exhusband!gojo did not accept he doesn't live with you no more
and deep down, you don't mind (pun intended)
You didn't know that you were supposed to write down an eviction notice. Matter of fact, you didn't.
Big mistake.
It wasn't news to you that Satoru was not familiar with the word boundaries, neither the significance of it. You still expected some sort of reason from him, for instance; If you move out of somewhere, you don't live there anymore, so if perhaps a key was given to you for safety reasons, like in case of an emergency; you should use it for EMERGENCIES.
After your many protests and lame excuses of lecturing him that being "needy" wasn't an emergency, you decided to a firmer approach, until you came home and saw him in the kitchen.
Yes, Satoru Gojo had many qualities, being a good cook was not one of them, yet, watching him stir up the pan filled with some goo, trying so hard to look like he knew what he was doing was a sight for sore eyes.
And now you didn't have to cook for a very hungry four year old called Yuji so, win-win.
Said child hops off his stool, gracing you with a bear hug right in your leg.
"Hey baby!" You pick him up so he can hug you properly now, tiny arms wrapping around your neck.
"Mommy! Daddy's making food again..."
He declared, a sheepish smile painting his lips, like him too was a bit scared of what was going to come out of that stove.
"Well that's not a good sign..." You muttered, more to yourself then directed at Yuji.
The picture ahead of you seemed so familiar, yet distant, simultaneously.
The father of your son cooking something that probably tastes like disgrace; something that will become you and your son's inside joke and mocking material towards Dad.
He was humming some pop song you didn't recognize, as you stepped in closer, he looked.
That smirk always meant something. It was teasing, knowing and daring at the same time. Mind-clouding, infuriatingly--makes you wanna jump right into his arms again. You made your way over to him.
"Look who's home!" his stirring comes to a halt as you approach the stove, he takes that as his cue to snake his hand around your waist, said act earns him a smack in the arm.
"Look who's not in his assigned home!" You cross your arms.
Before you start cracking your defiant act, you had to at least try.
Sure, it was highly unlikely that Gojo would leave your house without at least a kiss, like he always did.
But to try is not to succeed, nor to fail.
You turned off the fire. He looked at you, dumbfounded that you would dare to cut his fun short by interrupting his mindless stirring of some potion he created. Then you looked over at the appearance or whatever the hell that was.
"Did you use my paprika for this??"
You raised your voice after noticing the red coloration present in the Satoru Gojo elixir.
“Oh, do you mean our paprika?”
He was trying to make you mad, and oh boy was he getting exactly what he wanted.
That if you could stay mad at him for longer than a quarter of a second.
You stayed quiet. It was best not to say anything, avoiding any snarky comeback he could’ve shot at you that most certainly would make you laugh.
You shrugged and threw away his “sauce”.
Then the man starts to speak again.
“I Know I’ve just hallucinated because there is no way my amazing wife despised and demolished her loving husband’s precious soup, made with love and-"
“I’m not your wife!”
You cut him off before he could finish the sentence, that’s when you felt both his arms trapping you against the counter.
“You’ll always be my wife.”
He said it again.
This time with a dead serious look in his eyes, well if you’re being honest, that look is always present in his bright blue eyes when he says that— Satoru Gojo does not play when it comes to his “wife."
You took a deep breath. It was always hard with him.
Because he had to make sure you never forgot him, he had to make sure you wouldn’t sleep in peace; oblivious to his desperation for scraps of your attention—and it worked.
“Stop it."
You said, still not daring to look at those eyes, not meaning a word of that.
“You don’t mean that."
And he reads you like a book.
And before you can react, a whine attracted both of your focuses and cut that moment short.
“Mommy, I’m still hungry…”
Awesome.
After tucking in a happy, well fed, chicken stuffed toddler into bed, your ex-husband coming into vision, still sat, still smiling right there in your couch—felt a bit differently for a softened heart.
“What are you still doing here?"
You asked, still trying to feign displease, you couldn’t tell if it was convincing. He exhaled.
“I was waiting for you to come down so I can kiss you goodbye."
He was teasing but didn’t move an inch from where he was sitting, he was making his message clear: He wanted you to come to him.
“Funny, you’re still not trying to move.”
