Bet On Blue — F1driver!gojo X Gf!reader

bet on blue — f1driver!gojo x gf!reader

fluff, meant to parallel free throws & figure drawings. there's just something so fine about gojo satoru going bonkers once the love of his life bets on him <3

Bet On Blue — F1driver!gojo X Gf!reader

you weren’t supposed to say it.

not like that.

not now—when the air still hums with anticipation, when the scent of engine oil and tire polish settles thick on the back of your tongue, when your heart’s already pounding like it knows what’s coming, trying to match the rhythm of countdowns and pit crew drills.

but you do.

because you can’t keep your mouth shut around him. because your skin still buzzes from watching him tear through the track like a man possessed. because there’s something so sharp and untouchable about the way he moves—fast, unrelenting, devastating—and it makes your chest ache with something too big to name.

because satoru gojo is the most terrifying and beautiful thing you’ve ever seen when he’s racing. and you were never any good at playing it safe.

“i bet on you.”

the words leave your mouth without ceremony, unpolished, tumbling clumsily into the space between you.

he's got his back to you, adjusting the straps on his helmet, his focus sharp as he readies himself for the race. the top of his fireproof suit is already unzipped, the fabric clinging to his torso as he shifts, every movement deliberate and calculated. the suit, darkened in spots where the sweat's started to settle, emphasizes the lean muscle of his frame. his hair is messy and damp, wild strands of white falling into his eyes, evidence of the heat and pressure he’s already been battling all morning.

his shoulders go still.

you don’t see his face at first, but you see the shift in him—like the gears in his head lock suddenly. like the whole world slams on the brakes. he turns slowly, glancing over one shoulder with narrowed eyes, the pale blue of them catching the light like fractured glass.

“what?”

you fold your arms, shifting your weight onto one leg, trying not to let your nerves show. your tongue presses hard against the inside of your cheek.

“like... sports betting,” you say, and your voice is too light, too nonchalant to be casual. “on today’s race. i put everything i had in savings on you.”

his jaw drops.

literally.

you watch the whole thing unfold like a slow-motion scene—the way his mouth opens slightly, the way his brows lift, how the color in his face flickers between confusion and horror. he looks like he just got slapped with a wet towel.

“you’re joking.”

you shake your head, biting down a grin. “nope.”

one beat. then another.

you can practically hear the static between you.

“you—are you insane?”

there’s genuine panic in his voice now, laced beneath the disbelief. he takes a step forward, then another—hands half-extended like he doesn’t know whether to shake you or pull you into his arms. finally, he grabs you by the shoulders, fingers curling into your jacket like he’s trying to keep you from evaporating.

his palms are hot. a little sweaty. a little trembling.

“you bet how much?”

you tilt your chin up, pride and nerves fighting for dominance. “ten thousand.”

his reaction is immediate and dramatic—his eyes widen, his lips part in shock, and he makes a noise that can only be described as a strangled gasp-scream hybrid. he spins away from you like he’s trying to physically escape the consequences of your words, dragging his hands through his hair until it’s sticking up in all directions.

“you WHAT—”

you dissolve into laughter. his horror is tangible, full-bodied, like it physically hurts him. he paces in frantic, looping circles, muttering to himself as if trying to rewrite the last thirty seconds.

“baby—do you have any idea how bad that is?” he finally exclaims, spinning back toward you with wild eyes. “what if i crash? what if the brakes lock up? what if some asshole takes me out on turn two again?”

you shrug. “then i go broke. and i sell feet pics.”

his face twists in agony. “NO!” he shouts, like you just proposed a blood ritual. “no, no, no—i’m going to win. i have to win now. i have to—i’m going to destroy everyone. i’m going to lap verstappen.”

“don’t think that’s possible on this circuit.”

he points a finger at you, accusatory. “i will make it possible.”

his eyes are blazing—like holy fire. and his hair, still spiked in wild directions, makes him look unhinged. like a beautiful lunatic.

you snort, watching the way his chest rises and falls with quick, shallow breaths. you reach up and touch his face, the pad of your thumb brushing just beneath his cheekbone. his skin is flushed and sticky, a thin sheen of sweat catching the light. he flinches slightly at your touch, like the gentleness startles him, then leans into it.

just for a second.

“you’re cute when you’re feral.” you murmur.

his eyes flutter shut briefly. like it grounds him. like you ground him.

you always do.

but he’s not cute on track.

he’s terrifying.

when the lights go out, he launches off the line like a missile.

you watch with your heart in your throat as he threads through corners with razor precision, faster than physics, faster than common sense. lap after lap, he pushes the car like it’s an extension of his will, shaving off milliseconds with each turn.

“manage pace.” his engineer warns.

he doesn’t even pretend to listen.

