffling the soft whimpers that escape from him entering you so suddenly.

��Heh, ya gotta ease up, my tight lil' hentai Bunny—”

Gojo coos his perverted words into your hair muffling his whines. Although you can tell from the myrth etched into his voice hes enjoying every second of this. “—y-ya know what your pretty pussy does to me—I’ll bust if she keeps squeezing me like that.” You wanna scream and slap him for jamming his dummy long cock into you so suddenly but you know given the circumstances you have to keep it together for both your sakes—but mostly yours. You’d die before you were exposed fucking your nerd ass otaku boyfriend in a public stall at an anime convention of all places.

Completely unsympathetic to your internal plight, Gojo’s lips curl into a sly smirk against your temple. Breathing hot taunting whispers against your skin, Gojo is relishing in the feeling of your pussy telling him how much she's missed him inside her—and God, he missed her so, so much too!

“Heh—my little pervy bunny’s pussy is begging me for my cum. I-I dun' think she cares about 'NNN' no more baby...”

You pull back just enough to glare at him, tears streaking your cheeks as you try to hold it together—his cock feels so amazing though~~

The amount of turned on you are righ now is obvious as your slippery arousal seeps down his cock, past his balls, to darken the fabric of his cosplay suit pants.

Gojo’s large hands dig into the soft flesh of your ass, his grip firm as he begins lifting you slowly, up and down, on his cock. Promises be damned, he can only think of how phenomenal your pussy feels leaking and stretched around him… in a public bathroom… while a crowd just entered.

Holy shit, he'd never thought he'd get to live out this of public sex fantasy! Gojo decides that besides the first day he got a taste of your sweet cunny—this was definitely the second best day of his life so far!

Each motion of Gojo's hips plows his cock deeper into your walls. Clutching tighter around his neck trying in vain to lift yourself up off of him a bit and alleviate the pressure. It’s useless. Not only does Gojo's veiny cock weaken you completely, his grip is like a steel on you.

“S-S-S-taaawp T-Toru, puhweaseee!” You grit out. The dangerous amounts of electricity in your core jolts your senses, rendering your nerves and your pussy into a lustful mush.

“I'd gotta put ya down then Bun, nghhh-shiiiiiiiit—or I won't be able to resist the squeeze of my ecchi angel creaming all on me."

You shake your head desperately.

You couldn’t possibly get down and Toru knew that!

"Besides Bunny bae...I can tell your naughty lil' manko is about to cum—she's practically screaming it around my cock. You don't want me to stop for real, do you?"

The smug glint in Gojo’s eye tells you he’s fully aware of the effect he has on you—intentionally working you over until keeping your composure becomes utterly impossible and you give in.

Shiiit you wanted to, you were so getting fucking horny right now the need to come was becoming unbarable.

“EWW MAN, WASH YOUR HANDS!”

An outburst erupts from one of the otaku near the urinals.

“No way! That sexy Yor cosplayer touched it. I’m gonna fap with it later.”

The unsanitary otaku chimes in, smugly like he’d won a prize.

No, no, no, no please, no!

“Fair point.”

A third agrees, earning a collective murmur from the rest who all express the wish to feel your delicate lil hands around their cock. Your entire body freezes as you realize these are the same otaku from earlier.

Unfortunately, the group doesn’t stop their vulgar simpage of you there launching into a full-blown discussion about your assets and debating on your exact measurements. Your face burns hotter than the building friction Gojo is creating between your thighs. The salacious words of praise for you is renewing his envy.

“She was so hot, dude—she almost stepped on you too!”

Gojo’s soft snickers morph into something darker, more sinister at the reminder. Goosebumps spread across your body as presses you into the wall to prod deeper into your guts.

“Yeah, too bad you got foot-blocked by that Loid!”

“Total chad move!"

Those otaku incel calling Gojo a "chad" was laughable and you might have giggled if not for Gojo’s hand sliding up your back to tug loose the strings of your corset, making your tits spill over.

His eyes narrow like a vengeful deity as he bends forward to take one of your perky nipples into his hot mouth.

“Think that’s her boyfriend?”

“What? No way, man! She’s way too good for a loser-chad like him!”

Goddamnit, those nerds are talking your pussy into some major problems.

Your teeth dig into your plump lips as you fight not to make a sound, but the way he moves so obsessively inside you makes it a losing battle as the soft whispers of mewls fumble from your lips.

The sheer force of him drilling you into the wall like a corkscrew sends your sanity spiraling as your pussy drools and squeezes around him.

“Yeah, no way—that dude’s probably just paid her to be here. Heh—wonder what she'd do if I paid her..."

