#JJK au

[baepsays]

⋆.˚ FAT, JUICY, & WET⭑.ᐟ⸻ Nerdjo.

THAT GOOD KITTY-KITTY, GOOD KITTY-KITTY. MAKE IT MY PET. ᯓ★ When you got involved with Gojo Satoru, you thought—'oh great.' Who knew how great things were about to get for him.

pairings ᯓ★ Nerd Gojo Satoru x reader

cw ᯓ★ NSFW, MDNI, spies, work place romance, fem oriented reader, use of she/her pronouns and the word 'girl', mentions of drugs, human trafficking and illegal activities, lowkey enemies to lovers?, reader is a badass, mention jerking off, hand jobs, biting, fingering, high key exhibitionism, grinding, sneak peek into how big of a whore I am for spanks, some action thriller stuff, pervy Gojo, virgin Gojo, sub Gojo mostly, but on field dom Gojo, switch Gojo, he is such a loser creep, down bad course 101 by Nerdtoru, I do not condone his behavior, lock him up I say u_u, tit play kinda, plot heavy, but also plot is for the smut.

a/n: find 3-aem's art used in the header here, and have funnnn, lol. this is nerd (me) on nerd (Nerdjo) crime.

It was fucked up as it is you have to suddenly work with some new partner now; first train him, and build a rapport with him. The fact that it has to be a complete lost cause loser, who can't hold his liquor, was just the shit on top of your already fungus ridden cake.

“I don't even know the first thing about women!!! How am I supposed to charm them and get information out of them!!??” A very drunk and very sad Gojo cried with the left side of his face squished on the table.

Sitting across from him, getting the front row seat of the nonchalant Gojo Satoru, the intelligence and strategy team wiz, having a meltdown, was great. If only it did not come at the cost of your own job and sanity. Life was good working as a solo spy, where your coworkers in the same division were paired off, you never had to pretend with a colleague. Most of your work involved; breaking in, charming men, sometimes beating up people, if the situation required—get them into bed. 

It never really went too far, but you have definitely done some stuff to complete the task. And you wish your job was not as hands on as it was, if only you were Gojo Satoru. Who was having fun being a behind the scenes guy. But there are only so many people working under such a secretive department under the government. Especially spies, they are very limited.

Which leads us to the matter at hand, the whole department drinking and having fun, with the excuse that Gojo got a promotion. Gojo himself would contradict to say this felt more like a demotion. Sure, he got a raise. But who cares about money when your life rides on your sex appeal and you are a pathetic virgin, who'd rather find every single detail about some president by breaking into all his digital devices and every record of his existence. Instead of wooing his secretary for that information.

He does not like the long way around things. He would rather take what he needs the easiest way possible. And preferably behind a screen.

“I AM LITERALLY A VIRGIN! WHAT WAS THE BOSS THINKING!??” 

“Give me that glass. You had enough. And stop shouting that you're a virgin.”

“But I am.” Seeing Gojo Satoru pouting and whining to you was not on your annual bingo. Yet here you are.

“What do you want me to do? Make you, not a virgin?” He did not say yes, or nod. But it was clear behind those thick shell frame spectacles, it did not matter to him that you were being sarcastic. He just wanted you to take his goddamn virginity. And he was ready to silently plead like a wet cat to make it happen.

And who knew, you would be giving the biggest loser in the department, a handjob in an alleyway behind the restaurant you regular with your colleagues. Sure it was dark there, but the length on the bastard was not something some dim alley can hide.

“God you’re huge.” you moved your thumb to press on his tip, and felt the vein on the underside of his cock twitch. “B-baby.”

“A few strokes and I am suddenly your baby?”

“Ple-please.”

“Look at you, stuttering for once. No smart explanations or anything?”

You pick up the pace at which you were pumping his cock, while continuing to leave kisses along his, now bare chest, button ups are sure easy to get rid of. Your other hand focused on holding onto his neck, keeping his head low and leaning on your head. His hands were gripping your waist with such desperation, they were bound to leave marks, and you did not mind the thought of it to your surprise.

Just as Satoru started vigorously shaking, seemingly close to his release, his hands roamed lower down your ass. “I think i will-”

“Did you see those two? I swear I saw them going to the restroom.” 

Shit. That was your boss.

Both of you looked at each other with complete horror written all over your faces. With speed, you two managed to sneak behind the dumpster in the alley. And waited out for your boss to leave, with Satoru basically half naked, with a now flaccid cock hanging out and about.

“Guess I am not losing my virginity today.” And all you do is roll your eyes in the dark, which despite not being able to see your face—Satoru definitely felt it.

After that nothing really happened. Just that Satoru moved to your section of the department, and made himself cozy in the desk across from you. Until you two got assigned to your first mission together.

“You want me to sneak into an orgy with this guy?” “Hey! I have the appeal!” You really did not have it in you to retort him with any insult. 

“Well. Mr. Hashimoto is a regular at this club and at their underground ‘parties’, the people there do not just let anyone in there.”

“So we go there and I keep a close eye on her?” Satoru seemed eased with the simplicity of the task, he just needed to be your bodyguard in the shadows. He can do that! Despite his defensiveness, he definitely was not getting into an orgy, and not that he wanted to be there anyway.

“I wish it was that simple.” Your boss got off his chair to stand in front of you two, to explain further details of the case. “Well, they only let couples in there. Only members and executives are allowed to go in there alone. A lot of stuff goes on there, human trafficking, drugs, money laundering, you name it.” 

“So I act like her sleazy boyfriend!?”

“Exactly. Just do enough to have the people scouting there, to let you guys into the private room. Take some pictures of Hashimoto in the act for now. We will assess the situation from there. ”

You knew this was going to be one pain in the ass of a mission.

The plan was simple. Look hot, get in, grind on this loser on the dance floor, get in the private room, look like you want Satoru to fuck your brains out then and there, take incriminating pictures of Hashimoto, and fuck off. If they let you easily get away with it, that is. So far the plan was going smoothly, landing on the dance floor with your back to Satoru’s chest, grinding your ass on him, and making it convincing enough that you were one shameless couple. 

“You sure are putting your all into this, baby.” Satoru had his left hand on your hips, helping you grind into his thighs, while his right hand stayed pressed under your breasts. Occasionally the right hand moved up and down your bare thighs, the mini skirt was definitely getting to him on top of your ass. It is not that often he sees you in such attire in the office, on duty and off duty, you were two very different people.

“Talk about yourself. Not looking half bad.” He swapped his usual glasses for shades, got a few fake piercings on his ears, accessories, and a very low neckline black shirt. Paired with his ripped snug fitted denim and boots—he was looking his part, with the tousled hairdo instead of his usual neatly brushed and well kept hair. 

“You can just say I look fuckable, baby.” You could not deny that. He was looking really, ‘fuckable’, as he put it. His salty ocean smelling cologne was like a reverie in the mob of sweaty people. Especially now that you know his big words match what is in his pants, it was hard to deny that you found this man hot. 

It is not some sort of revolutionary information. Gojo Satoru has always been cute. He was nice to look at from a far, up close whenever he opened his mouth it was just intolerable. Especially when you are coming back straight to the office after some overnight mission.

“Did you pop a boner!?” “Who do you think I am? A monk? You are literally grinding on me.” You might have gotten preoccupied with the not so little problem poking your ass, but Satoru was still keeping a lookout for the people you guys needed. And he found a guy staring at you guys long enough to be assured that he was the guy who could get you two in.

“Follow my lead.” “No way. I am the one in charge here.” Satoru did not waste time fighting you. He dragged you to the nearest booth, closest to the guy, sat you both down and practically jumped you, to lay you down on the seat. His lips ended up on yours, While he pushed you further into the cushion of the seat, going all in, with his tongue. Making sure to explore every crevice of your mouth, with some teeth and all.

He was amateur and inexperienced. And it showed, but that did not shadow the fact that he was pretty good for someone who is basically a digimon frantic loser, chasing down Geto in the halls, almost daily, to show him his new shiny cards.

“Hey guys.” The guy who was looking at you guys for a while came up to you, but his first greeting went unheard to both of your ears. At least to Satoru’s ears it did, but you made sure to not answer him on the first greeting. After his third hey, you pinched Satoru on his nape to snap him out of the make out session he has found himself engrossed in. Luckily the guy, desperate at this point, shouts a greeting loud enough for the booths on either side to hear.

“HELLO!” “Damn dude. Chill, you need something important enough to distract me from my girl?” The way Satoru replied to him so nonchalantly, while picking you up from your spot and sitting you down on his knees, as he sat up himself, made you dizzy in the head. Or maybe it was because you sat up too quickly. Sure, let's say that is the reason.

“You guys wanna get somewhere private? I work for this place and we are particularly accommodating to couples.”

You did not say anything in reply, you left it to Satoru, out of trust? Who knows. But this was again, very unusual of you.

Upon agreement the guy led you two to the private room. He took you to the second floor of the club, then a very well hidden tucked away hallway. After walking down that hallway, it led to a singular door at the very end, which required a password from the guy who led you there, to open it. The guy whispered the password to some guy on the otherwise who unlocked the door from the inside.That was the last you saw that guy before walking into the room, holding Satoru's hand.

Honestly the environment was way off. You've done missions involving large scale parties, galas, and went there by foraging identities. But this was no charity ball. It was littered with groups of people and couples mostly of your age, all over these couches, chairs, and even tables in the middle of this huge room, making out or doing more. Which were surrounded by booths similar to the ones you saw in the actual club. And there were only men, who looked rich enough to buy out this entire place, in those booths. Surrounded by women and lines of substances in front of them, with the smell of alcohol lingering everywhere.

This place was full of trouble. One slip and you can not only lose your life, but maybe worse.

“Are you ok?” Satoru leaned down a bit to whisper in your ear, completely ignoring the guy ahead of you two, who opened and closed the door. Unable to muster any sound out of your throat, you just nodded a yes at him, and went on to look for Hashimoto. This was not the time to get nervous, especially not when you have a rookie with you.

Hashimoto was in a booth at the very corner tucked away from everyone's sight. The only way to get a peek at him, meant getting a seat at the couch adjacent to his booth. Which was fortunately empty for Satoru to drag you there.

“Do you know what you are doing?” He plopped down on the couch, manspreading enough to take up at least three people’s space. 

“Trust me, ok angel?” He reassured you as he pulled you down on his lap, making you straddle him, which made you effectively face him—with a pretty clear view of Hashimoto’s table.

“Now I am an angel?” Your eyes flickered back to him, making sure to look as nonchalant as you could have, while adjusting your hands around his neck. Making sure the bracelet on your wrist had the perfect view of the table you wanted to take pictures of. 

Meanwhile Satoru got to work with his mouth, making it more productive than running his mouth. With one pull on your waist, you were practically sticking to him, while his mouth roamed from the base of your neck, shoulders to the column of your throat. “Why? Deem yourself devil incarnate?” The smirk on his face, that you felt stretching on your skin, was followed by a nibble and bite.

It was no easy job to take those pictures when Satoru made it his own personal mission to make you squirm and helped you grind on him. His mouth was capable of greatness, that is the conclusion you came to as his tongue and lips gilded all over your exposed skin. From your face, to chin, jaw and lower. Making sure to avoid your lips at any cost, even with you trying to subtly get a kiss out of him. His right hand remained fixed on your waist, pressing down on it from time to time. The other hand was busy and full with your tits. Slightly pulling down on your top to make them spill out just enough for him to slobber all over them. The cold metal rim of his shades was such a contrast to his warm tongue. You had no idea how it was still on him. But it is not like he had any other option. It needed to record everything.

Well maybe not the part that was going on in between you two. Oh well, he is going to edit the footage later anyway. Not that you were thrilled about that. 

Such thoughts were of concern for later. Because how is this loser who was crying about being a virgin just a few days ago, absolutely smashed from one drink. And was practically melting under your touch in a random alleyway—transformed into this suave and slick guy.

“Are you making sure to take good enough pictures? Hmm, angel?”

No. No, you were not. You were basically shaking already and all this guy did was feel you up a bit and did not even kiss you yet.

As if right on que, he kissed you. And this time it was less teeth, there were still teeth. Just that this time he was using his teeth for better use, by using them to pull on your lips just enough to make you open your mouth to only shove his tongue up against your tongue. And his left hand slipped under your top, his fingers were sweaty and clammy. And somehow that felt good on your skin, as it felt as if it was burning. It also reminded you that this js still the Gojo Satoru you knew, the little nervous and awkward guy he has always been.

And when his right hand came down to move from grabbing your waist, to groping your ass, to then land a slap loud enough to echo in the room—a moan slipped out of you. It was not the kind to disintegrate into his lips, because even Satoru stopped feverishly kissing you, to stare at you for a second. 

He was caught completely off guard, but that did not mean he had the time to register that, he could not make it seem this was the first time he heard you moan. Scratch the fact he is a virgin, he has spent practically every night listening to women scream and moan on at least one of his devices. But this was you. He has recorded you chugging down a water bottle after training, to then later get off to that very innocent clip. So the blush creeping up all over his face was nothing compared to how red he usually becomes while jerking off to thoughts and videos and pictures of you, which he took with his professional grade cameras. He was way too excited to go through the footage from the camera recorder on his shades, not because he is an exemplary officer of the law, who wanted to put these criminals in front of the judiciary with incriminating proof. But because he was going to get the most golden piece of jerk off material to add onto his stash. Thank goodness he was wearing these shades, because you would have definitely deciphered what a guilty little creep he was. 

“Guess we are putting on a show huh?” A smirk rolled around the corners of his lips, while you rested your forehead on his shoulder to ground yourself and take pictures of Hashimoto, who was now looking directly at you.

“Shut up. I got the shots.” “Aw, good girl.” You did not have a reply to really retort his statement. 

“Keep ‘em safe for me ok?” Satoru slid his shades off his eyes and put them on your eyes, revealing eyes which could devour you whole. The whole room was practically staring at you at this point, but no looks were even half as consuming as those blue ones. “Gotta get everything right?”

One second you are readjusting yourself to get the best angle of Hashimoto, and then you are thrashing forward in Satoru’s arms, as he slides his index finger inside you, all in one go. You had no idea when he pushed your underwear to the side or when did his hand even go under your skirt. Maybe you were too occupied with the mission, or just that his other hand which was tugging on your nipples, was just too much in itself. 

“Oh my god, you are sooo wet.” If he was not so enamored by you and your cunt, he would have done something about all the men ogling you, trying to catch a glimpse of your pretty pussy as he slowly moved it around to feel you all up from inside. To see the source of those gushing, squelching noises, and those deafening and lethal moans. He wanted all these people in this room, dead.

“N-no. wait.” You felt a second finger trying to enter you, and you were basically gone. Thank goodness these shades did not need to be manually operated. 

“Ah well, made them look and made you stutter. Must be doing something right. Right, baby?”

You had nothing in you to answer him. You were too busy putting on a show. Trying your best to keep your head steady on his shoulder to get the best angel of the guy across you. And while you were fighting for your life, Satoru was having the time of his life. Sliding in a third finger, his eyes stayed trained in the barely existent gap between you two, to get a glimpse or two of his own fingers going in and out of you at a pace too animalistic, even if his arm was getting in the way—he was satisfied with the here and there peaks at your folds swallowing his fingers in. It was all puffy and slick with your own cum, and it felt like the most precious juicy fruit was in his grasp. 

“So perfect. It’s like you want to break my fingers, angel.”

“I am-”

“Me too baby. Come for me, won’t you do me that favor hmm? Take all my firsts. Please.” A single miserable plea was enough to have you throw your head back, digging your nails in his neck to the point of breaking his skin, you came all over his fingers and pants—never in your life have you had a man make you cum this hard with his fingers alone. And it was an amateur loser on top of that. 

“Done?” He asked while pulling you down on his shoulders once again. He took the shades off you, and patted the back of your head as you twitched in his arms, still high and limp. “D-done.”

“Let’s get out of here then.”

Which is easier said than done. Especially when these men have had the show of their lives, they wanted a taste as well. Just as Satoru moved you in his arms to get you out of there, the guy with the keys to the door came up to you guys.

“Excuse me, but we need you to leave.”

“We are doing exactly that.” Satoru said, with a grin wide and sarcastic enough to piss the guy off. “I meant just you. Leave the girl. One of our patrons has asked for her.” You were sure this was Hashimoto’s request. No one in this room is powerful enough to wield such exclusive amenities. 

“Well. Now that I can't do, you know? She’s my girl afterall. ” You were hiding your face in his chest, getting ready to pull out the knife hidden in your boots, but the way Satoru said ‘my girl’ for the second time tonight—maybe you feel a few butterflies in your stomach. Or maybe it was the orgasm. 

“Leave her here, and fuck off with some cash in your pocket or we can get rid of you easily.” It took Satoru no more than a second to lift you up in his arms, as he kicked the guy hard enough to fall face first on the floor. Before any of the other staff could get to you two, you jumped out of his arms, to get the keys off that guy’s keyholder dangling on his waist. You grabbed onto Satoru’s hands to run for the door, just as you opened the door, Satoru took out the little smoke bomb hidden away in his belt. 

“Disperse. I will go that way, you go the opposite. Jump down the window I showed you. Regroup in the car. Ok?” You explained your best to Satoru as you ran down to the crowded dance floor to catch a bit more time.

“Ok!” You both nodded at each other before heading your respective ways. But before you could leave, He grabbed onto your wrist and pulled you close to him to lean down enough to whisper in your ears, loud enough for you to hear in the sea of people and deafening music. 

“Be safe.” You could not see his face, but you could still discern the concern in his voice. And maybe something more.

“You better see me in one piece.” You warned him in return before you two ran in opposite directions.

“Ah. If it is not the dream team!” Your boss exclaimed with joy as you two walked in his office.

It has been two days since the mission. Thankfully you two made it to the getaway car just fine that day. But neither of you said anything the entire car ride as you two got driven down to the base. The next two days you did not see Satoru. You assumed he was too busy editing all the evidence and compiling them. He had more on his plate now, than he was already tasked with before. You did reach out to him to offer help. But he just turned you down with maximum of one worded replies. 

“Everything came out fine, right?” Satoru asked as he walked two steps away from you. “Oh yes! Do not worry about it. Our team already seized the place yesterday.”

When you came out of the boss’s chamber, Satoru seemed in a hurry. Rushing as fast as he could, away from you. I mean, it was all for the mission, right? Now that it is over, who even is he to you but some loser who is eerily obsessed with you. Not that you know that. Or maybe you do. Maybe you already know how big of a loser he actually is. 

“Trying to run now?” “I don’t know what you mean.” You had to pull Satoru in the closest storage room to corner him. Because why was he being all weird now? 

“Sure you do, you-” When you turned the light on, his entire neck and both his ears were beet red. His eyes were looking glossy and not because of his high prescription usual spectacles. And when you got closer to him, you could feel him—warm and stiff in his pants.

“Are you seriously hard right now?” He looked away from you, like he did not dirty talk in your ears and made you cum in front of a room full of dangerous people, just the other day. 

“Can you blame me?” When he finally looked into your eyes, you could not help but break into a smile. Somehow you got wrapped around this loser’s fingers, literally.

“Remember how you asked me to take all your firsts?” He started getting more red as he nodded a weak yes.

“Meet me at my place after work.” You got on your tippy toes to kiss him, and pulled on his lips with your teeth, similarly as he did. You grabbed onto the collar of his button up shirt, to drag him down to your face. And when his shaky hands moved up to hold onto your waist, after he barely came down from the initial surprise, you shoved him off you. And he went stumbling into the boxes piled up behind him.

And with that you left the poor guy to tend to the giant mess he made in his pants, and a card in his palm, that had your personal number and address on it. The card also said something else in your handwriting, that almost gave him a nosebleed. 

‘Your girl, loser.’

TO FIND MORE OF MY WORKS CLICK HERE.

a/n: divider by @/enchanthings-a and @/omi-resources, pics in header by @/3-aem on (Tumblr and twt) and from Pinterest.

hope after a few here and there drabbles i did justice to Nerdjo. he has been rotting my brain for months. definitely wanted to write something for him and inspiration just came idkkkk how I came up with the whole goverment employed spy stuff. i think i like thinking up this sort of spy and work dynamics and i wanted to write Nerdjo out of academic setting, there are far more superior works about that, I have done enough in academics. just something obscure enough to not only be work place romance but also a bit of a shitty action thriller? so ig you can say this is also spy Gojo. but not really, he is just a weirdo who is definitely not lowkey obsessed with you that is all. put him on field by himself and he is shitting himself.

hope you had fun reading! and enjoyed your stay on my humble humble two cents about nerdjo in the sea of amazing nerdjos. please do lmk your thoughts in the comments and feel free to reach out to me in my ask box.

clan leader Gojo i am so sorry i am getting right back to completing you!

tag list: @cheralith @madamechrissy @gojosperms @naomigojo @naomi-main @cuntphoric @nanamiskentos @cuntyji @cuntphoric @aishi-toru @fushitoru @rriwyu @exquisink @lover-lyn @buckysm @wwwritererm @indiewritesxoxo @moonchhu @shouiow @user25384959574 @dxmnsaera @kazupop @slayzzz @undercvrfan444 @miizuzu @getoistic @infinitatis-ink @theorphicangel @ricecake-mochi

[kaissatou]

lovefool kento nanami x reader (18+)

tw; obsessive behaviour, nsfw!! (no minors!!!), slightly manipulative behaviour

Up thinking about obssesed perv Nanami.

