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mochiqa · 17 days ago

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𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐈𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐒

featuring. gojo, geto, nanami, toji, (true form) sukuna x reader. warnings. (playful) hitting and biting, suggestive so 16+. word count. 3.8k a/n. was originally gonna write this with haikyu!! boys but that's still on the table, i'll take any chance i get to write about toji and true form suks <3

ko-fi page here for your consideration, masterlists here for your entertainment.

𝗚𝗢𝗝𝗢

The interesting thing about Satoru Gojo was that he could transition from adorably infatuated and clingy to insistent and terrifyingly demanding—not that he ever intended for it to come off as him being domineering or degrading. His history of experiences has led him to adopt the characteristics of many who had hurt him or those who cared about.

This distinction between his two personas is important because you didn’t know whether to snicker to yourself or anticipate a round of questioning as to whether you still love him, following your execution of this prank, that is.

He pads downstairs having just finished his shower, steam following him out the bathroom and into the main hallway. You can hear him humming a small tune as he approaches, his eyes trained on the way you browse through the living room bookshelf.

“Hey, sweets,” he coos, wrapping his damp arms around your waist. His nose nuzzles your neck and his lips shy just inches away from being on your neck. “Hey,” you respond warmly, reaching a hand back to caress his cheek. He smiles at the contact and cranes his neck, his long fingers finding your chin to turn your head towards him, before he lowers his head and goes to kiss you.

You almost yelp as you snap your head in the other direction, your lips pressed together to contain your laughter at the stiffening of his body. Gojo hesitates, assuming (or hoping) that your avoidance is because you had to contain a sneeze and didn’t wish to contaminate him. So, he leans in again and kisses your cheek, to which you whine and push him away gently. At that, his brow furrows deeply and he frowns.

“Are you mad at me?” He finally asks, his gaze searching yours once he walks over to the direction you are facing. “Is it because I’ve been getting home later this week?” He prompts, his right hand rubbing up and down your arm, his eyes sparkling with a need to understand you.

When you shake your head, his brow knits so tight you’re afraid he’ll develop permanent wrinkles on his forehead. “Just not feeling it, ‘toru,” you mumble, smiling sheepishly. He tilts his head slightly to the side and feels an ache form in his chest—both because of your despondent mood and from the lack of affection he’s receiving.

He brings your hands up to his lips and kisses them sweetly, lingering on your warm skin for a moment. Then, he pulls you into his embrace and begins to rock you slowly. “I’m sorry about that, sweetheart. Anything I can do to help?”

You rest your forehead on his naked chest and smile, the curve of your lips bordering on an outright grin at his gentleness. Gosh, you love it when he’s like this. Not that he isn’t always so gentle with you, but you love hearing the worry in his voice and the seeing the loving shine in his eyes. You draw back a bit from his embrace to reach up on your tip-toes and peck his lips, causing him to blink rapidly in surprise.

"Please don’t play with me like this. If you're in a bad mood, I’ll soon follow and you know that,” he groans, caressing your cheek tenderly. There’s a small pout on his lips, but he looks more handsome than he does cute, the sharp angles of his face a contrast to the tender hold he had on your heart.

You laugh and peck his lips again, though this time he chases your lips, trying to prolong the contact. “It’s a prank, ‘toru. I will literally bawl if you do not kiss me right now,” you grin, wrapping your arms around his neck just as his face lights up at your reassurance. You startle when he hauls you up and hooks your legs on his hips, one arm supporting under your ass and the other wrapped around your waist as he peppers your face with kisses.

“I’m going to freeze my card if you ever pull something like that again,” he huffs, before throwing you on the couch and crawling over you, his towel falling from around his hips and to the ground, rendered useless for what he was prepared to do to you.

𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎

His usual returning-home routine starts with him walking through the front door, exhausted as is typical of him considering the nature of his work. It’s followed by him seeking you out, kissing you, showering, and launching into your arms for some much-needed relaxation.

“Hey, baby,” he greets, his smile tired but warm, reserved for his sweet girl. “Missed you today.” He inhales deeply when you embrace him tightly, his face buried in your neck, his nose tickling your skin and making you protest weakly through your giggles.

It’s out of the ordinary for you to then turn your head away and clear your throat quietly when he goes to kiss you. He pauses for a moment, caught off guard, but doesn’t mention it. He assumes you just ate something unsavoury or are scared about having chapped lips, which aren’t exactly things that bother him, but he respects your boundaries nonetheless. “Missed you too,” you sigh, freeing yourself from his embrace to check on the food in the oven. “You hungry?”