“you’re purple sectoring too aggressively.”

his voice crackles back, tight and low—“she bet ten thousand. i need more purple.”

the commentators laugh, but it’s a nervous kind of laughter. the kind that comes before something historic.

by lap fifteen, he’s broken the lap record. by twenty, the race record. by twenty-five, he’s leaving the field in the dust, overtaking cars like they insulted his ancestors.

he crosses the finish line thirty seconds ahead of p2.

the stands erupt. the commentators go breathless. the scoreboard lights up like a war won.

but none of that matters.

he’s already moving—yanking off gloves, hands shaking, helmet off and thrown somewhere onto the pit wall. his hair is soaked through with sweat now, sticking to his forehead and temples in wild strands.

the moment the car stops, he climbs out like it’s on fire. his boots hit the ground, and he’s running—ignoring the team, the cameras, the crowd.

you. he’s only looking at you.

amidst the roar of the crowd and the crackle of radio chatter, it’s like the rest of the world disappears. your eyes lock, and time stretches, the chaos around you fading into a blur. you’re still by the barrier, hands trembling against your mouth, eyes wide in disbelief. you can’t move, frozen in the instant. his gaze is all-consuming, like he's pulling you into his orbit.

he reaches you in four strides, swift and confident, the tension in his muscles unmistakable as he closes the distance between you.

“you—” he starts, voice hoarse from exertion, but then the words cut off, and without another word, he lifts you off the ground.

your feet leave the earth. your heart does too.

his grip is firm, his hands at your waist, and for a moment, you feel weightless. the adrenaline still vibrates through his body, and it sends a ripple of warmth through yours. his eyes, wide with disbelief, are only on you. there’s a mix of awe and frantic joy in his gaze as if he can’t quite believe this is real.

“ten thousand dollars!” he shouts, voice louder now, and then—without warning—he pulls you into him. his lips crash against yours, messy and desperate. it’s like a collision of everything—teeth, tongues, breathless gasps, and all the tension of the race exploding in a kiss. it’s uncoordinated, a beautiful chaos, and it tastes like victory. like danger. like home.

he pulls back just enough to catch his breath, his forehead resting against yours, his hands still clutching you like he can’t let go, even if he wanted to. “you fucking gambled on me,” he murmurs, his voice ragged with emotion. “what kind of insane, gorgeous, genius idiot are you?”

you laugh, breathless and caught in the aftermath of his kiss. your fingers curl into the collar of his half-unzipped suit, your knuckles brushing against the damp skin on his neck, feeling the heat still radiating from him. his pulse thunders against your chest, the rhythm in sync with yours.

“the kind who knew you’d win.” you whisper, and the words feel like the truth. you always knew he would.

he stares at you for a beat, his mouth twitching into a crooked grin. “you’re not allowed to bet on anyone else ever again.”

you raise an eyebrow, trying to act like you’re considering his request, but you know it’s a losing battle. “what if i bet on you every race?”

his smirk is cocky, his eyes gleaming with mischief. he presses his forehead to yours, the contact grounding. his breath is still ragged, and his smile is utterly smug. “then i’ll win every race. world records be damned. i’ll win everything.”

there’s that unwavering confidence in his voice. and you know—he means it. he will win everything. but right now, all he cares about is you. and you can’t help the warmth blooming in your chest.

when he finally sets you down, it’s with reluctance, like he’s dragging himself away from something he doesn’t want to leave. but he doesn’t let go of your hand—no, he tangles his fingers with yours, his grip firm and possessive, pulling you along with him through the pit lane, through the chaos of the crowd.

his body language is effortless, his movements commanding, as if he’s always in control. but there’s something in the way he holds your hand, the way he keeps you close, that says more than any words could. he’s not just the fastest driver on the planet. right now, in this moment, he’s completely and utterly yours.

the media swarm as soon as you make it to the front. flashes of cameras blind you both, the noise overwhelming. satoru’s got you tucked under his arm like a prize, and he doesn’t seem to mind one bit. you’re still trying to steady your breathing, but all you can focus on is how he’s still wearing that grin, the one that makes him look like he owns the world. his hair is a mess, damp and wild from the race, and his fireproof suit is half-unzipped, barely clinging to his chest. he doesn’t care about any of it. all he cares about is you.

the flash of a camera catches you at just the wrong angle, and you wince when you feel the lipstick smudge along your lips. your heart skips when you catch sight of it—a small smear on the corner of his mouth, and a dark streak of color against his cheek from where you kissed him so urgently. it's messy, but the evidence of the kiss only makes him look even more alluring.

“this win’s for her,” he announces into the mic, all charm and teeth, like he’s not sweating, like he didn’t just push his body to the limit to win. “she believed in me. also, she bet her savings on me, so if i lost, i was gonna have to start an onlyfans.”

the press laughs, but you can’t find the strength to smile. you bury your face into his shoulder, mortified by the lipstick smudge on his face that you’re certain is going to become a headline. you feel the warmth of his skin against your cheek, and then, you feel his chuckle rumble in his chest. his fingers brush the edge of your face, gently adjusting your hair, before he leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. it’s like he’s claiming you all over again. “don’t worry,” he says, voice teasing, “i’ll make sure no one notices.”

you’re still in a daze, trying to recover from the whirlwind, but the thought of everyone seeing the mark you left on him has you cringing. satoru, of course, doesn’t seem to mind at all. if anything, it seems to amuse him.