Nanami Kento is not a pervert. Kento himself would like to consider himself to be a respectable, reliable man.-He's professional and collected, stoic (and slightly un-nerving), and he's certainly not a pervert.

That's what he tells himself when he's rummaging through your panty drawer.

And he's ashamed of himself, really! He doesn't mean to intrude on your privacy; but on the other hand, his perverse actions are benefitting you, he's just trying to take care of you! Nanami's a very observant man. While many see him as distant, he can't help when his eyes linger on you for just a little longer than necessary. He pretends to be lost in thought (with the façade that he's trying to block out Gojo's consistent rambling- which isn't really a lie), but in reality, he's admiring you. The way your hair falls and adorns your shoulders, The curve of your lips.

Though Nanami is usually composed, it all flies away when he's with you, and he can't always hide his desires. Nanami's a sweet talker, and he's definitely not a pervert- definitely not a pervert when you catch him observing an eyeful of your body when you bend over to pick up a fallen pen. You don't notice the way his voice switches up an octave when he hums, or the way his eyes linger on your backside for a second too long to deem normal, friendly.

So when a couple pairs of your panties mysteriously vanish, Nanami's not even a thought in your mind! He's respectful and sweet, but he's also very articulate, careful to not let you know- careful to not let your realise that he's the reason why your belongings disappear. It started subtle, and it started innocent. Whether it's a hair tie, a scarf you left behind at the school, or even an old receipt you never bothered to toss- He's got it all. To Nanami, these items bring him great comfort, like a physical reminder that you are his- and that's when his behaviour becomes less..innocent.

So when Nanami offers to come over after work and help you clean, you don't think a second thought over it- after all, he is a gentleman. You also don't think anything more of it when he offers to do your laundry, too. Nanami will go out of his way to 'help' you, making sure you're always taken care of in ways that feel intimate to him. Nanami Kento is a family man- he wants you to depend on him. Maybe it's making sure you're well fed by cooking you up a homemade meal, or running you a warm bath with luxurious soap and oils, his help is a guise to get closer to you, and keep you reliant on him.

He fantasises about you constantly. Your pretty pink lips around his hefty cock, cheeks hollowed as you try to take him all in one. The way your eyelashes would flutter shot as you gurgle around him, gags trapped under the confines of his cock, using all his self restraint to stop himself from cradling his hands around the back of your head and giving you that final push. The way his hot cum would slide down your throat effortlessly, dripping down your lips, the way he'd cradle your check, caressing your lips and using his thumb to push back in any wasted droplets, your tongue swirling around his digit.

He's dirty like that.

Or the way he'd caress your lips with hushed whispers of reassurance and praise as he pushes into your gooey pussy, thumbing your clit to ease you as well as possible when you're spearheaded on his mushroom tip. biiig stretch, that's it, he'd hum, shushing your cries and wails with his plush lips.

Supporting and encouraging these fantasies, are your used panties- holding them up to his nose, inhaling your scent with an excessive sniff, closing his eyes in bliss, his right hand pistoning his lube covered up cock, his thrusts sloppy and uncalculated. He'll feel bad, after, regretting for indulging into his perverse fantasies- but he can't help himself, not when he's too far gone.

Nanami's obsession goes beyond physical attraction. He wants to be a constant part of your life, and while he's not loud about it, he ensures you spend time with him by all means. He doesn't just see you as someone he loves, but something he owns- and he knows its bad, and unhealthy, but its overpowering, so he'll pump his cock to you just one more time (or three.)

[goreandbunnies]

❝ 𝙳𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚎𝚛!𝚂𝚞𝚔𝚞𝚗𝚊 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚜 ➺

Inspired by @sweetlandspos ‘s fanart ♡

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Dealer!Sukuna’s eyes scan yours for a time stopping moment. He’s trying to see through you, beyond those walls you’ve been putting up. Or at least that’s what you think, until his free hand sneaks around your waist, pressing his massive body against yours. 

You can feel just how aroused he is, his bulge nested against your lower belly causing your brain to short circuit. You’re already shaking, anticipating his next move but you already know he’s too unpredictable, too wild. 

“You haven’t been texting me,” he says softly, the slight yearning in his voice surprising you. “You haven’t given me your name and you won’t come see me tonight,” he continues, pressing himself a little harder against you. “And I thought I could wait, but I’m growing impatient because of you, baby,” his hand is still covering your mouth and his arm is keeping you firmly in place. 

Thank fuck. 

Because at this point, your legs can barely support you any longer as he confesses like a sinner. Hesitantly, you raise your hands to his waist, not to push him away but instead to grab his shirt and hang onto it. You can hear students walking by on the other side of the door, oblivious to the earth shattering excitement taking over you. 

Taking your small gesture as consent, he gasps and the next thing you know, his face is buried in your neck, kissing and sucking in the most sloppy way, not holding back. His teeth gently graze your skin before biting the tender flesh at the base of your neck. He leaves hickeys on your neck and chest, too happy to mark you. 

You moan in pleasure, unable to stay silent under his heated assaults. His hand sneaks its way under your skirt where his black painted nails dig into your plump hip, almost teasing your bare butt. 

“I wonder what other cute sounds I could get out of you when you finally let me all the way in,” he chuckles and you feel yourself melt in his arms. 

“What if someone walks in?” It’s only you and him, behind a fire exit door, in a small corridor that leads outside. You have forgotten all about the outside world, no way you’re going back there now that you’re with him, flustered and aroused. 

“Don’t worry, baby, I come here all the time and no one ever bothers me,” he places a kiss on your collarbone before he pulls away a little, his nose almost touching yours. 

His face is perfect, you think. It’s unfair, he’s so beautiful you could cry and he’s there, pining after you for some reason. You two are polar opposites but you can’t deny the attraction, the pull you feel when he’s around you. 

“I’m late for class,” you breathe, just when his hand finally slips to your ass, firmly holding onto it to keep you close. 

“Aw, shame,” he grins, exposing his perfect smile and slightly pointy canine teeth. He’s a complete beast and proves it the next second when his mouth greedily lowers on yours. 

Dealer!Sukuna who feels like he could cream his pants like a virgin the second his lips touch yours. He’s used to one night stands, when he’s usually too high and drunk to even make out. This is just as forbidden to him as it is to you. You’re too pretty, too good for a guy like him. 

And yet he wants you for himself, from the moment his tongue slides past your lips into your mouth, he decides that he’s going to keep you, no matter if his sins end up tainting you. 

You kiss him back like you won’t get another shot at this. Your arms wrap around his neck and he takes it as his cue to lift you in his arms effortlessly, hands gripping your ass. 

Dealer!Sukuna who fucking whimpers in your mouth, like he’s the one experiencing that kind of passion for the first time. 

Dealer!Sukuna who doesn’t hold back and rubs his hard bulge against your wet panties, the rough material of his black jeans adding to the over stimulation you’re already feeling. 

You’re fucked. You know you are. Because five minutes into not so dry humping against each other, you’re close to the edge, ready to shatter into a million pieces. 

Dealer!Sukuna who just knows you are. That’s why he stops and puts just a bit of distance between the two of you. You whine, not intentionally, but the sound makes him chuckle darkly. 

“Your name, Princess, and I’ll give you what you want,” he smirks, triumphant. Your fingers gently tug at the hair at the back of his head in frustration. Gritting your teeth, you sigh and give up. 

“Y/n,” you’re out of breath, saying your name never felt that difficult. You never thought that something so casual could put a frat boy into a frenzy, yet when he finally gets what he wants, Dealer!Sukuna carries you to the empty stairs in the fire exit and gently puts you down before placing himself between your legs. 

Dealer!Sukuna, whose fingers slide up and down between your pussy and panties, grinning when he feels how wet you are. 

Dealer!Sukuna who doesn’t waste another second and slides two skilled fingers inside your eager cunt before leaning in, pulling your panties to the side and adding his warm mouth to the party. 

Your hands grip his hair tightly as pleasure takes over you like a tsunami, relentless, intense - mind blowing. You feel your inner walls clenching around his thick fingers, and his warm tongue licking and sucking on your over sensitive clit, thinking that this is definitely wrong - but this is also the best kind of pleasure you’ve ever experienced. 

Dealer!Sukuna who feels you getting close again and speeds up the pace, his mouth leaving your clit when he positions himself on top of you. His mouth glistens with your wetness. 

“I knew you’d taste like a feast, y/n,” your name in his filthy mouth is all you need to reach your climax, crying and moaning in Dealer!Sukuna’s mouth who drinks your orgasm from your lips to keep it with him.   

You feel the orgasm still, even after he’s removed his fingers, licked them clean, replaced your panties over your drenched pussy and sat next to you, a blunt between his lips. 

“Hey, you can’t smoke in here,” your voice is soft and hoarse, but at this point, you don’t even care what you sound or look like. 

“Don’t give a fuck, baby,” he blows the smoke away from you and you can’t help but glance at the two fingers holding the joint. The same ones he had inside you moments ago. “What about tonight then? Did you reconsider?” He grins, nudging your shoulder gently. 

You shake your head. “I can’t tonight, I told you. I’m free tomorrow though,” you insist, trying to show him that you’re not trying to avoid him. 

“Yeah well I’m not,” he says, cocky, leaning back against the stairs. 

Dealer!Sukuna who watches you get up, smooth out your skirt and hair before placing a soft kiss on his cheek, leaving him with hungry eyes and surprised crimson eyes. 

“Not anymore,” you reply, giving him a small, shy attempt at a smirk then leaving the fire exit with wobbly legs, feeling overly confident for once. 

♡ Taglist : @gojoscumslut @bohoooitsme @call-memissbrightside @yuujispinkhair @seellove @s3ns4ti0n4l @libertyinnit @krispywhisperswhispers @nynxtea @sterzin @emoedgylord @keepghostly @miazzzma @madamechrissy @monster-effer @raynehmms @katestrophes @waterfal-ling @sunasgf1 @kassfunk19 ♡

Dividers by @cafekitsune and @firefly-graphics

Copyright © goreandbunnies 2024-2025, all rights reserved, do not repost, use or plagiarize

[v1x3n]

BOO, YOU WHORE - DRUMMER!SUKUNA

꒰ PAIRING : drummer! sukuna ryomen x childhood friend! reader. yapit masterlist.

꒰ SYNOPSIS : even though you and him fell out years ago, you two still get forced to talk to eachother because your parents are friends!

꒰ TAGS : slut shaming (heavy), accidently overhearing you having sex, whore reader? toji mention, kys (joke?).

[simplygojo]

Friend-Of-A-Friend ── Masterlist

series summary ⸺ You and Gojo have been best friends ever since you met him in university, through your long study nights with Gojo, you met his other best friend, Suguru Geto. Although the two of you never really became close, the three of you spent a lot of time together at school. About a year or so after graduation, you had found yourself working a corporate job for some big shot insurance company in the city. Geto, on the other hand, had always been more of a background presence, he was a friend-of-a-friend. That’s why it caught you off guard when, out of nowhere, he reached out to you asking you to catch up, one-on-one. What started as a simple catch-up soon became something else, shrinking the distance that had always existed between you. pairing ⸺ Suguru Geto x Reader series content warnings ⸺ this is an 18+ series - mdni, platonic-bestie!gojo, corporate-worker!reader, reader uses female pronouns, reader has a v*gina, smoking, drinking, drug use, p in v intercourse, oral (both ways), a bit of emotional manipulation. taglist ⸺ @killak9mi divider credit: @/toastray ୨୧ art credit: @/juziluohai ୨୧ simplygojo masterlist ୨୧

Chapter One; Chapter Two;

[jcrml]

HWHAHAHSHA OMGGGGSGHSHS BODYGUARD TOJI

Til’ the Day that I Die (Chapter Four)

Summary: You’re a popstar in need of a bodyguard when you find yourself with a stalker. That’s how you meet Fushiguro Toji, you’re insanely hot bodyguard. Who knows how to push your buttons, and get you feeling flustered. Just how far is he willing to go to protect you? And how far would you go to protect him?

Pairing: Fushiguro Toji x AFAB!Reader

Warnings: mentions of death, grief, language, anxiety, stalking, some slight fluff

Word Count: 3.2K

A/N: fun fact—this was supposed to be five parts, its gonna be a bit long because this has taken a life of its own 😅💚

Part One Part Two Part Three

“Oh—” You whispered, stepping forward closer to the shrine. Incense was burning in front of a picture of a beautiful woman with black hair. A small mochi and vase with wildflowers sat beside her photo. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

”Thank you—”

Toji exhaled through his nose, ruffling the top of Megumi’s head as you approached the shrine, kneeling before it, closing your eyes as you bowed your head. Seeing you move so fast, dropping before his late wife's shrine, left Toji feeling both appreciative and sick to his stomach at the same time. Maybe part of It was because he still missed his sweet wife, or perhaps it was because he’s been so wrong about you.

“Thank you for welcoming me into your home, Mrs. Fushiguro.”

The sincerity behind your words felt like a knife in his stomach. Yeah, he had definitely misjudged you. He wished he could take back what he had told you earlier this night. But time didn't work like that. Toji assumed you were a spoiled rotten brat and blatantly said that to your face. There was no taking back those shitty assumptions.

But what he could do was make up for what he had said.

“She would have loved to have you. Wouldn't she squirt?” He asked, ruffling Megumi’s hair.

You glanced over your shoulder, watching Megumi grip his father's pants, nodding his head. A slight flush dusted his cheeks as you smiled sympathetically at him. It must have been hard losing his mother at such a young age; you couldn't even imagine what that must have been like. But Toji, you were in actual awe of him.

Not only did he work for a well-renowned security company, but he was also a single father. Balancing work, raising a child, and caring for a house must be hard as hell. A sudden respect for the mountain of the man blossomed in your chest as he stared at his son, lovingly stroking his hair back.

”I should probably get him to bed, then we can get you settled in, okay?”

You nodded in agreement, watching as he placed his hand on Megumi’s head, turning him to head down a hall. “Goodnight, Miss.” The little tyke said, waving at you, which had your heart squeezing in your chest as you waved back.

When they disappeared into a room, you pushed yourself off the ground, looking around the living; despite being a bit dusty, it was surprisingly well organized. You admired the different photos on bookcases, from Toji and Megumi to pictures of his late wife. As you looked at each photo, you grounded yourself, swallowing at a sadness lumping in your throat. In each photo of his wife, Megumi was a baby. There were no photos of her with him as a toddler or a child, meaning she probably passed before she could watch him grow. That sadness tugged at your heart, making breathing almost hard as you felt nothing but empathy for the family who’d so selflessly taken you in.

“She’s staying for a while?” Megumi asked softly as Toji lifted the sheets for him.

“Yep, you good with that kiddo? If you're not, I could call Shiu.”

“I don't mind—” Toji cocked a dark brow watching Megumi grab his white wolf plushie hugging it. “She’s pretty.”

Those words nearly sent Toji reeling back as he gawked at his son. “Pretty?” Megumi nodded, pursing his lips together as he shot his father a quick, curious glance. Thanks to Toji’s profession, he was a professional at reading people, and that talent extended to his son. “Yeah, she is. But Megumi, this is strictly professional, you know that, right?” When his son just stared at him, he signed. “There’s nothing between us, and I assure you there won't be.” The dismissive tone of Toji’s words left Megumi blinking.

“Why?”

“Because it’s unprofessional. It's my job to protect her.”

He pulled the sheets up to Megumi’s chin, tucking him in. “You know you don't have to worry about me.” Megumi rubbed his face into the plushie fur. “I wouldn't mind you seeing her.” Toji rolled his eyes, pushing Megumi’s bangs off his forehead and pressing a kiss there.

“She’s a client, kid.”

“So?”

How was it possible for a kid to be this intrusive? “Okay, that’s enough questions, go to sleep.” The floorboards creaked under Toji’s weight as he headed for the hall. “Night Megumi.”

“Night, Dad.”

Shutting the door to his son’s room, Toji was left alone in the hall's silence with his thoughts. He knew there would be a day when Megumi would ask him about his dating life. He was sure how he would react, whether he didn't like the idea or was indifferent. But this was a reaction he hadn't been expecting. For Megumi to basically give Toji his blessing to date you was literally unfathomable. And he had said it with such a straight face!

Megumi didn't know you; he'd barely met you, hardly said less than twenty words to you, and was giving His father permission. Your presence had that much of an impact on him? The same woman he had deemed a spoiled brat had won his son over merely by smiling and being kind.

He'd have to make sure Megumi knew you weren't staying forever. This arrangement was a temporary deal. One designed to keep you safe and out of harm's way.

As he headed into the living room, rubbing the back of his neck, thinking of how he could word it, he saw you standing in front of the bookcases, staring at the photos that lined the shelves. He'd been expecting to see an unreadable, almost bored face as you waited for him. What he was met with had him frozen in his spot.

Tears, literal tears welled in your eyes. You were crying while looking at pictures of his wife. The woman who’s impacted him in so many ways. Who had blessed him with a son who was so much like her? The same woman he had mourned for the last five years. Seeing you like that only made Toji regret his earlier words even more. With a sigh, Toji cleared his throat as he entered the living room, stomping his feet a little too loud to give you time to wipe the stray tears off your face.

“Sorry about the wait.”

“Oh, you’re fine; I’m the one imposing on your family.”

Toji wanted to argue and tell you to shut up, but he let it go. You weren’t a burden. He was happy to help you because it was the right thing to do.

So, instead of yelling or starting another argument, Toji stepped forward, ruffling the top of your head. “Come on, I’ll give ya’ a tour.” The apartment was lovely, with three bedrooms, two bathrooms, a living room, and a balcony overlooking the city. It was a pleasant, quiet home perfect for the two of them. It was also the place that you would call home for an indefinite future. “It’s a little cramped, but it’s still home.”

You both made your way back out to the living room. Where you were fiddling with your thumbs and anxiously looking around. Toji was watching you closely as he had been doing the entire night. You have been through so much in the last few hours he didn’t wanna push you further than you had been so far. Right now, the best thing he could do was get in bed and sleep this terrible night off.

He cleared his throat around the living room before moving the cushions off the couch. Upon seeing him moving, you jumped to help him take the cushions from him and place them off to the side—something his previous clients wouldn’t be caught dead. Then again, you weren’t like his other clients. The more time he spent with you, the more evident that became.

“You realize you don’t have to help me do this right.”

“What kind of house would I be if I didn’t help?”

Toji shook his head as he moved the coffee table to the side. “Ya’ know, I think you’re the only houseguest that has ever done this with me.” you shook your head this time, giving him an almost smug smile.

“Well, I think I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You should.”

You laughed, and God, it was sweet and light as air. A sound that ceased all of Toji’s movements as he looked up at you. After everything you had gone through tonight, you were still able to laugh and smile. And it wasn’t that fake laugh for the smile he watched you put on when you were at the stadium. You'd been through hell and back this evening, but you were grinning despite everything that you had gone through. Knowing that someone had gotten into your home, you were staying in a stranger's house, yet you were laughing a carefree giggle. For you to still be able to smile like everything was fine when he knew it took resilience and guts.

You hummed, rubbing at the back of your neck. Unaware of the watchful gaze that Toji was shooting in your direction. “I bet you have a lot of interesting stories to tell.” Your words pull him out of the stupor he found himself in while staring at your delicate features and pretty face.

“Uhm, yeah, yeah, I do have a lot of stories I could tell. But let’s put a pin in that; you had a long day. You need to get some rest.” Toji stretched his arms above his head before stretching the arms across his chest. “If you give me a few minutes, I can change the sheets on my bed, and you can shower.”

“Your bed?”

Toji blinked, looking away before looking back and meeting your confused gaze. “Yeah, I’m taking the couch; you can stay in my bed.” From the way you crossed your arms and fed your brows, Toji knew you didn’t approve of this idea.

“I’m not the type to kick you out of your bed because I’m staying with you. I am perfectly capable of sleeping on a pull-out bed.”

“No one said you weren’t, Doll Face.” The mere annoyance etched into his voice didn't faze you in the slightest. “Anyways, I'm sleeping here. So I'm going to go change my sheets, get you a towel, and then you can rest.”

“Just grab me a towel; I really don't mind sleeping out here.”