Through your tear clouded vision you could see Gojo's neck redding—he was pissed. Clearly that remark hitting too close to home since he initially did pretty much agree to be your sugar daddy so you'd fuck him. Plus he'd probably dropped at least 10 stacks on you daily—but that's besides the point.

As if you would ever fuck one of those losers even if they offered you a billion dollars!

Urgh, aware of how bad it sounded in your head, you admit to yourself you only had the hots for one creepy otaku loser—and that was Gojo.

He should know that by now though.

“Wait—is someone back there?!”

Oh god no!

The moist, juicy sound of your cunt sloshing around his cock loud is echoing off the tile walls of the bathroom. The sounds of your flesh slapping together clearly audible as Gojo intentionally stops holding back, groaning his mouth still full of your tits. You had to so something to distract him though, so he wouldn’t do something absolutely reckless like getting y’all kicked out and banned for fucking in a stall or worse—having these weirdo incels start filming.

Bringing all of Toru's focus to you again and snatching him off your tiddies, you you craddle his face in your hands. Sensually you trail your tongue over his lips before nibbling your way down his jaw to his neck. Ever so sweet and coy, you sweetly moan out the vile words that felt like the grosses poison on your tongue. Saying them out of utter necessity to keep his focus on you, as well as small amount of dignity you had left in this situation.

“Haah m'so guuudd! F-fuck me harder Toru, m’hentai daddy! This tiny hime pussy missed your big oni cock splitting her open. N’dun wanna go—n’can’t go without it again for so long, baby. Love you s’much—pweasee cum in me.”

Hips stuttering, Gojo nearly drops you for the second time that day as you finish your outrageously lewd proclamation by kissing his lips passionately. His slutty mouth, previously eager to blow up your entire spot just to prove a point to some irrelevant incel dorks is silenced as you suck on his tongue.

Gojo's rage, already eroded by your filthy words, dissolves entirely as his climax tears through him triggered by your honey like tongue. The immense pressure builds to a breaking point, and his cum floods your womb in thick, pulsing waves. His cock thrashes inside you, painting your walls, pussy, thighs, and even the crotch of his pants white with the sheer volume of cum he’s saved up in just two and a half days.

A guttural moan rips from Gojo’s throat.

A sound so raw, so painfully pleasurable, it reverberates against your chest like a desperate confession of just how much he fucking loved you while his thumb finds your swollen clit, tormenting it with merciless circles. He’s determined to wring every ounce of pleasure from your trembling body, driving you towards ecstasy as he builds up another load of his own—still hard inside you.

The stall shakes violently, Gojo’s lean, muscular thighs trembling as the wet, sticky slap of his balls against your ass grows impossibly louder with each thrust. The sound is salaciously obscene—like stirring a pot of creamy mac and cheese—but, predictably, the group of clueless, bitchless otaku outside misinterpret the situation entirely.

“Uh Hey! You okay back there, buddy?”

Another calls out, concerned after a particularly drawn-out pitchy keen from Gojo that sounded like he was dying.

“HNNNNG—Y-Yeahhh n-nah, m’fine—FUHH!”

His voice is raggedly straining between his mind piercing thrusts he’s delivering your womb.

“Jus—hngh—a little backed up, y’know? Been a few days since I’ve been able t’let it all out... 'bout leggo a big one n’ a few more pushes another s’gonna come out—FUHHHCK!”

There’s a collective moment of silence in the bathroom.

You're shocked that Toru is actually doing a half-decent job of covering this up even if he was making himself sound absolutely fucking disgusting in the process—thankfully though the group of otaku think so too.

“Ew nasty, man!” “Dude, go see a doctor!” “Bruh, that’s unholy!”

The door slams shut as they scurry out, their revulsion growing more distant.

“Fuckin’ finally—SHIIIIT!”

Gojo cries out, finally letting go like he’s been desperate to, his grin widening as he grips your hips and slams you down hard one last time. Your vision blurs, white washing over your vision as your body convulses. The waves of pleasure crash through you with an intensity that steals your breath.

Gojo shudders a final time, his loud moans spilling into the air as he releases himself into your overflowing pussy once more. The sheer heat and volume of his release leaves you gasping, his viscous fluids spilling from you in thick, sticky waves. It feels as though he’s been saving this up for weeks—more than you’d ever seen, even the first time he came when you popped his cherry.

Still breathing heavily, he carefully eases you down onto the floor, mindful of his trembling legs. His body presses against yours, holding you upright as he pins you to the wall, your legs too weak to support you after he’d torn you apart like a madman.

The minutes tick by, your bodies still entwined as you both are left wrecked in the wake of the risky bathroom sex you just had However, Gojo, miraculously, seems to recover much faster.

You watch as he pulls out his phone, crouching down and angling it toward you with a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Wh-what are you doing now T-Toru?”