“anyway,” he grins, pulling back just enough to look at you. “guess it’s her turn to buy dinner now.”

the crowd erupts in cheer, but you’re barely aware of them. all you can hear is the sound of your heart thundering in your chest and the warmth of his lips still lingering on your skin. maybe this is it—maybe this is the moment when everything shifts. because as satoru’s hand tightens around yours, you realize that the win he’s really talking about isn’t the race.

it’s you.

and to satoru gojo, that’s the only victory that matters.

Bet On Blue — F1driver!gojo X Gf!reader

a/n : you then get banned to five betting sites for insider trading 💔 dont nitpick about the race pls i did my best😔 if u saw the wrong version of this earlier no u didn't🩷 did i ever mention transferring my works from my drafts to tumblr is hell?🤗 IT HAD TO ESCAPE MY DRAFTS WHILE I WAS STILL EDITING TOO. i feel like i would implode from embarassment every damn time this typa shit happens😭

anyways this my apology to satoru for reader only betting the minimum on his team at free throws and figure drawings LMAOOO.

More Posts from Katsukijo and Others

2 weeks ago

No Strings Attached

Chapter 2

No Strings Attached

Nerdjo x Fem Reader

18+ ONLY, MDNI

A/N: Art in banner is by the lovely @/84midnightsun on Twitter

CW: Unprotected Sex, Oral Sex (Fem Receiving), Vaginal Fingering, Creampie

Chapter Index

The university’s library was cold per usual — not just the physical atmosphere, but cold in its appearance as well. The unforgiving fluorescent lights looked more like they belonged in a supermarket aisle than a place of study. They ricocheted off the white, marble floor and were nearly blinding. Built-in shelves graced the colorless walls, housing tens of thousands of books.

Despite the lack of warmth and coziness one would hope to find in a library, Satoru somehow still managed to brighten up the room with his presence alone. He sat directly opposite you — his cheek propped up on his left hand while his right furiously scribbled into various notebooks. A long-sleeved black sweater draped loosely across his shoulders with the edges of his collarbones exposed. Tousled strands the color of snow fell across his forehead in multiple directions, stopping just shy of his glasses. His azure eyes never once left the work in front of him.

Somehow, even with his attention fully devoted to the physics textbook in front of him, he still managed to shine. He never even had to try, because everywhere Satoru Gojo went, he always managed to be a source of light. Perhaps that was just one of the many reasons you had fallen in love with him to begin with.

In a way, it was almost like he was the sun. His brightness was always the focal point as he illuminated everything in his path. He was funny and kind — the type of person who would do anything for a friend in need. Whether it be pulling an all-nighter to help someone study or moving a piece of furniture, he was always the first to volunteer. He was a self-assured and confident man, especially when it came to academics. Everyone, including him, knew he was a genius, and that was one thing he was not humble about. And on top of everything else, he was truly the most beautiful person you had ever met.

Yes, Satoru Gojo was the sun — and you had been trapped in his orbit for as long as you could remember.

He was completely oblivious to you staring at him, but that wasn’t out of the ordinary. It was well known that once he started studying, it was damn near impossible to tear him away until he was finished. He had always been that way.

Your gaze traced over him, and you meticulously studied every single detail as if this was the first and last time you would ever see him. From the gentle contours of his cheekbones to the sharp edges of his defined jaw, everything about him was perfect. But it was when your eyes reached his supple lips that memories from the night you two had shared just a week prior came rushing in. The trance you found yourself in was immediately shattered by a harsh ache in your heart.

Immediately following your tryst, the two of you went separate ways for the evening. The next morning, and every day since, not a single word was uttered about what had occurred. Satoru acted as if nothing transpired. You expected as much — he did tell you that it was no strings attached. Regardless, it still burned all the same.

“Satoru,” you whispered in an attempt to gently grab his attention.

He offered no response as he continued penning down his notes. You leaned forward a bit and glanced over what he was writing. Complex equations sprawled across almost two full pages in their entirety. His eyes constantly jumped between the textbook and his notebook, his hand never stopping to take a break as he jotted it all down.

He reached with his left hand to quickly flip over onto the next page. You shot your hand out and were just barely able to catch him before he continued on in his physics-fueled trance. Satoru glanced up at you, his eyes finally meeting with yours. He reached his right hand up, pen in tow, and used his index finger to push his glasses up as they began inching down the bridge of his nose.

“Oh, sorry,” he replied with a lazy grin. “Did you say something?”

You forced a small smile to match his. “I just wanted to let you know that I think I’m going to head home. I don’t have any more classes today.”

“Okay, sure.” The corners of his mouth turned further upward as his grin grew into a smile. “I’ll see you later then.”

You nodded your head in response and began gathering the books sprawled out on the surface in front of you that you hadn’t even touched since your arrival. The wooden chair squealed as it scraped against the tile below. Rising to your feet, you tucked away everything into your backpack and pulled out your phone to check your messages. Just a couple of texts from Suguru and Shoko in the group chat inviting you to game night at their apartment tonight.