A vein in Toji’s forehead throbbed as he slowly turned to glare down at you, putting on the fakest smile he could muster. “You’re a brat, you know that? I'm trying to be nice and offer you my bed so you can get a good night’s sleep.” Navy eyes watched as you shrugged, fucking shrugged at his words.

“Don't take this the wrong way, but I would prefer you to be on your A-Game tomorrow. You are my bodyguard, after all. If anyone should get a good night's sleep, it should be you.”

With pure satisfaction, you watched Toji open his mouth to argue before slowly closing it. A cocky smile tugged at the corner of your mouth as your tall; muscular bodyguard couldn't bring himself to argue or disagree with you. Seeing that expression on your face, Toji’s eyes were twitching; maybe you were a brat.

“Ooh, you sure Miss Pop-Princess won’t mind sleeping on the couch? I wouldn't want it ruining your back~”

Instead of snapping or giving him attitude, Toji watched as you slowly tilted your head to the side. “You do realize I have slept on my fair share of couches before I was famous and after the fact.” Toji blinked, watching you run your hands over the mattress. “When I was staying with my friends, I slept on their sofa, and they didn't even have a pull-out mattress, so this is a step up.” Damn, you were just—normal.

“Fuck, you aren't like other clients I've had in the past.”

“Is that a good thing?”

You watched as Toji’s eyebrows furrowed in thought. “Eh, I don't know yet.” You glared at him, but your glare was cut short as he threw a pillow at your face. “Relax, it’s not necessarily a bad thing. You're just different. But sometimes different is good.”

Sometimes different was good?

Toji’s words had you tossing and turning on the pull-out bed. You sighed, staring at the ceiling as you tossed and turned, and his words echoed in your mind. After everything that had happened to you in the last few hours, you weren't sure if you agreed with him.

In fact, ever since you had gone viral, things have been incredibly different for you. And you weren't sure if it was a good thing. Your fame had its perks, of course. You made good money, more than enough to give back to the community and help those who couldn't help themselves. But, the downsides were turning out to be—worse than you ever imagined.

Your anxiety was at an all-time high; you had a stalker who had been watching you for god knows how long, and you were staying with your bodyguard, whom you knew practically nothing about. Well, that last part wasn't as bad as the other two drastic changes you were experiencing. Did that fact make it any less nerve-wracking and anxiety-inducing? No, it didn't.

Those thoughts plagued your mind all night; from the time Toji left you to shower until then, the blue velvet sky outside began turning a light shade of orange with the promise of morning. There was no way you were going to be able to sleep. You had come to terms with that fact before you even stepped foot into Toji's apartment building. The anxiety had dug its claws into you. Its talons seep into your skin like a poison meant to keep you up for all night hours.

Hopefully, this won't be a permanent change in your life.

The orange hue shifted to a lilac shade with pink clouds. At that point, you had given up on sleeping altogether, opting to sit on the fold-out bed and stare at the different shapes forming in the clouds. Just as you watched a rabbit shift into an elephant, a soft creaking sound pulled your attention away from the window.

Megumi wandered out of his room, rubbing his eyes as he looked around. Navy blue eyes met yours, and he stared at you for a second before continuing his way into the living room. He was silent as he plopped down on the end of the mattress, looking at the black screen of the television.

“You wanna watch television?” You questioned in a soft, almost motherly tone.

“No, I’m okay.” His timid voice melted your heart, but you could tell from how he stole glances at you that he had something to say.

“You sure about that.”

Another silence spread before he turned to look over his shoulder at you. “Yeah.” Little fingers picked at the thick blanket Toji had given you. “Did you sleep well?”

“I did, thank you for asking. How about you?”

He shrugged his shoulders, pulling a piece of lint to the blanket. “I slept okay.” Nodding your head, you sighed, looking out at the sky.

“Well, from the sounds of it, we both didn't sleep very well, and there's only one cure for a rough night.”

Your words had Megumi’s head snapping in your direction, curiosity gleaming in his big doe-eyed. “There’s a cure?” With a wide bobcat grin, you picked the blankets off yourself.

“Yes, and thankfully, I know the only cure out there. Wanna help me?” Megumi took your hand without hesitation, giving it a squeeze as you both headed beaded into the kitchen. “I can assure you that this cure will be the tastiest cure of them all.”

The smell of bacon pulled Toji out of dreamland. He groaned, running his hands down his face, and sat up, glancing at the clock. It was seven thirty, and Megumi was already up and about, staring at his day, much like his mother used to do. This would come in handy in the future, but for a six-year-old to be up cooking seemed unlikely, so it had to be you. At least Toji hoped it was you.

As tempting as it was to stay in bed and fall back asleep, the soft clattering from the kitchen urged Toji to investigate. Slipping on his grey sweats with a sigh, Toji headed out to the kitchen, where he found his son eating breakfast on one of the barstools. He was seconds away from scolding his son to wake him up the next time he was hungry when he heard the soft singing resonating from the stove.

There he saw you. You were swaying your hips to music softly playing on your phone. You were completely oblivious to him watching you as you flipped a pancake over in the frying pan you used. Normally, he'd be slightly irritated if someone he didn't know was using his kitchen and groceries without asking.

But you looked so pretty, mindlessly singing as you cooked breakfast. Not only his son, but for him too from the second plate sitting off to the side, and the third you were plating must be for you. It had been so long since Toji’s kitchen was filled with warmth, singing, and life. It was so strange, different.

But then again, different was sometimes good.

It was so good that Toji crept over to stand behind you, watching you flip the pancake to cook it perfectly. You still were unaware of his presence, which was slightly concerning, seeing that you were being stalked by a crazed maniac right now. That was something you both would have to work on in the future. For now, Toji was going to have a bit of fun.

He leaned as close as he could to your ear before chuckling. “I didn't know the Pop-Princess could cook.” When it came to startling you, Toji had expected a few things to happen. You’d likely react with a fight-or-flight. He imagined you trying to take a swing at him, which he could easily avoid. It made sense; you'd be on high alert, ready to fight for your life if needed.

Instead, a warm pancake smacked him in the face. He just stood there as the pancake slowly slid down his face, revealing your startled face and staring up at him in fear. Out of everything you could have used to your advantage, you threw a pancake at him. A flat, soft, warm breakfast treat had been the only line of defense you'd choose to use—when you were holding a frying pan. As the pancake fell to the floor with a soft thump, you and Toju stared into each other's eyes.

Toji had his work cut out for him.

Forever Tag List:

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[callme-naomi]

reader and Nanami are in an arranged marriage

Nanami Kento had always had an independent personality: he had long since begun doing his own tasks for himself.

Sewing his own clothes if slashed? He'll do it.

Making his own food? He'll do it.

Cleaning his dorm, and later on, his house? He'll do it.

Changing the bulbs? He'll do it.

Combing his hair? Arranging his books? Fixing broken clocks? Repairing appliances? He'll do it.

That was the life he was accustomed to. He never thought about having someone to do his tasks for him. And he didn't need to, because he liked it. Doing his work by himself and not being dependent on anyone. He would readily do someone else's jobs, but his? A simple, I'll handle it.

He used to think that letting someone else do his work gave a feeling of being dependent, or making them feel like a servant. After all, who would voluntarily do his work for him?

So when you came into his life, he had expected that you might have some moments when you'd need him and his help, and he was prepared for it.

What he was absolutely not prepared for was letting you do his jobs.

He woke up in the morning, the first day to work after you two getting married, his mind deciding between which to do first, press his clothes or make his breakfast, but he stops midway when he sees his work dress all ironed up and hanging neatly. He found your side of the bed empty, neatly tucked.

When he made his way to the kitchen, he found you humming to some tune, a sizzling sound emanating and the aroma wafting towards him. hearing his footsteps, you turn to look at him, smiling.

"Good morning, my love!"

"Morning, darling." He replied, rolling his sleeves up and coming to you. "How long since you've been up?"

You blinked. "An hour or a half, I think."

"Why didn't you wake me?"

"I'm sorry, did you need to wake early?" You, with a tinge of worry, asked him, waiting to be yelled on.

Because that's the household you had grown in. If the females slacked off, the males spent no time in proving what a failure they are.

"No, of course not." He leaned against the kitchen counter. "Take your time, whenever you're done, I'll make it, alright?"

"But," you pointed to the table, "It's all ready!"

Now it was his turn to blink. "Weren't you making yours?"

"No, no, I was making both of ours."

"Y/N, you don't need to make mine, alright?"

"But my cooking is good enough."

"I meant, you don't need to trouble yourself."

"But I'm fine, Kento." you replied, a shine on your face, as you flipped the last of the omelets and led him to the table. "Here, eat it before it gets cold!"

The two of you sat at the table together, not sure what to talk about, eating in silence. A few times, when he reached out to have a biscuit or another serving of tea, your hand would shoot forwards and give it to him. Just as he stood up with his plates in hand, you almost snatched it from him and walked to the sink, your arms full of utensils as you began washing them.

"Y/N, you don't need to wash my plates." He trailed you into the kitchen. "Thank you, but I can do it."

You put your hands on his shoulders and playfully push him outside the kitchen. "And so can I. That's my job!"

"Your...job?"

"Mm-hm. You know what they say, girls look best in the kitchens of their houses."

"Did someone tell you to do this?" Nanami, who could still not wrap his head around the fact that someone would do his job so voluntarily, asked you.

"Isn't this what I'm supposed to do?" You asked in return, your hands frothed with lather. "I don't know how things go in your home, but that's what I was told back at mine."

"That you're supposed to wait on your husbands?"

You nodded.

"Well, Y/N, I really appreciate the gesture, but you don't have to work this hard on my account, alright?"

"But you're my husband."

"Not your master. You are free to do what you want, not what you're expected to do." He moved forward to put his hand on your cheek. "Got it?"

You were his wife. His queen. He wanted you to be treated the same way someone would treat a princess. He wants you to be happy, because wasn't that the same way he felt around you? He wanted you to look at him as your love, not your master.

You nodded in understanding, confused as to what got into him, as he strode inside to get his clothes on.

You didn't want to anger him on your first few days, so you didn't push forward, if you don't count passing him the tie and cologne, out of habit. However, he gave in to your insistence of letting you tie his tie and put his coat on him, and you finally felt like a good housewife as he gave you a gentle goodbye kiss before leaving for work.

Nanami Kento had never been so confused before, either. What do you mean people are supposed to do someone else's work? Don't they have their own jobs to attend to?

That day, during work, a few of his colleagues sat with him during the break, congratulating him on his marriage.

"Say, Nanami, has she cooked something for you yet?"

He counted all you had made for breakfast this evening, and his colleagues snorted. "What, you eat toast for dinner?"

"What did she make for dinner?"

He recounted in his head. Two nights you two have yet spent together, the first night he had taken you out for dinner, and the second, he had insisted on making it for you, saying you 'had just come'.

"I make my own, if you aren't aware."

"Nanami, Nanami, Nanami," his other colleague shook his head at him as if he had committed some grave mistake. "Why'd you do it?"

"I'm not sure I follow?"

"Those ladies, they're the ones supposed to do the work. You're now married."

"I am well aware of my status." He had gotten a vague idea of the incoming lecture, and he already began brainstorming of getting out of here.

"But you don't act like it." The colleague clapped his shoulder. "She's supposed to cook, not you. It's time you let someone do your job."

"Who said we're supposed to?"

"Idiot. That's the custom!"

"That's not the custom I follow." He picked his coat up, and walked out.

Why did he get so annoyed at this?

"And I married a girl. I didn't buy her."

That night, when he came home, you were standing there, a beaming smile on your face as you took his coat off with a kiss to his cheek, pulling out a chair for him as he sat for the dinner you had made.

You sat down beside him, and watched with delight as he savored your homemade food, occasionally complimenting it and listening to you rant about your day.

"Y/N, you made this all by yourself?" He pointed to the vast array of dishes spread out. You were going to cook dinner for the first time ever, and you decided you'd go out of the ordinary.

You nodded happily. "I did it for you. Did you like it?"

"Of course. However, I told you you didn't need to work yourself because you had to. I could have had helped you out."

"Well, I wouldn't have felt comfortable making you work after an entire day. Your work is tiring enough, this is the least I can do for you."

"Thank you. But this is my work to do, seeing I'm the man of the house."

"And I'm your lady, so I have a share of your matters too."

"I want you to be happy, and in my experience forcing someone doesn't yield happiness."

"Then let me do it for you," you argued, "if you really want me to be happy. Tell me, would you let me do my work alone?"

He immediately shook his head.

"See? You'll readily do my work, and you've already done so much for me, so it's only fair if I do yours."

"You make a fair point," he slightly chuckled. "Since we're on the same page, maybe we could divide our tasks? Or do the same thing together?"

You tapped your chin in thinking. You knew that slowly, you could take over all his tasks. So for now, you agreed.

"But if you aren't at home during any of the jobs, I'll handle it, alright?"

"Yes, my lady." He had made a fake bow, and you giggled.

When you had gotten married, you weren't happy about the idea of serving your husband. But if this is the man you've gotten, this man who'll care for you and your joy so much, then it's more than fair that you should do his work happily. Because all the men you knew, they took it for granted. This man had earned it.

The next morning, he woke up not to the sound of his alarm, but to your gentle hand.

"Kento. Wake up."

Opening one eye, he saw your face, hair tousled and bed clothes changed, as you peered into his face.

"Did you take the task of my alarm clock too?"

You had only laughed, and he smiled in the darkness as he followed you to the kitchen, the two of you working together while talking about...well, not any particular topic.

And since then, it had become routine for you. Every job you did was even more fun now that Kento was there to help you out, though you always managed to have him do the lesser part.

Nanami had no clue when this happened. Since when did he let you do his things, when he should be doing yours? Since when did he let you have so much power over him and his heart?

But for some very vague reason, this didn't feel like slavery to him.

When he saw the content smile on your face while working, the way the two of you rhythmically completed the tasks of the day, navigating your journey towards life, he found this as an act of love. Acts of service. He finally understood why you felt so happy doing his work, because that's how he felt doing the same for you.

And when you began pushing him out of his share of tasks, always having some ace up your sleeve, thinking like he wouldn't know you're pulling this trick - 'you just came home, I'll do it' or 'I just learned how to do it, let me practice it on you' - he found himself unable to say no, but able of falling more and more in love with you.

The first person who happily did his work for him.

His favourite part would be the mornings, when you did his tie, and - against his protests - put on his shoes for him, buttoned his shirt for him and pulled his blazer on, pressing a kiss to his face.

And the evenings, when he would come home to you waiting with an eager smile as he would walk inside, ready to make dinner with you, where the two of you would laugh with each other, playfully dusting each other's cheeks with flour or having the other taste-test the other's food.

And the nights, when the two of you cleaned the kitchen and the bedroom, finally sitting down together on the couch to watch TV or read a book, your head on his shoulder, you dozing as he carried you to bed.

His favourite part would be any time with you.

When one morning, you were tying his tie, he gently told you, "I've never seen anyone this happy at tying my tie."

"Firstly, it's your tie," you replied, "and secondly, because it means I get to spoil you bit by bit."

"I should be the one spoiling you."

"You already do. Well, this is my way of showing my love for you."

"I didn't know tying my tie was a way to show your love."

You, with an annoyed expression, drew your hand away, but he caught you in time, pulling you closer.

"Let me finish."

"You're going to complain, aren't you?" you pouted.

"Am I? Quite the contrary. In fact, please continue." he guided your hand back to his tie. "I didn't know I'd like this way of showing love so much."

[vikcacao]

Mergumi being a little shit bc Yuuji's and ass guy lmao

[nanamineedstherapy]

Third Wheeling Your Own Marriage

F!Non-Sorceress CEO Reader X Gojo Satoru X Nanami Kento

Summary: You should be overjoyed that Gojo Satoru & Nanami Kento are your husbands. But you feel your skin crawl as you become the third wheel in your own marriage.

A/N: Welcome back, besties, to KDrama Kaisen! 💅✨ Today’s burning question: why is everyone in love with the reader & WHERE do I apply?! 😭 Like fr. Men are getting their lore dropped like boxer shorts at a frat party, so stay sharp. 👀 Also, Takashi is now officially the community's emotional support pet (or at least the polycule’s). Let me know if you want merch. (not really). Don’t worry — this therapy isn’t ethical, legal, or remotely licensed, but it will be effective (probably). 😌 🛑 Easter egg alert: Notice how Haibara talks 👀.

Previous Chapter 16 (alt ending 2.7) - Placeholder: This Should Have Been Love (Tumblr/Ao3)

Chapter 17 (alt ending 2.8) - Invisible

Your POV

The car ride home was... quiet.

Too quiet. The kind of silence that wasn’t peaceful but dense—thick with unspoken words, tension clinging to the air like humidity before a storm.

Gojo held you like you were something fragile, something breakable. His arms curled around you, hands splayed across the curve of your back, rubbing slow, deliberate circles against your spine. The warmth of his body pressed into yours, his breath ghosting over the top of your head, uneven but steady. His hold wasn’t desperate—not yet—but it was close. He needed this; he needed you in his arms like he was afraid you’d slip through his fingers the second he let go.

Despite the heater blaring, you were freezing. The rain had soaked into your skin, settled in your bones, and Gojo’s body was the only thing keeping the cold at bay. He must have been cold, too—his clothes were damp, and every now and then, a shiver ran through him, barely perceptible, but there. He didn’t complain. Didn’t shift away. If anything, he pulled you closer, tucking your head beneath his chin like he was trying to block out the rest of the world.

Nanami’s grip on the steering wheel was tight. Too tight. Knuckles pale under the dim glow of the dashboard. His jaw flexed, then clenched, the only outward sign of the frustration simmering beneath his otherwise unreadable face.

The cabin felt too warm, and still, he reached for the thermostat again. Adjusting. Fiddling. Finding excuses to do something with his hands.

He hadn’t looked back once.

But you could feel him. The weight of his stare burning into you from the rearview mirror, quick glances flickering over the reflection of Gojo’s arms wrapped around you, your body leaning into his. The way Gojo’s fingers curled slightly at your hip, not possessive but present. The way your fingers barely brushed against the fabric of Gojo’s sleeve, the contact featherlight, almost hesitant—like muscle memory more than intention.

Nanami exhaled sharply through his nose. Adjusted the rearview mirror.

Gojo barely acknowledged it.

The motion of the car, the dim glow of streetlights filtering through the rain-speckled windows, the hum of the heater—it all blurred together as you let your weight sink further into Gojo’s chest. You didn’t think. Didn’t speak. Just let exhaustion lull you into something dangerously close to comfort.

Nanami tapped his fingers against the wheel, slow and methodical. His posture remained stiff, shoulders squared, the set of his mouth betraying nothing. But every time the car hit a red light, every time he was forced to pause, his fingers twitched—a silent reminder that he was very much aware.

Gojo hummed under his breath, the vibrations low against your temple. Not a song. Just noise. Just something to fill the space between your pulse and his.

He was waiting.

Nanami was waiting, too.

For what, you didn’t know.

You didn’t ask.

Didn’t care to.

Instead, you leaned back in Gojo’s chest, closed your eyes, and counted down the minutes until you could eat again.

---

By the time the car pulled up to the penthouse building, a headache had already begun to creep in.

And then you saw them.

Two figures sitting on Nanami’s Aston Martin DBS in your garage.

One—tall, heavily built, dark-haired, radiating quiet judgment.

The other—bright-eyed, beaming, the human equivalent of a loaded gun with the safety off.

You exhaled.

How’d you get in my house? This is trespassing. This is an invasion of my privacy. This is freeloading. What do you mean I’m a trillionaire who needs protection, so I should pay? Oh, so now capitalism applies to me? Suddenly, I’m the bourgeoisie? What do you mean this is a tax-deductible expense? This is annoying.

Were the type of questions you’d long stopped asking them.

The second the car stopped, Haibara hopped to his feet.

Too fast. His excitement always came like a sudden impact—like a hammer swung with a little too much force, like a blade that didn’t stop at the intended target. He had that kind of energy—erratic, unchecked, untethered.

“Hey, princess!”

You winced, getting out while Gojo held your arms for support. “Don’t call me that.”

Megumi, still seated on the car, nodded in greeting, hands in his pockets. His voice was dry, unimpressed. “Why are you looking like a wet possum? It didn’t rain today.”

“It rained in the countryside,” Nanami said curtly, parking your Jesko.

Something flickered in Haibara’s expression when he saw Gojo’s hand on your waist—Gojo, who still hadn’t let go of you since pulling you out of the car, his grip on your stomach as he held you pressed-easy, possessive in a way that made something clench in Nanami’s jaw. Haibara schooled his expression back into something casual, grinning wide, but Nanami had seen it.

He barely got out before Haibara latched onto him, an arm slung over his shoulder like they were old friends. “Sorcerer Supreme(ly Clueless) of Dimwits! The Himbo of Hexes! We gotta go kill some people.”

