mochacafee - Tumblr blog

mochacafee · 5 months ago

Text

As Grief Consumes

synopsis: An overconfident prodigy, a chain-smoking-alcohol-chugging brunette, a self-righteous hypocrite, a stoic unimpressed blonde, an overly enthusiastic boy and then there's you... A suicidal maniac.

contents/warning: MDNI, graphic depictions of violence/mature themes, ANGST, mutual pining, eventual smut/smut, slow burn, multiple love interests, character death/s, no use of y/n, hurt/comfort, jjk x oc, curse user!reader, fem!reader

status: ongoing

also on ao3: here

⋅───⊱ .prologue ⊰───⋅

Dear Mr. & Mrs. Kisaragi,

I hope this letter finds you in good health and high spirits. It is with great respect for your family’s renowned lineage and reputation, that I extend this formal invitation for your daughter, Ms. Kisaragi to enroll at Tokyo Metropolitan Jujutsu Technical School.

Having had the privilege of witnessing Ms. Kisaragi’s exceptional talents firsthand during her recent fieldwork, I can confidently attest to her remarkable skill and potential as a jujutsu sorcerer.

At Jujutsu High, we aim to provide guidance, and an environment that fosters the development of sorcerers through rigorous training, academic excellence and hands-on experience. With our expertise, we can help Ms. Kisaragi to further refine her abilities and uphold the principles of sorcery.

We deeply value the Kisaragi family's long-standing commitment to jujutsu sorcery, and it would be an honor to welcome your child as a student.

Should you have any questions or wish to discuss her enrollment further, please do not hesitate to contact me directly.

With highest regards,

Masamichi Yaga Principal Tokyo Metropolitan Jujutsu Technical School

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

One.

Just one.

You load the bullet into the chamber. You give it a few long spins, playing with it like a spinning wheel. You count the seconds in your head, mumbling to yourself. The gears inside its mechanism, turning and turning.

6 seconds.

It took six seconds before the revolver stopped spinning on its own. You let out a sigh, exasperated. That took longer than usual.

What does fate have in store for you today?

Is your luck finally running out?

Will it cooperate this time?

How exciting.

You chuckled softly at fate– at yourself, really. The metal— as you brushed your finger on the barrel, felt cool to the touch. A stark contrast on the warm leather grip as you held it so casually like a toy.

You point the end of the barrel at the side of your head, its nozzle pressed against your temple. You have indulged yourself in another self imposed game of Russian roulette. The pressure of its weight almost feels comforting to you now.

You groaned, your tone riddling with annoyance. “If this thing doesn’t go off, I’m gonna have a bad day.”

Then you pressed its hammer. All you have to do now is pull the trigger, like you always do.

You laughed again, a little maniacally this time as you felt your heart rate spike ever so slightly. If you keep doing this, it might get boring at some point. You thought to yourself.

You recall the first time you picked up this unusual game of yours. You were eleven years old, stationed in the outskirts of some country you can’t even remember where exactly anymore. But what you do remember is your parents sending you on a mission in the middle of a warzone. Such a scared little twerp, you were.

You weren’t supposed to be crouched behind the crumbling walls of a war-torn city, tending to soldiers whose bodies were mangled beyond recognition, your small— fragile, bloody, little hands trembling as you poured every bit of your cursed energy into wounds that sometimes were too stubborn to heal or maybe you were just weak. You were a child after all.

A child gifted to wield the curse of the Kisaragi lineage. Oh what a marvelous specimen you are, they say.

You could heal practically anything if you will it hard enough! Your curse was a gift.

It’s a gift!

It’s a wonderful, magnificent gift!

You still remember the first soldier you tried to heal, a man whose face you never saw, the dirt had stuck to his skin. You remembered the blood that pooled beneath him, his groans of agony still sung so distinctly in your ears. You remember your hands pressing against his torso. Tears stained your eyes, but it was nothing compared to the gruesome sight before you. You felt your cursed energy course through him with whatever willpower your little body had.

