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meyichan · 8 months

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requesting jealous racer gojo with this scene!! https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSN8XvT2Y/ DK as gojo; From afar, Gojo caught his girlfriend chatting with a new racer and the new guy have no idea that the reader is gojo's girl 🥹🥹🥹🥹

a/n: REEEAAALLLLL! find the au masterlist here. loser daisuke makes a return !!!!

warnings: mentions of sexual harassment, assault (against daisuke) — uh dont do this in real life guys !!!!!!, mentions of ejaculation, public teasing & makeout

it was no secret gojo was a naturally possessive man — always glaring at anyone who even took a glimpse of you in your miniskirts or needing to have an arm around your waist whenever you conversed with another racer; whoever you chatted with also knew not to cross too many lines.

what gojo liked the most, though, was always having you run into his arms after every successful win, swooping into your arms and looking at whatever man who’s staring at your ass and then kissing you right on your mouth. the sour scowl on their faces are his favourite part.

so when you’re looking over the condition of your boyfriend’s friends’ cars — geto’s Mazda and nanami’s ’68 Dodge Charger — and checking that their engines could cool down in time for the next race, you’re pleasantly surprised when a man comes up to you without knowing the repercussions he’s about to receive, looking interestedly at the heavy duty metal you’re handling.

“you know you wouldn’t have that heating problem with a V8.” he smugly explains, leaning against the hood of your boyfriend’s car that you have half a mind to ask him to get off — you know how pissed he could get when random people lean on it — but you think you’d see how far this guy would go just for a piece of your ass (plus, your boyfriend loved you too much to put any ounce of blame on you). you’re no stranger to the weirdos around these parts, getting unwarranted slaps on your butt and caresses along your waist that inch too close to your chest, and all they get in return is one sweet, clean punch to their face.

“don’t need to bruise your pretty knuckles for these degenerates, baby.” gojo kisses your temple after knocking a guy unconscious, returning your sick grin right after you dig your heel into their face. “that’s my girl!”

you’re far from the police chief’s daughter after all those years, amusing the man just for a bit with a cute tilt of your head and a pop of your hips. you roll your eyes when you see how he licks his lips, eyes flicking down to your too short skirt.

“all you men care about is who’s got the biggest and better engines,” you click your tongue. even with your half-assed attitude, he takes it as a sign to advance, following you like a lost dog after you monitor nanami’s LS3, which was significantly cooler than geto’s 13B-REW. you take out your flip phone to shoot a text to the race coordinator.

nanamis car gud 2 go 1st. engines cooldown is faster than getos

but all he thinks is that it’s a green light that you wanted his number — he was probably patting himself on the back, didn’t even need any effort to woo you!

all gojo does is look at the ruckus from half a mile away, not listening to a word shoko was saying about her car; not even the cigarette smoke blowed into his face did anything, well, except for make him cough a little. shoko sports a little grin when she follows his line of sight.

“who’s the loser?” gojo asks, pushing off of her car and eyeing how you’d handle the situation. he knew you could hold your own perfectly fine, but with each stupid face the man makes, he’s driven to walk up to help you.

“some douche named wakashita daisuke, heard of him?” shoko replies boredly, tsks when her friend shakes his head, “fucked him for some parts. mediocre dick game.”

gojo scoffs, “not surprised.”

“y’all race with these lame engines, then?” daisuke seemingly had embarrassed himself with reaching out for your phone, seeing as you pocket it right after sending the text, but that doesn’t stop the man one bit. he continues to ramble about the pros of a V8 long after you’ve removed the hood struts from under the two cars. popping the hood to gojo’s car and you successfully shut him up when he sees the RB26DETT engine. albeit, only for five seconds before he starts spouting stupid crap again.

out of the corner of your eyes, you can see a head of white approaching and you hope the corners of your lips don’t give away the fact that he’s about to earn himself a beating. the feel of satoru’s arms around your waist infiltrate your senses first, and then his voice.

“you feelin’ lucky today?” he asks uninterestedly from your shoulder and your hands naturally hold onto his arms. you can feel him fiddling with your belt, and you’re almost 100% he’s pushing his pelvis into yours.

“the girl or the car?” daisuke smirks and you want nothing but to curb-stomp his annoying fucking face. gojo is close to doing it though, but you’re holding him back with a squeeze to his hand; all he replies with is a kiss to your neck, and he thinks this guy must have balls of steel or he’s just insanely dumb because the piercing blue stare satoru gives doesn’t faze him one bit.

“you—”

“baby, leave it.” you whisper, removing his hands from your waist gently and walking over to daisuke with calculated, slow steps. the interaction garners a lot of eyes especially for someone with enough guts to flirt with the gojo satoru’s girl, but you do something unexpected, tracing a finger up his chest and pull at his t-shirt, yanking him right down to your boyfriend’s engine and you nod towards it.

“tell me about it.”

daisuke thinks he’s scored and he leans over the Skyline with both elbows and you follow, sticking your ass out. gojo’s used to this sight and it never gets old, but the smile on his face turns into a glower once the other tries to take a glance as well. you notice it, too.

“engine. i wanna know allll ’bout it . .” you give him a sweet smile and daisuke looks like he could come on the spot — a premature ejaculation for an idiot like him — and he shoots off into a passionate ramble. all of which was wrong, by the way, but you let him have his fun before you’re straightening up and—

plop!

you remove the hood strut and the hood of the Nissan Skyline closes right on his back and there’s a pained scream from under his hood and gojo just laughs out loud. you hear a few other laughs from your spectators, too.

“that’s my baby.” gojo sashays up to you with a smirk, pushing you against the not so flat hood of his car, where it’s moving from daisuke’s flailing body. he’s not too concerned about the damage if he continues to press you onto the uneven parts; he’s got money, no big deal.

like usual, gojo isn’t shy about affection and he goes right for your lips, curling both arms around your waist while one hand gets distracted and squeezes your ass. you’re only able to fit your upper back along the hood as you bend back, moaning exaggeratedly for daisuke to hear.

“hmm . . it’s a little too high, don’t you think, ’toru?” gojo only caresses your hips in response, slotting his thigh between your legs and now it’s going into dangerous territory. you let out a soft whine.

“yep, definitely too high.”

with one swift movement of your heel, you knee daisuke and he falls, both of you jerking down lower on the hood — the edge of the car is probably digging into daisuke’s back by now, but it’s nothing a little money can’t fix.

“sooo much better,” gojo grins, hovering over your body now as his words ignite flames along your lips and the deep kiss leaves you dizzy. he swallows your sounds easily, but he knows when to quell his needs — after satoru’s race is when you’ll be treated for being such a brave girl, not that you need any reason in the first place.

at the end of the day, you’ll forever be satoru’s lucky charm and the only one in his eyes.

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