Nanami audibly sighed, running a hand through his still damp hairs, soft blond strands falling gently on his forhead.

You blinked. Gojo still hadn’t let go of your waist. “I’m sorry, what?”

Megumi ignored them, watching you instead. “Do you need a jacket?”

You frowned. “I’m fine.”

Haibara ignored you, already bouncing on his heels. “Got all the intel. Turns out, the people who put the bounty on your lovely wife—” he flashed you a smile, which you did not return, “—are holed up downtown. I say we drop in, kill everyone, and call it a night.”

“What bounty?” Your stomach turned.

Nanami pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why are you like this?”

Haibara’s grin widened. “Why are you still alive?”

For a moment, the tension between them was tangible, something dark curling in the air between them. Megumi didn’t react—he never did, not with things like this—but his gaze flickered toward you, a silent warning.

“Enough,” Gojo cut in before Nanami could actually commit a homicide. His voice, though light, carried weight. “You staying?”

Megumi exhaled. “No.”

You straightened up. “Wait—Megumi?”

The man gave you a look. Something like a silent apology.

“You’re all leaving me here?”

Gojo smiled, too cheerful. “It’s just a little mass murder, sweetheart.”

You stared. “That is not reassuring.”

You had so many questions.

Mainly: Why were they all suddenly collaborating like they’d been a tactical unit since birth?

Since when were Haibara and Megumi capable of coexisting with Gojo and Nanami without someone being hospitalized (or arrested)?

The only logical explanation: the threat was so bad it forced even your chaotic ex-sociopath friends to play nice with your clingy dumbasses.

Which meant you were really screwed.

“Eh, you’ll be fine.” Gojo waved a hand.

Haibara beamed. “I will keep you company,” he announced proudly.

Nanami, who was already battling an existential crisis, sighed deeply. "Are you even strong enough if they ambush us and it’s a trap, given you have bare minimum cursed energy? Practically a grade 4 civilian.”

Haibara scoffed. "Did you forget the day of our heartfelt reunion—which you probably call it—when I was faster than both of you, and you thought I wasn’t even a sorcerer?"

Nanami muttered something under his breath that sounded dangerously close to "I’d rather leave her alone with a rabid dog."

You crossed your arms. “And if I don’t want to be babysat by a sociopath?”

Haibara gasped. “You flatter me!”

Before you could argue further, the men were already moving, splitting off in different directions, the quiet efficiency of it unsettling.

“You should at least change into warm clothes before you go,” you said, softer now.

Gojo leaned down, close—closer than he had any right to be, considering you barely tolerated his presence lately. And yet, he was still there, holding on, like he’d been waiting for an opening.

Now that you’d let him touch you after so long, he wasn’t about to let go.

“We’re dry now. The sooner it’s done, the better,” he murmured, voice low. “But you go and change.”

Your heartbeat stuttered.

“It’s risky, isn’t it?” You said quietly, eyeing him.

Gojo took a slow inhale next to your hair, his fingers twitching like he wanted to tuck a strand behind your ear. He hesitated, barely there, before straightening up, tilting his head, winking. “Don’t wait up.”

And just like that, the moment was gone.

Nanami, watching the whole thing, wanted to die.

So this was what it felt like. Months of feeling like a placeholder, of being treated like an obligation, and then suddenly, Gojo walks back in, and you fit like an equation. Gojo—who never let things get boring, who made your world shift, made you laugh, when Nanami had only ever tried to steady it.

Nanami had always known he couldn’t compete with that.

Haibara leaned down, his gaze locking onto yours with that smoldering intensity only dark romance men could pull off. His soft brown wolf-cut curls fell perfectly onto his forehead and around his shoulders, framing his face like he’d just stepped out of some viking tragedy.

Not that you noticed.

Your eyes were too busy glued to Nanami’s retreating figure, his fingers flexing around the car door when they got to Megumi’s car, walking away in the distance like some kind of heartbreak montage.

Then they were gone.

Haibara didn’t even have time to process the fact that you’d never look at him the same way before something brushed against your sweatshirt. A pair of tiny feet scurried over your stomach.

Haibara flinched back like he’d just seen a cockroach, his suave demeanor cracking.

He straightened, running a hand through his perfect curls, biceps flexing.

You turned to Haibara, still beaming like he hadn’t just sent three of the strongest sorcerers in Japan off on a murder spree.

Your stomach growled.

Haibara clapped his hands together, mockingly dramatic. “Ramen?”

You exhaled. “Yeah. Ramen.”

The two of you walked back to your penthouse in comfortable silence. The second you opened the door, a blur of white fur came charging at you, chirping loudly.

“Takahashi,” you sighed, bending down slightly to scoop up the tiny, wriggling menace. The two-month-old albino raccoon nipped at your fingers, his small teeth pressing in but never breaking the skin. His way of saying hello.

Haibara beamed. “There’s my little demon!”

You barely had a second to react before Takahashi lunged out of your arms and latched onto Haibara’s ankle with all the ferocity of a wild animal. Which, technically, he was.

Haibara, unfazed, crouched down and scratched his head. “That’s right, take your anger out on me. I deserve it for abandoning my precious son with these heathens.”

Takahashi chirped in agreement, gnawing harder.

You sighed, excusing the remaining housekeepers who had been watching the kit for you. “Thanks for staying with him.”

They nodded and left, sparing Haibara a concerned glance before heading out.

---

Fifteen minutes later, you were sitting at the kitchen table, watching Haibara toss instant noodles into a pot like this was just another night.

“So,” he said, stirring the pot lazily. “How’s life as the world’s richest hostage?”

You rolled your eyes, unable to take your nose off his cooking. Only Haibara could make instant ramen fragrant. “I’m not a hostage.”

“Aren’t you, though?” He grinned, flashing sharp teeth. “Trapped with two men who, if I had my way, would be dead by now?”

You sighed. “They’re not that bad.”

Haibara made a gagging noise, sticking his tongue out.

You smirked. “You hate Nanami so much.”

“I do!” He placed a hand over his heart. “It’s the one thing keeping me going. My motivation to live, love, laugh these days.”

You chuckled.

It was easy, sitting here, listening to Haibara ramble about nonsense, slurping down ramen while a full-scale assassination was happening somewhere in the city.

You leaned back, content—for now.

You had noodles.

---

Haibara’s POV

Somewhere between the third ramen cup and a poorly dubbed King Kong movie Haibara insisted on watching, you had fallen asleep on the couch.

The dim glow of the television flickered across the room, casting shadows on the walls. The volume was low—almost a whisper—because Haibara had turned it down when you fell asleep. He told himself it was so the noise wouldn’t wake you, but really, he just needed silence. Needed space to think.

You looked so peaceful, curled up on the couch, your breathing steady, your hand resting against your stomach. It should’ve been a happy sight, but for Haibara, it was like a knife twisting deep in his chest.

Because it wasn’t supposed to be like this.

Gojo had touched you. Held you.

And you let him.

Even after knowing Haibara for years, you had always been careful, always hesitant. Even now, he was afraid of touching you without permission. Afraid of the weight of it, the consequences of reaching for something that had never truly been his. But Gojo? Gojo just took and took, and somehow, you let him.

Maybe if Haibara hadn’t left, things would’ve been different.

Maybe you would’ve been with him.

Maybe you wouldn’t be pregnant, wouldn’t be tied down to a life you had never wanted.

He had known—had always known—you never wanted to be a mother. You had said it in passing, in the quiet moments between classes and late-night ramen runs, when the world was too light and nightmares felt distant.

He had never questioned it. Never tried to change your mind.

And yet, here you were.

And he wasn’t.

Haibara exhaled, running a hand down his face.

He thought about the past, about how easily you would listen to him when you never listened to Megumi.

Haibara had always been a manipulator, the kind of person who did things just because they amused him. The kind of person who could kill a man just because they laughed at his joke too loudly.

He wasn’t like Gojo. Or Nanami. They were idiots, but they were good men.

Haibara wasn’t.

He knew that.

So why had he run? Why had he left you behind?

He looked at you now, at the way you had curled into the couch, the way your hand had instinctively rested against your stomach.

It wasn’t about MI6.

He had never cared for the life of a spy—the secrecy, the missions, the danger. To him, it was just another game, a distraction from the truth.

The truth was much simpler.

He had left because you never looked at him the way you looked at Megumi.

As you approached the end of your teenage years, you began spending more time with Megumi. Perhaps it was because he was closer to your age, or maybe it was the way you listened to him, your wide, thoughtful eyes reflecting the weight of his words.

Megumi had always been better for you—someone who was morally intact, a person who wouldn’t lead you down the wrong path.

Unlike Haibara.

He had always felt like an outsider, watching you and Megumi grow closer while he remained on the periphery. You two had practically woven your lives together, with his family branches becoming a backdrop to your shared memories. Haibara felt too far removed to truly belong, as if he were too old, as if he had never been a kid at all.

So he convinced himself that it was only a matter of time before you and Megumi would become a couple, leaving him alone, abandoned by the only family he had left.

So in response, he ran away, retreating into silence on the pretense of not being allowed to talk, distancing himself from both of you.

But that’s not how it turned out.

What Haibara was now realizing was that you never looked at Megumi—or him—the way you looked at Nanami or Gojo. That realization cut deeper than he could have imagined.

You hadn’t forgiven Gojo. Haibara could see it.

But he could also see that Gojo was still in.

And that—more than anything—was something Haibara couldn’t understand.

Sitting in the dim light of the living room, watching you sleep peacefully, he came to a painful understanding.

He had never truly been afraid of you leaving him.

What terrified him was the thought that one day you would wake up and see him for what he really was.

Because no matter how many times he replayed that day in the infirmary in his head, he always came to the same conclusion: if it were him in another universe, he’d be disappointed; he couldn’t have a family with you, sure. But he’d never ask you to go through this cursed pregnancy. And if you didn’t go through with the abortion? He’d sedate you and get you operated on himself. You’d hate him more than anything in the world, but at least you’d be alive.

So yes, Haibara was fucked up.

Megumi? He wouldn’t do that. He’d hate you for putting him through this, but he’d never take away your choice.

Gojo? He’d probably do the same as Megumi, though he’d make a joke out of it to hide how much it actually hurt him.

Nanami? Now, Nanami was trickier.

From the mission logs he had read to the polar opposite praises to his name, this version of Nanami was selfish and morally grayer than concrete. He’d probably hate you too, but he’d never show it. And somehow that was worse in his opinion because he couldn’t predict Nanami with certainty.

And then there was Haibara. Still the worst possible choice.

Just then, a knock at the door shattered the silence.

Haibara blinked, startled, and looked down.

His fingers were in your hair.

He didn’t even remember reaching for you, but there they were—brushing through the strands like it was something natural.

Slowly, he pulled back.

---

Their POV

Gojo walked in first, tossing his keys into the bowl by the door, his white hair sticking in all directions.

He didn’t look at Haibara. His eyes went straight to you, to where you lay curled up on the couch.

Haibara didn’t tease him. Didn’t acknowledge Nanami, who stepped in behind him.

He just exhaled and stood.

“I’ll take cloud save for the night,” he muttered, picking up Takahashi. The tiny albino, warm and half-asleep, chirped softly before snuggling into Haibara’s chest.

Nanami watched him closely.

He didn’t like that look in Haibara’s eyes.

But Gojo was already moving, carefully lifting you off the couch and carrying you into the guest bedroom.

Haibara left without another glance, carrying the sleeping raccoon in his arms.

Gojo was gentle, pressing a soft kiss against your temple before laying you down on the bed, tucking you in with care. He lingered for a moment, brushing a stray hair from your face, his fingers lingering on your skin

A moment later, he reappeared, now dressed in comfortable sweatpants and a loose shirt, his hair damp from a quick shower.

He didn’t say a word; instead, he laid down on the bed beside you, letting out a soft sigh as he adjusted the blankets around you both.

He coaxed you into his arms, feeling the warmth radiate from your body.

You stirred, your voice barely above a whisper. “Was everything alright?”

He surprisingly did not tease. “Yes, we’re here now. Go back to sleep, sweetheart,” he hummed, his voice soothing.

You were too delirious to stay awake for long, and soon you fell back into a slumber, comforted by his long fingers gently massaging your lower back.

Meanwhile, Nanami stood near the rooftop railings, staring at an unlit cigarette in his hand.

But maybe... just maybe... therapy was the first step.

Maybe that was the only way they could begin to mend what they had broken. As he stood there, the self-loathing gnawed at him, a reminder of his own failures. He wished he could be the one to comfort you, to be the one you turned to, but he felt like a ghost in your life, overshadowed by Gojo’s existence and the bond you shared.

---

Your POV

The morning—or technically, afternoon—started with Gojo shaking you awake.

“Hey, wake up. Eat something, then you can go back to sleep,” he murmured, his voice softer than usual but still annoyingly chipper for someone waking you up from much-needed rest.

You squinted at him, bleary and half-conscious. “What time is it?”

“2 PM,” he grinned smugly, like he’d just delivered excellent news.

You stared at him, unimpressed. “Why didn’t you wake me up sooner?”

“You had a fever,” he said simply, reaching out to touch your forehead again—only for you to flinch back before his fingers made contact.

The reaction was instant, visceral. Like a cringe memory from high school suddenly sucker-punched you at full force—only this time, it wasn’t some embarrassing moment. It was the image of your own hand moving to hold him last night, only for him to look at you like—

Like that. Like the way he was looking at you now.

Gojo immediately pulled back, his smirk faltering for a fraction of a second.

You acted like it didn’t happen, reaching for the coffee cup on the nightstand.

The first sip nearly burned the entire roof of your mouth, but you swallowed it anyway, pretending like nothing was wrong.

Gojo, of course, noticed.

“Too hot, huh?” he teased, lips quirking.

You ignored him. “What was the bounty?”

Something flickered across his face.

“Crispe five hundred billion dollars,” he admitted after a pause. “For you and the babies.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. Gojo, meanwhile, didn’t want to keep things from you anymore.

But you let it slide for now, blowing on your coffee for an eternity before taking another sip.

Then you hummed, thoughtful.

“And it’s still up?”

“Yeah. The money was already set up, so even after the auctioneer’s dead, the bounty still stands.”

You glanced around the bed, then reached toward the nightstand—only for Gojo to move first.

“What do you need?” he asked.

“My phone,” you muttered. Then sighed. “Never mind. Haibara probably took it.”

Gojo pulled out his own phone and offered it to you. “Here. Use mine.”

You took it without looking at him. “I have an idea.”

At that, Gojo was intrigued.

“Not sure if it’ll work, but it’s something I’ve done to kill competition before it starts,” you continued. “I don’t know enough about sorcery politics, so you’ll have to decide if it’s viable.”

Gojo nodded. “I’m listening.”

You exhaled, sipping your coffee. “What if we offset the competition?”

“I’m gonna need more detail than that.”

You glanced at him, a little irritated at the dumb puppy expression on his face.

“I mean, if they can’t cancel the bounty and the sum is already set, then we outbid them. Put up an even bigger bounty—but instead of targeting the asset, it’s for protecting the asset.”

Gojo blinked. Then—pure, naïve Gojo logic kicked in.

“Baby,” he said, so sweetly, like you were an innocent child. “I know you see the good in people, but curses and curse users aren’t exactly out here winning Nobel Peace Prizes. They’d rather kill you for a single chicken nugget than save you for more money. Besides, you’re already protected by the strongest.”

You rolled your eyes so hard, they nearly left orbit.

“No, dumbass,” you said, exasperated. “I don’t rely on morality—I don’t gamble. I make calculated deterrents.”

Gojo looked way too amused by your insult.

“We put up enough money to make them hesitate,” you continued. “You think bounty hunters are all die-hard believers in their cause? No. They’re opportunists. And the second they think there’s a chance of losing money to tougher competition, a chance of them getting killed when they try to get to us, they’ll reconsider.”

Gojo considered this, rubbing his chin like he had a single thought behind those eyes.

“How much money are we talking?” he finally asked.

You just smiled.

And that’s when Nanami, passing by the doorway, muttered under his breath—

“This is not going to work.”

By the time Haibara showed up with your now encrypted phones, you’d already explained the plan in full.

And Haibara, being Haibara, sighed so hard it might as well have been a death rattle.

“If you have so much money,” he muttered, dead serious, “give me some.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Why a fucking trillion? You could have increased it by ten dollars and it would have still worked. And I’m pretty sure if you moved that much money at once, someone would notice,” Haibara continued. “A whistleblower would pop up before you could even blink.”

You smirked. “That’s where you come in. I break your leg,” you explained smoothly. “Then offer you the money in a god-awful public apology. How does that sound?”

Haibara gave you a flat look.

You were joking. Mostly.

But before Haibara could retort, Nanami—who had been silently seething in the corner ever since you and Gojo had been too close for his comfort—finally spoke up.

“I have some ideas,” he said, voice completely even, “on how we could move the money discreetly.”

“Oh, Barbie’s accountant specializes in money laundering?” Haibara mocked. “I wouldn’t have guessed it, not behind that Squidward-ass exterior.” He deadpanned.

Nanami ignored him.

By the end of the day, there was an offsetting bounty opposite to the murder one.

---

Once Haibara left, you moved on to working the shoot since you had nothing to do until Haibara returned.

You wanted to do everything yourself—set up the angles, adjust the lighting, perfect the frame—but being six months pregnant with twins was no joke.

Your body didn’t move the way it used to. Just standing for too long made your back ache. When you tried to squat for a lower angle, Gojo’s hand was immediately at your waist, steadying you before you could even protest.

“Don’t push yourself,” he said, firm but not scolding. His grip lingered, just a second longer than necessary, before he turned your chin up to look into your eyes. “Tell me what you need.” He rubbed your cheek.

You swallowed.

Gojo, surprisingly, was eager to help, even if he was absolutely useless with cameras.

“Okay, okay, so do I just press this button?”

You whipped around just in time to see him nearly smudge the lens with his disastrous grip.

“No!” you panicked, reaching out instinctively to swat his hand away. “God, don’t touch it like that.”

Gojo grinned but followed your instructions, setting up the tripod and adjusting the frame under your guidance.

He didn’t know much about photography, but he was really trying, following your instructions to the letter, even when he didn’t fully understand them. He handled your equipment with surprising care, adjusting lights and backdrops under your direction—though every few minutes, he’d pause and tilt his head, genuinely fascinated by how much thought went into a single frame.

Nanami listened carefully as you explained lighting adjustments to Gojo, quietly fixing what needed to be fixed without question. Unlike Gojo, Nanami thought he didn’t need to be micromanaged—so if you just told him what needed to be done, he’d do it perfectly.

Gojo, holding a reflector panel at an awkward angle, watched as you adjusted your camera settings, testing the lighting against your skin. He hesitated for a moment before asking, “Would you—uh… would you let me take a photo with you?”

You glanced up from your lens.

Gojo was serious.

You knew he meant it—not as some half-assed joke, not as a play for attention. He wanted to be part of this, part of something you had created.

You didn’t say anything.

Nanami was seething.

He hadn’t said anything yet, but you could feel it, radiating from where he stood, arms crossed, watching the two of you work without acknowledging his presence.

His entire being was stiff with frustration—because you still weren’t talking to him.

Because Gojo was helping, and he wasn’t.

Because he wanted to be useful to you, too.

By the time everything was set up, you were exhausted. Your body ached, and your eyelids felt heavy. “I’ll go change,” you said.

Gojo stayed behind to not let Takahashi destroy all the backdrops because he was trying to hide in them.

The silk of your gown clung to your body like it had been painted on, black ink poured over your skin, molding to every curve, every sharp edge softened by pregnancy. The fabric stretched over the swell of your stomach, emphasizing rather than concealing, the weight of two lives pressing against your ribs. The veil—dark, hand-embroidered—cascaded over your face, rendering your reflection almost unrecognizable. A ghost of a woman. A revenant caught between the past and whatever bleak future awaited.

Except—

Your eyeliner was a disaster.

Your hands kept shaking just enough to mess it up, the fine lines smudging into your skin. You exhaled sharply, steadying your wrist, trying again—

It smeared.

Your jaw clenched.

Then—without looking—you held out the eyeliner.

He stepped forward instantly, taking the eyeliner from your fingers; his movements were calm, precise, and controlled.

Gojo leaned against the vanity, his phone in hand.

But absolutely not using it.

He was watching—pretending not to, but watching. His gaze was heavy, dragging over your lips as you pressed them together, smoothing out the color.

You refused to acknowledge him.

Nanami’s thumb pressed beneath your jaw, firm, grounding, tilting your face just enough to angle you where he needed. His grip was firm, not delicate—masculine in a way that felt intentional. The warmth of his body near yours made something curl low in your stomach, and you forced yourself to focus.

