𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕟𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝕔𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕖𝕕 𝕚𝕥 𝕨𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕚𝕥 𝕨𝕒𝕤 | gojo satoru x reader

37: "We Won't Need That Truck Anymore." [SMUT WARNING]

Okay, don't kill me. I promise I'm back. Swearsies. Also because there's not much of the book left.

Anyway, smut warning. Obviously, if you're not comfortable with it, please skip it. Anyway. Onward. . .

- - - - -

You huffed as you dropped the last box into Gojo's apartment. "I hate that you live on the top floor."

"At this point, me too," Gojo muttered as he stretched his back. He fell face-first into his couch, mumbling a strained 'ow' into it after settling.

"Don't sit down yet. You've only got fifteen minutes to get that moving truck back to whatever company it came from." You picked up the keys for the truck, dropping them onto his back. Gojo mumbled something into the couch that you couldn't comprehend, and so you leaned closer to his face from over the back of the couch, "What?"

He lazily lifted his head, saying, "I own the truck," before dropping his head back down into the couch cushions, sighing.

You frowned. "Ain't no way."

Gojo grunted as he turned over, looking up at you and smiling softly. "The fact that you're surprised is a little embarrassing, sweetheart. Why wouldn't I own my own moving truck?"

"Why do you own a moving truck?" You asked as you walked over to the kitchen, turning on the lamp in the corner of the bench, casting a soft orange glow in the otherwise white kitchen. The sun had already set at this point, and all you wanted to do was find some garbage junk food to feast on as you laid there and did absolutely nothing.

"Oh, you know. . ." his voice remained muffled as he spoke into the couch cushions. You waited for him to continue before raising your eyebrows and saying, "No, I don't. You've been in this place for as long as I can remember."

Gojo didn't say anything, just rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling, a soft, shy smile on his face. Noticing it, you dropped the bag of chips you had just grabbed, realisation hitting you. "Satoru!"

"I-- Listen," Gojo sat up, resting his arms on the back of the couch as he looked at you, chin resting on his arms and crinkling his eyes slightly. "You were moving in, what did you want me to do?"

"Dude, rent one. Don't waste money on a truck you're never gonna use again!" You leaned your elbows against the bench, holding your face as you stressed the fact. "Literally what are you going to use it for?"

Gojo pursed his lips as his eyes gazed at you, clearly refraining another smirk. "We're never going to need it again, huh?"

"No. It's a waste of money to buy a whole ass truck. Literally when would we use it again--" you froze as you made eye contact with him, noticing him staring at you, a smirk slowly growing on his face. You cleared your throat as you heart pounded in your chest, realising what you were implying. You were barely able to let out a response, blood rushing to your face as you mumbled, "You. . . You know what I mean."

"Baby, I don't know if I do," he tilted his head at you, messy hair flopping to the side, sunglasses pushing it back away from his face as his now green-tinted eyes remained fixed on you.

You pointed at him, narrowing your eyes in warning before letting out a shaky and embarrassing, "Don't."

He bit his bottom lip, trying to hold back his smile before he spoke gently, "Come here."

You walked over to him, and he took the bag of chips out of your hand, placing them on the couch next to him. You frowned at that, about to ask for them back, before he gently took your hands in his. You looked at him, meeting his soft gaze as he looked at you seriously. He spoke in a quiet tone, eyes flicking between yours as he asked, "Are you sure?"