Then you felt it like an orchestra playing the bridge of a symphony. You felt his pain— every jagged breath, every sharp searing ache of his wounded flesh, the metallic tang in your mouth, the mind-numbing throb in his chest like was hit by a fucking freight train. You absorbed all of this soldier’s torture in an attempt to heal him.

And he died anyway.

Idiot.

You told yourself it wasn’t your fault, that some wounds were beyond saving. Poor naive you, crying because you failed at the one thing you’re supposed to be good at.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. You say to yourself as you tap the barrel on your head on each emphasis.

The gun felt colder now, as if it had sensed the shift in your otherwise manic mood. The weight of your memories pressing harder than the steel.

It was a long night, alone, scared and unable to sleep. Anyone or anything that you knew was far away. You saw these soldiers sitting around a comfortable and warm fire, their conversation, their laughter as hollow as yours is now as they played this silly little game of life & death. Passing around a similar gun. You would hear a click but no bang, then they would laugh, and continue their chatter as if it was nothing. Like a daring game to be played amongst your closest and craziest friends.

A normal kid— person would find this terrifying if they had witnessed such recklessness. But you were no normal kid.

No, no. A normal kid would run and tell an adult about what those dumb soldiers were doing.

But instead, this angered you. You confronted them.

Selfish!

You called them selfish.

Here you were using every ounce of your cursed energy, absorbing the torment of their pain and suffering just so they could live another day and see the faces of their loved ones once more and yet they were toying with their own lives. How incredibly… selfish.

At that time, you expected that these grown-ups– these soldiers would hear the sincerity of your words and the fire in your heart. To realize that what they’re doing is wrong in every way but no.

They laughed at you as if you had said the most ridiculous thing ever.

“A’piece of advice kid, you’ve alr’dy seen da’ shit they do t’us out there,” he narrowed his eyes at you, leaning a little closer. You could still remember the smell of tobacco on his breath. The same one your grandfather smokes. “If ya’ think ‘ya can find a candle of hope that we’ll survive this hell’ole, ‘ya might as’well look for f’kin’ Santa Claus,” he cackled. His friends, clamoring along with him like sheep.

“‘Ya might as well kick off b’fore they beat ‘ya to it!”

Demented.

Laughing.

Sheep.

Now, here you are. No longer that frightened child. Walking on a tightrope, just like they did. You’ve gone off to countless missions, stationed in every possible conflict zone imaginable, and tasked with high-risk operations that demanded every bit of your abilities.

You’ve felt— experienced almost every possible sensation of pain there is, from the sharp sting of a shallow cut to the jarring impact of losing a limb, and even… gunshots. Those still lingered in your veins, in your skin– in your senses, even after all this time. A blow to the head is nothing.

You exhaled sharply. Your finger hovered over the trigger. Your thoughts are as blank as the expression on your face. Your life at your fingertips. So poetic.

So… beautiful.

Click!

Nothing.

“What a bother!” You huffed, rolling your eyes. Just when you thought it was going to be a little interesting today, fate said otherwise.

Well, that’s that. You said to yourself as you swivelled your chair around, tossing the revolver back into your junk drawer.

Disappointing. You sighed.

“Well that was… interesting,” you hear a voice say.

You look up, seeing two figures standing before you, just by the door of your study. One was a slender guy, his spiky hair as white as baby powder and a pair of sunglasses resting on the bridge of his nose, giving you a glimpse of his bright— almost blinding blue eyes along with his baby powder lashes.

Next to him, was another slim man but slightly more muscular, his eyes seemingly disinterested or bored. His long dark hair tied into a bun, a few untamed strands straying on the side of his forehead, almost as if it was intentional. His shoulders slumped, making the other appear taller. Next to each other, they looked like the two opposing sides of a yin yang… or the alternating stripes on a zebra.

“Usually people knock before they enter someone’s room,” you said. “Are all Jujutsu High sorcerers this rude?”