He was close enough that his cologne filled your senses—woodsy, clean, grounding. It took effort not to lean into it.

And it didn’t help that ever since both of them had been suspended, they’d changed.

At first, they lost weight, sharp edges worn down by exhaustion. But now—

Now, they were bulking. Or working out less. You weren’t sure. But it made Nanami’s shoulders broader, his arms heavier beneath rolled-up sleeves, his form solid in a way that made you want to rest against him just to see if he’d let you. And Gojo—

Gojo, with his jawline softened just enough to look boyish again, his absurdly long lashes framing eyes that saw too much, lips that curled like he knew things you didn’t—he made you want to squish his cheeks. It was unfair.

It did things to you.

You exhaled sharply through your nose, forcing yourself to focus.

Nanami traced the line of your eye with the kind of patience that should be illegal. His steady fingers, the way he barely blinked—

You blurted out before thinking, “Why have you always been good at eyeliner? Is it because of your technique?”

Gojo lost it.

A sharp snort, echoing through the room. He doubled over, nearly wheezing.

Nanami’s jaw tightened. His grip on your chin tensed before he forced himself to breathe through his nose.

Gojo, wiping at his eyes, gasped, “Oh my God, it’s because in college he had an emo phase, babe.”

“Shut up.” Nanami’s voice was even, but his eye twitched.

Gojo grinned, absolutely feral.

Nanami’s silence was damning.

You stared. The mental image of Nanami Kento in heavy black eyeliner, brooding in the back of a classroom, listening to Radiohead, was—

Interesting.

But you let it go.

---

Once the shoot began, it was awkward at first.

Not because you didn’t know how to pose—you’d done this before, and you were good at it—but because both Gojo and Nanami didn’t know if you’d actually let them be in the pictures with you.

They lingered just outside the frame, watching. Waiting.

You kicked both of them out.

After closing the door, you set the final adjustments on your camera, lining up the perfect frame. Then, when you picked up the remote for the camera, it wasn’t working. You sighed and opened the door.

“I got it,” Gojo said, strolling in and pretending like he hadn’t destroyed it, grinning like a man who absolutely did not have it.

You narrowed your eyes. “You don’t even know what aperture means.”

“Vibes and prayers.”

Nanami scoffed, arms crossed, strolling in behind Gojo and standing off to the side with his ever-present air of disapproval. “Give it back, Gojo. She should be the one handling it.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, are you a photography expert now?” Gojo gestured broadly. “Have you been secretly moonlighting as a wedding photographer?”

Nanami’s glare was flat. “At least I know how to follow instructions.”

“I have six eyes; I can see more colors, so I’ll be better at it,” Gojo pouted.

“That’s not how it works,” Nanami muttered, then gave up when you handed Gojo the camera and explained to him what you were looking for and how to take pictures while you made him stand in your place and gave him the pre-adjusted settings. Now all he had to do was keep you in frame and press a button.

He didn’t. Nanami spent the next five minutes hovering over Gojo’s shoulder, micromanaging everything, despite knowing nothing about photography.

“No, the angle’s wrong—”

“The shutter speed—”

“You’re underexposing the background—”

“Nanamin, shut up,” Gojo groaned, adjusting the camera, deliberately changing the settings in a way he knew would annoy Nanami.

You watched, chin propped on your arm, as Gojo took the first four shots. They were… fine. The composition was slightly off, the lighting uneven, but nothing you couldn’t fix in editing.

Then, on the fifth shot, something changed.

The next click of the shutter was perfect.

And then the next.

And the next.

Each one was flawlessly framed, capturing the exact aesthetic you wanted.

You gritted your teeth.

This always happened. Gojo fumbled his way through something new for exactly five minutes before mastering it completely.

“I hate you,” you muttered, staring at the photos.

Gojo smirked, eyes glinting. “Canonically perfect husband, remember?”

Nanami, watching this entire exchange with mounting irritation, rolled his eyes.

“Great. Now we’ll never hear the end of it.”

You wouldn’t. Gojo was insufferable for the next ten minutes, throwing around photography terms like he’d been shooting for decades, narrating every adjustment he made just to annoy Nanami.

“Oh wow, look at that shallow depth of field.”

“See how I captured the chiaroscuro here? Really makes the contrast pop.”

“You can’t touch my rule of thirds’ accuracy.”

Then he threw in the dreaded line before people went broke and became jobless photographers. “I think I have a natural gift.”

Nanami, visibly restraining himself, pinched the bridge of his nose.

“If you say ‘chiaroscuro’ one more time, I’m going to beat you with the tripod.”

Gojo winked. “I’ll just take a picture of you doing it as evidence.”

Nanami inhaled deeply, as if contemplating the value of patience.

Gojo, who had been directing you like a film noir heroine for the past forty-five minutes, finally stopped and cleared his throat.

“Would you... let us take some with you? I mean, to hang in our jail cells.”

Nanami didn’t say anything, but the way he glanced away made it clear that he was wondering the same thing.

You exhaled, already knowing you’d regret this.

“Fine. Get in.”

Gojo moved first.

He always did.

He stepped into the frame, slipping behind you, his touch settling at the small of your back like it belonged there. Thoughtless, practiced, easy. He barely hesitated before his thumb brushed along your spine—just once, slow, deliberate. A lingering motion, like tracing something precious. A habit.

Nanami hesitated.

For a moment, it seemed like he wouldn’t step forward at all. His hands flexed at his sides, tension running through the solid frame of his body, his breath measured, controlled. But then, just as carefully, he stepped into position, his palm finding the curve of your waist, fingers grounding.

You did not react.

The three of you stood together, the air between you shifting, thick with something unspoken. Something old and unresolved.

Gojo adjusted his grip, fingers skimming your hip. Then he turned his head, just slightly, tilting—

Nanami followed, his breath a faint whisper against your temple—

The camera flashed.

The weight of history settled between you, suffocating.

The frame captured everything.

Gojo was the first to move, immediately jumping up to check the tripod, his head tilting, squinting at the display. He made a face.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, voice steady. Controlled. Not yours.

Gojo turned, propping the camera back in place. “It’s fine. If we’re trying to cosplay a family of ghosts.”

He ran back before you could tell him to explain.

Before you could take position again, he wrapped himself around you from behind, arms circling you with a familiarity that made your throat tighten. Nanami stiffened beside you, exhaling through his nose. He stepped closer, placing a single arm around Gojo, the movement awkward, restrained.

But Gojo was focused on you.

He was careful—so fucking careful—trying his best not to move his arms too much, not to let his fingers brush against your chest where the weight of pregnancy had already made you more sensitive and this inky black dress was doing things to your breasts even in Gojo’s peripheral vision. But his restraint only made it worse, the tension unbearable. Every shift of his fingers sent heat creeping up your spine.

Then his hands moved too suddenly—startling you—and you leaned into him before you could catch yourself.

Your palm found his jaw, and you smiled.

It was instinct. Muscle memory. The tilt of his head, the way he looked down at you, his lashes casting shadows over his pale skin—

You hated how easy it was.

Gojo’s lips parted, a slow breath escaping next to your ear.

Nanami’s grip on Gojo’s waist turned to iron.

And yet—Gojo didn’t pull away.

Neither did you.

His thumb brushed along the curve of your cheek, barely there, as if testing. As if waiting for you to pull away first.

But you didn’t.

Instead, your fingers tightened against his jaw, just for a second. A hesitation. A betrayal of something you refused to name.

He lifted your veil while his other hand drifted, careful, precise, ghosting over your hip—

And Nanami felt it.

He felt the shift, the weight of something slipping from his grasp. The invisible thread he had been holding between his fingers—tension stretched thin over the past few months, unraveling in real-time.

His jaw tightened.

The camera flashed again.

This was a mistake.

But Gojo’s grip didn’t loosen, and your hand didn’t fall away, and Nanami knew—knew—that you were lying to yourself.

The next shot should have been the last one.

Gojo tilted your face up, fingers cradling your chin, his lips just—there—hovering dangerously close. Your breath hitched. You felt him smile.

Then—

The door swung open.

“Hey—”

Shoko.

Megumi.

Haibara.

“Look who I found outside. By the way, your housekeeping let us in,” Shoko announced, voice dry, like she hadn’t just walked into the worst possible moment in human history.

Nanami had never been more grateful for an interruption.

The tension shattered instantly. Gojo clenched his jaw, stepping back like someone had pressed a gun to his head. You blinked, face impassive, as if nothing had happened. The moment folded into itself, buried under layers of pretense.

Then Haibara waltzed in like he hadn’t just walked into a funeral, grinning too smugly.

Something barely there in his eyes, as he physically inserted himself and Megumi between Gojo and Nanami—the shift in positioning wasn’t accidental.

He shoved them aside.

And they let him.

“What’s this? You finally embracing the Goth Mommy aesthetics?” Haibara’s grin was too wide.

You scowled.

And then—to everyone’s horror—you laughed.

It was a sharp, brief sound, barely more than an exhale. But it was real.

Nanami and Gojo both stiffened. Haibara, sensing that he had done the impossible, leaned into it.

He reached up, plucked the veil off your head, and threw it over his own face, covering himself like a grieving widow.

Your giggles escalated.

Nanami’s hands curled into fists at his sides. Gojo’s cursed energy flickered like a snuffed-out flame, sharp and unpredictable. They were one second away from cremating Haibara on the spot. But they didn’t. Because—

Because you were laughing.

And you hadn’t laughed like that in months.

Haibara flourished a hand. “Now, photoboy,” he said, turning to Gojo, voice light but edged. “Please take a picture of the people who would still stick around after you both—” he gestured to the people beside you—him and Megumi, standing close enough to block any lingering looks from either man, and Takahashi, who Megumi picked up in his arms, “—are off dropping soaps in jail.”

The words hit their mark exactly the way he intended.

Gojo went very, very still.

“That’s rude, Haibara.” You said, frowning.

Haibara waved you off, “I’m only joking.”

You were muttering something at Haibara now.

Gojo moved mechanically, lifting the camera off the tripod and adjusting the angle. The screen flickered. The camera clicked.

Nanami and Shoko stood in the corner, whispering.

And Megumi—

Megumi wasn’t watching the camera.

He wasn’t watching Gojo.

He was watching you.

And whatever he saw there made his grip tighten.

Because it didn’t matter that you were laughing now.

It didn’t matter that Haibara had successfully defused the tension.

It didn’t matter that Gojo and Nanami were standing just feet away, frozen in place.

It didn’t matter because Megumi knew.

Megumi was seething.

His hands curled into fists, jaw locked, his eyes like an open wound. He barely lasted a second before he handed Takahashi to you, turned on his heel, and strode out. “I have to check the security around the building.”

And he was gone before you could get another word in.

The second Megumi stepped out of the penthouse, the walls felt too close.

The air in the hallway sat heavy, thick with the remnants of whatever that had been inside. His pulse climbed fast, rattling beneath his skin, a dull thud echoing in his ears like the slow, measured knock of a death omen.

He pulled his phone from his pocket, thumb hovering over Haibara’s contact.

I have to check the security around the building.

A pretense.

A lie.

He’d just finished doing that before coming to you.

He didn’t need to check it.

He needed to get his head fucking straight.

His fingers twitched, locking the screen before he could press dial. He flexed them, curled them into his palm, then flexed them again, like he could physically force the tension out of his muscles. The hallway was quiet—too quiet. No distractions. Just his thoughts, loud and unrelenting.

You’re losing her. Again.

His jaw locked.

Megumi sucked in a slow breath, rolling his shoulders back. He focused on something normal—the flickering overhead light, the faint buzz of the elevator at the end of the hall, the coolness of his own pulse against his wrist as he pressed his fingers there, counting the beats. A grounding trick from years ago.

Useless.

The doors to the penthouse stayed shut behind him, but he could still see it. The way Gojo had tilted your face up—his hands, his mouth, that fucking look in his eyes. The way you had let it happen. The way you hadn’t pulled away.

He dragged a palm down his face, exhaling hard through his nose.

The worst part wasn’t Gojo. It wasn’t even Nanami.

It was you.

Your expression, the careful way you pretended like none of it had happened.

Because Megumi knew you. He knew you better than anyone in the world. Haibara did too, but who was to say for sure underneath all the unhinged things he did throughout the day.

But Megumi knew every tell, every slight shift in your breathing, every microexpression that meant you were feeling something too much and burying it alive.

And that—more than anything else—was what sent his pulse skidding into dangerous territory.

He braced himself against the wall with one arm, the muscle in his forearm twitching. Sweat slicked the back of his neck, just enough to be wrong. His vision narrowed, edges slightly too sharp, like his body had already decided fight-or-flight before his brain caught up.

This wasn’t happening.

Not again.

Not with them.

His other hand gripped the phone so tight he felt the casing creak.

The elevator dinged. A door opened somewhere down the hall.

Megumi straightened, shaking it off like an animal shaking water from its coat. He rolled his neck, breathed in slow, controlled, shoving the static back into a box deep in his ribs.

It wasn’t panic. It wasn’t anxiety.

It was anger.

Yes. That was easier to stomach.

By the time he walked back to his and Haibara’s penhouse, the only sign anything had been wrong was the fact that he didn’t say a single word when Haibara asked him where he’d run off to.

Not like Haibara didn’t know or wouldn't have done the same. But Haibara was better at controlling his emotions, while Megumi just grew quite until he had a panic attack, which weren’t frequent but just enough to make him hate himself.

Shoko, standing behind you, barely waited before sticking out her fist for a high-five towards Gojo.

Gojo and Nanami glared at her.

---

Shoko’s POV

After you changed and Shoko had stolen more of your blood under the guise of a “routine checkup,” you sighed, rubbing at the faint ache in your arm.

“We are not back together.” Your voice was steady, but there was something distant about it, like you were still convincing yourself. You exhaled. “But they’re very hard to ignore.”

Shoko smirked as she coiled the small blood pressure monitor cables. “That they are.”

She pulled up a chair, studying you with her usual lazy sharpness. The moment stretched, comfortable in a way only Shoko could make it.

Then she got to the point. “I have a therapist.”

“She’s an ex-sorcerer,” Shoko explained. “A little underground, but she’s good at what she does. That is—if you really want to try.”

You rolled a small medical vial between your fingers, watching how the dim light refracted through the glass.

“I don’t know.” The words came out softer than you intended. “I don’t even know if it can be fixed.”

Takahashi was gnawing on Shoko’s stethoscope. You pulled it away absentmindedly, letting him scurry off in search of something else to ruin.

Shoko was still watching you.

“I mean,” she stretched, cracking her neck, “just let me know. She helps with separations too.” A grin. “Like, if you wanna reverse-psychology them into leaving you alone with no alimony or child custody—”

“No.” Your answer wasn’t quick. “I’ll give it a chance.”

Shoko hummed, waiting.

“Just for my sanity’s sake,” you clarified. “But I’m not putting all my eggs in that basket.”

“I think it’s a little late for that.” Shoko grinned against her coffee cup, nodding toward your ever-expanding stomach.

You smiled lowly.

“And you don’t have mania. Don’t let all that get to you. They are not licensed doctors.” Shoko hummed, sipping.

You let out a breath, you didn’t know you were holding.

---

True to their words, the next day, you were now sitting in a marriage therapists office, Dr. Maya.

Couples glared at each other from across the room, passive-aggressively sipping bad coffee. One woman muttered obscenities at her husband under her breath, while another man read a self-help book titled So Your Wife Hates You and It’s Probably Your Fault.

And in the middle of it all, you sat between your two husbands, fidgeting, exhausted, and wondering why the hell you had agreed to this.

Gojo had latched onto you like a sentient baby carrier, pressing you so tightly against him that anyone walking by would think you were his emotional support wife.

Nanami, on the other hand, sat rigidly beside you, stealing glances every few seconds like he was expecting you to bolt.

The room judged you.

The other couples were theorizing.

You could practically hear their thoughts.

"Poor woman. She must have cheated on the serious one with the crazy one."

"God, he's making her come to therapy while pregnant? This is proof men ain't shit."

"Wait, is this some kind of polyamory disaster? Are they opening the relationship??"

“Maybe we aren’t in such a bad place, Braden. It could have been worse.”

A woman actually shamed Gojo out loud, huffing as she walked past. “You should be ashamed of yourself, dragging your pregnant wife to therapy. You failed her.”

Gojo’s jaw dropped. He turned to you, betrayed. “Sweets, do something; I’m catching strays here.”

“I agree with her.”

Nanami barely concealed a smirk.

And then—your names were called.

You entered the office to find Dr. Maya sitting behind her desk, phone to her ear.

"Yes, Shoko, they’re here," she said flatly.

A pause.

"What defines ‘properly’?"

Another pause.

"Yes, I'm properly dressed—" she glanced down at her bright pink Crocs, sighed, and then promptly ended the call.

Then, without acknowledging the men, she immediately shook your hand, like this was a reverse patriarchal society and you were the only important figure in the room.

You took your seat first, arms crossed, leg bouncing furiously.

Gojo slouched into his chair with all the arrogance of a man who thought therapy was beneath him but was secretly terrified of abandonment.

Nanami sat next to him, hands clasped, jaw tight, expression grim—like a man accepting his own funeral.

Maya, meanwhile, clicked her pen shut and stared at the three of you with the gravitas of a divine scholar witnessing historical tragedy.

"Alright," she drawled, glancing at her notes. "Why are we here?"

"I want a divorce," you said flatly.

Gojo made a strangled sound. Nanami exhaled through his nose.

Maya barely blinked. “Fantastic. Now tell me why.”

You inhaled deeply, preparing your monologue.

“They—” you jabbed a finger at your husbands “—spent months fucking each other raw, whispering sweet nothings, and doing whatever gay honeymoon phase nonsense they were up to while completely failing to notice that I was pregnant.”

Gojo looked like he wanted to crawl out of his own skin. Nanami did not blink.

“I found out alone,” you continued. “I went to my first ultrasound alone. They didn’t even realize I was carrying their children until I ran away and they dragged me back.”

Gojo rubbed the back of his neck, visibly searching for an escape route. “Okay, but in our defense—”

"There is no defense," you cut in.

Nanami adjusted his coat like this was a business negotiation. “It was an oversight.”

"An oversight?" you repeated, incredulous.

Gojo immediately tried to recover, leaning forward, putting on his charm voice. "Listen, babe, we—"

"You do not get to ‘babe’ me right now," you snapped.

Maya, meanwhile, watched with mild amusement, like this was a gladiator match and she was here purely for entertainment.

“So,” she mused, scribbling something down, “emotional neglect, poor communication, unresolved resentment. Go on.”

You exhaled sharply. “They knew I existed, but they acted like I was a fun third option instead of a wife. I was going through one of the most terrifying experiences of my life, and neither of them noticed because they were too busy sucking face and pretending they were the only two people in this marriage.”

Gojo opened his mouth to retort—then hesitated. His eyes flicked to Nanami, who looked like he was physically holding back an aneurysm.

Maya hummed, bored but intrigued. "Okay, and why didn’t you tell them earlier?"

Your jaw clenched. "Because I shouldn’t have to."

Nanami let out a long, suffering sigh. "You should’ve."

Your glare could have burned a hole through solid steel. "Oh, I’m so sorry for assuming my husbands—who have never let me so much as sneeze without hovering—would notice when their wife was pregnant with their children."

Gojo muttered under his breath, "When you put it like that, it sounds really bad."

"It is really bad, you moron," you shot back.

Maya tossed her notebook onto the desk, sighing. "This is a mess."

Then, without missing a beat, she turned to Gojo. "I assume you’re the problem?"

Gojo’s offense was instant. “Wow. Incredible. Haven’t even started and you’re already playing favorites?”

Nanami barely suppressed a smirk.

Maya leaned forward, elbow on her desk, chin resting on her palm. “I don’t need to ‘start’ to diagnose you as the issue. You have the energy of a man who has never been held accountable for anything in his life.”

Gojo looked personally victimized. “Excuse me, I have suffered.”

Maya clicked her tongue. “Did you suffer, or did you just face consequences for your own actions?”

Nanami actually choked on air.

Gojo’s mouth opened and closed like a fish. “Are you even a real therapist?”

Maya gestured vaguely to her degree on the wall. “I passed the exam.”

“That doesn’t mean you’re a therapist—”

"That’s literally what it means."

Gojo turned to Nanami, betrayed. “Are you just gonna sit there and let her talk to me like this?”

Nanami didn’t even look up. “This is the best therapy session I’ve ever attended.”

Maya sighed. “Okay, let’s try this again. Nanami, why do you want to fix this marriage?”

Nanami, after a brief pause, answered simply:

“Because I don’t want to lose her.”

Gojo’s jaw tensed. Your throat tightened.

Maya hummed, finally satisfied. “Okay. Good. That’s something.”

She turned to you. 

“Honestly, I don't know why I'm here but Shoko told me there'd be cake.” You sighed.