Gojo smiles at you lovingly, pulling your leg up to rest on his shoulder as he spreads your swollen pussy lips apart, studying how utterly wrecked she looks. Even under the harsh fluorescent lights, your pussy glistening, swollen and completely coated in his cum is one of the prettiest sights in the world (and he has seen all 7 wonders).

“Why, commemorating this moment, my sweet hentai goddess divine!”

You groan, too drained to swat him away, your limbs limp and unresponsive.

You're just glad it's all over... but now you wanted to leave this godforsaken bathroom and con—ASAP! Maxing yourself to the absolute limit for otakus and nerd shit completely for the day, you want to just go home!

Your 'No Nut November' was thoroughly ruined, and you couldn’t even blame him—you’d been just as guilty letting all the cosplay attention go to your head. Yet you paid for it alright, pussy bruised and sore, but thoroughly sated in a way you hadn’t realized you needed until now. Switching to video mode Gojo, leans back on his heels humming the digimon theme song—something he often did after sex and other times he was particularly content with life.

“Ya know how sexy I think you look as Yor Bunny, but I think the prize for the hottest cosplay goes to your ecchi pussy for how well she cosplays a creampie all plugged full with my cum.”

You roll your eyes, your otaku boyfriend was truly incorrigible.

“Oooh! Bunny, Bunny! We should do this cosplay again next year, pleasepleaseplease!?” "Fine... I guess that would be—"

“—ah, amazing!”

Gojo interrupts you with a dirty grin forming on his lips as he cheeses.

“Ya know baby bun, I was thinkin'—If you stop taking your birth control now, we could have little Anya with us by next year. Whaddya—?”

But before he can finish, your heeled foot lashes out, connecting solidly with his side of his face and sending him sprawling onto the bathroom floor as he knocks up against the other side of the stall.

Gojo's laughter only grows louder as gazes up at you with hearts in his eyes. Ecstatic you for finally kicked him, you see his dick hardening once more.

“Do it again, pleasepleaseplease!”

You roll your eyes.

This is exactly why you wanted a 'No Nut November' in the first place.

𝐚/𝐧: next 12/13, 6:00 a.m. PST queued toji fushiguro tell me how u liked this, hopefully can hold over the otaku!gojo girlies for a while! reblogs and comments make me cream!

#gojo x reader #fic rec

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stsgooo · 26 days ago

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gojo satoru x reader | fake marriage au [18+]

in holy matriphony ch5. child's play

ᰔ pairing. fake marriage au - neighbor&realtor!gojo x nurse!reader (ft. choso x reader & suguru x reader)

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is your extremely annoying next-door-neighbor who you're pretty sure is the most insufferable man you've ever met. given the fact that you exclusively work the night shift at a chaotic emergency dept, just got broken up with your boyfriend of seven years, and have been taking care of your sick mother ever since her multitude of diagnoses, yet somehow your neighbor is the main source of stress in your life should speak volumes. but when your mother's medical bills start to skyrocket to more than you can manage, and you learn that said neighbor of yours has the best private health insurance plan in the country, you ask him to enter a matrimonial agreement with you for the spousal benefits all in the name of saving a few hundred thousand dollars. but you'll have to see if suffering cohabitation w him is worth any amount of money.

ᰔ genre/tags. fluff, smut, angst, enemies to lovers (sort of), annoyances to lovers (that's more like it), small town romance, fake marriage, next door neighbors, lots of bickering, suburban shenanigans, slow burn, mutual pining, gojo likes to play house but you don't, hatred for the american healthcare system, gojo always forgets to mow the lawn, jealousy, an insane amount of profanity, mentions of cigarettes, depression/anxiety; btw gojo in this fic is in his mid 30s n reader is in her late 20s

ᰔ warnings. reader in this fic has a sick mother w alzheimer's & cancer so there is secondary medical angst!!

ᰔ chapter. 5/x

ᰔ words. 4.8k

a/n. helloo my ihm friends! long time no see. hope you're all doing well and thank you so much to everyone who sent me kind messages about the whole ihm gojo ex wife thing haha. i really appreciate it :) i feel more confident about my writing decisions now, and that's all thanks to you guys! anyways, i will be posting shorter chapters for ihm going forward, so sorry if some chapters have slightly abrupt endings or stuff like that. i guess my goal is to post shorter chapters but more frequently! we'll see how it works out. anyways, hope you enjoy this chapter and see you at the bottom!!

nav. ch1 :: ch2 :: ch3 :: ch4 :: ch5 :: ch6 (pending)

Ever since admitting your mother into hospice, things have been calmer inside your mind. After passing the initial wave of agony that came with no longer hearing her voice down the hall or seeing her silhouette in her bedroom as you walked past it, you realized that…a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. No longer setting alarms at the height of every other hour to remind your mother to take her medication, no longer viewing every interaction you had with her as some form of study you needed to jot down in a binder for her neurologist’s records, and no longer driving her to all of her chemotherapy appointments, only to leave them feeling like you purposefully just took your mother to a place where they sucked all the life out of her in exchange for the slim promise of giving it all back to her someday.