The baby powder haired man chuckled. His tone, light and carefree. It was almost annoying. As if he hadn’t just witnessed you playing this dangerous game of yours.

“Well apologies Miss,” he snickered. “But in our defense, the door was already open and we’re on a bit of a schedule here.”

You eyed them both warily, your thoughts elsewhere and you honestly couldn’t care less on what they were here for. You rest your cheek on the palm of your hand, your fingers tapping on the wooden surface of your desk. Baby powder was waiting for you to say something as he kept a friendly eager grin on his face.

His dark-haired companion rolled his eyes and nudged at his friend. “Satoru,” he muttered, his tone tinged with mild annoyance. He turns to you, he gives a small, apologetic nod. “Suguru Geto. It’s nice to meet you. We’re here on Sensei Yaga’s request to bring you to Tokyo.”

Ah right. The letter. You should be honored, like your mother said. Master Yaga saw… potential in you.

But you’re a skeptic at heart. Was it really potential?

Or a means to an end? Not that it would be any different with how you’ve been treated your whole life.

“Right…” You draw out. The adrenaline that briefly occupied your chest during your little game was now fading. “Sensei… I guess I have to call him that now too.”

“So you’re Gojo,” You point at the man with white hair then at the other one. “And you’re Geto.”

You’ve heard of them. Hell, who hasn’t?

Their names were passed around here and there by your parents in such high regard, though never directly to praise you, but as measuring sticks, impossible benchmarks for you to reach as if it wasn’t you who was keeping this family afloat.

“Funny,” you continued on. “You’re far from what I had imagined in my head.” You said flatly, standing up from your seat as you looked over the two of them once more. But you can’t say for certain how you expected the one gifted with six eyes would look like.

And his friend, well you can’t really say much other than your small knowledge of his cursed technique.

Gojo chuckled, his confidence unwavering. “It’s nice to meet you too Ms. Kisaragi!” He said, almost jokingly.

“Sensei Yaga spoke highly of you, I mean the Kisaragi clan had contributed a lot to sorcerers and the military,” Geto continued, his tone steady and polite. “Sensei regrets that he hadn’t approached your family sooner.”

“Does he now?” You said, your tone neutral. You start to gather your things from your desk, and stuffed them inside your purse, preparing to leave the comfort of your home.

The Kisaragi name carried weight, sure. But you always questioned whether it was respect or fear that kept it in such high regard. Being admirable is one of things they’d call your family but anything your family did or their ‘contributions’ weren’t simply acts of altruism— or out of the kindness of their hearts, they were purposeful, calculated and designed to cement their influence on the people who could afford it.

And you? You were just another piece in this carefully constructed game.

Suguru’s expression remained composed, despite your disinterest in his attempt at flattery. Gojo leaned against the doorframe, his head tilted as a smirk started to form on his lips.

“I’m not gonna lie, Sensei Yaga gave us the impression that the Kisaragi were a friendly bunch and your mother seemed very nice when she welcomed us to your lovely home, but…” Gojo’s grin widened as he gestured towards you, sliding down his sunglasses just enough to reveal a glint of amusement in his bright blue eyes, teasingly. “...you? Not so much.”

You let out a long sigh, your hand on your hip as you shook your head, clicking your tongue mockingly as if you were disappointed in yourself. “You’re right! I should be nicer! Wouldn’t want to drag my family’s name through the mud— how’s this?”

You straightened up immediately, your demeanor shifting so seamlessly like you flipped a switch. Your posture becomes more poised and polished. You clasped your hands together lightly, plastering on a cheerful, almost unnatural smile.

“Oh Mr. Gojo and Mr. Geto,” you began. Your voice so sickeningly sweet and polite. “It’s such an honor to meet the two of you. I hear nothing but good things about you both, and I must say, you truly exceeded my expectations. Thank you so much for gracing me with your presence today!”

Suguru’s brows lifted slightly, taken aback by the sudden change in your behavior, unsure how to react. Gojo blinked for a second before breaking into fits of laughter, clearly amused.