“Oh that's a lie we tell children to get them to come here.” She told you. 

Then, she turned back to Gojo.

“Your turn.”

Gojo stared at her.

Then at you.

Maya leaned forward, elbows on the desk. "Look, normally I’d say we could work through this, but I’m going to be real with you. You don’t need couples therapy. You need individual therapy. All of you. Separately."

There was a beat of silence.

"Wait," Gojo said slowly, "are you saying we’re too fucked up for couples therapy?"

"Yes," Maya said without hesitation. "One hundred percent. You three are a walking disaster. You need to get your own shit together before you can even think about fixing this mess. I mean, look at you—" She gestured at Gojo. "Emotionally stunted man-child with abandonment issues."

"Wow," Gojo murmured. "Harsh."

She turned to Nanami. "Too serious, too literal. Overworked, repressed, and chronically disappointed in humanity."

Nanami didn’t deny it.

Maya tapped her chewed-up pen against the desk, staring at the three of you like a scientist observing the results of an experiment gone horribly wrong.

Then, she pointed directly at you.

"And you? Massive avoidance tendencies. Instead of confronting problems, you vanish like a dad going out for cigarettes. You literally ghosted your husbands while pregnant out of pure spite."

You blinked. “I don’t see how that’s relevant.”

Gojo snorted. Nanami massaged his temples.

Maya ignored both of them.

“Consequences have actions,” you added, confidently.

Then, immediately grimaced. That was not how that phrase worked.

Gojo perked up. “Hey, that’s what I sa—”

“Shut up,” you snapped.

Maya exhaled loudly, reclining so far in her chair it creaked under her weight. “Alright. My professional diagnosis is that you’re all a train wreck.”

She sat up.

“Like, genuinely, the most disastrous case I’ve ever seen."

Gojo beamed. “Aww, you really think we’re the wors—”

She cut him off. “You three should not be in the same room until you figure your own shit out.”

Then, without missing a beat, she grabbed her phone and called her assistant.

“Kick out the rest of my patients. These ones are too entertaining.”

Nanami visibly flinched. Gojo turned pale.

Then, Maya hung up and turned back to you.

“Separate therapy. Right now.” She waved a hand lazily. “Whoever the hell is Nanami—you’re up first.”

Gojo started sweating bullets. “D-Don’t we have to go home and reschedule our appointment?”

Maya narrowed her eyes. “Why? Do any of you actually have jobs to go to?”

Silence.

All three of you, defeated, shuffled out of the room like scolded children.

Gojo looked at Nanami.

Nanami looked at you.

You all turned back to Maya.

"Wait," Gojo said, genuinely concerned, "so does this mean the divorce is still on the table?"

Maya threw her entire pen at his head, then continued like nothing had happened, “And no type of physical intimacy for the next two months. I have seen far too many cheating couples end up having sex and regretting everything.”

The three of you walked away like she wasn’t talking to you.

---

Session One: Nanami Kento vs. His Own Guilt

Maya had never seen a man look so much like he wanted to disappear into the wallpaper.

Nanami Kento sat stiffly on the couch, posture perfect, hands clasped, gaze cold and distant—exuding all the enthusiasm of a man about to be executed.

Maya, meanwhile, perched on her chair like a gremlin high on caffeine, one leg bouncing, eyes glinting with predatory excitement.

"Alright, salaryman,” she chirped, clicking her pen. “Let’s get into it. What’s eating you?"

Nanami inhaled slowly through his nose. "I… took Satoru from his best friend."

Maya blinked. “Okay. Didn’t expect you to jump straight into Catholic guilt, but I’m paid to hear it.”

Nanami didn’t react.

Maya tapped her pen against her notebook. “Who’s this best friend?”

Nanami hesitated before answering. “Geto Suguru.”

“Never heard of him,” Maya said cheerfully. “Explain.”

Nanami hesitated again, but then—perhaps because he had been holding this in for years—he spoke.

He told her about the golden years, about Satoru and Suguru moving like twin stars through the sorcerer world. About how they were supposed to be inseparable. And then he told her about the fall. About how Suguru walked away, about the atrocities he committed, about how Satoru was the one who had to put him down.

Nanami’s jaw clenched. “Satoru came to me right after. And I—” He swallowed. “I was there.”

“For what?” Maya tilted her head.

“For everything that came after,” Nanami admitted. “The grieving. The distraction. The—” A muscle in his jaw twitched. “The relationship.”

Maya narrowed her eyes.

"Ah," she said, understanding dawning.

Then, she grinned.

"So, what—you think you were his rebound?"

Nanami exhaled slowly through his nose, shoulder tense.

Maya leaned forward, grinning wider.

"Interesting," she purred. "And how long have you been coping with this by working yourself into an early grave?"

Nanami’s eye twitched.

“Would you like an exact number of overtime hours?” he deadpanned.

Maya threw her notebook on the desk.

"Nanami," she said seriously, "what if I told you that’s not normal?"

Nanami deadpanned, voice flat, "I’d be shocked."

Maya slapped her knees, laughing. "Oh my God, I love you guys. You’re all so deeply maladjusted."

Nanami looked at her blankly. "Is that your professional opinion?"

Maya smirked. “My professional opinion is that you should be a case study in what happens when you repress your feelings for too long.”

Nanami exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I should have known this wasn’t going to be real therapy."

Maya beamed. “Oh, this is therapy.”

Then, without breaking eye contact, she reached into her desk drawer and pulled out a bottle of vodka.

Nanami stared.

Maya popped the cap open.

Nanami blinked slowly. “Is this legal?”

Maya took a massive sip.

Then, exhaling, she smacked her lips.

“I don’t know, Nanami,” she mused.

Then, grinning, she added, "Do you?"

Nanami frowned.

Maya smiled—a little too shark-like, a little too much like a predator enjoying the taste of blood in the water.

“That’s cute,” she said.

Nanami frowned. “I don’t see what’s amusing.”

Maya twirled her pen between her fingers, tilting her head. “You genuinely believe you stole Gojo Satoru from a man who abandoned him?”

Nanami’s frown deepened. “It’s not that simple.”

“It is that simple,” she countered immediately. “Geto left. And whatever they had? It ended the moment he chose something else. You didn’t take anything. You were just there when Satoru had no one left.”

She leaned forward, elbows on the desk.

“Unless, of course, you think he should’ve been alone?”

Nanami looked away. “…Of course not.”

“Then shut up and stop being a martyr,” she said, waving a hand lazily. “Not everything is a Greek tragedy.”

Nanami sighed, rubbing his temple. “…I still don’t know how to fix things with her.”

Maya perked up immediately, like she had been waiting for this exact moment to flex her terrible methods.

“Well, first of all,” she said, “you and Gojo need to stop suffocating her as a unit. I mean, come on, do you really think she wants to be around both of you at the same time when you’ve done nothing but remind her of how excluded she was?”

Nanami remained silent.

Maya smirked. “Here’s my magical solution.”

She leaned in conspiratorially.

“You both avoid each other for now.”

Nanami’s brow twitched. “…What?”

“You get her for half the week. He gets her for half the week. No crossing over, no sudden tag-team emotional ambushes.” She gestured between them. “Keep your mess separate.”

Nanami looked skeptical.

“…And you think this will work?”

Maya grinned.

“Trust the process, salaryman.”

Nanami exhaled slowly through his nose. “I’ll consider it.”

Maya beamed.

“That’s therapist speak, for I have no other options, so I’ll take it,” she said brightly.

Then, clapping her hands together—

“Next!”

---

Session Two: Gojo Satoru vs. The Most Unhinged Therapist Known to Man

Gojo walked into the therapist’s office like it was a movie premiere—sunglasses inside, oversized hoodie hanging off his frame, a full bag of snacks in hand.

Maya took one look at him and decided this man was going to be her greatest enemy.

"Alright, doctor," Gojo drawled, flopping onto the couch like a Victorian woman fainting. “Fix me.”

Maya squinted at him. “I’d have to kill you and rebuild you from scratch.”

She flipped open her notebook with an alcoholic burp. “What’s on your mind?”

Gojo stretched like a cat, tossing a chip into his mouth. “Well, I was thinking about Digimon.”

Maya stared at him. “…Come again?”

“You know Digimon, right?” Gojo propped himself up on his elbow, grinning. “Like, if I had to compare myself to one, I’d probably be Omnimon, but part of me feels like—”

“Oh my god.” Maya rubbed her temples. “This is what you’re opening with?”

Gojo ignored her and kept rambling.

For twenty full minutes, he went on about Digimon evolution trees, power scaling, lore accuracy, and why Adventure 01 had superior storytelling compared to Frontier.

Maya just sat there.

Expression neutral.

Watching him the way a cat watches a mouse who thinks it’s safe.

She did not interrupt. She did not react.

She waited.

And then—when he finally ran out of steam—she slowly leaned forward, reached under her desk, and pulled something out.

A pristine Digimon card binder.

Gojo sat up so fast you’d think she had electrocuted him. “No way.”

Maya smirked, flipping it open. “First edition, holographic cards.”

Gojo was already halfway across the table. “Is that a BlackWarGreymon?!”

“Limited release,” she said smugly.

Gojo gasped. “Please trade with me.”

Maya snorted. “No. Now, why did you really come here?”

Gojo blinked, still distracted. “What?”

“You’re deflecting,” she said, flipping another page. “People who are fine don’t spend twenty minutes talking about Digimon instead of their feelings.”

Gojo’s jaw tensed. For a split second.

Then, he shrugged. “I just… like Digimon.”

“Yeah,” she said. “And I just like bullshit.”

Gojo’s smirk faltered.

Maya turned another page. “You ran straight to Nanami after something.” Her tone was casual, too casual. “What was it?”

Gojo looked away. “…Nothing.”

“Liar,” she sang. “What was it?”

A long silence.

Then—

“…I had to kill him.”

Maya stopped flipping the pages.

"Kill who?"

Gojo’s fingers dug into his pants. His posture—previously lazy, careless, unconcerned—was suddenly rigid.

"Geto."

The room went still.

Maya watched him carefully. Her usual chaotic energy dimmed, just slightly.

“…That was your best friend, wasn’t it?”

Gojo let out a humorless laugh. “Yeah.”

Maya leaned back, stretching her arms behind her head. “And you ran straight to Nanami after?”

Gojo exhaled, rubbing his face. “I thought he’d understand. We’d both lost people. We’d both had to… make choices.”

Maya studied him for a beat.

Then—cheerfully—

“So instead of grieving, you attached yourself to the next person who made you feel less alone.”

Gojo was silent.

Maya smirked. “And that’s why you didn’t notice your wife was pregnant.”

Gojo groaned, dragging his hands down his face. “Fuck.”

“Yep,” she said, popping the ‘p.’

After a long pause, Gojo asked, “What now?”

Maya’s grin returned.

"Magical solution time."

Gojo sighed. "This is gonna be dumb, isn't it?"

“Oh, incredibly,” she confirmed.

She pointed a perfectly manicured finger at him.

"You and Nanami are banned from existing in the same space when it comes to her."

Gojo squinted. “What.”

“You get her half the week. Nanami gets her half the week. No overlapping, no acting like you two are a packaged deal.”

Gojo stared. “You’re trying to separate us.”

“I’m trying to get her to not murder you both.”

Gojo blinked. "And... this will fix everything?”

“Oh, absolutely not,” she said cheerfully. “But it’ll slow the bleeding.”

Gojo sighed. “I guess that’s better than nothing.”

“That’s the spirit,” Maya said, clapping her hands together.

Then, without hesitation, she threw a marker at his head.

Gojo dodged. “What the hell?!”

“You talk too much. Now get out. I’m very excited for my next patient.” She finished, taking another sip from a vodka bottle she’d pulled out from under the table.

Gojo yelled, standing up. “I’m calling Shoko. You are not a licensed therapist.”

Maya smirked.

“Be my guest.”

Five minutes later, Gojo stood outside the office, phone pressed to his ear, eyebrows furrowed.

"Shoko," he said, dead serious. "Are you aware that Dr. Maya is clinically insane?"

Shoko yawned. “Maya’s methods are… unconventional.”

Gojo blinked. "She bribed me with Digimon cards and then emotionally dismantled me like I was a child."

Shoko sounded amused. "She’s good with children."

Gojo’s eye twitched.

"Shoko," he repeated, voice flat. "She’s not a real therapist."

Shoko chuckled. "She’s certified."

Gojo ran a hand through his hair, deeply disturbed. "You’re lying."

Shoko yawned again. "I trust Maya’s methods."

Gojo hung up immediately.

---

Session Three: You vs. the Truth You Didn’t Ask For

The door creaked open, and the air inside was too thick, pressing against your ribs like something living, breathing, watching.

Maya was already lounging in her chair, eyes bright, caffeinated, and unhinged, like a woman who hadn’t known peace in years and had learned to thrive in the chaos.

She didn’t look up as you entered. Didn’t even acknowledge you at first. She was too busy clicking her pen, scribbling something down in her notebook like she was writing your eulogy before you even sat down.

"Ah, there she is," Maya finally hummed, flipping to a fresh page. She tilted her head, observing. "Come on in. Take a seat.”

Just walked in, sat down, and stared at the floor, your fingers clenching the fabric of your pants.

You weren’t sure what to say.

Weren’t sure if this would help.

Therapy had never worked before.

It had always felt like throwing words into a void, like handing someone the sharpest parts of you and watching them try to dull them down into something digestible.

And you were too tired for that now.

Maya studied you, tapping her pen against her teeth, her smile disarming, too light, too casual to be sincere.

“Did they send you here to make you feel better, or are you actually looking to fix yourself?”

Your shoulders twitched at the bluntness, but you didn’t flinch.

Didn’t answer.

Because what was there to fix?

You had been alone.

You had gone to your first ultrasound alone.

You had felt your body change, warping, becoming something unfamiliar, something monstrous—and you had done it alone.

And they had made that choice for you.

Maya let the silence hang, watching you with something too calculating, too sharp to be called kindness.

Then, she sighed, flipping her pen between her fingers. “You know, I don’t bite. I just ask questions.”

You opened your mouth.

Closed it.

Your chest tightened, fingers twitching, itching to do something—to move, to run, to leave.

To disappear, like you always did when things got too much.

Maya leaned forward, unblinking.

“So. Let’s start easy.”

A pause.

Then—

"What brought you here?”

A breath. Then, an exhale.

Your voice, soft, hollow, slid out—

“They ignored me.” It sounded like a child throwing tantrums to your own ears.

Maya’s pen stilled mid-air. “How long has this been going on?”

“Months.”

Your voice cracked.

“Months and months. They—" You stopped, swallowed. “They didn’t tell me anything. I don’t even know what happened. It just—” Your fingers dug into your palms, nails biting deep.

“It just felt like they shut me out.”

Maya didn’t immediately respond.

She just watched. Studied. Waited.

Silence was a therapist’s greatest weapon.

And, like clockwork, you cracked.

Your words came faster, frantic, unraveling.

“I didn’t deserve this. I waited for them, and they—they chose each other. They’ve always chosen each other.”

Your face was drawn and pale, your eyes tired but burning, the same ache you had been carrying for months sinking deep into your bones.

Maya paused her note-taking and focused fully on you, but her eyes were far too sharp, as if calculating. “I see.” She leaned back, allowing the silence to stretch. “You feel like you were abandoned. Left out of something important.”

Your eyes flickered toward her, wide with that all-too-familiar ache. You nodded slowly. “I don't even know what happened. One day they were there, and the next they weren't. And when they came back, it was like…” You trailed off, gaze falling to your lap again. “It was like I was invisible.”

Maya smirked. "And where does that leave you?"

Your head snapped up. 

"I don't know. But I don't think I can take it anymore."

Maya hummed, twirling her pen. "You’re jumping to conclusions. What makes you think you weren’t enough?"

You laughed, but it was wrong, something brittle and full of splintered edges.

"Because they—" You stopped. Exhaled. "Because they didn't think I was worth telling the truth."

Your voice dropped.

Soft. Small. Distant.

“Whatever they did.”

Maya studied you carefully, unblinking, unphased. “I’m not going to tell you everything,” she finally said. “Not now. But sometimes, the truth we think we know is not the truth at all. Sometimes, the pain we’re feeling is about things we don’t even understand yet.”

You blinked rapidly, confusion thickening your mind. “But... how could I not understand? How could I not know what happened? What did I do to deserve this?”

Maya’s voice lowered, almost soothing, “You didn’t deserve to be left in the dark, no. But they had their own pain, their own burdens, and you were... outside of that. They didn’t want to bring you in, not because of you, but because of them.”

“But—”

“Shh,” Maya cut you off gently. “Sometimes, the truth is too much. Sometimes, the ones we trust don’t tell us things because they think they’re protecting us.”

Your jaw locked.

You thought about Gojo’s voice, light and teasing even when he was lying through his teeth.

You thought about Nanami, quiet, methodical, but just as guilty.

You thought about the months of silence, of whispers you were never meant to hear, of conversations that ended the moment you walked into the room.

And suddenly, you were angry.

Maya saw it.

She leaned forward, watching the shift.

Good.

That was progress.

“Are you justifying it?” You snapped.

"No. You didn’t deserve this,” she said. “But they had a choice. And they made the wrong one."

Your mouth went dry, heart pounding in your chest. “But... I needed them. I needed both of them. How could they just—” You broke off again, voice crumbling. “How could they just leave me?”

Maya nodded slowly, her eyes never leaving yours. “And that’s what you need to understand. You were never invisible; not to them, so it was a choice. But the truth was too much. And now?” She smiled, though it wasn’t a kind smile. “Now they have a problem to fix. And they don’t know where to start.”

Your face twisted in silent confusion. “But they—” You stopped, shaking your head. “What truth? What didn’t they tell me?”

Maya pressed her lips together, a trace of something unreadable in her expression. “You’re going to have to wait for that.” She leaned forward again, almost eagerly, her voice dropping to a low, almost conspiratorial tone. “But for now, let me give you something to think about. You’re going through all seven stages, and that’s okay. You’re grieving the space you thought you had in their lives.”

You stiffened.

“But listen closely,” Maya continued, her smile just a little too sharp. “You have to let go of the idea that it’s your fault. Because it’s not. But they... they might have to make a choice. And maybe, just maybe, that means you can’t have them both, at least not right now.”

Your breath caught. “What... what does that mean?”

Maya leaned back in her chair, her eyes flickering with something darker now, like she was savoring the unraveling. “It means, for a while, Gojo and Nanami won’t share you. They’ll have to take turns. One week with him, the other with you. It’s messy, but that’s what they get for fucking everything up, isn’t it?”

Your mind raced, heartbeat picking up in a panic. “Isn’t that cheating?”

She brought up a hand and snapped it at you, “GIRLLL.”

You understood that.

Maya raised her hand. “You can. And you will. Because what’s the alternative? You let them continue to tear you apart, or you force them to take a step back, one at a time. It’s not your fault—well, not the main one at least; we’ll talk about your going-to-the-milk store-tendencies later, but it’s their responsibility to fix it first.”

You sat back, hands trembling. Was this the answer? Was this what would make it better? Could it really fix anything?

Maya leaned forward again, the manic gleam still in her eyes. “Think about it. I’ll send you the homework tomorrow. See you next week.”

She propped her legs on the table, groaning and chugging neat vodka like she was at a rager. She fmbled with her phone when all of you had walked out and shot a quick text, “It’s done.”

---

Unknown POV

On the other side of Tokyo, in an office that smelled of old paper and the kind of leather that cost more than most people’s annual salary, a man sighed.

"Small woman.”

The word dripped off his tongue like a slow, measured insult.

“How hard is it to schedule one fucking meeting?”

The speaker crackled slightly before the CHRO responded, tone flat with the kind of exhaustion only a corporate job could inflict.

“She’s on leave. We can’t do anything. You’ll have to meet with the current CEOs if you want to go ahead with the investment.”

The man exhaled sharply through his nose, rubbing his temple.

“I’m investing a fuck-ton of money,” he said, voice deceptively calm, the way a venomous snake might speak if it suddenly gained the ability to. “The least you can do is let me meet your founder.”

"Respectfully, sir, if you are budgetarily impaired, maybe you shouldn’t be investing with us... or any company for that matter.” CHRO sang; her favorite time these days was to annoy this guy who’d call her 60 times a day just to be able to have a meeting with you.

“Where do you live, small woman?” The voice was eerily quiet.

CHRO backtracked. “Sir, she’s unwell.”

There was a pause.

Then—

“Okay,” the man said. “So what do you want?”

“Excuse me?”

“A bag. A car. A man. Food. Travel. Tell me anything. I’ll get it for you.”

The CHRO smirked, leaning back in her chair. “I flirt with this lawyer online, and he doesn’t know it’s me.”

“Do you want his body beheaded or with the head?”

“What the fuck?”