Maybe it was evident in the way your shoulders felt less tense as you rolled them back, tilting your neck to the side and no longer feeling the painful strain that tugs a wince onto your face. The other day, you caught yourself humming a song as you drove to work. Your skin, usually feeling cracked and dry from stress and exhaustion, now has a slight plumpness to it like before. A more youthful glow, like the version of yourself you were before your mother became sick. The version of you that so quickly deteriorated, and one you didn’t even know still existed somewhere within you.

There has also been time for hobbies. Rarest of occasions, you find yourself sauteing some yellow and white peaches in a saucepan over medium heat in Gojo’s kitchen, humming that song once again that’s been stuck in your head. The sundress you’re wearing matches the pink of the syrup that pools at the bottom of the pan, and you feel like you’re living your cottage core dreams in this brief moment of reprieve you’ve allowed yourself to fall into.

The sound of slippers tapping down onto the hardwood floor startles you out of your gleeful trance, and you turn your neck to the right to see a pajama-clad messy-haired Gojo shuffling his feet across the open area into the kitchen with a dark black mug in his hand.

“Why aren’t you dressed??” you ask him in a panic.

“I’ll get dressed later,” he tells you dismissively as he grabs the glass pitcher of coffee from where the coffee machine was nestled up against one of the counter corners.

“You’re stressing me out. Your mom told us to be there in two hours,” you say, putting your hands on your hips in disapproval as you hear the sizzle of the peaches in the saucepan.

He entirely ignores you, choosing to instead drag his gaze down the form of your body. “Woooow, twice this month I get to see you in a cute dress,” he comments, pouring coffee into his mug but his eyes are still on you, “lucky me.”

“Oh Shut. Up,” you sneer at him with a harsh roll of your eyes, “your fake flattery might work on the lonely middle-aged women you seduce to make a living, but it won’t work on me.”

His shoulders push back before he slumps them slightly, his brow lifting with confusion. “It’s not fake though? I mean it. You look really nice right now.”

You point an accusatory sugar-syrup coated wooden spatula at him. “You’ve just been conditioned by the patriarchy to get a boner at the sight of a woman in a kitchen.”

“What–...no–...why do you always have to say stuff like that whenever I compliment you? Can’t you just accept it?”

You cross your arms over your chest. “I refuse to be flattered by an insolent man like you.”

He sighs, setting his coffee mug down on the counter, and you watch the way the fringe of his hair hangs over his forehead as he gazes into the contents, swirling it around with a loose grip on the handle. “Is this how it’s going to be everyday? I try to be nice, and you–...well, you know, are you.”

“Well who else should I be?”

His eyes lift up to meet yours, the slightest of a cheeky grin on his face as his eyes wander down the form of you again. “I don’t know. Someone a little…softer? Like, you’ve got this really pretty dress on, and then you’re telling me off about patriarchy-induced boners. It’s a little, uh, contradictory?”

You gasp. “You’re trying to control me. I knew it. You are poisoned by the patriarchy.”

“What?”

Your eyes narrow at him. “You have this image of a perfect and cute little wife, who’s gonna wear pretty dresses all the time, and bake stuff in the kitchen, and get all blushy when you tell her she looks beautiful, and you expect her to have this soft little personality that never argues with you or disagrees with you…ALL BECAUSE OF THE PATRIARCHY!!!”

“...I–...Okay, you’ve lost me.”

You let out a hmph! noise. “Can’t even discern his own brainwashing. Sad.”

“All of this just because I tried to tell you that you look nice?”

“I know what your ulterior motives are, you creep.”

His eyes spark a little at that, the corner of his mouth tugging up into a cheeky grin as he sets the coffee mug down onto the marble counter and he straightens his spine. You blink, watching with confusion as he crosses the distance between the two of you, to where you’re taking a small few steps backwards until your lower back presses against the edge of the island countertop. He cages you into the surface with his frame, followed by the palms of his hands sliding over the marble on both sides of you, and you feel his forearms press against the curve of your waist as he traps you in with no way out.

“S-Satoru,” you stutter, looking up at him with wide eyes, “what are you doing?”

“What do you think I’m doing?” he says, his voice deeper with a nonchalance that has you shiver, his gaze dropping to your lips when you part them slightly.