Geto groans. “Starving. Lunch break was less of a break and more of a forced social,” he confesses, following you to the kitchen. He washes his hands, dries them, then walks up behind you. He pulls your hair over one shoulder to ease his access to your neck, where he ghosts his lips on your skin. You pull away then, too.

That’s when he’s fully thrown off. To validate his confusion, he leans in, attempting to kiss your lips again, but you avoid him just like before.

“Am I getting a reduced form of silent treatment in the form of ‘no-affection’?” He asks, a brow raised as he pulls away and observes your figure as you navigate the kitchen, chopping up vegetables and checking the pots on the stove. “I feel… am I missing something?”

You sigh exaggeratedly, to which he raises both brows in surprise. “Did something happen while I was at work?” When you shake your head and mumble a small “no,” he isn’t sure what to think.

Finally, after more staring and contemplation on what could be the cause of your shift in behaviour, he decides to just head upstairs and shower. He smiles kindly at you, his eyes reflecting no view of anger or frustration in his soul. You return his smile more sheepishly than not, and have to stop yourself from letting out a choked noise of guilt when he leaves the kitchen.

You set the table and begin eating just as Geto walks into the living room, changed into a baggy t-shirt and grey sweats. His hair is still damp and tickles his lashes as he approaches you again. He stares down at you, then lowers his face to your level and waits for you to turn to him. With how close he is, it’s hard to maintain your poker face and continue eating. You feel your body begin to tremble from the laugh you’re repressing.

“Yes, Geto?”

“What’s wrong? I shouldn’t stink anymore, if that was the problem.”

You snort and shove him away, finally allowing yourself to laugh. He looks at you as though you asked him to eat the trash for dinner instead, but he doesn’t say anything else as you regain control of your amusement. However, when you face him, you’re still smiling - grinning from ear to ear, actually.

“It was just a prank, Su.”

He processes your words in an instant and ruffles your hair aggressively, intent on messing it up to a point where it's tangled and practically impossible to brush. “You’re lucky I don’t throw you over my knee, you brat,” he hisses playfully, finally managing to steal a kiss before he sits at the table.

𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈

The long awaited lunch break finally arrives and you’re darting out from behind your desk to get a well-deserved (and much needed) coffee from the break room. The heels you decided on make it harder to walk more than 0.1 miles in, so getting a higher quality coffee from the downtown cafe was not an option today. You think it’s just that they’re a size too small for you, but it’s not like you’d tell Nanami that now, not when you expressed how much you loved them and would wear them so incredibly often. In all honesty, he would buy you a new pair without hesitation—regardless of the hefty price tag.

When you return to your office, Nanami is already waiting for you. As his personal assistant and beloved wife, he takes every opportunity he can to check up on you, both your state in the workplace and outside of it.

He hums lowly at the sight of you and reaches out a strong arm to pull you into him, ducking his head down to kiss your lips. Your mind pings as you recall your prank idea, and you swerve his affections smoothly. Smoothly, but not unnoticeably. Nanami frowns and breathes into his palm to check himself. “The investors are looking to go forward with the agreement,” he informs you, as though you don’t track the progress of his meetings and company developments for a living.

You light up nonetheless as you finish sipping on your coffee. “That’s great news, Ken!” You delight, hopping up to sit on your desk and patting the space beside you for him to replicate. He does, promptly, and rests his head on your shoulder. It strains his neck slightly, but he doesn’t mind. His hand reaches over to play with yours in your lap, his lips twitching up into a smile when you kiss the top of his head.

Taking that as a safe sign, he raises his head to kiss you, but you turn your head so he kisses your cheek instead. He blinks, unsettled by your avoidance. “Have you eaten yet? I know you become rather sensitive when you don’t.”

“I haven’t, but I’ve got lunch with me. Speaking of, you didn’t even realise you forgot to pack your lunch this morning,” you giggle. “I had to cram it in my bag, and my shoulder is about to dislocate as is.”

He chuckles, a deep rumble that reverberates through you. “I’m sorry, honey. Mornings are my most unpredictable hours, even when I silence my phone. Thank you for doing that.” Nanami makes a mental note to buy you a sturdier, nicer bag soon. You shopped at Hermes enough to put you in the running for a Birkin, so that was the most likely choice.

You hop off your desk to grab your lunch. Nanami follows your movements and thanks you when you hand over his lunch. He leans in to kiss you, testing the waters one last time, only for you to reaffirm his concerns and avoid his lips again.