The man barely blinked. “What? Do you only want his dick cut-off?"

“No! I meant I enjoy talking to him! Why the hell would I want him dead?!!”

A slow, deliberate sigh.

“You corporate small women.” He sounded disappointed. “No vision.”

“Absolutely not.”

The line went dead.

The man stared at his phone for a second before setting it down carefully, as if the act of not destroying it took effort.

Then he started pacing.

Long, slow strides.

Like a caged predator in a too-small enclosure.

His fingers twitched at his sides, itching for something—violence, entertainment, a meeting that should not have been this difficult to arrange—but instead, he exhaled, tilting his head just slightly, cracking his neck.

Then he smiled.

---

A/N: This is it, besties. The clowns have officially taken the wheel of this fic. 🤡 It’s going places. I don’t know which places. But it’s getting there nonetheless. But don’t worry, these ideas might sound like clownery right now—but trust. I’ll try to wrap this ending up in like five chapters, but don’t sue me if it’s a little up or down. You all want an earned ending, right? And we still have lore to reveal — Haibara’s, Megumi’s… This fic isn’t writing itself (although sometimes it feels like it is). Also, yeah, Haibara is yandere now — but like a self-aware yandere. Oh, btw — do you guys still like Haibara? If not, lmk so I can scrap his ending. Or would you rather have Sukuna instead? Because honestly, Sukuna would absolutely pull the same shit Haibara is doing. He might not even tell you you’re pregnant until he’s sure it’s safe. I’m talking about this fic’s Sukuna — not canon Sukuna. Canon Sukuna would probably just laugh and slice you. Also…who do you think the unknown POV was? 👀 Was it Sukuna?? Let me know if you found the easter egg about Haibara. 👀 Don’t leave me hanging, besties. Check out the Ao3 for more notes.

Next chapter will be out Ao3 only if this doesn't get engagement here :P Link to AO3

All Works Masterlist

Tag-list = @lady-of-blossoms @stargirl-mayaa @dark-agate @tqd4455 @roscpctals99 @sxlfcxst @se-phi-roth @austisticfreak @helloxkittylo @itoshi-r @kodzukensworld @revolvinggeto @luringfantasy @xx-tazzdevil-xx @unaaasz @thebumbqueen @holylonelyponyeatingmacaroni

[espace--positif]

I absolutely adored this. so much sweetness, tenderness, and love, all bundled into such a delicious fic. Yaga, I see you!!

Masamichi Yaga ~~~~~~~~~~~~ New to this online dating so please, bare with me.Single. Divorced once. One grown son. Educator. I love knitting and crocheting. Looking for a needle to thread (I am sorry, this is cheesy but it's true.)

6.7k words (jjk au, fluff, smut, Yaga is a green flag)

a/n: Yaga, Yaga, Yaga. What a man. I wanted to give him love during the season of love. Enjoy and thank you for reading!

“Hello. My name is Masamichi Yaga and this is my twentieth years coming at the International Knitters and Stitchers Expo.” He spoke into the small vlogging microphone and watched as the interviewer rambled.

This was actually it. Year twenty. Year 10 of no longer being married and coming to these things. He wasn’t sure if it was the big banner showing his knitting clubs faces or seeing some of his long time friends bring their little ones to it this time around. But the feeling of being single and walking around wasn’t a pleasant one.

“Yaga! Its so good to see you again!” The elderly woman who was 2 feet shorter came up and gestured for a hug from the large man. “We would’ve missed your expertise for this years ‘Stitch your hearts or die’ event!

Yaga bent down to accept the warm, motherly hug before she pinched his cheek. “Good to see you also, Tita.” He took the badge with his name from the table:

Yaga M.

2025 K&SE

GOLD PASS

He didn’t hate this hobby of his. It was probably his favorite thing in the world outside of working in education. Student need a button put back on? Principal Yaga’s got it. Need a hem? He’s got his emergency kit on hand. Four newborns in the neonatal unit need some warm foot and hand mitts? Masamichi Yaga is on the scene with ten sets because he knows he will get a call for six more before the end of the month.

But twenty consecutive stitch expos for a man in his 40s is beginning to feel…

“Betsy cross-stitched some of the cutest flags for each of our home countries so we can wave them around during roll call! Gotta rep!”

He gave a half smile. “Yes ma’am..gotta rep.”

His group encircled him, smiling and greeting him as they would while he tried his best to stay in the moment.

He forced a smile. Another year surrounded by over three thousand people and he felt more alone than ever.

__________________

Yaga settled into bed post shower. It felt nice to be back in his own home after 4 days of nonstop conversation and photo ops with the “worlds largest knitting needle” recipient. He fell back into his routine: cleaning up, checking emails despite being off work for another 4 days, and meal prepped for the week before his wind down officially started.

He stared down at the open web-page on his phone, brows furrowed in concentration. "The Foolproof Guide to Dating: Master the First Three Dates and Win Their Heart!" The title alone should have been a red flag, but it had been a long time since he'd gone on a real date—long enough that he figured a little structure wouldn't hurt.

Yaga sat up in bed, pushing his glasses up onto the bridge of his nose and began to slowly read.

He tried not to be too hard on himself, it wasn’t as if he had time to fumble his way through modern dating customs. Between his work and his students, romance had taken a backseat for years. Now, thanks to Nanami’s insistence, he had a blind date scheduled with a woman who was supposedly going to be good for him.

He let out a breath and scrolled further.

“Date #1: Set the Perfect Tone!

Choose a location that showcases your best qualities.

Maintain strong eye contact to establish dominance. Let her know you mean business!

Pay a subtle compliment, but don’t overdo it! Keep her on the edge so she chases you!

Keep the conversation lighthearted yet intriguing. Who doesn’t love a man of mystery.”

  Yaga rubbed his temples. This was nonsense, wasn’t it? Showcase his best qualities? What did that even mean? Was he supposed to take her to a classroom and demonstrate his ability to keep a rowdy group of students in check? Pull out a ripped pair of pants and sew a patch on? He laughed silently, his large shoulders shaking as he put a sound to the belly laugh he expelled.

He sighed.”A man of mystery.” he repeated in a huff, setting his alarm and sitting his phone on the nightstand. “There’s no pressure, Yaga,” he talked to himself sternly, almost like a father speaking to his son the night of prom. “Its a date, not a wedding. Just enjoy the experience.” he turned over, closing his eyes to try and imagine what tomorrows date could result in. It was too late to back out now. He had to go in full speed.

The café Nanami suggested was a quiet, bookish kind of place, which Yaga appreciated. The soft hum of conversation, the scent of freshly brewed coffee, and the rows of bookshelves lining the back wall made it feel comfortable. Approachable. He could work with this. He settled into the arm chair, feeling confident in the afternoon.

Then you walked in.

He spotted you almost immediately and smiled, something warm and effortless about you. You stepped in like a dream. You waved at the barista and smiled, dress flowing as if you’d paid the wind to make it move with each step you took. Breathtaking.

“Uhh let’s do a honey latte with coconut milk today. And two lemon cookies, please.” He wondered what made you want a honey latte. Was it the honey? Perhaps you weren’t one for the strength of just straight coffee? His mind filled with scenarios as he watched you wait for your order.

“Yaga?” An unfamiliar voice walked up to him while he sipped his coffee.

“He’s not here.” His eyes stayed on you, not flinching.

“Sorry? Nanami told me you were my date?”

Shit. He turned to her and felt that guilty gut feeling at the confusion that stirred on her face.

“Oh gosh, so sorry. Yes, I-” He stood up and held his hand out and let her shake it. “I thought I saw someone I knew. My apologies. Call me Masamichi.”

“Oh! You’re okay. Happens to the best of us.”

“Would you like a beverage? I’ll get it for you.” he offered the chair right next to his. “Anything you fancy most?”

She pondered for a moment then smiled. “An americano with an extra shot of espresso.”

“Bold. You’ve got it.” He gave a warm smile and went to the front counter, walking past you as you scrolled on your phone waiting for your order.

He’s seen the viral clips of men bothering women and being called out about it. Was it really worth disturbing your peace?

‘Its for the best. And you’re on a date. Just leave it alone-’

“What are you thinking about getting?”

Your voice cut through his own dialogue and he froze from the neck down, turning to see you just a few steps closer to him. Your eyes were gentle, your voice sweet as honey.

“An americano.” he gruff voice lightened with his response. “With an extra shot of espresso.”

You raised your brow almost surprised at his answer. “Very… intense.” You laughed gently. “If you need something to help balance it out, I suggest the chocolate chunk muffin tops they have here. The perfect sweet treat to wash that down.”

“Oh, this isn’t for me. Its for my blind date.”

Amusement flickered across your expression and you looked subtly over your shoulder to see the woman sitting, waiting for you. "Exciting. Or nerve-wracking?"

He exhaled a quiet chuckle. "Both."

“Well, good luck to you! May the odds be in your favor.” Your order was called out and you grabbed your latte first, raising it in mock cheers before grabbing your plate of cookies and walking to a nearby table.

-

He sat across from his blind date, doing his best to focus. She was an amazing person—Nanami had vouched for her, after all. She had an easy smile, a soft voice, and seemed genuinely interested in getting to know him.

And yet, he kept glancing in your direction.

He tried to shake it off, returning his attention to the conversation. The guide had emphasized eye contact, active listening, and finding common ground. So he nodded along, asking genuine questions as he engaged in the conversation, offering polite responses. But every so often, his gaze drifted—just a flicker of a glance, quick enough that he hoped his date wouldn’t notice.

But he noticed. He noticed how you tucked a braid behind your ear, how you smiled at your book and widened your eyes and gasped in hopes of no one hearing you. How you tapped your fingers lightly against your coffee cup. It was distracting, pulling at the edges of his mind even as he tried to stay present.

Halfway through the date, he knew. He knew there wasn’t a connection—not the kind he was wanted to feel. His date was great, but she wasn’t the one keeping his attention without even trying.

By the time an hour had passed, Yaga took a breath and made up his mind.

“This was really nice,” he started, rubbing the back of his neck. "You seem like a wonderful person, but… I don’t think there’s a connection here. I wanted to be honest with you before we parted ways."

His date blinked, then gave a small, understanding nod. "I appreciate that, actually. And I get it. No hard feelings. Good luck to your future dating trials."

They parted on good terms and Yaga walked her outside before he went back in to sit for a moment, tapping his fingers against the table trying to wrap his head around exactly what he was about to do.

He was never one to act on impulse. Impulsively buying a high dollar steak? Sure. But something in him told him he’d regret walking away without trying.

“Full speed ahead,”

So before he could talk himself out of it, he stood, walked over to your table, and cleared his throat.

"Hey. Uh." He shifted his weight slightly, suddenly aware of how ridiculous he must look—this broad-shouldered, serious-faced man struggling to find the right words.

You picked your head up from your book, a little surprised by his approach, “Americano! Hi!”

  "I know this might be a little unexpected, and I apologize. I know I told you I was on a blind date but… it has ended. I wanted to tell you that you are incredibly striking.”

Yous placed your bookmark and slowly closed your book. “Did you scare her off?”

“Oh no no. It’s just that there was no connection,” He tried to clarify his actions not realizing it may be doing more harm than good. “I found myself interested in getting to know you and I wanted to do it the right way.”

You couldn’t tell whether he was joking or just being a nuisance, but you were too intrigued to not find out.

So you sat quietly, smiling.

He cleared his throat. "Your, uh, shoes look sturdy."

A pause. Then, to his immense relief, you laughed.

"Wow. High praise. I was hoping to impress you with my charm after you decided to be so brazen, but if my footwear is winning points, I’ll take it."

Yaga felt some of the tension ease from his shoulders and laughed just loud enough for you to hear.

“To keep my momentum going, I’d love to take you out to lunch sometime to get to know you better.”

“What if I’m not single?” You stood up, letting your eyes trace over his defined shoulders and chest. “This would all be in vain.”

He hadn’t even thought of you being taken. His ears turned a shade of tomato red as he tried to figure out how he could recover from fumbling this badly. “I’ll pay for you next coffee if I’ve disrespected you and your partner. That wasn’t my intention.”

There was something endearing about this big man overthinking every other thought he had. It was obvious to you that he was not one for approaching strangers in public for things as informal as asking someone out. It was.. cute.

“After our first date, we can come here for a coffee then. I won’t say no to coffee with a handsome man with no name.”

“Cheeky.” You both laughed as he pulled out a card from his jacket pocket, passing it onto you gingerly. “Masamichi. And it would be my pleasure.”

=============================================

Six months. You’d been dating Masamichi for six and it was heaven on earth.

You’d come to know a mild giant for a partner. The perfect balance of love, laughter, and understanding. You’d complemented each other in every way imaginable, personalities intertwining like the branches of a sturdy oak tree, unshakable and resilient.

He was considerate, gentle, consistently showing that he would be there for you come hell or highwater. And you showed the same.

Two people swimming in the dating pool meeting by chance in a small pond.

Fate.

And now on your 6 month anniversary, you found yourself lost in thought, your mind wandering to the elephant in the room - or rather, the absence of it in your bedroom.

You sighed, tracing your fingers along the rim of the mug filled with now lukewarm green tea, a gift from Masamichi's grandfather. It was a small gesture, but one that spoke volumes about the sincerity and thoughtfulness that permeated your connection. Yet, despite the depth of your bond, there was one aspect of your relationship that remained unexplored, a chasm that seemed to grow wider with each passing day.

Masamichi was in the kitchen, the sound of pots and pans clattering as he prepared dinner, his humming a soothing melody that normally would have chased away any lingering doubts. But tonight, your mind was consumed by the gnawing uncertainty that had taken root in the pit of my stomach. You couldn't help but wonder if there was something wrong with you, if his hesitation to take your relationship to the next level was a sign of some deep-seated inadequacy.

You watched as he nodded his head along to the light jazz that filled the air. He was everything to you. And you didn't want to ruin the perfection you had cultivated together, the easy camaraderie and the deep respect that underpinned every interaction you’d shared all because it feels like you’re ovulating every other day.

But at the same time, the weight of the unspoken desires was beginning to take its toll, the deafening screams of wanting to be in the throws of passion grew louder with each passing day.

You knew you had to say something, to address the elephant in the room before it consumed you both. you took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the conversation that was to come, and made your way to the kitchen, determined to confront the fears and insecurities that had been plaguing your thoughts for weeks on end.

Masamichi looked up as you entered, a warm smile playing on his lips as he greeted you with a kiss on the cheek. "Almost ready," he murmured.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you tried to find the right words. Masamichi sensing the uneasiness in your demeanor, set down the spoon he was holding and turned to face your fully, his brows furrowed in concern.

"Hey, is everything alright? You look like you've got something on your mind," he asked softly, his hand reaching out to gently squeeze your shoulder.

You nodded, swallowing hard before speaking. "Masamichi, we need to talk. About us, about... our relationship," you spoke with intention, your voice barely above a whisper.

His eyes widened slightly, and you could see a flicker of uncertainty in their depths. He took a step back, running a hand through his hair as he seemed to grapple with his own thoughts.

"I fear I know where this is going," he admitted, his voice tinged with a hint of frustration. “I know you said the crochet thing wasn’t a big deal but it becomes one. Its just part of me..” He untied the apron from around his waist and lifted it over his head. “I know it isn’t for everyone.”

What a man. You smiled, rubbing his bicep before pulling him to the couch. “No no. I like your hobbies. It isn’t that.” You sat him down, his dark eyes brewing a storm as he tried to figure out just what you could be referring to.”

“Chi, do you find me attractive?”

He looked shocked, almost offended at the question. “A goddess among us mere mortals. You are beyond gorgeous. Where is this coming from? Am I not calling you beautiful enough?”

“God, you make it real hard to be assertive when you’re this sappy.” biting your lip and faintly laughing, you cleared your throat to push through the conversation. "I know we haven't... I mean, we haven't taken that step, and I can't help but feel like I'm disappointing you somehow in the attractiveness factor or you may not be ready which is totally okay! I just want to at least talk about it."

He paused, his gaze dropping to the floor as he struggled to find the right words. "The truth is, I want nothing more than to be intimate with you, to express the depth of my love and desire for you. But I'm scared," he confessed, his voice barely audible.

Your heart clenched at the vulnerability in his tone, and you reached out to take his hand in yours, squeezing it gently. "Masamichi, look at me," you followed his eyes, waiting for him to meet your gaze.

He did, and you could see the anguish and self-doubt swirling in his eyes. "You could never disappoint me," you assured him, thumb brushing against his cheek in a tender caress. "What we have is so special, so perfect, and I don't want to ruin it by rushing into something you may not be ready for."

You took a deep breath, choosing your next words carefully. "Masamichi. I love every part of you, including your kindness, your patience, and your unwavering commitment to our relationship. Our intimacy, whenever it happens, will be a natural progression of the love and connection we already share."

Thank you," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "Thank you for saying that, for seeing me the way you do. I was so afraid that you thought there was something wrong with me, that I wasn't enough for you."

He pulled back slightly, his hands coming up to cup your face, his thumbs brushing the soft moon of your cheeks. "I love you so much," he murmured, his forehead pressing against yours once more. "I love your strength, your kindness, your unwavering faith in us. I don't want to mess this up, to do something that might hurt you or push you away."

You turned your head slightly, pressing a soft kiss to his palm before smiling. "You could never push me away, Masamichi. Your love, your respect, and your consideration for me are what make me fall in love with you more each day," You remarked, voice steady and sure. “And you’ll have to try harder if you want to get rid of me.”

Masamichi laughed, his wide shoulders moving as he enveloped you in his embrace. He closed his eyes, exhaling sharply with a shuddering breath. "Well you know I’m an older guy so it takes awhile to make sure my engines stay running for awhile.”

“Is there anything I could do to.. keep them running?” You were sincere in your curiosity.

Grinning and shaking his head, Masamichi squeezed your hand. “You could wink at me and the engine starts. Its just part of me getting a little older. I need time to..” He thought for a moment before continuing, “Time and maybe a boost to make sure the engine can run for as long as it needs to.”

“Oh!” you fanned him off, thinking you clearly understood what he meant until it actually clicked. Your brows raised. “Ohhhh..”

He chuckled, nodding. “Exactly.”

“Do you have that on like, standby? How does one obtain… engine boosting medication?”

“I’ll make an appointment and hopefully be seen next week. Easy as that.”

You hadn’t really thought about the implications of dating a ‘seasoned man’. He’s older, not old so you didn’t really think he’d need help I suppose. But it didn’t deter you by any means.

He was a one in a million kind of man and sex wasn’t everything to you. But he was.

“I want to do this right," he said, his voice filled with determination. "I want our first time to be perfect, to be a celebration of the love and intimacy we've built together. And I want to make sure that you're ready, that we're both ready, before we take that step."

“Respectfully, honey, I was ready the moment you picked up that love seat without breaking a sweat awhile back.”

“You’re an insatiable woman.” He leaned in, kissing you softly before lying you back onto the couch.

You nodded, a smile playing on your lips as you leaned in to press a soft kiss. “I’m sorry you are just too hot. I can’t help but be in awe of you.” you whispered against his lips.

“And just so we’re clear: I’ve thought of the many ways I want to ravish you. When I get my hands on you,” He ran his thumb ever so gently over your bottom lip. “I want you to be the only thing that can satiate my appetite.” His large hand traveled up your thigh, lightly allowing his knuckles to caress your soft skin until he stopped right at your inner thigh.

For the first time ever, you were rendered speechless, only nodding as he placed soft kisses across your collar bone and shoulder before meeting your lips.

His lips moving against yours with a tenderness and love that stole your breath away. "Together," he murmured, his arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you close. "We'll navigate this journey together, one step at a time, and build the perfect intimacy that we both deserve."

===========================================

As the candlelight flickered, creating the perfect cozy table for two, Masamichi couldn't help but steal glances of you from across the way.

The romantic dinner was going perfectly in his eyes. Dinner came out absolutely divine. He opted for the lighter style of Greek food to go along with the light and engaging conversation and playful banter flowing freely between the both of you. He had been looking forward to this moment for what felt like an eternity, his heart fluttering with anticipation and desire.

Reaching across the table, Masamichi gently took your hand, giving it a tender squeeze. "Tonight has been absolutely wonderful," he murmured, his thumb caressing your knuckles. "I'm so glad we could have this time together, just the two of us."

You smiled warmly, squeezing his hand in return. "I've been really looking forward to this," you admitted, a hint of mischief sparkling in your eyes. "And I don't just mean the delicious food and wine."

Masamichi felt a shiver run down his spine at the implication, his pulse quickening. "Is that so?" he asked, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Well, I think we both know where this night is headed, don't we?"

Slowly, deliberately, Masamichi stood up from his chair and walked around to his lover's side of the table. He held out a hand in invitation. "Dance with me?" he purred, wanting to feel your body pressed against his.