It seems that it doesn’t take much for the baby powder sorcerer to get entertained. His friend, on the other hand, was utterly confused.

“Was that better?” you said, your tone laced with sarcasm. “Now if you don’t mind, can we leave?”

Before they could answer, you walked towards the door. Eager to leave the room that you would’ve left with your brain splattered on the walls. Then you hear Geto speak, stopping you in your tracks.

“So what’s your name?”

“Huh, that’s right. Sensei Yaga forgot to mention it,” Gojo chimed in. “Care to tell us your name? I mean, we’ll be around each other a lot so might as well right?” He grinned.

You paused, your hand hovering over the door frame. For a brief moment, you felt like a deer caught in the headlights. Your name. They wanted to know your name. It was a simple question.

You had two names. The one that belonged to you.

And the one that carried your honor, your family’s expectations, their legacy— your curse.

It was at the tip of your tongue. It was the name that was drilled into you to answer with, the one that represented everything you’re supposed to be.

Yuna Kisaragi. The bearer of the Kisaragi curse.

The Kisaragi’s wealth wasn’t measured in money or their business ventures. It was you. A culmination of generations upon generations of meticulous planning and selective breeding. They didn’t need vaults of gold or prized possessions, when they had you.

You aren’t just one person, you are a legacy to behold of countless Yunas before you. The source of all their fortune.

Eleven Yunas, to be exact. Eleven women reduced to a role they had to play, a placeholder for their ambitions.

Your name was a beautifully crafted lie to protect you, so they say. It was easier that way, they said. A single false name meant fewer questions, fewer loose ends, and fewer ways for anyone to connect you to your true identity to the Kisaragi fortune.

Most days you forget you had a real name. Not that it mattered anyway. No one knew what it was except you.

You turned slightly, looking over your shoulder. A small, practiced smile curved on your lips, one you had perfected over years of appeasing those who have raised you and those around you.

“Yuna,” you said smoothly. The name slips from your tongue with an almost mechanical ease.

“Are we good now?” You asked, as you turned towards the door again.

Geto tilted his head, his sharp eyes observing you, you could almost feel it burning on your back. “You’re taking that gun with you?”

So he noticed.

“I’m not one to know much about women’s accessories and things they keep in their purse, it’s none of my business, really but that’s a pretty bold accessory to carry around, don’cha think?”

Gojo remained silent, as if to let his friend address the elephant in the room. I mean, they did walk in on you about to off yourself, it’s stupid to think that they’ve forgotten about it or let alone not notice that you had shoved it in your purse- not that you were being sneaky about it either.

You glanced back at them, trying to read if they were serious. Their gazes were nothing but solemn and even a little curious.

“Caught me,” You shrugged mockingly. “Here, I’ll put it in this little drawer.” You slid open the small end table next to the door and dropped it inside before closing it shut, waving it off with a smile.

“Were you really going to off yourself?” Geto asked bluntly, he watched you with a humorless expression, his sternness palpable.

His- concern almost made you laugh. Instead your lips twitched into a faint smirk. “Lucky for you guys, it didn’t go off,” you said. “Would’ve been so rude of me if it did and you came all this way for nothing tsk tsk,” you clicked your tongue, shaking your head in ridicule.

“I mean what would my mother say?” You continue to mock. Then you turn on your heel, scoffing softly.

Sure enough, as you walked out the door of your study, Gojo and Geto exchanged a knowing look.

Gojo shrugged, chuckling at the absurdity of it all, and Geto can’t help but feel a migraine coming on, unsure if it was due to the 4 hour drive to get to your estate or you were right about the mere possibility that they would have gotten an earful from Yaga if they found you dead.

But one thing is for certain, you were going to be a handful.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

a/n: i came up with the title and story while i was listening to 'As Grief Consumes' by Peter Gundry, i highly recommend it...

also on ao3: here

161 notes · View notes

mochacafee · 6 months ago

Text

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!

3K notes · View notes