“Is your shoulder hurting you severely?” He asks, to which you pause and shake your head with a furrowed brow.

“No, why?”

He presses his lips together and stares at you. Taking his glasses off, he takes a seat in your office chair and buttons his blazer, before motioning you over. You comply and allow him to seat you in his lap, his right hand caressing your waist while the other rests on your thigh. “You’re avoiding my kisses,” he points out, as though you haven’t been trying to stop the guilt you feel from seeing his confused expression.

“Am I?”

He raises a brow at your evidently feigned innocence, and you shrug.

When you don’t say anything else, he resorts to simply staring at you whilst stroking along your thigh. The contact has you shivering and swallowing thickly, the cool metal of his wedding ring practically burning through the warmth of your clothes. “We should eat—”

“I don’t feel comfortable eating knowing that there may be something bothering you, my love,” he cuts you off, his tone stern but not unkind.

You purse your lips and exhale as though talking to him is bothering you, to which he tightens his grip on your thigh but only seems to harbour genuine concern for you from the almost pained expression he’s serving you.

“It’s a joke. A prank, I mean.”

He releases a breath that you think he had been holding a while and you instantly feel more forms of guilt than delight at the success of your prank. “So you’re alright?” He asks. You nod. “Not upset, angry, or uncomfortable?” You nod.

With that affirmation, he groans and kisses your lips slowly, then trails down to your neck, eliciting a gasp from you. You apologise, and he shakes his head at you lightheartedly. “The older I get, the more convinced I am that these jokes of yours are going to kill me,” he sighs, to which you laugh and apologise again, kissing his forehead as he grumbles and nips at your skin.

𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈

What more could you ask for? Sat in your local park on a picnic mat, your husband beside you as he takes out the food he made and the cooler from the car. Moments like these reminded you of the smaller joys in life, and notified you to cherish the pleasures taken for granted. Also, the fact that Toji was wearing a white compression shirt under his green plaid shirt allowed you a much-appreciated view of his straining muscles, even if he barely broke a sweat servicing you.

“That should be all,” he grunts, setting the cooler down beside you and locking the car. You rummage around through the bag of numerous food containers, eager to find your sandwich and stop the absolutely beastly noises that your stomach was emitting. “Thank you, baby,” you coo, petting his hair as he lays his head in your lap and stretches his legs out along the mat.

He smiles at the feeling of your fingers in his hair, then groans from the hunger shooting through him. “I think I, uh, should’ve packed more than these damn sandwiches,” he mumbles, sitting up to effortlessly pull your sandwich out from amongst the containers and hand it to you, before spreading the food out one by one - fruit, cheese, sodas, crackers. A mini charcuterie board, if you will.

You laugh at that and bite into your sandwich, humming your affirmation. Toji lifts your feet to place them in his lap, sanitises his hands, and begins wolfing down one of his sandwiches. You snort at the sound of his groan. He’s a big guy - a measly sandwich does nothing for his stomach. He should’ve taken that into account.

“Don’t laugh at me, woman,” he chuckles. He keeps his full mouth shut as he leans in to peck your cheek. Just before he can actually land the kiss, you lean your head to the side and avoid the contact. His brow furrows and he looks at you as though you just stabbed him and told him not to worry about it.

“Don’t wanna kiss you, Toji,” you say bluntly, continuing your meal as though you didn’t just outright reject him for no apparent reason.

He quirks a brow and pulls away, grabbing a grape he plans on eating but just ends up fiddling with as he observes you. “Did I forget somethin’?” He prompts, searching your expression for something that could give him insight as to what soured your mood. It wasn’t as though you were avoiding him completely. You were still being so sweet and, well, your usual self. It just seemed that it was the physical affection (more specifically, the kisses) you were avoiding, and he couldn’t understand why.

When you shake your head no, he shuffles closer and pulls you into his embrace. “Hugging you is just as nice,” he mutters into your hair, his cheek on the top of your head, his strong arms around your neck.

You’re almost frustrated that he didn’t get more upset. Why the hell is he so okay with not kissing you?

“Do you even want to kiss me?” You ask, turning to face him with a small pout and a furrowed brow.

He deadpans. “Was I not the one who initiated that kiss?”

“Yeah but like… you’re not complaining about the fact that you don’t get to kiss me.”

“Because I’m not going to force you when you obviously don’t want to.”

“It’s not about forcing me, it’s about— nevermind,” you grumble, turning back to your sandwich with half a mind to punch him for being so considerate and foiling your prank. You were getting more annoyed than he was from him not being able to kiss you. “Get off me,” you mumble, biting down on his arm.

