#geto x gojo

[nanamineedstherapy]

Third Wheeling Your Own Marriage

F!Non-Sorceres 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. Warnings: Angst Hurt/Comfort Betrayal Polyamory Gone Wrong: Toxic Relationships Emotional Abuse Pregnancy Body Horror Gaslighting Infidelity Isolation Unhealthy Relationships. Previous Chapter 1: Home Is Just a Place You Leave (Tumblr/Ao3)

Chapter 2: Collateral Void

The night air felt cool, brushing softly against your skin as you sat at the dining table, fingers flying across the laptop keyboard. The faint glow of the screen illuminated your focused expression, but the peace was short-lived.

“Boring! Though what kind of work is it? Can I help?” Gojo drawled dramatically, suddenly appearing behind you. Before you could react, his long fingers darted over the keyboard. “What’s this? Spreadsheets? Bleh. Delete. Delete. Delete.”

“Satoru!” You shrieked, smacking his hands away as he howled with laughter, stumbling back like a kid who’d just set off fireworks in a schoolyard. “This is quarterly projections; it’s a highly important document people worked hard on!”

“Oh, come on, you’re working too hard,” he teased, leaning down with his hands on the back of your chair. “Work-life balance, baby. You need more Gojo in your life.”

“I need less Gojo in my life,” you muttered, shoving him off.

The bedroom door slammed open with enough force to rattle the walls. Nanami stormed in like a man possessed, holding up a fractured piece of pottery that looked both ancient and priceless. You recognized it immediately—the Kintsugi Haniwa, a beautifully restored clay figure you’d given him years ago, a piece Nanami revered as a testament to tradition and resilience.

“Satoru!” Nanami said through gritted teeth, his voice low and vibrating with barely restrained rage. “Care to explain why I found this”—he held the artifact higher for emphasis—“chucked under the bedside table?”

Gojo froze mid-smirk, his expression slipping for the first time. “Oh. That—that’s weird. Who would—?”

“You broke it and hid it there!” Nanami growled, keeping the artifact aside, the accusation dripping with certainty.

“Hid is such a strong word,” Gojo replied, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “I simply relocated it.”

“To the floor?” Nanami darted towards Gojo, voice raising with each word, veins practically bulging at his temple.

Gojo sidestepped next to you, standing you up and using you as a human shield. “Look, Nanamin, accidents happen! Why don’t we focus on forgiveness instead of anger?”

The three of you were circling the dining table like children playing a game of tag—except one of those children was trying to commit murder. Gojo kept darting behind you for cover, his grin only widening as Nanami’s rage escalated.

Nanami’s glare sharpened, his voice dropping into a dangerously calm monotone. “First, it was the trimmers. Now this.”

Gojo perked up, suddenly smug. “How do you even know it was me? Maybe she used your trimmer.” He pointed a long, accusatory finger at you.

You stared at him, wide-eyed and incredulous. “Are you serious?!”

Nanami didn’t even glance your way; his focus stayed zeroed in on Gojo. “Because you are the only one with grandma hair.”

Gojo gasped, clutching his chest like Nanami had physically stabbed him. “Grandma hair?!”

“It’s white, isn’t it?” Nanami said flatly, unbothered, still trying to grab him.

“Excuse you,” Gojo sputtered, sidestepping Nanami and pointing wildly at his own head. “This is platinum perfection. It’s fashion-forward. It’s—it’s a statement.”

“It’s hereditary decay,” Nanami shot back, not giving up the chase.

You snorted, unable to hold back the laughter as Gojo gaped at both of you in utter betrayal, holding you close to his chest by your waist, trying to block Nanami. “You’re both ganging up on me. This is domestic abuse!”

Nanami’s scowl deepened. “Don't change the topic, Satoru!”

Gojo shrugged innocently. “Hey, at least I cleaned it.”

Nanami’s nostrils flared. “Cleaned it?”

Gojo’s grin turned nervous as he added, “Well, you look mad, so I guess not entirely...”

Nanami lunged forward. “You left all your hair on it! What do you even use my trimmers to trim, because you sure as hell can’t grow facial hair, you manchild!”

“You know what I shave!” Gojo called back, then squealed in delight and bolted, dragging you along.

You froze mid-breath, horror washing over you as the implication hit. “Gojo, do you have a death wish?!”

Nanami’s jaw tightened, his eye practically twitching with it as his seething glare intensified. “You shaved your fucking balls with my facial trimmers?!!” He spoke low, advancing like a storm cloud as Gojo circled the table, “Then had the audacity to leave it dirty with your… your gross hair for me to find! Like you are a cat offering me dead animal!?!!”

Gojo darted as Nanami chased him with murder in his eyes. The three of you continued circling the dining table in a chaotic frenzy, Gojo skidding across the floor in his socks, cackling like a lunatic.

“We have exchanged so many bodily fluids, and this is where you draw the line?” Gojo mocked, ducking under Nanami’s arm.

“Disgusting!” Nanami barked, seething as he pointed an accusing finger at Gojo. “I swear to God, Satoru, you are the bane of my existence!”

“But you love me,” Gojo teased, skidding to a stop so suddenly that you stumbled into Nanami. Nanami caught you easily, steadying you with one hand, but nearly crashed into Gojo, his eyes blazing with fury.

“Apologize!” You shouted, stepping between them before Nanami could strangle him.

Gojo huffed dramatically, tossing his head to the side like a diva. “Fine, fine. I’m sorry, Nanamin. Truce?”

Nanami grumbled under his breath, clearly unsatisfied. But before he could say anything else, Gojo grabbed his face, leaned in and kissed him square on the mouth.

Nanami’s entire body froze, his eyes going wide.

“There,” Gojo said smugly, pulling back with a grin. “Divorce dodged! Yay!”

You stared at them, caught between amusement and disbelief. It felt perfect—so perfect you almost wanted to cry. The laughter, the banter, the way they made you feel seen and cared for. You soaked in the moment, memorizing every detail—Gojo’s messy white hair, Nanami’s steadying touch, the golden light filtering through the lamps, casting everything in a soft, warm glow.

“Go ahead, ignore me,” you said jokingly, crossing your arms. “I’m clearly the third wheel here.”

Except they did.

The lights flickered.

Your smile faltered as you blinked, realizing they weren’t paying attention to you anymore. Gojo had grabbed Nanami again, pulling him closer. Their voices dropped into hushed murmurs, unintelligible and distant. You opened your mouth to say something, but they didn’t respond. They were kissing again. Fully.

And they were across the table now, far away—too far.

“Guys?” you said, laughing nervously. But the sound was thin, swallowed by the sudden heaviness in the room.

Gojo’s face blurred at the edges, his features smeared like wet paint dragged by careless fingers. Nanami’s figure was rigid, his face unreadable as shadows pooled at his feet, darker than they should have been. The air shifted—heavy, oppressive—pressing against your chest like a weight you couldn’t shake.

“Hello?” You tried again, louder this time. Your voice cracked slightly.

Nothing.

They didn’t turn toward you, didn’t even flinch. They were consumed with each other, as though you weren’t even there. The shadows stretched further now, creeping into the corners of the room like black ink spilling across the floor.

“Stop it,” you said, your tone sharper, though a pit began to form in your stomach. Their forms were blurring further, warping. The golden light dimmed, turning sickly and cold. The dining room, once warm and filled with laughter, twisted into something unfamiliar—something wrong.

“You’ve been keeping secrets from us,” Nanami said, suddenly turning to you. His voice was hollow, devoid of the calm warmth it usually carried. The words sent a chill crawling up your spine.

“What?” Your gaze darted between them, your chest tightening. “What are you talking about?”

Gojo’s head snapped toward you with unnatural speed, his blindfold gone. His six eyes glowed horribly bright, the light of them reflecting like mirrors in the dark. His smile was gone, replaced by something jagged and cruel, something inhuman.

“You didn’t think we’d find out?” he said softly. There was no teasing in his tone, no charm—just an edge of menace. “About them?”

“Them?” you echoed, the word barely escaping your lips. Nanami stepped closer now, his movements slow, deliberate. His face was shrouded in shadow, his features obscured like they were melting into the dark.

“The twins,” Gojo said, the word cutting through the room like a blade.

Your breath hitched as Nanami advanced, the shadows around him crawling along the floor, reaching for you like grasping hands.

“You weren’t supposed to know,” you whispered, instinctively wrapping your arms around your stomach. Your pulse roared in your ears as the room tilted, the walls pressing inward, suffocating you.

“We have to take them,” Nanami said, still moving towards you, his voice distorted, as though it came from deep underwater.

Gojo smiled again, moving towards you, his grin splitting unnaturally wide, the corners of his mouth stretching just a little too far. “We can’t let them live. You know that, sweetheart.”

“No! They’re mine,” you choked out, stumbling backward, your arms tightening protectively around yourself. The table between you seemed to shrink, leaving you exposed as they advanced.

“You can’t keep them from us,” they said in unison, softly, the words curling through the air like smoke.

“Stop!” you screamed, but their forms warped, dark shapes spilling into the edges of your vision. The shadows surged forward, hands reaching—

You jolted awake in the chair with a sharp gasp, your body trembling violently as you shot upright. The room was dark again, save for the faint glow of a screen. Your breathing came in ragged bursts, your pulse thundering as you clutched your stomach, feeling the reassuring movements beneath your palms.

It was a dream. Just a dream.

The laptop sat open in front of you, the spreadsheet forgotten, the cursor blinking insistently in the silence. The apartment was quiet, but the echoes of their voices lingered, a whisper in the back of your mind—a threat you couldn’t shake.

The shadows felt darker now.

“They’re mine,” you whispered shakily, curling in on yourself. “They’re mine.”

Weeks had passed.

You had buried yourself in a new country with the same job because you couldn’t abandon the business you had painstakingly built alone, with your blood, sweat, and tears. It was all you had left of yourself—the last thing tethering you to who you used to be. You ensured no one could access your personal information, locking it away like a fortress. Still, you felt like a ghost, drifting through a life where no one knew your name, where no one could see the haunting memories that followed you.