“T-The patriar–” you squeak out, but he suddenly dips his head down to kiss you.

Your breath hitches in your throat, eyes immediately closing when he moves his lips against yours, one of his strong arms wrapping around your waist to pull you closer to him and your hesitation is something that only lasts a brief second before you find yourself kissing him back. Some noise leaves his throat, deep and raw and sounding pleasantly surprised as he captures your lips more fervidly now, his hands smoothing down to hold your hips and his teeth slightly nip at your bottom lip.

You grab a fistful of his shirt, unsure of whether you want to pull him closer to you or push him away, but the moan that you mumble against his lips only makes his grip on your hips even stronger, fingers digging into the softness through the thin fabric of your dress.

The oven suddenly starts beeping, startling you and you pull away from the kiss with a gasp, eyes rounded as you look up at him, but his are lidded and dilated as his gaze remains glued to your lips.

With a heaving chest, you try to push him away by a weak fist to his sternum but he’s unrelenting.

“You taste sweet,” he says, like some comment he noted in his head but accidentally voiced out loud.

“I–...” you inhale sharply, “I just ate three macerated peaches.”

“Uh-huh,” he barely acknowledges before leaning in to get another taste, but you push him away harsher this time.

His hands let go of your hips entirely, finally breaking out of that kiss-induced trance he was in, but he still remains close to you in proximity, so much so to where you can feel the heat from his body. It’s comforting almost, radiating through the soft cotton of his long sleeve shirt, and you find yourself subconsciously leaning towards him before you snap out of it too, and rock your weight back against the island countertop.

You cross your arms over your chest, hoping the flush to your cheeks isn’t showing. “Oh okay so we just casually kiss now?”

He shoves his hands into his plaid pajama pant pockets, leaning away from you slightly. “For as long as I can get away with it, yeah.”

“You are breaking the rules.”

“You never said no kissing.”

“I said no touching.”

“Ehhh kissing isn’t really touching, though, is it?”

“You sound stupid.”

“I always sound stupid to you.”

The oven starts beeping again, and you realize it’s long been preheated to the setting you had placed earlier. You slip away from him with haste, feeling his gaze on you as you press a button on the oven to turn the alarm off, and you stare at the handle for a moment or two to calm the beating of your heart down.

Your eyes catch sight of something on the side of the fridge. A little magnet made of rubber that has the word London on it as well as the design of the Westminster Cathedral with golden accents. You recall that Gojo went on a trip to London recently, and that he didn’t bring you back any souvenirs from there like he did for your other neighbors. And you want to pretend, you want to shove it down, that incessantly childish feeling that wonders why he didn’t bring you anything back. You want to continue to pretend like it doesn’t hurt your feelings. Something so miniscule and small. But you–...well, you can’t.

You spin around to face him. “Do you hate me?” you bluntly ask.

He blinks at you. “Huh?”

“Do you, what, I don’t know, think I’m annoying or something?”

He shrugs with his hands still in his pockets. “I mean, yeah, I do think you’re annoying sometimes. But in a silly way. Like we’re just pals horsin’ around, y’know?”

You snarl at him, putting your hands on your hips and narrowing your gaze until he’s hardly even visible anymore. “No. I actually find you annoying. Like, wanna-run-you-over-with-a-bus annoying. You just have horrendous social awareness and think that everyone loves you.”

“You actually don’t like me?” he asks, like he can’t even believe that someone wouldn’t.

“Yes,” you say, “now get out of my way.” You make an attempt to push past him, purposefully knocking your shoulder into him to assert dominance but he is unfortunately much bigger than you and so all it does is make you stumble ungracefully from the recoil.

He quickly grabs your arm to steady you, and you glare up at him before yanking yourself away and then step backwards until your back hits the fridge.

He studies your demeanor for a second before taking a deep inhale, and then lets it all go in a heaving sigh. “What do I have to do to get you to lighten up a bit?” he asks.

“You really want to know?” you sneer at him.

“Yes,” he says with a slight hint of frustration in his tone.

You cross your arms. “Pay for the fucking fence.”

He blinks at you, confusion replacing whatever frustration was previously decorating his tone. “What?”

“The fence,” you reiterate with a step forwards towards him, “the one I built six months ago. The one where you laughed in my face when I told you to help pay for it.”

He leans forward. “Yeah. Because I never wanted that fence built. Like I said, it fucked up the roots on my avocado tree. You should’ve asked me before building it. In fact, it’s illegal to build a fence without joint consent of both neighboring property owne–”

“Oh my god, okay, see? This is why I can’t stand you,” you snarl at him and make another move to get past him but he easily steps in front of you to keep you from going anywhere.

With a sigh, he relents. “Fine, I’ll pay for the fence.”