“I’m waiting for my kiss."
He whispered, leaning further on the couch with that smile, like he owned the place---at given point he did, undeniably, but that smile was persuading; like he owned you.
“Might as well bury you there then. Get off my couch Satoru.”
“Come here.”
He demanded, simply. So sultry it sounded like a request—you didn’t budge.
“You’re infuriating- “
“And you’re beautiful.”
The smirk wasn’t working so he switched to puppy dog eyes, smart.
“Do I have to beg?”
Your silence answered his question.
“Please?”
So, you did. No harm done just sitting next to him, but you knew him, and you knew yourself—best to be mindful then...
“Nu huh” He looked over at you—then had the nerve to pat his thigh.
“Oh shut up- “
And he did, in the worst way he could; With his lips on yours.
And you never, ever, learned how to say no to this.
You obliged, more than that, you indulged.
You took control of the kiss, you climbed into his lap, you were kissing his neck until you were too far gone to stop.
His hands were everywhere at once, touching you, squeezing you and eventually moving to remove any piece of clothing separating his mouth from your nipples.
Really, how could you say no when it felt like that, when he looked like that, happily kneading and sucking your breasts, like a child seeing candy for the first time.
It didn't take long for things to escalate, it never did with him.
But you wouldn't repeat the same mistake of trying to get it on the couch, risking being interrupted by your own offspring.
He carried you upstairs into your bedroom, then to your bed effortlessly. He always made you feel like you were as light as a feather, in all your phases, shapes and sizes.
So you two left the majority of your clothes around the staircase, it was just natural.
By the time your back felt the surface of the bed, your thighs were already dripping and his head; between them.
"What I miss most about ya-" he vulgarly spread your moisture over your oversensitive clit "Is how easy you get wet for me, seriously."
"S-shut up-" Instead, he shut you up pressing his lips to the same bundle of nerves, sucking, adding simultaneously a finger to where you were weeping from.
Your sentence was cut short by a unintelligible moan from your throat at the surprising pleasure.
"How's that for shut up?" He mocked thrusting his fingers faster, just before moving his daring mouth back to where it was. It was too good, you were already cursing but when you were just starting to get out of breath-
His face emerged, breathing ragged, maybe because of excitement or perhaps you were strangling him with the force of your thighs around his head, either way that fucking smirk was still there.
"Why did you stop??!" You protested, there was no way the man who knows your whole body that well couldn't tell you were about to cum!
"Cause I'm an asshole"
and there he was. You knew that smile and that game all too well. This egocentric ass was only gonna let you come on his cock.
He started taking off the test of his clothes, enjoying the pissed off look on your face.
"That's why I divorced you, you know?" you pressed your hand on his chest, him looking over you;
"Don't kid yourself honey, you never meant to do that"
He shut up any response you could've gathered before you could utter anything with a kiss, not breaking it until you were perfectly lined up with him. He thought, if you were gonna be a bitch, better do it while getting fucked, its kinda hot.
"Don't call me hon-" and there's that feeling, the one thing you missed most about your marriage. "Oooooh fuck."
You quickly give into it, the feeling, the pleasure. Having that infuriating man fuck you like this was what you always thought heaven was all about.
"Already cursing? Missed me that much?" His mockery always stirred up something inside you. He himself says it makes you wetter, if that's even possible.
"I-" Your retorts were cut short by moans, again. Soon enough his hair is in your hands, his mouth on yours and your legs around his waist trying to pull him as close as two can get.
When you were this fucked out, little did your brain care about what came out of your mouth, whether it was profanities or declarations... Today you were more then fucked out, you were cockdrunk.
And after you fucked on on your back, on your side, on your belly, all fours and cumming for the nth time, what's the harm in an-
"Oooooh I fucking love you-"
With that, you collapsed face first on the mattress. Exactly what you needed.
He had the decency to wait for your breathing to come back to normal, lay by your side, place your head on his chest, then he could torment you.
"What was that you said to me?"
"I beg you, stop breaking into my house-"
"You don't mean that."
You don't.
And you do mean that "I love you" as much as you would hate to admit.
a/n: been outta practice! pardon if writing isn't of standard.... more like this here: one two (not chronological really)