Your days were a blur of meetings, phone calls, and paperwork. You let go of every luxury, stripped yourself down to the bare essentials—as if even the smallest indulgence might give them a clue, might allow them to trace you. Not that they would. Your days were spent in a tiny apartment that didn’t even feel like a home. The walls were too close, the air too still, and the silence stretched on like a second skin. It wasn’t a home. It was a box—cold, cramped, and indifferent—where you ate alone, worked alone, and slept in fits and starts, the hours fractured by dreams you couldn’t escape.

The nights were the hardest.

Alone in a foreign city, you lay twisted with pain, your body betraying you in ways you didn’t know were possible. Your skin felt stretched too thin, muscles aching like they were being pulled apart, reshaped against your will. The babies—their babies, no! your babies—grew inside you, alien things that contorted you from the inside out. Every sharp twinge of pain felt unnatural, every shift of movement a cruel reminder of what they had left behind. You couldn’t help but wonder if your body might rip open entirely, split down the seams. The changes weren’t normal. Your bones creaked and groaned under the weight of something you couldn’t understand, your body remaking itself to accommodate children who were never supposed to be here.

You worked through it. You worked through everything. The nausea that made your hands tremble. The exhaustion that dragged your eyelids shut. The cold sweat that drenched your skin as the babies pushed against you, growing and moving with a purpose that felt wrong. It was all wrong. But still, you sat hunched over documents and contracts, your vision blurring until your eyes burned, pushing through the pain until the lines of text no longer made sense. Anything to keep the memories at bay.

But they crept in anyway.

Gojo’s laughter. That unmistakable, infectious sound that could fill a room with light. It used to be enough to pull you out of your darkest thoughts, but now it echoed like a cruel reminder of what was lost. Nanami’s quiet, steady presence haunted you too—those rare moments when his stoic mask cracked, when the tenderness beneath the weight of his quiet sorrow slipped through. The fleeting seconds when everything had felt right, when you believed you were loved, when the world seemed like it could wait just a little longer.

Those moments were gone, but they still haunted you. They slipped through the cracks when you least expected it, invading the silence, invading the cold. The life you had left behind wouldn’t let you forget.

You had traded one form of isolation for another.

But at least this one was on your terms. At least now, you were alone because you chose to be. You weren’t the woman who had thrown everything away for them, not anymore. That woman was gone.

Your old phone, now completely untraceable, stayed on out of morbid curiosity. You didn’t know why. Maybe you wanted to see how long it would take for them to notice you were gone. If they ever would. Maybe they were happy you were out of the picture. Maybe your absence was a relief. You kept a new phone for work, clean and also untraceable, and refused to check their social media. You couldn’t bear to.

//

Back in Japan

It started with the ring.

The bedroom door slammed open just as the first pale rays of dawn broke across the sky. Gojo stumbled inside first, his uniform coat discarded in the living room next to Nanami’s coat, tie, and their shoes. His pale blue shirt completely untucked and unbuttoned, almost sliding off his shoulders, revealing his toned chest down to his navel. Nanami stumbled after him, his arm wrapped around Gojo’s waist from behind to steady him, his teeth leaving faint, red marks against the back of Gojo’s shoulder blade. Both of them swayed like ships lost at sea, unmoored and directionless. The unmistakable scent of alcohol clung to them—whiskey, gin and tequila, sharp and sour in the still air.

Gojo turned and pressed Nanami against the wall within seconds, his long fingers tangling into Nanami’s hair, lips dragging lazily along his jawline. Nanami’s face was flushed, and he was uncharacteristically pliant, unresisting. His hands drifted to Gojo’s hips, sliding lower, grounding himself through touch.

“Satoru,” Nanami muttered, his voice breathless, strained—a fleeting attempt at lucidity. “Do you know where she is?”

Gojo didn’t pause, his grin sharp against Nanami’s skin as he murmured, biting softly, “‘She’? Who’s she?”

Nanami’s hands tensed at his sides. “Our wife.” His voice broke slightly on the word. “You haven’t seen her?”

Gojo finally pulled back, crystalline eyes hazy and lidded, his blindfold dangling from Nanami’s wrist again like some forgotten relic. “Of course not. I thought you knew where she went.” His smirk faltered only slightly before he dragged and pushed Nanami backward toward the bed. “Don’t ruin the moment. She’s probably on a trip—working hard, being the boss lady we love.”

Nanami let himself fall onto the mattress with a bounce as Gojo straddled him, hands already wandering over his waist. Gojo pressed and rubbed their bulges together, punching a groan out of Nanami, who breathlessly stuttered as he tried to speak again, but Gojo kissed him roughly, stealing his words. It was messy, desperate—a distraction from something neither of them wanted to name. Still, the nagging thought clawed at Nanami’s mind, like a splinter he couldn’t ignore.

“She didn’t tell me,” he muttered, barely audible between gasps, his hands trying to still Gojo’s ass. “Where she was going.”

Gojo paused for half a second, then scoffed, rolling his hips once more as though to smother the thought. “You think she tells me everything? Haha, funny. She always tells you, though.” His words slurred slightly, dismissive.

“That’s not true.” Nanami said while the table beside them jolted as Gojo pushed Nanami further into the mattress, the sharp clink of metal against marble cutting through the room like gunshot.

Making Nanami still instantly.

“What was that?” His voice was low, tight. The haze of lust and alcohol shattered like glass.

Gojo blinked, lifting his head lazily. “Probably your sanity leaving the room,” he muttered.

Nanami ignored him, leaning to the side and shoving the bedside table back with his foot, earning a low scraping sound as it moved. Gojo groaned, trying to tug him back down as he continued assaulting Nanami’s neck and now his shoulders, which peeked through his half-unbuttoned and completely untucked shirt with bites, but Nanami’s focus was elsewhere. He leaned down further, and the room fell silent to him.

There, half-hidden in the dust and shadows, lay a small, glinting band of gold.

Nanami’s fingers shook as he picked it up. The ring cold against his skin, familiar and damning all at once. He stared at it like it might burn him.

It was her ring.

“Satoru,” Nanami said quietly, grabbing Gojo’s jaw with one hand—who had been too busy biting his shoulder to notice—and turned him to face it. His voice was fraying at the edges as he held up the ring, its gleam sharp in the weak dawn light. “What’s this doing here?”

Gojo stared at it for too long. The color drained from his face, the drunken nonchalance slipping further with every second. “She probably took it off,” he said finally, though his voice cracked. He forced a smile that looked more like a grimace. “You know she gets eczema sometimes… itchy hands, right?”

The words hung in the air, hollow and pitiful. Gojo didn’t believe them any more than Nanami did.

Nanami shook his head slowly, his grip on the ring tightening as his knuckles turned white. “She always wears it when she’s on work trips,” he said, his voice hoarse, brittle. “She says it keeps creeps away.”

Gojo didn’t respond. He just stared, his wide eyes fixed on the small, damning band of gold as though it held all the answers to everything. Nanami didn’t wait for him. He shoved Gojo off and bolted from the room, his bare feet thudding against the floor as he grabbed his phone from his coat in the living room.

“Nanami, wait—” Gojo stumbled after him, still dazed, but Nanami was already swiping through his phone, his thumb moving in quick, frantic motions.

His heart sank.

Her last message to him—the last sign of her—was over six weeks ago.

Six weeks.

Six weeks, and he hadn’t noticed?

Gojo could have been an idiot, but he wasn’t, or so he had always thought.

The color drained from Gojo’s face as he stared at the screen while the realization spread through Nanami’s heart like poison. Without a word, Nanami reached over, his hand dipping into Gojo’s pants' front pocket to pull out his phone. Gojo let him, watching as Nanami unlocked it and scrolled through the messages.

The screen glowed with the same message. The same day. The last day they had heard from her. The day in the drawing room she had begged them to tell her if they loved her.

A chill settled into the room, sinking deep into their bones, heavy and unshakable. Nanami’s hand dropped to his side; the ring, along with the phones, slipped from his fingers and landed with a dull thud on the floor. The silence that followed was choking. Nanami turned to Gojo, his face blank, but his eyes were wide, wild with a horror he couldn’t contain.

Gojo stood frozen, his earlier bravado gone. He looked smaller somehow, his face pale and slack as the weight of what they’d done—what they’d lost—sank in.

“She’s gone,” Nanami whispered, the words barely audible, like a confession he couldn’t bear to say any louder.

“She’s not gone!” Gojo shot back immediately. He laughed—a hollow, desperate sound—as if the act of saying it would make it true. “As I said earlier, she’s probably just... just out. On a work trip. She’ll be back. She always comes back...”

But his voice trembled at the edges, and they both knew the truth now. The ring on the floor gleamed coldly, like evidence of everything they had destroyed—everything they couldn’t take back. Like a final goodbye neither of them had ever thought of.

//

The same night, after too many sleeping pills in your new home on the other side of the world, your vision blurred and your body felt like it was splitting apart; you opened your old phone to look at old pictures. After a few hours it buzzed, and against your better judgment, you looked.

Toru (DNR): “Where are you?”

The message sat there, glaring. Your heart dropped. Another followed seconds later.

Ken (DNR): “We messed up. We apologize. Please. Just tell us you’re okay.”

You threw the phone, your vision swimming in tears, your breath coming in short, jagged gasps. After more than six weeks of you leaving, more than six weeks of silence, after everything they had done, now they noticed? Now they cared?

It was too late. You had built walls around yourself now, high and impenetrable. The same walls you’d erected when you had realized, too late, that you weren’t loved—not the way you had been promised. They weren’t even the people you thought they were.

The city’s lights blinked outside your window, distant and indifferent, like the glow of a world that had moved on without you. Somewhere out there, they were searching for you, but you didn’t care anymore. You had traded the ghost of their love for the numbness of being alone in this foreign place.

//

Back in Japan

More days passed.

Their apartment remained frozen, a mausoleum of the life you had left behind. Your old laptop still sat neatly on your desk, untouched and gathering dust. The faint imprint of your body lingered on the couch cushions, as if you might walk in at any moment and collapse there, laughing about how long the work trip had been. But you never would. Not anymore.

Gojo filled the silence with noise. The television blared cartoons he wasn’t watching. Music thumped from his phone, but the songs ended too quickly, leaving the hollow quiet to seep back in like poison. He laughed too loud, talked too fast, his words tumbling out like he could outrun the ache blooming in his chest.