You turned towards the door, phone still in hand as you began to type out a reply, when suddenly your body collided with something. Immediately looking up, your eyes were met with a widened pair staring right back at you.

A blonde girl, about the same height as you, carrying a stack of books immediately backed up, one of her hands now raised. You didn’t recognize her, which was strange. Your university was decent-sized, but still, you were familiar with the majority of the students. She must be new.

“I’m so sorry! Are you okay?” Her hushed whispers were urgent and carried a sincere, apologetic tone.

“I’m fine,” you offered with a smile. “I should be the one apologizing. It was my fault.”

“Naori!” You heard Satoru’s voice call from behind you. You turned your head around to see him excitedly pointing to your now empty seat.

They knew each other? He had never spoken about her before, and you two told each other everything.

Well, almost everything.

“I’m so sorry again,” Naori said as her hand brushed against your shoulder, pulling your attention back towards her.

You just offered a gentle smile in return and kept walking past her towards the exit. Before exiting, you glanced over your shoulder one final time at your friend, and your face immediately fell at the sight in front of you.

Neither one of them was studying but instead appeared to be deep into a conversation. Both his notebook and textbook had been closed as he began packing them away in his bag. You saw his hand begin to reach across the table and decided it was enough as you turned your gaze back ahead of you.

Pushing on the door, you exited the library and carefully climbed down the concrete steps. The dull ache in your chest was now replaced by a burning sensation as you felt a nasty emotion take root in you. You shook your head to rid yourself of the thoughts trying to course through your mind. There was no point in jumping to conclusions about what you just saw, and even though you knew what you were feeling, you refused to give a name to it. Satoru was never yours to begin with.

——————

A gurgling sound could be heard as you felt your stomach twisting itself into knots. You were famished to the point it made it difficult to concentrate on the presentation you were attempting to put together for Professor Yaga’s class.

Immediately after you arrived home, you holed yourself up in your room to get some work done. It ensured there would be no distractions, but more importantly, it ensured that you could avoid Satoru. He came home just two hours after you, and since his arrival, you’ve refused to go out into the common areas.

Was it childish? Absolutely. However, you currently had larger things to worry about, and letting your emotions grow out of control would cause far more issues. So once again, you decided you’d just shove them down and deal with them at a later date. You knew it’d come back to bite you sooner rather than later, but in this moment, it felt like the easiest way to deal with things.

Your stomach gurgled a second time —this one was much louder than the first. You pulled your laptop from where it rested on your thighs and set it to the side on top of your nightstand. As long as you were this hungry, you would get absolutely nothing done. You were pretty sure Satoru was in his room and had been since he got home. If you could just run out to the kitchen and quietly grab something quick, chances are you’d be able to make it back without running into him.

Standing up, you slid a pair of slippers on and walked over to your bedroom door. You gently twisted the knob and pushed open the door, allowing your head to peek out of the small crack. Satoru’s room was on the opposite side of the apartment as yours, with the kitchen being in the direct center of you both. He wasn’t in your line of sight, so you opened the door further and pushed yourself forward. You ghosted across the tile floor, not a single sound coming from your footsteps. Upon reaching the end of the short hallway, you peered around the corner into the living room and dining room. Both were empty.

Perfect.

Making your way into the kitchen, you found yourself in front of the pantry. You carefully opened the door and reached in, grabbing a half-empty bag of potato chips. Slipping them under your arm, you grabbed a sleeve of chocolate chip cookies for good measure before closing the pantry back.

“You’re not coming to game night?” Satoru’s voice called out as his bedroom door swung open. You jumped back in surprise, nearly dropping the snacks under your arm.

He had just gotten out of the shower. His milky hair was still damp and effortlessly cascaded around his vivid eyes. Nothing but dark-wash jeans with a pair of gray Calvin Kleins peeking over the top graced his body. You immediately brought your eyes up to his. The last thing you wanted was for him to notice you gawking at his body.

“Well?” He looked you up and down with a small frown.

You glanced down at yourself only to remember you were wearing your pajama shorts. No wonder he was asking.

“No, I’m staying home. Have some stuff to do.” You kept your response curt as you attempted to head back towards your room.

“Oh, come on! Everyone’s gonna be there.” You already knew his face carried a massive pout without even turning around. “Even Nanami’s coming, and he hates game night!”

“Sorry,” you mumbled as you made your way back into the room, using your foot to kick the door shut behind you.

Crawling back into bed, you peeled open the sleeve of cookies and shoved one into your mouth, taking as big of a bite as you could muster. Reaching over to the nightstand, you grabbed a water bottle and popped the cap off before taking a swig. You moved your computer back to your lap and opened your presentation back up.

Your phone began to vibrate next to you, and after glancing over, you saw a single message from Satoru containing nothing but a frowning face. The screen went dark as you slid your finger over and clicked the lock button. You needed to focus on your project. Everything else could wait.