Accepting without hesitation, you rose gracefully to your feet. "I thought you'd never ask," you teased, melting into Masamichi's arms as he pulled you close.

He wrapped one arm around your waist, holding you flush against his expansive chest as he began to sway to the soft music playing in the background. His other hand cupped your cheek, tilting your face up to look at him. "You look stunning tonight." he whispered, his breath ghosting over your lips.

“Thank you. My boyfriend bought this for me.” You responded sweetly. “He said the color made me look like an ethereal beauty.”

He smiled down at you and continued to sway, the light air around him made him feel like he was in a romance film as you brought your lips to his, starting with a small peck that slowly moved into something more. He ran his finger tips down the center of your back, deepening the kiss the moment he felt your body shiver against him.

"I don't know how much longer I can control myself around you." He muttered against your lips.

Your eyes fluttered for a moment, a soft gasp escaping your throat. "Then don't," you breathed, leaning in to capture Masamichi's lips in a searing kiss. "I want you. So so badly.” you whispered into his mouth.

Masamichi's hands began to wander, exploring and caressing every curve of your body with a hunger that bordered on desperation. He slid his hands to the cutouts of your dress, relishing the feel of your soft, warm skin beneath his fingertips.

Breaking the kiss, Masamichi trailed his lips down the column of your throat, nibbling and sucking at the sensitive flesh. He could feel your pulse racing beneath his mouth, and it spurred him on, determined to mark you as his own.

Without thinking, he lifted you, an arm at the crease under your knees, carrying you bridal style towards his bedroom.

"Your skin tastes divine," he murmured against your throat, his voice rough with desire. "I want to leave my mark on every part of you, to show the world that you belong to me." He stepped to the edge of the bed and sat you down with the gentleness of a feather before he began to unbutton his shirt, his eyes never leaving you.

You could feel the heat of his gaze as he undressed. Watching the shirt fall to the ground your core tightened. That feeling flooded you.

His pecs were well defined, contoured by his chest hair. His body was hard, chiseled to perfection and for the first time, you were seeing it without any restrictions. He leaned over you, kissing the top of your head as he brought you up to your knees.

“Here. Let me help you.” He walked around to the side of the bed and sat on his knees behind you, running his knuckles along the straps of your dress, dragging slowly across the valley between your shoulders. He unzipped, leaving kisses on your newly exposed skin right until he got to your lower back

  He could feel you arching into his touch, your hands fighting to just reach behind you and pull him in by hair to hold him closer to you. "Yes," you hissed, tilting your head to give him better access. "Please, Masamichi… please..”

Masamichi groaned at the desperate plea, his hands sliding up to cup and squeeze the soft mounds of your breasts. He could feel your nipples hardening beneath the thin fabric of your dress, and he couldn't resist taking one into his mouth, sucking and flicking his tongue over the sensitive peak. He let the dress fall to your thighs and reached around, taking a nipple into his mouth and groaning at the contact.

As he lavished attention on your breasts, his other hand slid down your stomach, slipping beneath the waistband of your panties to cup your mound. He could feel the heat emanating from your core, and he knew you were just as aroused as he was.

"You're so wet for me already," he purred, rubbing his fingers along your clothed slit. "I love how responsive you are to my touch. It drives me wild."

He continued his sensual battle, alternating between kissing, licking, and nipping at every inch of skin he could reach. He wanted to overwrite every thought in your mind with pleasure, to make it so the only thing you could focus on was the feel of his hands and mouth on your body.

Lie back, I’ve got you,” He whispered before stepping off of the bed, cradling you before crawling over you with a wicked grin. "I'm going to worship every part of you tonight," he promised, his eyes dark with lust. "I'm going to worship every inch of your body," he promised. "I'm going to make you scream my name until it's the only thing you remember."

Pinning you with his hips, he attacked your neck with open-mouthed kisses and sharp nips, licking your skin before blowing light breaths on each patch.

Masamichi gazed down at you, The sight of your bare body, the swell of your breasts rising and falling with each anticipatory breath, sent a surge of desire coursing through him. He quickly shed the rest of his own clothing, eager to feel your skin against his own.

He settled himself between your spread thighs, his hands immediately going back to your breasts. He cupped the soft mounds, kneading and squeezing the pliant flesh as he brushed his thumbs over your nipples, feeling them stiffen under his touch.

He took his time lavishing attention on them, rolling and pinching the hardening peaks until you writhed beneath him, your back arching off the bed. His hands then trailed lower, skimming over your plush stomach, feeling your tense muscles flutter under his fingertips.

His thick digits dipped between your thighs, his fingers gliding through the slick heat he found there. He groaned at the evidence of your arousal, his cock throbbing with the need to be inside you. "You're so wet for me already," he murmured, circling your clit with the pad of his thumb. "I've barely touched you and you're dripping."

You whimpered, hips lifting to grind against his hand, seeking more of that delicious friction. "It's because of you," you panted, voice high and needy. "The way you touch me...the things you do to my body...I can't help it."

Masamichi smiled, a wicked glint in his eyes. "And I plan to make you even wetter," he promised, before sliding two fingers deep inside your fluttering pussy.

Just his fingers, stretching you, filling you. He pumped his fingers in and out, curling them to hit that special spot that made you see stars. At the same time, he leaned down to capture one nipple in his mouth, suckling and flicking the sensitive bud with his tongue as he worked you over with his hand.

Your body was tensing and he could feel it. Your inner thigh muscles clenching around his invading fingers as you climbed closer and closer to your peak. He knew you were getting close already, and he wanted to push you over the edge.

Suddenly, he withdrew his fingers, ignoring your protesting whine but kissing between your breast then your lips.

“My beautiful angel,” he whispered against your lips, “Want to taste yourself?” He brought his soaked fingers between you, glistening under the dim light and smiled as you did. Running your tongue between his pointer and middle made his cock jump. “My good girl.” He brushed the back of his hand over your cheek and kissed you, twirling his tongue around yours to savor your taste.

His fingers dipped back between your thighs to rub slow, deliberate circles around your clit and you arched into him. He could feel how swollen and sensitive it was, how it throbbed against his touch like a tiny, aching heart. With that, he slipped one finger inside and continued his barbarous pace. You clenched around his digit before trying to form words, but nothing came out except more teary eyed moans.

He leaned down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue delving deep to claim every inch of your mouth. He swallowed your moans and whimpers, relishing the way you tasted, the way you felt pressed against him. He captured every whimper and moan as he quickened his pace, the sound of your wetness now being muffled by his hungry grunts and the sensation of that engine revving magic pill suddenly reaching the places it needed.

He continued to grind and rub, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. Just as he felt you start to tense, your body coiling like a spring ready to snap, Masamichi pulled his fingers away, stroking his cock with his now soaked hand while he reached for the pillow next you, then lined himself up with you.

“Are you ready?” He asked softly, eyes looking into yours.

“Are you?”

He looked down to where you two were almost meeting and chuckled at just how red the head of his cock was. “Maybe a little too ready.”

You lifted your hips and he placed the pillow underneath you. “Then please. Have me.”

With one powerful thrust, he sheathed himself fully inside of you, burying his cock to the hilt in your tight, wet heat. You both cried out at the sudden intrusion, body stretching and accommodating his thick length.

“God damn it.” He groaned, his hips pressed flush against the back of your thighs as he cautiously placed one leg over his shoulder.

The feeling of his hard cock buried deep inside you was almost too much to bear. You could feel every throbbing inch of him, stretching you wider than you ever had been before. It was a delicious mix of pleasure and pain, and you never wanted it to end.

Masamichi gave you a moment to adjust, fighting the urge to start moving. He could feel your inner walls fluttering and clenching around him, trying to draw him even deeper. It took every ounce of his self-control not to start pounding into you like a wild animal.

Instead, he leaned down to press hot, open-mouthed kisses along your shoulders and chest, his teeth grazing your skin. His hands slid up your sides to keep you with him, holding and caressing you as your heartbeat filled his ears.

Masamichi started to move, pulling his hips back until just the tip of his cock remained inside, before moving forward and burying himself to the hilt once more. He set a steady, deep rhythm, each thrust pushing the breath from your lungs in a rush.

"You feel incredible," he panted against your skin, his voice rough with pleasure. "So tight and perfect around my cock. I don't ever want to pull out."

The only thing you could muster was a moan in response, your body rocking forward with each of his intense thrusts. You reached a hand down to rub at your clit, desperate for the extra stimulation to push you over the edge.

Masamichi growled, a dark and feral sound, as he watched you lover touch youself. The sight of you lost in pleasure, impaled on his cock and chasing your own release, was almost enough to make him come undone right then and there.

He grabbed your wrist, pulling your hand away and replacing it with his own. He rubbed at your clit with quick, firm circles, feeling it swell and throb under his touch. His other hand gripped your hip hard enough to leave bruises, holding you in place as he began to pound into you with wild abandon.

"That's it, baby," he encouraged, his voice a low rumble in your ear. "Come for me. Let me feel you come all over my cock. I need to feel you squeeze me like a vice as you scream my name.”

Masamichi could feel his lover's body tensing, your muscles pulling taut as you teetered on the brink of climax. He doubled his efforts, pounding into you with short, sharp thrusts that hit that special spot inside you with every drive of his hips.

"Yes, that's it," he urged, his voice a low, seductive growl. "Come on, baby. Let go. I want to feel you come undone, shatter in my arms."

You let out a high, keening cry, your back arching as your orgasm crashed like a tidal wave. Your inner walls clamped down around Masamichi's cock like a silken vice, rippling and fluttering as you came harder than you ever had before.

Masamichi groaned, the sensation of your pussy gripping him so tightly almost enough to make him lose control. But he held on, determined to bring you through your climax and prolong this feeling of pleasure for as long as possible.

He gentled his thrusts, rolling his hips in a slow, sensual circle as he worked you through the aftershocks. His hand never stopped its relentless rubbing at your now sensitive clit, coaxing out every last bit of your release until you were boneless and spent beneath.

Masamichi leaned down to capture your swollen lips in a deep, passionate kiss. He poured all of his love and desire into the kiss, wanting you to feel the depth of his feelings.

“Please.” The faint sound of your voice filled his ears, The shudders and tremors started to subside, and he finally let himself go. “Please cum for me.” You reached up to drag your nails down his torso and he threw his head back, losing every ounce of willpower he tried to hold onto. With a hoarse shout of your name, he buried himself as deep as he could go and pulled out the moment the flood gates opened.

He covered your stomach, spurt after spurt of his hot seed, painting you white as he emptied himself completely. His hips continued to rock and jerk, working himself through the intense pleasure until he had nothing left to give.

Collapsing onto his hands, caging you in, he peppered your neck and shoulders with soft kisses, his hand finding its way to roaming over your curves with a tender, almost reverent touch.

He finally mustered the energy to get up. “One moment, I need to get you a towel to clean you off.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead and smiled before walking into the bathroom.

The grin on your face grew with each moment you lied there waiting for his return. The sound of the running water turning off made you sit up on and elbow.

His large figure walking back in made you feel butterflies.

“Hi.” you spoke softly, clearly giddy.

He grinned, sitting on the side of the bed and wiping your stomach with the warm towel. “Hello, darling.”

You giggled, bubbly and absolutely over the moon.

He finished cleaning you and went to toss the towel in a hamper before returning to your side, lying and immediately taking you in. You sighed contentedly, melting into his strong embrace.

You felt safe, cherished, and utterly fulfilled in his arms. His scent enveloped you, a mix of your own perfume and the musky aroma of sex, and it made you feel deliciously claimed.

His hands continued their gentle explorations, now soothing caresses rather than the heated touches of before. He ran his fingers through your soft coils brushing it back from your face, before trailing down to trace the delicate line of your jaw and the column of your throat.

The rise and fall of your chest pressed against his own, a soothing, hypnotic sensation that made him feel at peace.

Masamichi pressed a tender kiss to your temple, letting his lips linger for just a moment. "Being with you, like this...it's everything I've ever wanted."

You turned your head to meet his gaze, eyes soft and hazy with contentment. You reached up to cup his cheek, thumb brushing over his lower lip in a loving caress. "For me too," you whispered, a small smile playing at the corners of your mouth. "I never want this moment to end."

Masamichi turned his head to press a kiss to your palm, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment as he savored the taste and feel of your skin. "It doesn't have to," he promised, his voice a low rumble in his chest. "We can stay like this for as long as you want. I'll hold you all night long, if that's what you need."

Eyes shining with happiness. You snuggled back, tucking your body even closer to his own. "I want that,” you closed your eyes now, feeling the warmth of your deepened intimacy filling your heart. “I want that with you. Always.”

[dumbgoondog]

curse!yuji nsfw alphabet when??? :D???✨✨✨

Curse!Yuji NSFW Alphabet

Cw/Tw — light blood, humiliation, degradation, dub con + CNC, breeding kink if you squint, blood, implied cannibalism

Right now! It’s here!

(A)ftercare - Ever wanted to feel like royalty? Now’s ya chance. Body worship, through kisses, praise, massages, drinks, snacks, shows, etc

(B)ody Part - your heart, he doesn’t have one, his and Mahito’s theory is that’s what truly separates humans and curses. A lack of a heart.

(C)um - in you. In you please please please. It’s all he wants. He wants to fill you. Mouth, cunt, ass as long as it’s in you. Please.

(D)irty Secret - he wants to do curse on human roleplay. Dub-con roleplay, CNC roleplay. He’s a nasty vile curse taking advantage of you, or you can’t see him and don’t feel him fucking you. Somno, fucking you while you sleep, all of it. He feels so guilty about it and so ashamed but he’s super into it secretly.

(E)xperience - Very minimal, see there’s this girl he was with, it ended in such a massive mess. Mahito and Sukuna are still laughing about it like maniacs and he’s so embarrassed by it. The two never got to home base but he’s gotten some handfuls of tits and sucked off. Oh but he’s TOTALLY not a virgin, he’s so experienced and loves helping virgins pop the cherry cuz he loves the noises and- he’s lying.

(F)avorite Position - spooning, he loves being so pressed to you. And then passing out together after? Oh yeah

(G)oofy - yeah… he’s read so many fics and he tries to mimic them, but sometimes he’ll say something not sexy at all, and then he starts dripping cuz he realizes that was not sexy.

(H)air - messy like normal Yuji!

(I)ntimacy - he’s a dweeb as much as he’s a pervert. He loves picking you flowers, not buying but picking them! He loves wearing matching outfits, going out on ice cream dates, and making you food. If you wear lipstick and kiss him he won’t wash it off. He loves stealing hair ties and wearing them in his wrists too

(J)ack off - a lot. Like normal Yuji, it’s a lot.

(K)ink - Feet, he’s really into feet. Especially wearing socks, and having- NOT. No he makes fun of people who are into feet(sorry) he loves corruption play. Bimbofication, making the goodie two shoes into a whore, sorcerer on curse, hero and villain, evil and good. Making someone really proper into a total dumb pleasure drunk porn star. He loves taking photos of it allllll

(L)ocation - anywhere and everywhere, easy

(M)otivation - he’s an absolute DOG. It’s way too easy. Good luck telling tho cuz he hides it really well.

(N)o - no feet. He’s so sorry, it’s the dumb meme kink and it’s too funny.

(O)ral - oh yeah, slob on his shit, he’s got a hand in your hair and fuckin your mouth recording that as if he can see himself in the video. He loves watching you screw your eyes shut or when you look up at him, or the surprise on your face when his tentacle slides down your throat and you choke a bit.

(P)ace - stuttering fast and messy at first but once he’s locked in it’s any pace he wants. Fast and hard, slow and teasing, oh yeah.

(Q)uicky - please god please, he loves it, even if neither of you finish. Desperate quick reaches of pleasure before anything or when you have a time limit? God yeaaahhhh

(R)isk - he’s up to try almost anything! Except anything that makes you bleed. Once he smells your blood he might do something he regrets, but he has good self control luckily.

(S)tamina - a good deal! He’s a cum dumper, he’s kinda pathetic tho. We’re taking, first time he bottoms out he might cum. Dry humping? Oh he genuinely gets close. It’s embarrassing.

(T)oys - Unlike normal Yuji he watches streams of solo sessions, he loves watching people try to take really big toys. He loves watching people use non human shaped dildos. He’d love to get you a butt plug btw.

(U)nfair - god please tease him, watch his brain malfunction, and just turn off. Want to win an argument? Tease him. Want him to buy you something? Grind a bit. Sure he’ll get you back later but he’s so cute when he short circuits

(V)olume - Yap Yap Yap, “God- your pretty mouth on my cock- oh fuck that’s it, keep suckin baby.” Yap yap yap “smile for the camera, you look so gooo- ooo fuck-! Damn bitch you’re squeezin so tight-!” Yap yap yap

(W)ild Card - how opposed would you be if he found a cursed tool that could record himself and then both of you becoming porn stars together? Cuz he’d love that. Getting to fuck you while people watched, people seeing how good you are for him, how dumb on his dick you can become… oh yeah, he’s hard thinking about it.

(X)-ray - stupid boxers with stupid prints. Cheeto, Dr. Pepper, Pepsi, ramen, lightning McQueen, and human centipede(curse!Yuji like human centipede instead of human earthworm)

(Y)es - please let him go at it raw, no condom, please please please please. It feels different! Way better! He can’t feel you as good otherwise! He has good pull out game! Totally! He won’t push in balls deep! No no not him!

(Z)zz - cuddle up, watch a show, pull up the blankets, here are the snacks, nap time or goodnight!

[kaissatou]

a jujutsu kaisen alternative universe,

kaissatou presents… don't you forget about me - a breakfast club AU.

stuck in saturday detention with five (oddly attractive) guys, you're bored; and for some odd reason, they've all seemed to take a liking to you- but just who will you choose?

Suguru Geto, the 'athlete'. He's a popular jock who's simultaneously dealing with the pressure of being a star athlete, and the weight of everyone's expectations.

Satoru Gojo, the 'princess'. He's a popular, rich boy whose initially only concerned about his social image, but opens up over time.

Nanami Kento, the 'brain'. He's a smart, awkward and pressure-driven student who feels the weight of academic expectations. He also has an emo sidepart?

Ryomen Sukuna, the 'criminal'. He's rebellious, sarcastic and often confrontational, with a troubled home life that causes him to act out.

Choso Kamo, the 'basket case'. He's quiet, awkward, and mysterious. He tends to keep to himself, and struggles with feeling invisible.

chapter 1; sincerely yours, the breakfast club NEW

satoru's route summer of '69

nanami's route talking in your sleep

suguru's route rock you like a hurricane

choso's route just like heaven

sukuna's route rebel yell

[whistlebrox]

Yeah forgot that I could post my art soo

[stxrysnow]

— WATER IN MY LUNGS, YOUR CROONS HAVE STARS FOR EYES .

synopsis . the water kisses your feet, like it does, every single time. and yet, yet, you feel like something’s feeding from the deepest, locked away parts of your mind— something that you can’t afford to show someone else.

something that you can’t dream of showing someone else.

but the claws with moonstruck eyes already know.

contents . suguru geto x gn!reader. siren!suguru. fantasy. angst angst ANGST. fluff. slow burn. reader contemplates a LOT. grotesque imagery (as always. . . sorry). sugu is a lil bit fucked up but aren’t we all LMAO. same goes for reader. a lot of existential crisis.

★ jiah’s notes . hi so uh did you know that this was supposed to be a onesho—

— ut incepit fidelis sic permanet .

000 — i drown, but someone holds my hand .

word count. 0.78k

. . . more to come.

★ taglist .

@poopooindamouf @satorus-princess (comment to be added !)

@stxrysnow on tumblr. do not copy or post any of my works.

[noname-nonartist]

Some doodles of Tsumiki since I’m characterizing her a bit differently within my pjsk+jjk AU lol

As ya can see, I decided to have her be more expressive and openly show more emotions. To contrast Megumi’s suppression of his emotions. And of course, I have her as a huge Miku fan (and a horror/occult fan just ‘cause lol)

[gojos-version]

Au masterlist

⋆ ✩°｡⋆ 𖦹｡˚ ⋆ ✮ ༺ ⟡ ݁₊ ⊹ ა ✧ ໒ ⊹ ₊ ݁ ݁⟡ ༻ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ⊰⊱ ✩°｡⋆ 𖦹｡˚ ⋆

COLLEGE AU

Nerd gojo! X reader

Jockey toji! X reader

Bully Sukuna! X reader

Geto! X reader

ROYAL AU

Prince! Satoru x Maid! Reader

More coming soon~

⋆ ✩°｡⋆ 𖦹｡˚ ⋆ ✮ ༺ ⟡ ݁₊ ⊹ ა ✧ ໒ ⊹ ₊ ݁ ݁⟡ ༻ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ⊰⊱ ✩°｡⋆ 𖦹｡˚ ⋆

Masterlist<3