“She’s fine,” he’d say to no one. To Nanami. To himself. “She’s just being dramatic. She’ll come back when she’s ready, when her work is over. She always comes back...”

But at night, when Nanami wasn’t around, when the weight of it all pressed against him like an iron hand, Gojo sat in the dark, the only light spilling in through the half-open blinds. He would pull your favorite blanket off the back of the couch, holding it tightly to his chest. It used to smell like you—that soft, warm scent that made him feel like everything would be okay. It never actually did. He’d bury his face in the fabric anyway, clutching it so tightly his fingers ached, as if he could squeeze the memory of you out of it.

“Stupid blanket,” he whispered into the darkness, his voice cracking. “You were supposed to keep her here.”

The quiet answered him. It always did.

Nanami, on the other hand, threw himself into work. The apartment had become unbearable, the sight of your clothes hanging in the closet like a ghost driving him out into the cold. He buried himself in files, meetings and missions, anything to drown out the sound of your absence echoing through his skull. But no matter how hard he tried, you found him anyway.

It was in the middle of a crowded street crossing that he saw you. For a fleeting second, he froze, his breath catching painfully in his throat. A woman parked a convertible just ahead, her hair falling in the same way yours used to, her jacket a perfect match to the one you bought last winter. He pushed forward, shoving past commuters, his heart pounding like it might tear itself free from his chest.

“Honey,” he breathed when he reached her, only to stop dead when she turned. A stranger’s face stared back at him, startled and confused.

Nanami’s apology was soft, choked. He turned away quickly, gripping the strap of his grocery bag so tightly his knuckles blanched. His eyes burned, but he refused to let the tears fall.

Later, he found himself in your office, the door locked behind him, the room suffocatingly still. The desk was untouched, a fountain pen left on your favorite notebook where you had last placed it, its tip dried out. An old grocery list lay discarded by the mechanical keyboard. Nanami picked it up carefully, his thumb tracing over your handwriting, the curve of each letter searing into his mind.

Vitamins. Sticky Notes. Under-eye serum.

The list was mundane, ordinary, but his hands trembled as he held it. He could almost hear you muttering to yourself as you wrote it, pursing your lip in concentration. His vision blurred, and he sank into your desk chair, his free hand moving to his tie, removing it, then wrapping it around his knuckles, gripping it tightly. The silk bit into his fingers as he pulled, his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. The silence, the unbearable ache in his ribs—he tried to choke it all down, twisting the tie as though it could hold him together.

But it couldn’t.

He’d often do this now, lock himself in your home office, gripping his tie until his knuckles turned white, as if that could choke the guilt down.

Gojo found him there hours later, the list still crumpled in his hand, his head bowed as though in prayer. Neither of them spoke. Gojo didn’t laugh this time, didn’t tease. He just stood in the doorway, silent and pale, his eyes fixed on the man who had always been stronger than this—who now looked just as broken as Gojo felt.

One night, Nanami arrived home to find Gojo sitting on the floor, facing the wall, staring blankly ahead as though he could see through it. The light from the dim lamp cast faint shadows across his face, carving hollows beneath his eyes, which looked emptier than Nanami had ever seen them.

The silence in the room wrapping itself around Nanami’s throat as he shrugged off his coat. Gojo didn’t move, didn’t even blink, his hands limp in his lap, fingers twitching faintly as though they were searching for something to hold on to. Finally, he spoke, his voice hoarse, hollow—a broken whisper that felt like it had been ripped from somewhere deep inside him.

“I… I shouldn’t have isolated her that day.” He didn’t look at Nanami, his gaze still fixed on some distant point beyond the wall. “When… I didn’t think about what it would do to her.”

Nanami froze mid-step, eyes sharp as they fell on Gojo. For a moment, the only sound in the room was the faint hum of the city outside. Nanami’s expression hardened, though his voice, when he finally spoke, was quiet, cold, cutting.

“You think I don’t know that?” His hands curled into fists at his sides, nails digging into his palms. “I know, Gojo. I know exactly what we did to her. How we fucked up. How we forgot about her.”

The words hit Gojo, but he didn’t react. He just let them hang there, sinking into his chest like stones. His lips twitched, a ghost of a self-loathing smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Forgot about her…” he repeated softly.

Nanami didn’t answer. He couldn’t. His jaw tightened, his frustration simmering just beneath the surface, too raw to voice. He watched Gojo slump further, his knees drawing up slightly as though he were folding in on himself.

A few nights later, Gojo was sprawled on the couch with a drink in hand, the liquor doing little to numb the ache in his chest. He stared at the ceiling, thoughts racing, spiraling downward into a dark abyss.

“She’s not coming back, is she?” he whispered, the words barely escaping his lips, but they landed heavily in the room, a painful truth.

Nanami didn’t answer, but the guilt in his eyes spoke volumes, a silent acknowledgment of their shared failure.

The memory of you haunted every inch of their apartment. Gojo saw you in the pillow he clutched to his chest at night, pretending it still carried your scent. Nanami heard you in the faint creak of the floorboards as he walked past your office, his hands brushing the edge of the desk you used to sit at. They never said your name. It hurt too much.

“We thought we were protecting her,” Nanami said, voice a quiet rasp as he stared at the empty wall Gojo had been fixated on.

Gojo’s lips twitched faintly, a bitter mockery of a smile. “We thought wrong.”

Neither of them slept at nights. Gojo lay on his side, staring at the window with red-rimmed eyes, while Nanami lay on his back, staring at the ceiling, wearing your ring on one finger—he kept rolling it with his thumb absentmindedly. The silence between them was absolute, filled with everything they had left unsaid.

It was the silence you had lived in for far too long.

They called. They texted. They waited. The apartment stayed quiet. Your things stayed untouched. And the void you left behind grew deeper with every passing day.

//

Five months into your pregnancy, you lay sprawled on the bathroom floor, your body slick with sweat, fingers clawing at the cold tiles for stability. You’d slipped and fallen, your phone nowhere in sight, the apartment eerily quiet except for the harshness of your breath.You didn’t know how long you’d been there—minutes, hours, days—time had lost all meaning. Your stomach roiled violently, muscles clenched in spasms so sharp they stole the air from your lungs. It felt as though your insides were being shredded, your bones splintering and grinding, like they were trying to rearrange themselves to accommodate the impossible.

A guttural gasp tore from your throat as another wave of pain ripped through you. You pressed a trembling palm to your abdomen, feeling the unnatural shift beneath your skin. The twins moved—twisted and writhed in a way no baby should, their forceful movements pressing outward like they were fighting to escape or fighting for space, too strong, too demanding. Your skin stretched tight, painfully taut, burning with the strain of holding them in. It felt like something alive and wrong, something too strong for your fragile human body.

The veins beneath your skin bulged out, an intricate web of blue and purple crisscrossing your stomach like angry rivers about to burst. Your abdomen swelled grotesquely, the skin shiny and thin, and for one terrifying moment, you thought it might tear open entirely. The bones in your hips creaked audibly under the weight, the sound a grotesque whisper that echoed through the silent bathroom. Your spine screamed with every slight shift, vertebrae grinding against each other as though your body was folding into itself, trying to protect you from the inevitable.

Tears slid down your cheeks, hot and bitter, though you barely registered them. It wasn’t just the pain—God, the pain—but the isolation that cut the deepest. You had never felt so utterly alone, so abandoned. Not just by the city you didn’t belong to, but by them. By the men who were supposed to love you. Who should have been here. Your breaths came in short, harsh bursts, the sound bouncing off the tiles, sharp and hollow.

“We don’t need them,” you whispered, your voice shaking as you pressed harder against your stomach, trying to soothe the frantic movements. Your words cracked, brittle and weak. “We don’t.”

But your heart betrayed you, aching in your chest like a wound torn open anew. You could still see them if you closed your eyes—Gojo’s infectious grin, his arms around you as though he could hold the whole world together. Nanami’s steady, grounding presence, his quiet strength that had once made you feel safe. Loved. You bit your lip hard enough to taste blood, trying to swallow the sob clawing its way up your throat.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that they weren’t here, that they had left you alone to bear this. To bear them. Yet, in the silence of that bathroom, the darkness swallowing you whole, you realized you were lying to yourself. You missed them. You missed them so much it hurt.

You blamed it on your hormones, soothing your stomach. It was a miracle you hadn’t fallen in a way that could have hurt the babies. Just then, the twins moved again, a violent lurch that left you gasping, your body arching involuntarily as another jolt of pain seared through you. The sharp pressure pushed against your ribs, a sensation like tiny hands and feet pressing outward, testing the limits of your body. Your skin rippled faintly, the bulge of their movements visible beneath the surface.

You shuddered, your tears mixing with sweat as they dripped down onto the tile. What are you? You wanted to scream, but the words wouldn’t come. The horror of it—the body horror of carrying something so unnatural, so wrong—settled like a stone in your chest. You weren’t sure you could take it anymore.

“Mama will take care of you both,” you whispered shakily, trying to soothe yourself as much as them. Your hand rubbed slow, shaky circles over your stomach. It was the only comfort you had left—this fragile, strange connection. “Don’t worry. I’ve got you.”

And like always, the sensation of their movements softened at the sound of your voice. The pressure beneath your skin eased slightly, the frantic shifting slowing into restless, jerking flutters. It wasn’t much, but it gave you enough space to breathe, to push down the rising panic, to push forward. Your muscles trembled as you moved, dragging yourself toward the bathtub, one hand bracing against the toilet seat for balance. Your body protested, hips throbbing, spine sparking with pain, but you kept going.

“Just a little bit more movement,” you murmured to the twins, coaxing them as though they could hear you. “And Mama will be vertical again. Then we can have some dark chocolate… you know, the one you’ve been craving? The only one both Dadas used to love. We’ll watch…”

The words cut off abruptly as your foot slipped on the damp tile. You gasped, arms flailing, but your body betrayed you. The porcelain edge slamming into your head with a horrible thud.

For a moment, everything was soundless.

A hollow ringing filled your ears, the bathroom blurring around you as your vision dimmed at the edges. The pain in your skull throbbed in time with your heartbeat, sharp and unrelenting. You pressed your palms to your forehead, curling around yourself, trying to shield the twins from the impact.

“No, no, no,” you whimpered, your voice a cracked whisper.