Your fingers frantically typed, only occasionally pulling away to bring another cookie to your mouth. Another buzz came from your phone as the screen illuminated. It was from Satoru again, this time a message containing two frowning faces. You just rolled your eyes in response. Why was he being so damn persistent today? He rarely even went to game night himself. Usually he was the one who was locked away studying.

Suddenly, your bedroom door swung open, nearly slamming into the wall, and Satoru was standing in the entrance, both hands placed firmly on his hips.

His hair was now dry and styled as usual, landing perfectly atop the frame of his glasses he had just put on. A blue button-down was neatly tucked into his jeans with a black leather belt snaking through his belt loops. He looked as good as he always did.

Your name sweetly dripped from his lips like honey, and your heart immediately fluttered. Sometimes you really hated how you were nothing more than putty in his hands.

“Please get dressed and come out with me. It’s going to be fun.” He walked further into your room and plopped down onto the edge of your bed as he pleaded with you.

“I have this presentation to finish for Yaga’s class,” you said as you pulled your eyes back to the screen and began typing again. “The deadline is in two days, and it accounts for a pretty big chunk of my grade.”

“Then I’ll help you with it when we get back.” He tried to reach his hand over to grab your laptop, but before it could make contact, you were swatting him away.

“Gojo, stop.” Your eyes widened as you realized what you said the second it escaped your mouth.

Satoru was just as taken aback as you were. His brows instantly furrowed as a look of pure bewilderment took over his face. You don’t think you’ve ever called him that the entire time you two had known each other.

“What’s going on with you?” His voice was laced with genuine concern.

Setting your laptop to the side, you fully sat up, finally giving him your undivided attention. “Look, I’m sorry, but this presentation is a really big deal. Besides, they host game night every month. I’ll just join in on the next one.”

Your presentation’s deadline was in two days — that much was the truth. However, if it weren’t for what you had witnessed unfold earlier at the library, you’d likely still be going to Suguru and Shoko’s place.

What you had seen had likely been nothing more than a harmless interaction, but even if it wasn’t, it was none of your business. You and Satoru had never been nothing more than friends, and a one-time hookup wouldn’t change that. However, no matter how you looked at the situation, you were still hurting, and you were desperate for a distraction. If throwing yourself into schoolwork offered you even a moment of solace, you’d eat it up.

“Bring your laptop into the living room, and I’ll help you work on it.” He pushed himself to his feet and turned towards the door. “I’m gonna go tell Suguru that we’re not coming tonight.”

“No, Satoru, you don’t have—“

Your words were cut short as he shut the door behind him.

Fuck.

Of course he’d offer to stay home and help you. That was just the kind of person he was.

You shot to your feet and rushed into the living room, catching him just as he picked up his phone and began typing.

“Satoru, seriously, it’s okay,” you reassured him, your voice a far higher pitch than you hoped it would be. “You don’t have to stay in and help me tonight.”

“I want to, seriously,” he said as he continued typing for a moment. His fingers came to a stop, and he looked up at you with a smile. “This is obviously important to you, besides we’ll just go next month like you said.”

“But—“

“No.” He was quick to cut you short before you could protest any further. “Now, go grab your laptop, and I’m going to go change.”

Disappearing to his room without another word, you began trudging back to your room. Once you grabbed what you needed, you headed back towards the couch and plopped down. You pulled the black coffee table towards you and set your laptop on it before folding your legs underneath you.

Satoru soon returned, this time in a white pair of sweatpants and a black compression shirt. He secured himself right next to you and immediately leaned forward, his fingers clicking through the slides you had already completed. You held your breath as his elbow bumped into your knee. The two of you were currently far too close for your liking.

This was the exact opposite of how you had wanted to spend your evening. At least if you had gone to game night, there would’ve been a bunch of other people there with you, and you wouldn’t be forced into such a close proximity with Satoru. Everything had completely backfired.

”Do you mind if I change a few things on the slides you’ve already done?” Satoru asked as he glanced over his shoulder at you.

“Not at all.”

You watched as he sat back up and leaned against the back of the couch. He set your computer on his lap, and the sounds of typing and clicking soon followed.

Scooting over as far as you could, you laid against the couch’s armrest and began mindlessly scrolling through social media. The tension in the air was palpable, at least to you anyways. Satoru had no idea how you felt or what was truly going on, and he was terrible at reading others’ emotions anyways. He always had been.

Roughly an hour passed with the two staying in the same positions, neither one speaking a single word. You locked your phone and rose to your feet. A pair of cerulean eyes cut up to you as soon as your weight shifted off the couch cushions.

“Going to get a snack,” you informed him as you shuffled over to the refrigerator.

Satoru stood up and immediately followed suit. “Do we have anything sweet?”

You couldn’t resist the smile that tugged at the corner of your lips. He truly never changes. “As long as you live here, we’ll always have something sweet.”

“Oh?” A shit-eating grin spread across his face, stretching ear to ear as he reached around you into the now open fridge.

Your cheeks grew hot as you turned your face back towards the fridge, hoping he wouldn’t notice. You smacked his hand away, and he immediately pulled it back. “Now, that’s not what I meant, and you know it. And wait your turn, I was here first.”