You try to keep the twitching muscles of your face still as you resolutely stare up at him, pressing your lips into a thin line. Through a strained tone, you say, “No. I don’t want you to pay for it anymore.”

He lifts a brow, utterly bewildered at this point. “Huh?”

“Now it just feels like pity. And I don��t want your pity money.”

“Two seconds ago, you did.”

“Yeah, well, whatever. That was two seconds ago.”

“So…let me get this straight, you don’t want me to pitch in?”

“No. I want you to have wanted to pitch in SIX MONTHS AGO.”

“Okay but what the fuck am I supposed to do about that now?”

“NOTHING!!!” you finally snap at him, the shrill to your voice startling him slightly to where you see his shoulders jump, and his eyes are now rounded blue as he looks at you. “There’s nothing you can do about it, there’s nothing you can do to get me to ‘lighten up’ or ‘act softer’ or whatever the fuck kind of damage control you aim to achieve with me due to your pestering incessant need to be liked by every fucking person you come across. So just deal with the fact that I hate you and let me do it in peace.”

He’s silent for what feels like a long time as he blinks at you, his bottom lip pushing up slightly in a way that suggests he’s almost impressed by your little outburst, then he takes a step forward, and in that one large stride, he’s closed any distance between the two of you. Your back is up against the frigid steel of the fridge, your heels tucked under the warm rubber at the foot of it, and you’re looking up at Gojo as he towers over you, his hands still annoyingly and relaxedly shoved into his pockets.

“Do you think it’s gonna be a problem that I think you’re kinda hot when you’re mad?” he asks you.

A small puff of air leaves your lips, like you just can’t believe the audacity, but also having him this close to you suddenly made it a little harder to breathe. “C–...Can you just be fucking serious for one second?”

His head dips down, the fringe of his hair tickling your forehead, tip of his nose slightly brushing against yours, but his gaze never falls to your lips. “You think I’m not being stupid fuckin’ serious when I say that you’re hot?”

“S–” your breath hitches in your throat, and his gaze finally falls to the lick you pass over your lips, “Satoru–”

Like God himself answered to your (cognitively dissonant) prayers, the bell rings, and Gojo leans himself away from you, straightening his spine so he can glance over his shoulder towards the door, a slight look of irritation on his face through the furrow of his brow.

You blink up at him. “A–...Are you expecting someone?”

He rubs the back of his neck. “No. Don’t think so.” He sighs before shuffling around the kitchen island and across the dining hall towards the entryway of the house, and you peer at the sight from across the hall.

When he opens the door, you see Sana standing outside, dressed in mom jeans and a t-shirt with her black Coach purse slung around her shoulder, arms crossed, and you barely register the fact that she looks pissed.

“Sana?” Gojo says, “what’s up.”

She entirely ignores him when she catches sight of you, pushing right past him and into the family room that you were currently finding solace in.

“You,” she points at you, storming right up to your personal space, “what the hell did you say to Juno when you were babysitting her?!”

“H-Huh??” you squeak out, taking a step backwards. “What are you talking about?”

“You told her to fight kids at school?!” she snarls at you, and your eyes widen.

“What?” you say, your face twisting with confusion, “I–...I never said that. I just said that she should stand up for herself if she needs to.”

Sana inhales deeply with rage, leaning back and jutting her hip out as she crosses her arms again. “Yeah, well, I had to pick her up early from school today because the principal called and told me she shoved a little girl on the playground during recess, and now she’s facing suspension.”

Gojo approaches suddenly from your periphery, standing in front of you as he faces Sana. You stand on your tiptoes to peer at her over his shoulder. “What? Why would Juno do something like that?

You hear Sana start to tap her foot impatiently against the hardwood floor, and then she turns her head away from Gojo as a slight hmph! noise leaves her throat. “The why is irrelevant.”

You poke your head out from behind Gojo and glare at her, but then Gojo turns around suddenly to look at you.

“y/n,” he says, “what’s going on?”

“I–” you start, glancing at Sana again who now has a solemn look on her face with pursed lips. You glance back at Gojo, who’s looking at you with confusion and anticipation. A heat spreads down your neck from the attention of the both of them on you, and you’re not sure what the smart thing to say is, so you figure you’ll just tell the truth as it is. “...I just didn’t want her getting bullied and thinking she can’t stick up for herself.”

At that, you see Gojo’s shoulders stiffen. “Bullied?” he repeats after you, then quickly turns towards Sana, “what does she mean, bullied? Juno’s getting bullied at school?”

Sana faces him full-on, raising a stern pointed finger between the two of them “No. Satoru. Stop. You always do this. This has nothing to do with you, so don’t even start. It’s not a big deal, let’s not make it one.”