The darkness pulled at you, threatening to drag you under, but you fought it, laying back down to press your forehead to the cold tile. Your breathing was ragged, uneven, your pulse hammering in your ears as you held onto the only thought that mattered.

They are okay.

Your hand pressed against your belly again, searching for the faint, familiar movements beneath your skin. For a horrifying moment, there was nothing. Then, faintly, you felt it—a small, restless flutter. Tears streamed down your cheeks, hot and silent, as you curled against the floor, the relief making your limbs weak.

“It’s okay,” you whispered brokenly, as much to yourself as to them. “It’s okay. Mama’s here. Mama’s okay. You will be okay.”

But even as you said it, the weight of everything—the pain, the isolation, the unnatural horror of what was happening to your body—threatened to swallow you whole.

“Hey! Are you okay?” A voice came from nowhere. Deep, rough, like it belonged to someone who had been waiting for this moment. 

You froze, immediately clutching your stomach as the babies shifted again, their movements sharp and jarring. Had they found you already? How could they have known? How could anyone have known? You looked around, panic seizing your chest. The pain from your fall still burned, but the thought of someone being so close made your stomach churn. You clutched your belly tighter, trying to protect them, protect yourself.

“Hey, I know you can hear me. Do you need me to call an ambulance?” The voice was insistent, but there was something else there, a knowing edge to it that sent a chill crawling down your spine.

You noticed that the voice was coming from the wall next to the tub.

“Who’s it?” You managed to ask, gathering what little courage you had left, trying to steady your shaking voice.

“Your neighbor,” the man’s voice said, his tone low, almost a growl. “I’ve seen you around. I think you’re pregnant, right? With twins?”

You blinked, trying to process what he had just said. How could he possibly know that? Your heart skipped a beat. How much did he know?

“How’d you know it’s twins?” you asked, your voice tight, filled with suspicion. This man seemed too aware, too knowledgeable.

“I’m a sorcerer too, like the men’s children you carry,” the man continued, his voice a low rumble that seemed to reverberate in your bones. “Just the one who deserted the hopeless crusade. And well, my technique allows me to sense things like this, but you don’t have to worry about me. I don’t partake in that world anymore. Haven’t in a really long time.”

His words sank in slowly, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to believe him. His explanation was coherent, his tone calm, almost reassuring. You were too exhausted, too delirious with pain to think clearly. It made sense in your sleep-deprived and pain-addled state.

“I... I can’t go to the hospital,” you whispered, your throat raw. “Could you just help me up?”

There was a pause, a shift in the air. “I’ll help you,” the man said, his voice now excited, or maybe happy, like he was suddenly hyperactive. “But I’ll have to break the door down to get in. I’ll fix it after, with a stronger lock.”

“Sure, no issues.” Beggars couldn’t be choosers. You didn’t have the strength to protest. You were already lost in the fog of exhaustion, pain, and confusion. He was here. He would help you.

Soon the sound of splintering wood echoed through your apartment, followed by the dull thud of heavy footsteps. Each step reverberated like a low drumbeat, slow and deliberate, growing closer until they stopped just outside the bathroom door. The handle turned once, then creaked open with an eerie calm. You felt a chill run through you, something more than the cold air from the cracked window. It wasn’t just the wind that made your skin crawl. There was something wrong about this man, something dangerous. But in your haze, you couldn’t put your finger on it.

You couldn’t even see him at first—your vision swam from the pain, your body sprawled awkwardly on the cold tile floor. The sharp edge of the sink bit into your side as you tried to sit upright, your other trembling hand pressed protectively against your stomach. The air shifted, heavier somehow, like something massive had entered the room. You forced yourself to look up, squinting through the haze.

He stood in the doorway, tall enough that he seemed to block out the light spilling in from the hall. He had to duck slightly to clear the frame, stepping inside with a confidence that bordered on insolence, like he owned the place. He was broad-shouldered, his form looming and imposing, dressed in a loose hoodie that made him look even larger. His face was partially obscured by shadows, but you caught glimpses of sharp, angular features—a jawline carved from stone and eyes, predatory and unreadable.

“Hey, the fall looks nasty.” He said as he crouched slowly, knees bending with a shift of worn jeans fabric as he brought himself down to your level. The movement was unsettlingly fluid for someone so massive. Especially since he was still looming over you like a giant.

Up close, you could see him better—his face was unnervingly smooth for a man who carried himself like he’d lived through hell. His hair was short and faintly disheveled, like he hadn’t cared enough to fix it. You couldn’t tell if he was young or old.

“Your sorcerer's brats…I can feel it. They’re… restless, aren’t they?” He said matter-of-factly, his gaze drifting pointedly to your swollen abdomen.

The words sent a shiver crawling down your spine, and you became hyperaware that you were only in a flimsy nightgown as you protectively clutched your stomach. “How do you know that?” you managed to croak out, your voice trembling.

He shrugged one massive shoulder. “It’s my hobby to know these things.” His tone was mocking, almost bored, but there was an undercurrent of something darker there, something that made your chest tighten. “And you’re in pain far too often, aren’t you?”

You glared at him, eyes narrowing. “You walk around noticing pregnant women?!!”

“No, the service is exclusive to you, princess.” He said, laughing, the sound so loud it was rumbling in your bones.

You flinched as he reached for you, his hand massive, calloused, and littered with faint scars.

“Don’t touch me,” you hissed instinctively, curling tighter around your stomach, but the effort sent a fresh wave of pain ripping through your abdomen. You gasped sharply, vision blurring at the edges again.

The man didn’t pull back, didn’t flinch at your outburst. Instead, he studied you with a quiet, unsettling patience, as though deciding something important. Finally, he exhaled, a sound like a low growl, and said, "Don’t make this any more difficult than it has to be."

Before you could protest, he scooped you up effortlessly, his arm sliding carefully beneath your knees and back like you weighed negative but also fragile. However, you stiffened, every muscle in your body tensing as he lifted you, the pressure in your abdomen worsening with the shift in gravity.

“Put me down,” you gritted out, struggling weakly against his hold, but he didn’t budge. The grip he had on you was far stronger than anything you could have fought.

“You’re stubborn,” he muttered, sounding vaguely amused again. “You can fight me later. For now, shut up and let me help you.”

Your head lolled against his chest, the fight draining from you as the pain surged again. Your breath came in short, shallow gasps, and your vision blurred further. You caught the faint scent of him—smoke, faintly metallic, and something almost feral, something wrong that made the hair on your arms stand on end. He didn’t smell like anyone you’d ever met before.

“Why are you helping me?” you murmured weakly, your voice barely above a whisper

His features softened at the question, and when he answered, his tone was quieter, but no less unsettling.

“Because someone should.”

The words lingered in the air, heavy with meaning you couldn’t unravel. You blinked up at him through half-lidded eyes, the edges of your consciousness starting to fray as exhaustion tugged at you. He didn’t look down, his gaze fixed ahead, his expression unreadable, but there was something about the way he held you—something deliberate, something protective—that made you believe him, if only for a moment.

The last thing you heard before you drifted into unconsciousness was the sound of his low, rumbling voice, almost to himself.

“You’re tougher than you look, princess.”

And then the darkness swallowed you whole as he lay you on your bed.

The next day you had woken up feeling human again, or as human as you could feel in your human vending machine state. You were cocooned in far warmer blankets that you didn’t own, surrounded by vitamins, pregnancy pain medications, and food in the fridge that you hadn’t ordered. The front door of your apartment was now reinforced, and by the kitchen counter, new keys were attached to a sticky note bearing a name. His name.

A/N: Feel like throwing your phone yet? Good. 🫠 That means I’ve done my job. Now, let’s talk about him. The towering enigma with predator energy who broke into your apartment like it’s a casual Tuesday and called you “princess.” (✿ ͡👁️ ᴗ ͡👁️) WHO IS HE?! Shadowy savior? Bored stalker? Gym bro with too much free time? Is this Toji’s long-lost cousin? Sukuna in a hoodie? Kashimo on his day off? Choso after therapy? Or someone even worse? 😱 Bonus points if you drop “Gakuganji” in the comments for chaos. (╯ ͡❛ ᴗ ͡❛)╯┻━┻ Team Nanami? Team Gojo? Team Mystery Hunk? Or Team ‘Let Reader Nap in Peace’? 🤔 Drop your loyalty, wildest theories, unhinged guesses, and thirst-fueled fan-castings below because this love story is messier than Gojo’s hair on a Monday. Next chapter: Yaga playing babysitter for two emotionally constipated men who need therapy, not bail money, and maybe why Reader deleted her socials. Until then, stop shaving your hoo-ha with someone else’s trimmers—Gojo would 100% snitch to HR. 💅 And if you’re not on the taglist yet, comment below to join the chaos. 😈

Next Chapter 3 - Corporate Warfare: Protocol The Circus of Two (Tumblr/Ao3)

All Works Masterlist

Tag-list = @lady-of-blossoms @stargirl-mayaa @dark-agate @tqd4455 @roscpctals99 @sxlfcxst @se-phi-roth

[narusasuart]

Nooo Gojo, you can't gift someone a stolen flower from their own flower shop!

... Nevermind, it worked.

See Geto's pretty flower shop under cut

[skillshutg]

If I had a dollar for every time two people (with a very suspicious relationship 🤨🏳️‍🌈) They have met or gotten along very well because they have ideas together, but, as time goes by, one of the two begins to have opposing ideas and they become enemies who have that he has to kill each other because (suspiciously) He is the only ones with the power to stop him, I would have 3 dollars, which is not much, but it is already a coincidence that three times have passed

[ivyvenus333]

satosugu fic rec list!!

16 fics, 20k - 260k words (ordered by word count), lots of slow burn and angst with happy endings:), all on a03!