He hisses and squeezes you tighter, pulling you back so that you’re right up against his chest. “Nah.” He grins, reaching for another grape, then a small slab of cheese.

You groan and slam your head back into him to get him off, but he uses his free hand to grab your jaw and keep your head still. “If you must be so childish,” he laughs, successfully managing to kiss your cheek, “tell me what’s wrong. If not, I’ll assume you’re just playin’.”

“I’m not.”

“Ooh, someone’s defensive, huh?” He practically sings. “Honestly though, tell me what’s up.”

There’s obviously nothing wrong, so you have to brainstorm what to do so that he’s convinced you’re not just messing around. “My sandwich tastes gross.”

“You’re a little tease, you know that?” He starts tickling you, making you spit out the food in your mouth and slap at his hands, trying to fight him off amidst a flurry of giggles and breathless protests. “Speak or forever hold your peace.”

“Alright, alright— oh my gosh, get off me!” You gasp, finally managing to push his hands off. “It was just a prank, you oaf. I don’t even think you deserve a kiss after that—”

He has your cheeks smushed in an instant, cutting you off and replacing your protest with a giggle at the odd expression he has you making. He grins toothily and dramatically smooches your puckered lips. “You play too much.”

𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀

“We genuinely need a bigger bed,” you murmur as you watch him lay on his back on your far-too-small bed. He motions you over and you climb up beside him and lay on his chest, him grunting when you rest your chin on his pecs.

“You’re digging your chin into me,” he states, a very subtle yet undeniable smile on his face.

“Oh no, am I hurting you?” You gasp, feigning concern. “Should I call a medic?” Sitting up so that you’re straddling his hips, you make a show of looking as though you’re utterly devastated at his pain. He deadpans and pulls you down so that you resume your first position, your chin on his chest again.

“I never said that,” he groans, wrapping two of his arms around you whilst you pepper his face with kisses. He goes in to catch your lips with his, but you slap a hand over his face and stop him from doing so. He sighs. “What are you doing now?”

“Don’t kiss me.”

“What are you on about?” Sukuna nibbles at your palm, his canines digging into your skin and making you pull your hand away with a small hiss. A third arm of his reaches up to play with your hair, whilst his fourth arm rests behind his head.

“Don’t kiss me,” you repeat matter-of-factly, as though you were reminding him of a tradition in your relationship. He gives you an incredulous look and pinches your lower back, making you yelp and smack him harsher than necessary. He chuckles lowly and moves in to kiss you again, to which you slap both hands on his face and elicit a groan from him.

“You’ve gone deaf in your old age, Ryo,” you tut, shoving his head back against the pillow.

“I’m more confused than deaf,” he mumbles into your hands, which you pull away after you think he won’t try kissing you again.

When he sits up and rolls you off to allow him to stand from the bed, you blink in confusion, startled by the sudden change in position. You think it’s getting to him, not being able to kiss you. He always was more physically affectionate than he was verbally, but he didn’t lack in any department. You watch as he seems to busy himself with tying his robe and stretching his arms, then almost scream bloody murder when he turns and launches himself at you.

He wrestles you into his embrace, all four of his arms around you to restrain yours as you protest and struggle against him. Your legs encircle his waist to provide leverage for you to fight him off, but it ends up trapping you in his embrace further as he squeezes you tightly and kisses your lips over and over through your breathless giggles and stuttered complaints.

“Get off— Ryo! Ow, stop it—” you snort, shaking your head back and forth to avoid his lips. One of his arms releases its hold on you only for his hand to grab your jaw and still your thrashing, making it easier for him to dote on you and take all that he wants from you.

You groan and feign annoyance, but he’s already well aware of your amusement. You love seeing him like this because you’re the only one who can see him like this.

He pulls away momentarily to let you catch your breath. “Do not deprive me of you, woman. That is the only thing I cannot and will not stand,” he practically growls, nibbling at your neck. You squeeze your eyes shut and feel your heart pound in your chest, but you inhale deeply and compose yourself. When you begin to kiss the top of his head, he pokes at your sides and, when you snicker, lifts his head to smile, though it looks more like a feral grin.

“Stop looking at me like that.” You grab his hair and roll him over so that you straddle his hips while he lays on his back again.

“Stop teasing me,” he retorts, two of his arms shooting out to hug you to his chest. “You infuriating woman.”

#qal : reblogs #icymi

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