“The fuck do you mean it’s not a big deal? She’s getting bullied at school, and you want her to just suck it up?” he asks, venom dripping from his tone.

“It’s for her benefit!” Sana exclaims. “Jun and I have spent months trying to get her into this school! We don’t want her getting kicked out.”

“Y’know, I’m–” you stutter, “I’m gonna–...I’m just gonna go upstairs,” you say, “this seems like a family matter. I think you guys should probably just settle this on your ow–”

“No,” Gojo says, pointing to the couch that you were standing in front of, “sit down.”

You sit.

Gojo turns to face Sana again, and although you can’t see his face, you imagine he’s pissed off from the way Sana’s shoulders drop slightly and her sharp expression is cut into a more sheepish one.

“Who cares if Juno is suspended for sticking up for herself? It’s the teachers’ fault for not making sure she’s safe,” he says.

“Shoving other kids is not the solution.”

“Well if you fuck around, then you find out. Kids are too soft these days.”

“This is not the 90s, Satoru.”

You watch the back and forth between the two of them for the better part of an entire minute, feeling uneasy in the hostile environment of the room, but there’s a sense of underlying familiarity between the two, one that is recognizable amongst family. And you feel rather foreign, but then remember that, technically speaking, now that you’re married to Gojo, this is your family too.

Amongst the arguing of the adults, none of you noticed that Juno had gotten out of the car in the driveway and was now standing in the doorframe of the front entrance. She looks scared and guilty, fidgeting with her fingers in front of her, and you notice her scrapes and bruises that you tended to last week were now mostly healed.

Gojo catches sight of her, and you see his shoulders relax. “Juno, c’mere.”

With the permission, she instantly runs towards him and into his arms from where he was crouched down to the floor in order to welcome her, and then she starts sobbing.

“I’m–hic,” she cries, “I’m so–hic–I’m so sowwyyy Uncle Toru…I’m–hic–I’m sorry mommyyyy.”

You see Sana sigh and she makes a move to brush Juno’s tear-dampened hair out of her face when Gojo pulls her away from his shoulder by a delicate hold of her bony little shoulders.

“Juno. Listen. If people are being mean to you, then you do exactly as your auntie y/n said. You stand up for yourself. And if that doesn’t work, then you cuss at them and threaten to shove their faces into the dirt until they run away with their tails between their legs. Do you understand me?” Gojo tells her.

Sana gives you a pointed look.

“Oh, I–” you put your hands up in front of you, “I didn’t say any of that last part.”

“Do you understand me?” Gojo repeats again, and Juno nods her head slowly before she falls back into him and soaks his shirt with tears. “I’m soowwwwwyyyyyy.”

Gojo pats her back a few times to comfort her, and your heart breaks for the little girl. It’s bad enough to be bullied at school, but then to be reprimanded by your mother the one time you stand up for yourself…you can imagine how emotionally exhausting that would be for a five-year-old.

Juno sniffles, rubbing her snot all over the cotton of Gojo’s shirt, and then pulls her face away to rub at her eye with a weakly closed fist. “I–hic–I just…I just wanted him to feel–hic–the same hurt.”

“Huh? Who?” Gojo asks.

“The boy,” Juno says, “the one that shoved me today.”

“It was a boy?!?!?!” Gojo yells. “Alright. That’s it. I’m grabbing my bat.”

“Satoru.” Sana deadpans.

Sana and Gojo continue to bicker about the ethics of threatening five-year-old boys with baseball bats, going back and forth about how Gojo wasn’t actually going to do anything but just wanted to instill fear (he’s lying), while Sana isn’t exactly sold on a single pacifist thing that he says, and you sigh, because you realize you’ve become invested in one of, what you feel like will become many, of their family quarrels.

Juno sneaks around Gojo’s legs and comes up to you while the arguing is taking place in the background, and she gently taps your knee as you’re seated on the couch. “Auntie y/n,” she whispers.

You rub an eye crustie from her face and then hold her hand in yours. “Yes?”

“Thank you.”

“Mm? For what?”

She smiles at you, her cheeks pink and flush from crying but rounded now in glee. “My mommy and daddy spoke a lot today at home for first time in long time because of me. Because I listen’ded to you. Thank you.”

Your eyes narrow. “What do you mean by that, sweetheart?”

Why wouldn’t Sana and Jun be on normal talking terms? What does Juno mean that it’s been a long time? What exactly was going on at home?

“Juno,” Sana’s voice interrupts your thoughts, her arms crossed across her chest, “c’mon. Let’s go.” She points a stern finger at Gojo. “Seriously. I mean it. No baseball bats or rodent traps involved. I’ll talk to the teachers and sort something out.” She glances at you, that strict look on her face now dissolving into one of pure exhaustion. One you can imagine only a mother can face. “See you later at dinner, you two.”