✪ – stsg staples (if new, start here ;o) | ✵ – personal favs

+ blurring all the lines, you intoxicate me (flyingmonkiesattack)

"Or: Getou Suguru is married and doesn't believe in soulmates. But when he meets Gojo Satoru, he can't help but be enthralled by the man." (Soulmate-identifying Marks, Cheating, ANGST) wc: 20k / Complete

+ loved you first (flyingmonkiesattack)

“Satoru is used to being clingy with his best friend, draping himself all over Suguru at any and every opportunity. Suguru never seems to mind, giving back just as much as he takes. And then he gets a boyfriend, and Satoru’s world comes crashing down.” (Jealous Gojo Satoru, Getting Together, First Time) WC: 21k / Complete

+ ✵ i'll become your wound (ordinarymonsters)

“He would know this voice anywhere—the softness of it, the warmth. It curls around him, achingly familiar. It’s been ten years, but there are some things not even time can erase. He’s certain he would even recognize the smell of him. The air is thick with coffee beans and breaded pastries, but if it was all stripped to nothing, Satoru would know the slight spice and clean scent of Geto Suguru as well as he knows himself.” -Or, it’s been ten years, and this is how they fell apart—only to fall back together again." (Getting Together, Falling Apart, Second Chances) WC: 23k / Complete

+ ✵ me and my husband, we're doing better (interludewings)

“In which Satoru Gojo decides to adopt two children, only to discover that he accidentally married his ex-boyfriend, Suguru Geto, during a drunken episode just months before their breakup. Now, they find themselves living together, forced to maintain the facade of a loving couple. This leads to a series of petty tricks, cringe-worthy pet names, and the unexpected challenge of raising children together.” (Exes to Lovers, Fake Marriage, Family Fluff)  WC: 46k / Complete

+ crash course on intoxication (velourfantasy)

“There might not be any curse more twisted than love, but frequent alcoholism sure does come close. Gojo Satoru and Getou Suguru are in the prime of their lives. They share an apartment together at the same college, they're studying things they both like, and their best friendship is just as strong as ever. It's everything Gojo hoped for and more...until he walks in on his best friend getting laid at a party he forced him to attend. Or: Gojo realizes his feelings for Getou run much deeper than friendship, jam packed with alcohol-induced incidents and metaphors.”  (AU - College/University, Roommates, Unrequited Requited Love) WC: 48k / Incomplete (pray that we get an update soon.)

+ ✪ carry me home (valleykey)

“The boy shifts on his feet. “The year is two thousand and eighteen? Common Era?” Slowly, smile still plastic on his face, Suguru faces Satoru. This fucking dumbass. “Satoru,” he says, dangerous edge to his voice, “what did you do?” Satoru makes some bastardization of a sound, half between a laugh and a cough. “...Whoops?” “I,” Suguru grits, pinching two fingers together, “am this close to mass murder.” He’s joking. Probably.  ///OR: Shortly before Getō would have massacred a village, he and Gojō are thrust eleven years forward into a would-have-been future that Getō is conspicuously absent from.” (Time Travel Fix-It, Geto Suguru-centric, ft. mental spiraling) WC: 58k / Complete

+ ✪ 愛のある場所; river of light (that brings me to you) (cosmichorrour)

“A lesson in love is a lesson in swimming. Except for Suguru, it’s getting dropped into the deep end with the tide licking at his neck, no kickboard or life preserver keeping him afloat.  (Or: This is how Satoru finds the ocean.) (“in love with your best friend things + butterflies in the stomach things.”) WC: 67k / Complete

+ what's it worth to you? (FrozenChopsticks)

“Geto Suguru has done some wild shit for a dollar. He's worked crappy jobs, he's endured awful bosses, but this might be the craziest yet. How hard could it be to be a sugar baby for some pretty boy with a couple million followers online and enough money to run a small nation? Very hard, apparently. And it's not just Gojo's high-maintenance behavior that's hard on Suguru. (no pun intended) Neither man has done this before, but it's a good thing they are both experts at pretending like they know what they're doing. And accidentally falling for each other isn't exactly what they had in mind.” (SUGAR DADDY, Influencer Gojo Satoru, Graduate Student Geto Suguru, SMUTTY) WC: 86k / Complete (so angsty. so horny. FrozenChopsticks >>>)

+ ✪ little things to live for (LyricalPary)

“Suguru is ten years old when Gojo Satoru comes into his life. He's nineteen years old when Gojo Satoru becomes his life. (or, falling in love with his childhood best friend during their annual trip to Okinawa was never part of the plan).” (Growing Up Together, Summer Romance, Hurt/Comfort) WC: 101k / Complete

+ ✵✵✵ crimson supernova (serenadewave)

“"You don't know what you're talking about," Suguru says dismissively, his voice laced with quiet indifference and a hint of irritation. The deliberate clink of books and pens echoes in the stillness, a subtle reminder of the distance he’s putting between them. His gaze flickers toward Satoru. “And get off my desk.” Satoru’s lips curl into a smug smile as he rolls his tongue over the lollipop hanging lazily from his mouth. Unbothered, his eyes sparkle with mischief. "Or what, Professor?" OR: It started out as a game, just something for Satoru to pass the time in lectures so as not to go insane. Really, that's all it was. How the hell it managed to erupt and morph into this, Satoru has no idea.” (Professor Geto Suguru, College/University Satoru, Teacher-Student Relationship, both are adults, SLOW BURN) WC: 104k / Incomplete (THE slow burn of slow burn. I would genuinely sell my soul for this fic. the weekly updates keep me alive).

+ ✵ (when facing) the things we turn away from (Darkness747)

“Suguru had let it go too far with Satoru. But what else was he supposed to do when Satoru was right there, looking at him in the beautiful way he always looked at people? What else was he supposed to do when he could feel Satoru’s body heat from across the bed? Or when their hands accidentally brushed as they walked through the hallways at school? Suguru’s heart broke within him, reconstructing, swelling, bleeding, and breaking again each time Satoru’s eyes met his, looking at him in the beautiful way he really only looked at Suguru. Or (in a less poetic version): the coming-of-age American high school trope but it's Satosugu.” (AU - high school, ANGST, Teen Romance) WC: 109k / Complete

+ you left your mark (FrozenChopsticks)

“At 28, Gojo Satoru's got a whole lot of things going right. He's got a business he loves, co-workers who adore (read: tolerate) him, and a kid he looks after. To his mother however, there are a whole lot of things he's doing wrong. In a bid to assuage his mother's worries about her son staying single forever, he visits a matchmaker. What he expects is a fun time to laugh about later. What he gets is a run in with the man who loved him and left him eight years ago. Geto Suguru is a different man from the boy he grew up alongside and shared so many firsts with. Even if Suguru has been assigned to find Satoru his future wife, they both can't deny the tension that still simmers between them. And Satoru's going to do just about anything to get back the man he fumbled so long before…”  (Matchmaking, Second Chances, Tattoo Artist Gojo Satoru, Romantic Dramedy?) WC: 112k / Complete (Tattoo Artist Gojo Satoru. TATTOO ARTIST GOJO SATORU.)

+ for you, my life (TokyoBunny)

“A story where Gojo didn't- couldn't kill Suguru Geto that day and the windfall that came with his weakness in that moment.” (if gojo saved geto, And they fell in love, caretaking) WC: 136k / Complete

+ split (ohsocyanide)

““Speaking of,” Nanami said, possessing all the eloquence of someone who knew precisely how devastating words could be, “I heard you were getting a divorce.” "A separation," Gojo corrected him primly.” (Married Geto/Gojo, Parents Geto/Gojo, AU-Canon Divergence)  WC: 142k / Incomplete

+ see you through my eyes (svarozhich)

“Satoru Gojo is the pinnacle of strength and standing at the apex of the jujutsu world comes with a price paid in lonely hours and haunting memories. Not so long ago the now-empty spot beside him was occupied by someone capable of reaching out through Infinity and keeping up with his pace; another name worthy of standing equal to his. A best friend he killed with his own hands. The Night Parade of a Hundred Demons happened almost a year ago. Suguru Geto is supposed to be dead. -- “So what actually happens when in assumption the body dies, but turns out the soul does not?” A story about second chances.” (AU- Canon Divergence, Post-Shibuya, Fix–It of Sorts, Getting Together) WC: 231k / Complete

+ ✪ coanda effect (bunniehoney)

“The JJK motorsport AU based on Formula One.” (Childhood Friends to Enemies to Lovers, Driver Gojo, Team Principal Geto) WC: 262k / Complete (The woman, the myth, the legend herself. Basically invented satosugu.)

++ drop your fav fics in the comments below challenge, go!

[satorusnanamin]

SatoSugu Thoughts

Early mornings, Satoru will talk Sugu’s ear off when Suguru is still trying to wake up. He’s always wired up when the sun rises.

Late nights when Satoru is trying to sleep, Suguru will rattle his ear off by talking about random things because he has his energy at night.

[mitsimeow]

Hugs! 🌿

[gojosprettyprincess]

Jujutsu Kaisen + Twitter Links

A/n You need to be logged into twitter and have age-restriction content off to see the videos

Choso Kamo

Fucking you from behind

Pounding you in doggy

Waking you up by eating you

Fucking you till you squirt

Anal

Him when you ride him

Fingering you

Satoru Gojo

Choking you while fucking you

Slapping your ass while he pounds you from behind

Bouncing on his dick in his car

Recording a video for Suguru

Holding your hands while eating your pussy

Shutting you up

Toji Fushiguro

Slapping your ass from behind

He loves having you all filled up

Fucking your throat

Lifting you up and fucking you

How he eats pussy

Putting you in your place

[ramonathinks]

THE SEVEN DEADLY SINS — gojo, geto, toji, higuruma, nanami, choso, sukuna x reader ft brief kusakabe cameo

Summary: in order to become a full fledge succubus, you must have a meeting with the seven deadly sins in the underworld. but you weren't expecting a meeting like this.

Tags: (18+ MDNI), 8some(?)/gangbang/orgy, dirty talk, breeding, squirting, mention of a lot of kinks, anal play, fingering, handjobs, blowjobs/throat fucking, daddy kink, size kink, riding, cunnilingus, overstimulation, exhibitionism, slight impact play, orgasm control, nipple play, breath play, mutual masturbation, snowballing, praise, dumbification, degradation, dominance/submissiveness, cock warming, pet names, finger sucking, dacryphilia, hair pulling, ball stimulation, doggy, slight mlm scenes between Geto and Gojo ofc, full nelson, mating press, double penetration, anal fingering (female), etc.

tagging: @omgeto @screampied (also thank you bae for making the banner 😘🤞🏾) @hoshigray (thanks for beta reading babe!) @kingkonoha @kanekisfavoritegf

A/N: please for the love of god, don’t ask for no part 2. i think a lot of people underestimate how hard smut writing is and especially since this is an eightsome. THANK UUUU FOR 1.6k followers & for waiting as long as you did for this! (5.4k words)

“Well, there’s one last test you have to complete…” Yaga told you, his face was a bit flushed. “It’s rather — er — well… Actually, I’ll just send you to them so that they can explain it to you.” He did an awkward cough and escorted you to the elevator; where he clicked the illuminating number seven. “Just tell them you’re here for your last succubus test.” He gave you a thumbs up and let the doors close behind him.