Reaching in, you grabbed a container of chocolate-covered strawberries and turned around, setting them on the counter. You flipped open the clear, plastic lid and pulled out one dipped in white chocolate that was decorated with red sprinkles. Bringing it up to your lips, you sank your teeth in and took a generous bite, only leaving the leaves for you to discard.

Satoru was staring at you, and you already knew he wanted some. You flipped the open container towards him and motioned at the five remaining strawberries as an offer.

“Are you not going to feed me one?” He fluttered his eyelashes, a smile still gracing his face.

You rolled your eyes in response and shoved the container of strawberries closer to him. “Absolutely not.”

His bottom lip protruded into the most dramatic pout he could muster. “We’ve been best friends for almost twenty years, and you won’t even feed me a strawberry.”

You let out an exasperated sigh and snatched up a strawberry, this one covered in a layer of milk chocolate with white chocolate stripes. He opened his mouth expectantly, and you brought it up to his lips. He took a bite, and you could’ve sworn his smile grew even larger with every chew. If there was one thing about Satoru, he loved his sweets.

“Are you happy now?”

You received an immediate hum of approval as you closed the lid and turned to set them back in the fridge. “You know, Satoru, after all these years, you’re still just as annoying as ever.”

“Annoying, huh?” You froze as his breath was suddenly hot on your ear. The container fell from your hand at the sudden sensation and hit the plastic shelf with a clank.

Before you could react, he placed a soft kiss on your neck, just below your earlobe. A pair of hands snaked around your waist from behind and slipped underneath the hem of your tank top. Flashbacks of the week prior flooded your mind, and the way you felt was almost identical. You knew, after everything, you should end this before it escalated, but once again, you couldn’t bring yourself to stop. The second his lips touched you, all logic went out the window.

Your hands settled on top of his and guided them downwards until they sunk under the waistband of your shorts. He pulled you backwards, and as soon as your bodies collided, you could feel his hard length rubbing against you. Satoru left a gentle trail of kisses along the side of your neck as his hands sunk lower and lower.

His right index finger slid between your folds and immediately made its way to your entrance. He wasted no time sinking it in as far as it could possibly go. A gasp escaped you at the sudden intrusion, and you leaned forward, grabbing onto the fridge door for support as he curled his finger inside of you.

“Already soaked,” he cooed as his left hand found its way to your clit. You let out a whimper as he began to slowly draw circles around the sensitive nub, his lips never leaving your neck.

He continued until you were just about to reach your climax before retracting both of his hands from you and spinning you around. You opened your mouth to protest the sudden loss of contact, but before you could get any words out, he shoved the refrigerator closed and pushed you back against the stainless steel. Satoru immediately fell to his knees and lifted your right leg over his shoulder while your left was still firmly planted on the floor.

“What are you doing?”

“I told you I wanted something sweet.” In one fluid motion, he pulled down both your shorts and your panties. Within an instant, his mouth was on you. You let out a moan as he began gently moving his tongue back and forth. His movements were slow and deliberate, as if he was trying to savor it.

“Thought about this all week,” he confessed. You couldn’t tell if the butterflies you felt were from the physical pleasure or his sudden admission that the night you shared hadn’t left his mind.

Before your thoughts could stray further, Satoru placed his left hand under the upper part of your right thigh, offering you much-needed support as he began to pick up the pace. You entwined your fingers into his soft strands and gently tugged on them, prompting a quiet groan from him.

Your left leg began trembling and your right heel dug into the muscles on his back as you grew close. Heat began pooling in your abdomen. Your eyes forced shut as you threw your head back. Satoru continued to lap at your clit as your moans grew louder and louder. Your climax exploded through you, and his grip on you tightened as your body jerked forward. He slowed his pace back down, allowing you to ride it out before pulling back.

He rose to his feet and instantly captured your lips with his. The kiss was messy and desperate as he pulled you into him. Both of his hands slipped underneath you, and as he lifted you up into the air, your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist.

He deepened your kiss as he carried you towards the couch, his tongue prying your lips apart and pushing its way into your mouth. Lowering himself down onto the couch, he brought you with him, your knees landing on both sides of his lap. He finally broke the kiss, a thick string of saliva connecting his mouth to yours as he briefly pulled away.

“Please let me fuck you,” he pleaded breathlessly as he slipped his sweatpants and boxers down his thighs. His hard cock sprung free, the tip swollen and red, leaking beads of clear fluid.

You leaned forward, raising yourself up enough for him to line up perfectly with your entrance. Lowering yourself just a bit, his tip began pressing into your cunt, prompting a soft groan from him. In a singular, swift movement you pushed all the way down, taking him all in one go. A second, louder groan fell from his lips as a gasp escaped yours.

His hands connected with your waist, slipping underneath your tank top and pulling it over your head, tossing it to the side. He leaned forward, bringing his mouth to one of your nipples as you slowly began bouncing up and down on his cock.

His tongue encircled the hardened tip as he brought one of his hands to the other, capturing it between his thumb and index finger, rubbing back and forth.