Juno runs up to her mom and grabs onto her outreached hand, and you see Gojo ruffle her hair as she walks past him, her giggles ringing in the air, and then he sees them out the door.

The air is awkward, at least to you, the second he closes the door, and when he turns around to face you, your body stiffens up.

He leans back onto the front door, crossing his arms over his chest. “Thanks,” he says, “for telling Juno to stick up for herself.”

You blink at him. “Well. I don’t feel too great about it at the moment, to be honest.”

He sighs. “I just think that Jun and Sana are raising her to be…kinda meek. I wish they’d teach her to be more confident and take up space.”

“Mhm,” you nod. Because you agree. Little girls need to learn how to be that way at a young age, because the world is seldom very kind to them.

“Well, what you said to her is what I would’ve said to her anyways,” he says.

You roll your eyes, standing up from the couch and heading back into the kitchen to presume your work on your peach cobbler. “I never told her to shove kids’ faces into the dirt. But, uh, sure, I guess so.”

You see Gojo enter the kitchen too in your periphery, but you don’t give him any glance or look or attention. From what you can see as you stir around your macerated peaches in a Pyrex bowl, he’s leaning against the island counter about three feet away from you, his hands shoved in his pockets, and he’s watching you. A slight warmth radiates in your cheeks, but you attempt to ignore the nerves by being hypnotized by the pink syrup that pools at the bottom of the bowl.

My mommy and daddy spoke a lot today at home for first time in long time because of me. Because I listen’ded to you. Thank you.

An unsettling feeling takes over your senses. It could be the past few years you’ve spent walking on eggshells around your mother, or the way you’ve become so keen to her energy as a way of staying on top of any shift in her symptoms, any single sign of disease progression, any clue that she wasn’t getting better. Any clue that she wasn’t doing okay. And you feel a sense of dread, because that skill, you realize, has now made you aware of similar circumstances in the people around you.

Not to mention, you are a child of divorce. You know what that fear feels like.

You just want to know if Juno feels safe at home.

“Hey, um…” you start, turning slightly to finally face Gojo, your eyes hesitantly flickering up to meet his gaze, “when was the last time you saw your brother-in-law? And with Sana?”

He raises a brow at you. “I just saw them last weekend for one of Juno’s dance recitals.”

“Ah…I see,” you say. You purse your lips together.

Right. Kids say things all the time. They believe in Santa Claus and think that blueberry pancakes are called blubbery pancakes. And they sometimes read too into things, and they sometimes read too little. Surely, things must be okay. Maybe Sana and Jun had had a little argument with some stubbornly thawing cold shoulders, a demeanor that was noticed by their child, and now things have resumed to normal. That was normal. Part of every family. “That’s good to know…”

You turn away from Gojo to stare back down into the bowl of macerated peaches again. With a furrowed brow, you close your eyes tightly to try to shake the chilly feeling in your bones, and you feel better when you open them again. The slightly numb sensation in your hand dissipates and you have enough dexterity to mix the peaches around in the bowl.

“I wonder what news they want to share with us over dinner,” you say, to quell the awkward silence.

“Hm?” Gojo hums, and you see him turn around face the counter now, hovering over the bowl of raw crumble topping you had mixed together, prodding at it with the wooden spoon. “Oh, they’re moving.”

Your head snaps to look at him. “W-What?”

“Yeah,” he nonchalantly affirms, scooping up a spoonful of the crumble. “They wanted to up-size, and move a little closer to the school that Juno’s at. I found them a nice place about an hour from here on the outskirts of the city. They just signed the papers a couple weeks ago.” And then he shoves the spoon into his mouth.

“Oh…wow,” you say. “Okay…”

“Damn,” Gojo says with surprise laced in his tone, "this is really good.” He’s staring into the bowl in awe and then scoops up some more crumble with a spoon.

You blink at him, irritated that he’s eating all your ingredients without even asking, and before you’ve even finished your dessert. It’s like he was born to piss you off.

You walk up to him and yank the bowl away, “Gimme that.” Then you pull it into the divot of your waist possessively and glare at him.

He sighs, and then says something out loud that you’re sure he meant to keep in his head:

“I’ll get used to it.”

[end of chapter 5]

a/n. it feels so strange to post such a short chapter bahaha hopefully the ending isn't too abrupt. but hope you enjoyed! i'm so sorry ab the slow burn in this series aaa but i can try to assure you that it'll all be worth it hopefully lol i'm really excited for what i have planned for this series!! alsooo sorry if there are errors or anything, i'm trying to spend less time editing since it really stalls me n leads to writer's block lol. hope to see you in the next one :) much love! - ellie

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