“Okay, cause that wasn’t totally weird.” You muttered to yourself, watching the elevator’s number increase. Your heart hammering in your chest. You’d been training for this for the past two years, you couldn’t believe you had one last test.

When the door opened, your eyes widened. There were dark velvet color drapes that decorated the entrance of the room as you stepped off the elevator. Every step you took, you felt a deep sense of uneasiness erupt in the pits of your belly. “Hello?” You finally mustered up some courage to speak. “I’m here for the last part of my succubus exam!” You exclaimed, noticing the dimly lit lights above you creating an ominous yet sexual atmosphere around you. Your thighs trembled. 

“Come in, little lady.” A man’s voice said as a door warped in forth of your body and pushed itself open. “Shoes off.” The man said. Hesitantly, you walked inside and slipped off your shoes. Your eyes roamed across the room as you noticed how wide it was – a velvet carpet floor that was soft between your white colored toes. Bits of fog clouded your vision; you could make out bodies but not faces.

“Oh, she’s quite a looker.” Another voice says around you – wrapping around your body like a snake. 

You heard a snicker, “You’re right, and I could smell just how wet she is; that’s the best part. Can’t wait to eat her up.” You could practically hear this person lick their lips. 

“She doesn’t even know what she’s in for… innocent little slut.” Your knees trembled at that. The way these men were speaking had you hot all over, even the air felt different as you stepped forward.

You swallowed, “I can hear you–”

“Oh, believe me… we know.” This time, when this voice spoke, he raised his hand and the fog split down the middle before completely leaving. Then, you were able to truly see the men who sat in front of you, and your body ran cold.

Seven men, who you were able to recognize from the many lessons you had drilled into your brain from your classes. You gulped as most of them chuckle upon seeing your eyes finally take in just who you were looking at. The legends themselves.

The Seven Deadly Sins: Sukuna Ryomen — Pride, Kento Nanami —  Sloth, Suguru Geto — Gluttony, Satoru Gojo — Lust, Choso Kamo — Wrath, Toji Fushiguro — Greed and Higuruma Hiromi — Envy

You swallowed, “So — um— what’s exactly the final part of my exam? Do I have to…like… pretend this is Jeopardy and answer a bunch of questions?” You heard a small scoff. 

“No. This is more the showing part of your exam.” Sukuna told you, his eyes trained on you. “We need to see you score high marks in satisfaction. Do you understand?” 

You bite your lip; it was difficult understanding what he was saying and not be dripping wet. They were all so beautiful, your nipples prodding out of the thin layer of your dress. You’ve had sex before, but that was way before your genes had kicked it. Twenty-one, inexperienced and horny. Now, you’re older and had basically been celibate for two years (excluding your times of pure masturbation). You were convincing yourself this would be a challenge, and it was one that you were intrigued to take.

So, you slipped your dress down, standing out of it completely and stood stark-naked in front of their prying eyes. 

“Yeah, this is going to be fun.” Toji smirked, walking towards you with his unbuttoned pants low on his hips. “The thing about sex is,” he pressed his palms to your shoulders and lowered you down. “It’s degrading. So, I want you to sit here on your knees and to keep your mouth open while I feed you this dick, got that?” 

You nodded and opened your mouth. He was about eight inches and it looked heavy in the palm; he could barely fit it in one hand, so you wondered if it would fit down your throat. But as he put it in, you already knew your answer. He didn’t move, just stood still. It was something about him standing there with his hardening cock in your mouth that turned you on. “Suck,” he told you, and you did just that, like a good girl. Sucking around his cock with a wet mouth, pulling him out to tap his dick right on your tongue before tonguing at his slit. He hissed and pulled back before shoving it deep into your mouth, and your eyes rolled back.

Bubbling spit drips down to his balls and you squeeze them, taking him out of your mouth for a moment before trailing your tongue up and down his entire dick. Reaching his balls, you take one in your mouth and suck one then you trail your tongue back up to his tip. Spitting on his cock, you stroke him. “Damn, girl; you've been waiting for this, huh?” He grabs your head and focuses you to take the entire thing, his hips harshly thrusting in and out of your mouth.. You barely notice that someone’s behind you until they fondle your breast, and you jump a bit before relaxing. They kiss your shoulders and move up to your neck, making you shutter and moan around Toji’s cock. He groans above and snaps his hips against you, pulling you closer to his pelvis, “Fucking, mouth is killing me.” You suck harder when you feel a hand on your clit.

“Pussy’s so damn wet.” You can hear just how wet you are, and it’s embarrassing. The squelching noises fill your head and over makes your legs open more. “You like sucking his cock that bad? That you’re gettin’ this wet over it? Want my cock buried inside of you? Right here?” He taps your cunt and you groan, nodding your head and rocking your hips against his hand. “Can’t even speak with that mouth full and I can still hear you loud and clear, pretty girl.” 

You’re still sucking Toji’s cock, putting your hands on the floor to truly get more around him, pushing your head even deeper into his hips. Pulling him out of your mouth, you press hot kisses on his tip end then place him back on your tongue, now looking him in the eyes. You could tell he was close with his eyes shut and his head pulled back. He was throbbing on your tongue and his hips were moving faster; they swirled a bit before he shook with a deep orgasm. His hot cum rushing down your throat, and he moaned loud, “Ah–fuck, fuck.. fuck***!” You kept sucking, the fingers on your clit moved in achingly slow circles. And when Toji pulled you off his cock, they finally slipped inside. 

“Now gimme a kiss.” You did, with shaking hands and closed eyes. Sloppy and wet, drool dripping down the sides of your mouth before he pulled back and licked his lips. The fingers inside of your greedy pussy rubbed your insides, and you humped against them. 

“Keep going, please.” Your eyes were closed as you rode their fingers, unsure of who it was but knowing that it felt good. A thumb on your clit and kisses on your back before colder hands lifted your breast, kissing and biting them playfully. “Oooh, please.” 

He sucked, “You like that?” You whimpered out something even you couldn’t understand. Your body is simply a toy at that moment. His tongue moves over each nipple and makes delicate swirls around them. Finally, you open your eyes and see a bundle of long black hair – Suguru Geto, who sucks on your breast with his eyes closed and rubs at your other nipple with another. Arching your back into him more but also seeking comfort in the person behind you, who’s using their fingers to scissor your gooey insides. Briefly looking up, Geto pulls away from your breast and kisses the person behind you, only a small kiss but it makes you wetter regardless. 

“Kiss me again, made her little pussy clench.” He kisses him again and your wetness soaks his hand. 

“Satoru, you sure that was for her, not for you?” Geto chuckles, and you can feel a hardness pressing against your back. Geto moves back down to your breast when someone takes your hand and moves their cock inbetween. 

“Thought you were gonna let us have all the fun, Choso.” Gojo snickers behind you, curling his finger enough to make you moan aloud. You see a good amount of precum and your mouth suddenly feels dry. Taking your hand, you jerk him once and he already looks as if he’s going to cum. 

“Her hands are so soft. I..” He’s stammering. “Wait…Need to cum…” A small whimper leaves his lips and he uncontrollably jerks his hips up; fucking your hand. Applying a small bit of pressure to the tip, his eyes shut and he’s jumping back. Sticky wetness drips to the floor and he stands on shaky legs, his eyes pleading with you. Gojo rubs his fingers between your folds; keeping you in the palm of his hands as you play with the others.

“You wanna cum inside of me, hm?” The moment you utter that sentence he bends over, almost sobbing as he nods his head. Twisting your hand around Choso’s red leaky tip, you lick a trail up his frenulum. Winking at him you pull back and kiss Geto, swirling your tongue around in his mouth before Gojo pulls your face to kiss you. Moans take over the room while you roll your hips and move into Gojo’s fingers and Geto takes the opportunity to slip a nipple in his mouth and you try to ignore the feeling to focus on kissing. But you couldn’t focus, when you heard wet noises surrounding the room and you didn’t need to look up to know what it was; everyone was jerking off and it made your body scorching hot.

“Wait,” You whisper, close to Gojo’s mouth and gently pushing Geto’s head away from your breast, standing on trembling legs and walking to Choso. “Thought you wanted me, baby…” A flip switched, no longer at the whim of men. He’s speechless, just nodding his head and swallowing. 

He mutters a quiet, “I do, please…” He kneels, rubs up and down your legs and you place your foot right on top of his sticky boxers.

“Want me to step on it, baby?” Your voice is low and condescending, a smirk tugging on your lips.

He’s gnawing at the skin on his lips and his face is flushed. “Y-yeah?” Your smirk twists into an evil smile before your foot presses down on his leaking tip and his head leans back. His hips raise but you don’t move an inch. He’s whining and sweet small whimpers leave his lips as his hips thrash against your foot.

“Beg for it.” He can only whine, no words to be spoken as he humps your foot with breathy broken moans filled the room.

“Baby—” He’s looking up at you with dark eyes, his confidence shining through, just a bit. Smiling at him you bend your knees and put his cock between your dominant hand.

“Ready?” You ask and he nods. “Need you to speak up...” Hovering your dripping pussy over his upright cock, almost close to entering, slipping the head between your hot folds is what makes him speak up.

“Ye-yeah.” He gulps and pulls his lips to yours, kissing you. Your eyes roll back a bit and you swear you can see stars, sliding the tip of his cock at your aching slit, you both shiver before you finally let his cock slip inside. He makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat and his thighs clench under you. You pull back from him and salvia breaks apart, which he lips back up with an awkward smile. Putting weight on your knees, you bounced up and down on him, your tits on full display as they bounced with every move you made. The loud sounds of your pornographic moans filled the room along with the wetness noises of slapping skin; taking more of his cock inside of you each time you bounced down.