You threw your head back as you started to pick up the rhythm. “I thought about this all week.” Your admission was tumbling from your mouth before you even knew what you were saying.

“How your hands felt on my body and your mouth on mine.” You knew you should quit while you were ahead, but you felt so intoxicated by him you just couldn’t bring yourself to stop. “The way your cock fit inside me perfectly, like it was made for me.”

He pulled back, both of his hands gripping your ass as he took control of the pace, guiding you up and down his length. “If you don’t stop talking like that, I’m not gonna last.”

Your head fell forward and rested against his shoulder as he rutted into you. His pace was far rougher than the first night the two of you shared.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Satoru managed to choke out between his symphony of groans.

His cock repeatedly pushed into your cervix as he pushed himself as far into you as he could physically go. His pace began to grow sloppy as he continued ramming in and out of your sopping cunt.

You could feel him twitch inside of you before he began flooding your insides with his thick, white cum. He thrust into you a few more times as he rode out his climax, his warm seed and your slick juices dripping out from around the edges of his cock and running down your inner thighs onto his lap.

You leaned forward, resting your forehead against his, and closed your eyes. He wrapped his arms around you, still not pulling out, and allowed you to rest there for just a moment as he attempted to catch his own breath.

“Did you mean what you said?” He mumbled, his lips so close to yours that you could inhale him. “That you thought about me all week?”

“Mhm,” you opened your eyes to see a bright blue pair staring right back at you from behind the lenses of his glasses. “Did you?”

“I did,” his voice was incredibly soft as he offered a smile.

The position the two of you found yourselves in was far too intimate for friends who were just hooking up. Whether he realized it yet or not, whatever arrangement you shared with one another would never be casual. You knew the truth was that no matter how hard you tried, you wouldn’t be able to outrun your feelings for him. You could desperately push them down and try to drown them out, but they’d always be there, bubbling back up to the surface until they finally erupted.

You knew what you had to do now. Coming clean and confessing how you felt was truly the only viable option. Not tonight, but soon. Even if your feelings were unrequited, you couldn’t hold them in any longer, because you knew that Satoru Gojo was the sun — and you’d never be able to escape being stuck in his orbit.

prev chapter | next chapter

1 month ago

me when a bad bitch tells me to do something

Me When A Bad Bitch Tells Me To Do Something
1 month ago
Gojo Satoru Had Experienced Hell Before, That One Time He Lined Up To Get His Favorite Manga Signed By

gojo satoru had experienced hell before, that one time he lined up to get his favorite manga signed by the author but kept letting people cut in front of him because he was too scared to say something and he’s just nice like that. that was until geto told him off for doing it because he ended up not getting his book signed. he’s so dumb.

but this—this was a different kind of hell. he’s sat on the couch at a house party with.. yeah, you guessed it. the squad: suguru geto, toji fushiguro, ryomen sukuna… a whole bunch of hotties

it’s not really a pleasant sight to see. 2 girls clinging onto sukuna, fushiguro making out with one and geto talking to a girl who is clearly interested in him..

and then there’s gojo.

sitting there awkwardly, clutching a cup in his hand while sipping on nothing.

sure, he loves his best friend suguru. he just hates how popular he is. at every function, all the girls seem to be magnetised to his mysterious and brooding aura. and gojo’s just there, i guess. he huffs at the thought. he thinks knows that he could treat a girl soooo right if they just gave him a chance!

geto excuses himself to go upstairs with the girl. satoru already knows where this is going, so he brushes it off. he then eyes the group of girls from afar giggling and whispering to each other while looking at the guys on the couch. actually.. it looks like they’re looking towards his direction.

“come on y/n! just ask him!” your friends keep nudging and shoving you towards his direction, and gojo couldn’t help but scowl.

after finally mustering up the courage to come up to him, you fiddle with your fingers before stuttering out a quiet “hi,”

gojo sighs, “if you’re here to ask for suguru’s number, i’m not interested.”

your eyes widen in confusion which makes him confused too.

“oh, uh.. i was actually going to ask for yours..?”

what.

there’s no way.

“it’s fine if you’re not interested, i’m sorry—”

“NO, NO, I AM!” he internally cringes at his response. “sorry, i just.. thought you were gonna ask about suguru.” he puts his palm out, silently asking you to give him the sharpie. you shrug and give it to him, rolling your sleeve up.

you smile after he writes down his number on your forearm, giving you back your pen. “thanks,” he nods at you. “and for the record.. i think you’re way cuter than geto.” gojo’s face heats up as you walk away, burying his face into his hoodie.

you tuck the pen into your pocket, suppressing a grin as you walk away. behind you, gojo groans, burying his face deeper into his hoodie, his muffled voice barely audible.

“way cuter than geto,” he mutters to himself, kicking at the ground. “way cuter. oh my god.”