Turning your head, you look at Gojo and Geto and like a bee to honey they both rush over; Geto rubbing at your clit with a nipple in his mouth and Gojo kissing your lips, drinking your moans up. 

“I think im going to lose my mind, the way she’s riding me… oh fuck, im not going to last.” Choso hisses underneath you and grips your hips, trying to slow your pace. Slowly, he fucks into you, dragging his cock into your inner walls and feeling your pussy squeeze him in a tight hug. 

“You’re such a good boy Choso.” You lean down to kiss him as Gojo focuses on pressing kisses to your spine. Raising your hips and slamming back down you whisper in his ear, “Don’t you want to fill me up? Don’t you want to cum inside me all night like a good boy? Huh?” After that there was no more talking for a while as you fucked him, rolling your hips in circles and moaning in his ear. Choso’s body was wuthering trying to keep up with you; your pussy splattering out white cream as you kept a dangerous pace before his stomach caved in.

“Be gentle with me, please? Please baby or I’m—” he mouths out your name when he comes, thick ropes as his hips jerk, his eyes rolling back. He’s heaving loudly, digging his fingers into your hips as he comes down from his high as his body trembles. 

You barely get a minute to catch your breath before Geto and Gojo slaps their cock on your cheek with dark smiles. You open your mouth, knowing that both can’t fit inside but hoping that the tips can. Their cocks graze each other and you swallow around them. 

“Slutty mouth, taking both of us.” Geto whispers to himself as he shoves more inside, his hand on your head. You gag and they both groan with pleased looks on their faces, Choso’s cock twitches inside of you. 

“Choso, don’t you think you're being greedy? I wanna fuck her too…” Gojo whines, looking down at your puffy wet eyes as you choke more on their dicks; both of them throbbing on your tongue. Lifting your hips, a small pop is heard and bits of cum leak out of you. Looking down at Choso’s half hard cock you grin, he’s breathing so hard with hooded eyes.

“Can’t wait to play with that ass,” Geto tells you and your eyes widen a bit. Slipping their cocks out of your mouth, you take his balls into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks so tight around him that he pulls you off. 

Gojo is quick to turn your attention to him, he ignores Geto’s annoyed stare as he lifts you up. Turning you to the others, he holds your body for everyone to see. Your entire body was being stared at, pussy on full display — soaking wet with cum and your own slick— his cock hard and standing upright, teasing your clit. He grips your thighs and spreads them a bit wider, small strings from sticky folds breaking off as your pussy spreads. 

He enters you, fills you up and your toes curl. “Fucking tiny, aren’t you baby?” His cock angled perfectly at this position, slick running down your thighs as he fucking directly into you. He’s hitting a deep gooey spot inside of you making wetness come out of you in spurts, your moans making Gojo shiver above you. 

“Hold her still for a minute,” Geto whispers, face directly by your pussy, wetness shined on his face and you felt hot. He must’ve been there for a while. Licking up a long stripe from Gojo’s tight balls to his cock before he nuzzles his face into your cunt, pressing his tongue hard on your pulsing clit — your thighs shake when he pressed a small kiss there. He wraps his tongue against the bud and you jump a bit when Gojo does a small thrust, knocking you loose when he hits that spot again. Geto licks and swirls his tongue around before he moves back. “Just wanted a little taste…” He spits on your pussy and watches it slide down Gojo’s cock. “Looking fucking pretty with his cock inside of you, ya know that?”

You whine, barely able to talk at the sensation coming from your body. “Sloppy pussy making all that noise, hear that?” Geto urges you to listen to the plat wet noises that fill the room and once again, you feel something taking over you. 

“Are you gonna let me come inside too? Huh, my little treasure?” Gojo bites your neck playfully, thrusting deeper, a long moan leaving your mouth. You don’t remember Geto pulling himself to stand but when you feel his cock slap right to your clit, you jolt. Running your slick and his precum. 

“Let me stretch this pretty ass out, you think you can take both?” His face is flushed, his fingers circling your asshole before his thumb plays with it, you clench a bit before relaxing. “Oh? Already been played with.” He says, spitting on his hand and rubbing it in before he gently nudges his tip into your tight hole that’s stretching ready to take him. 

Almost too easily, it slips in and he huffs out a laugh, “So proud of you, I knew you could take it both of them.” He’s stretching you open and your eyes are blown wide.

“Ohhhh!” Leaves your mouth as they both thrust inside of you, both holes clenching and unclenching around them. “Ohh, god.” Messy sounds between the three of you and two bodies come to your sides, both placing your hands on their aching cocks. Your eyes are so heavy you can’t tell who they are , but your hands move up and down regardless with their hips meeting every thrust you give them. An unfamiliar hand on your clit makes your back arch and you can hear laughing above you. “Gojo.” Your voice slurs out, his cock coming close to your cervix and twitching inside of your tightness. 

Rough fingers circle your clit again and you gasp, “Please? Please?” You don’t know what you’re begging for until both Gojo and Geto do hard thrusts inside of you, making your thighs almost squeeze together.

“You like it here? Right here?” You can’t tell who’s speaking but Geto grinds his hips in circles, your bodies so close. The amount of wetness leaking out of you, makes you dizzy and now your tongue lolls out of your mouth before Geto kisses you hungrily massaging his tongue against your own, pulling back and spitting in your mouth, watching your throat swallow. 

“Oh you like being full huh? Fucking stuffed…” Your voice is lost, you can only nod with a fucked out smile on your face. “Really gonna fill you up, sweetheart.” The softness of your insides squeezes them both and you can see Geto’s eyes close and you can imagine that Gojo’s is too when Geto throws his head back and both of their cum gushes into you.

“Fuck— fuck,” They say together, both slipping out a bit, panting. Cum splatters out of both your holes as your pussy and ass flexes, you whimper when they both finally slip. Your hands are still jerking the two other cocks as Gojo holds you tightly before one of the men grip your hair and shoves his cock into your mouth, completely to the hilt and your eyes water. You look up to see Nanami’s blonde locks and his deep brown eyes looking at you, Toji’s rubbing big circles on your clit and now squeezing one nipple with his other hand and Higuruma’s cock pulsing between your other hand. 

“C'mon little love, pretty mouth needs to be soaked again, too.” You moan around him as he uses your throat, pulling you by your hair, groaning when he feels  you swallow around him. Your eyes flutter close as you suck with your, pulling him out so that his cock can sit on your face while you catch your breath. You can feel Gojo hand your body to Toji and you feel empty for a second not realizing that Toji’s leading you to a bed. 

He lays you flat on your back and Nanami moves between your thighs, bending over your body. 

“Some men like to see you touch yourself, I'm one of those men. Show me and I’ll reward you like the good little girl you are.” Nanami whispers right next to your ear. “Then I’ll help you, yeah? Would you like that?” You nod quickly and he moves back, sitting to watch. 

“Play with those pretty tits for daddy.” Your hands move faster than your brain and you reach for them, tugging at your nipples then squeezing them while you look at him. Your body is so overstimulated, you feel like you’re going to come any second. “Don’t come until I say so.” He reaches over to slap your clit and your thrash up, wanting him to touch you more. He slaps your pussy again and a wet stream follows down your ass before pulling again to just watch. 

You circle your nipples, looking at your breasts and tempted to reach down to please yourself. “Look at me… look at me while you touch yourself.” You whine and with eyes clouded with tears, you look at him. “Touch your pussy.” He looks directly at your pussy when it clenches around nothing but the air. 

You circle your clit but you ache for his fingers; they’re long and slender. Pressing deep into the bud with your middle and ring fingers, squishy gushing sounds while you work yourself up. Your fingers slipping inside briefly before you let out a frustrating sigh.

“Poor girl can’t even finger herself correctly, want daddy to show you?” You look up at him and he’s replaced your fingers with his and he’s curling them together, your legs quaking as his fingers fucks more squirt out of you. “Gotta get ‘em really deep to stretch this little cunt open.” He tells you, pushing against your g-spot a little, breathy moans leaving your mouth. Pulling his fingers out, he slips them into your mouth, twirling them around so that you can taste Gojo, Choso and yourself all on your tongue. “Your turn, put these fingers in deep.” He helps you put them in and curl them just like he did; he presses kisses to your lips and looks down at the puddle in the sheets. 

Your eyes roll back and you can’t breathe, he pulls back and looks at you. “You’re so pretty like this, you know that? Prettiest girl ever, just for me to see.” But it wasn’t just for him to see. You were putting on a show for all of them. Touching yourself and spreading your lips as their hungry eyes looked over your body.

He moves between your thighs and with a gentle tap to your clit, you both moan. You bite your lip, “Daddy, I—” He ignores you, pushing himself through your soaked and wet lips. He slides up against your slit and you shiver. He gives you a wide smile and kisses your lips; licking against your tongue, shushing you. Pushing forward, he moves your legs up so that your knees are pressed against your chest, once he enters you, cum leaks into the sheet. 

“This is what you want right? To be mine forever, to be ours forever? You don’t want to use your powers on anyone else… just me— just us?” He asks, pushing his cock deeper watching your face morn into a pleasureful expression. His cock has a curve in it and with the angle he has you in, you can feel every inch as he rams into you; fucking you while his cock fucks down and deep inside of your slutty cunt; his balls hitting the rim of your ass the harder he goes. 

Higuruma comes next to you and puts his cock in your mouth, not moving. Gathering spit in your mouth, you swirl your tongue around the head, teeth grazing him a bit and he seems to like it by the way he grips your hair. Choso stands on the other side of you and pushes your head his way, you let his hips thrust harshly and his balls slapping against your chin before Higuruma grabs your face and jerks off with your eyes on him; which Nanami doesn’t like. 

“Keep your eyes on me.” He grabs your face, his hips slamming against yours. “They can do whatever they want but when I'm inside of you, you keep your eyes on me.” That makes your eyes snap to his and even with the cocks in your face or in your mouth, your eyes are locked on his. His hips lose rhythm, stuffing you and he mutters a ‘fuck’, close to coming and you tighten your pussy to milk him dry. When he finally spills inside you get annoyed when you don’t cum. 

“Tell us you want it. Say how bad you need it.” Nanami says, a smirk engraved on his face.