Gojo Satoru Had Experienced Hell Before, That One Time He Lined Up To Get His Favorite Manga Signed By

͙͘͡★ divider by @zerowhy & @cafekitsune 🩵

1 month ago
✿❀○ KUSURIYA NO HITORIGOTO E29 ❃ MAOMAO ○❀✿
✿❀○ KUSURIYA NO HITORIGOTO E29 ❃ MAOMAO ○❀✿
✿❀○ KUSURIYA NO HITORIGOTO E29 ❃ MAOMAO ○❀✿
✿❀○ KUSURIYA NO HITORIGOTO E29 ❃ MAOMAO ○❀✿
✿❀○ KUSURIYA NO HITORIGOTO E29 ❃ MAOMAO ○❀✿
✿❀○ KUSURIYA NO HITORIGOTO E29 ❃ MAOMAO ○❀✿
✿❀○ KUSURIYA NO HITORIGOTO E29 ❃ MAOMAO ○❀✿
✿❀○ KUSURIYA NO HITORIGOTO E29 ❃ MAOMAO ○❀✿
✿❀○ KUSURIYA NO HITORIGOTO E29 ❃ MAOMAO ○❀✿

✿❀○ KUSURIYA NO HITORIGOTO E29 ❃ MAOMAO ○❀✿

4 months ago

He's so beautiful it physically hurts

Geto Suguru With Different Hair Styles

Geto Suguru with different hair styles

1 month ago

I love my boy. I know for sure that he is everyone's favourite<33

Midoriya-sensei!

midoriya-sensei!

3 months ago
Credits Artist @Ikarotsu

Credits artist @Ikarotsu

4 months ago
Day 5 - First Day Back Together
Day 5 - First Day Back Together
Day 5 - First Day Back Together

Day 5 - first day back together

1 month ago

Gojo who...

—comes back from a mission only to get spoiled rotten by you, and it only makes him fall deeper in love with you.

He’d come home at a random 2:43 in the afternoon. Opening the door with a tired grunt, before dropping everything in the living room and making a bee line for the bedroom.

Gojo stood in the doorway for a few seconds, watching as you organized all the shit on your dresser for the nth time since Gojo had left.

He just groaned and wrapped his arms around you from behind. Exhausted. His infinity down and his body completely melted against yours, almost as if trying to mold into you.

“Fuck,” he groaned against your neck, inhaling your scent— your scent that he hadn’t had around him for an entire seven and a half days. “missed you so much, pretty.”

You smiled, leaning against him. Your hands overlapped the tops of his as he wrapped his arms around your waist. “Welcome home, handsome.” Tilting your face to the side, you pressed a sweet kiss to his lips.

Slowly, and reluctantly letting go, Gojo finally pulled away and immediately began to strip his clothes off. His back was tense, rigid with knots. “Baby?”

He didn’t have to say anything else. Because once he was just in a pair of grey sweats, and laid stomach down on the bed, you were climbing up with him.

Standing on the bed, you used the wall to help balance as you stepped onto Gojo’s back. You took little steps up and down his back, smiling and giggling when he’d groan like one of those Great Danes relaxing.

And by the time you finished walking on his back, you were quick to move to the bathroom to run him a bath. You wanted to spoil your boyfriend after his week long mission, and by golly you would do just that.

Running the water till it was steaming, you stopped up the drain so the water would stay in the tub before getting your tired lover.

“Toru, come on. A bath will feel good,” he knew you were right. You always were, but damn he just wanted to sleep. However, he let you tug him off the bed and guide him into the bathroom. Wear he slowly sunk into the hot water, hissing at the initial burn before sighing in relief as his body relaxed. All the tension leaving his body, as the scent of lavender epson salt and a vanilla cupcake candle lighting up in the corner— his favorite Yankee candle scent.

And to add onto the billion reasons he’s head over heels for you— your hands immediately begin to gently massage his scalp. Your nails raking from his hair line to the back of his head. His eyes fluttered shut as he leaned back against your touch. “Love you so fucking much.” He mumbled, he couldn’t be more content and loved.

You smiled and leaned down, pressing a sweet kiss to his forehead. “Love you more. Now just relax and let me take care of you.”

Your pampering of him didn’t stop there. No no, you would be spoiling him rotten. Because not only did you bath him, wash his hair, and do his skin care for him, but you fixed him dinner, AND gave him those little chocolates he said he wanted before he’d left for the mission.

“I’m going to impregnate you and lock you away so your mine forever.” Gojo mumbled as he tiredly ate the chocolates, a happy, dopey smile on his lips.

“I’m sure you’d try.” You snort, a grin taking on your lips as you push his back with your fingers.

“Mm…” Gojo just hummed in delight. “When you were cooking, I called and said I’d be m.i.a for a few weeks.” Gojo blurted out, your nails on his scalp were his biggest weakness.

Your grin stretched to an ecstatic smile, “wait really?”

“Yeah, so that means I’ll have you all to myself.” Gojo opened his eyes again, locking them with yours as his smile turned to a shit eating grin. “Your mine ‘n mine alone for the next three and a half weeks. Better get ready, pretty.”

1 month ago
Stsg

stsg

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katsukijo - 𝒌𝒂𝒕𝒔𝒖𝒌𝒊𝒋𝒐
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