“I… I want it, I need it.” His hands slide up and down your thighs.  “Please let me cum. It’s too much, I don’t think I can take it.” You needed to cum badly, pushing your hips up to his again. He slips out before slipping back inside and doing that over and over again before he slides in deeper, hitting that special spot inside of you harder than Gojo did and you cream around him. 

“Thank you, so—hah— so much, daddy.” Your pussy is flexing open and close as you stare at him, taking Choso’s cock back into your mouth then switching to Higuruma’s and suckling on the head. 

“Such good manners for a slut, don’t you think boys?” He says and you can hear the smiles on all of them as they agree and you feel giddy, almost satisfied. 

Higuruma moves from your mouth and hurries to your pussy, not saying anything as he spreads the lips before diving inside, his tongue licking up every bit of everyone before him and his nose nudging against your clit, you pushed his head deeper, grabbing his hair and grinding your hips so that he nose can hit every nerve in your clit. “Ohhh, sir, please just keep it right there.” Applying the pressure yourself and wiggling your hips, your legs stretched far and your brain turned to mush. “Gonna come, so hard.” You gasp before your legs cramp up slightly when you push him impossibly deeper. 

“How’s she taste?” Toji asks, looking at your face as you groan and squirm. 

“So fucking sweet…” he meets your eyes. “Better than anything I ever had. Don’t think anything could compare.” He nibbles on your clit. “It tastes better than heaven.” That was your breaking point and what made you break, cumming hard and squealing as you did. 

 Toji doesn’t care about you cumming as he digs his face in and sighs at the taste.

Using his fingers to spread you open. “I see what you mean Higuruma, this fucking sweet nectar on my tongue,” Toji uses more of his nose and your hips grind more, trying to feel more of his nose on your clit. 

Nanami’s cock is in your face and your head is upside down on the bed; head on the edge as you lie back and his cock fills up your throat, your eyes closed. He watches and feels you swallow around him and he mutters out a small, “Fuck, you’re killing me dollface,” when he can actually see himself, the outline of his cock inside of your pretty throat. He runs a finger up and down. He does a small squeeze to your throat as you suck, sloppily. But you wanted a bit more, the taste overwhelming your mouth making you move yourself to the edge of the bed, your nose on his pelvis and the small bush of his pelvic hair tickling your jaw. Even upside down, he could see the dazed look in your eyes, blown and bright as he slowly thrust his hips into your mouth. “There she is, there’s my girl.” 

You can hear Gojo laughing when he says, “She’s so far gone, all she knows is that she loves this. Little brain doesn’t work without a cock filling her up.” Agreements are heard all around and you feel so small, but Nanami rubs your head, scolding them with a stare. 

You can feel the presence of Sukuna before you see him; all touch around you disappearing before he bullies his cock inside of you, saying nothing. He just stares at you, your body humming as he rocks inside of you. “You like that? Gonna make a mess outta you.” He says, your mouth in a permanent ‘o’ shape, his heavy cock slamming down and filling your body up as the breath leaves your throat. “Dirty, filthy slut. Aren’t you, woman? All this cum inside of you and still want more, little pussy begging for it.” You clamp down on him and he hisses, still talking to you as he digs deeper inside of you – he probably has the thickest cock of them all, you can feel it in your throat. “You like being paraded around and fucked like a whore, like you’re nothing, you dirty little girl.” 

You’re nodding, gasping for air and nodding as he speaks down to you, getting wetter as he speaks to you. “Mhm. Yes, Oh– I do.” He has a devilish grin and he moves forward to bite your lip and then kisses you deep. 

“Just needed a real man to dig this pussy out the right way, yeah? To stretch you out. They weren’t doing it like me… c’mon, I know you’re close. So sensitive and wet for me. This fucking pussy’s crying for me,” And he was right, it was. It was weeping and with every stroke, more wetness covered his cock, dropping and splattering underneath you both. He licks the tears that fall from your face and asks you, “You like pleasing me? I can see it all over your face whenever I put my dick inside of you.” More tears fall and you can only nod your head at him, sobbing. 

His pace gets faster and more rough, bending your knees so that they touch your ears and your thighs shake move than they have today, thin milk colored cream mixed with wetness and so much overflowing cum leaks out of you but he doesn’t stop, just continues, slows down and then speeds up again. You can’t keep up with him, just lying there as he fucks you; small soft moans still leaving your lips. He coos at you, kissing your forehead. “Gonna fucking, cum inside my pussy, okay? This is my pussy.” He asserts his dominance over you and your body more than any of the others. With a strained moan, he fills you up; just another load inside of you that makes your eyes roll back and eventually they close. 

“Come back to us baby…” You hear murmurs around you, your body hot and flushed all over, your cunt and tits sore. your throat is scratchy. “I think she passed, right boys?” They chuckle and nod before Geto speaks again, “But, let’s try again to make sure she really gets it.”

Just then, the door opens and you can hear a shocked gasp, everyone looks in that direction. 

“Hey, Kusakbe, wanna train to be a sinner today?” Your legs shook and you huffed, looking up at the man who just entered. He smirked at your vulnerable form.

“Well…What the hell, yeah.” He unbuttoned his pants. “Ready for me, pretty?”

[vexonli]

In another life, I would make you stay.

[metranart]

Gojo and Geto are greedy lovers. “Is this not enough?” NO! They want more, they want EVERYTHING, a ring around your finger, their baby making your tummy round, you safe at home waiting for them, they want to be domesticated by you, they want you exclusively for themselves, they don’t want to share you with anyone.

You are theirs… that’s why they work for it with everything they have. Geto bends you over his desk while Gojo does so on his knees. Geto is insatiable and achingly tender while Gojo is possessive but insistently devoted. They have learned to work as a team. One kisses your neck while the other buries his face between your legs. One holds your trembling knees, spreading you wide, while the other licks, sucks and nibbles at your clit. One stretches your pussy while the other your ass, both filling you so goooood, both going out of their way to stuff you to the brim at every opportunity, they want you dripping in their gifted sorcerer cum… all in hope of getting you pregnant.

You are too independent, smart and strong. You don’t need them but you grant them your favor because you love them and they love you, but if you knew how intensely that love is ripping them apart, you might have suspected when your birth control pills started to taste like orange, maybe you wouldn’t be smiling as you let them fuck you in every place they have the chance, a lonely alley, in their office between classes, after and even during missions, in the morning, in the afternoon, at night, always letting them cum inside you,over and over and over and over again.

Confident of being able to control their insatiable nature, naive enough of not knowing that it was all part of their plan. Unable to see the immense and blissful expression on their faces when one morning they find you bent over the toilet, vomiting… Gojo and Geto hold hands to contain themselves, anticipation devours them, they can’t wait to see you grow round and heavy with their child inside your pretty belly… they grin like maniacs, one holds your hair while the other offers you a glass of water.

“You must have eaten something bad.” That calms you down, GOD! You are so adorably gullible, and now also… so hopelessly, THEIRS.

➡️ FULL NSFW ART of this drabble 🥴

[nanaslutt]

roommates!gojo & geto jerking each other off while thinking abt their cute neighbor they both want soooo bad

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ ࿔

“do it harder.” geto groaned, squeezing his eyes shut as he laid back against satoru’s pillows. said man currently had his hand wrapped around his cock, albeit poorly. his hand was soft as fuck, but he was touching him like he had never touched a dick before. “jerk me off how you jerk yourself off.”

gojo snorted, his words breathy as he spoke, “what if i like it soft?” geto shook his head and curled his toes when gojo wrapped his hand around him tighter. “these walls are thin, i’ve heard you having sex and i know you don’t like it soft. those poor girls.”

gojo laughed, “they love it, i think she would love it too.” he said. geto licked his lips, starting to paint an image in his head. “what would you do to her?” he asked tentatively, his eyebrows furrowing together when gojo focused on his cock head like the bastard he was.

“mmm i think id start with fingering her.” gojo said. “i’ve seen her a couple times in the laundry room bend over in those tiny shorts—you know the ones. and her-“ he stopped talking to groan when geto stroked over a particularly sensitive vein. “they don’t cover much.”

geto nodded, seeing you bent over in his head. “you think she’s sensitive?” geto asked, cracking his eyes open to peek at gojo. his eyes were lidded and focused on the hand around his cock. geto tried not to shy away when he felt his pre cum drip into his hand. he’d never jerked anyone off before—besides himself.

“oh yeah,” gojo responded, biting his plush lip. for some reason it made geto’s mouth water. “i think… fuck, i think i could make her squirt with just my fingers.” gojo’s face was getting flushed now. it made geto want to tease him. “yeah?” he asked, squeezing his hand tighter around his shaft and relishing in his reaction when he sucked in a breath through his teeth and arched his back. “would you make her squirt all over our couch?”

gojo moaned at his filthy words and nodded, his head tipping back against the headboard. “yeah.” geto nodded, looking at his roommate even though his eyes were closed. “what would you do if i walked in when you were making her cum?” he asked, paying attention to the head of his cock.

“i-id let you suck my fingers clean.” he groaned, making geto’s balls throb at the visual. “god, she’d probably get so hot… trying to press her thighs together watching me suck your fingers.” gojo nodded, his mouth falling open in a small O.

“would you want her pussy or her ass?” geto asked, his breath coming more quickly. “ass, i know it’s so tight and warm. god. would you want her at the same time?” geto nodded despite him being unable to see. “yeah, just think about how good she would look with tears down her face trying to take us both.”

suddenly, a hand way being wrapped around his wrist. geto opened his eyes fully and watched with rapt attention as gojo cursed before his back arched. he continued stroking him, despite knowing what was gonna happen. he cringed when hot ropes of cum spilled from his dick, coating his hand and his cock and making a lewd sound from the stroking.

gojo gripped geto’s wrist to stop him, and geto pulled it away and made a face at the mess on his hand. gojo also had stopped jerking him off, just weakly holding his throbbing cock. “that did it for you huh?” he teased. gojo laughed before removing his hand from geto’s cock.

gojo crawled off the edge of the bed and bent down to grab a towel to wipe his cock clean with. geto gripped his cock and languidly started stroking, waiting for gojo to help him get off. “your turn, one minute man. come keep this fantasy going so i can blow all over your hand and pretend it’s hers.”

a cruel smile twisted on gojo’s face before he dropped the towel and zipped his pants back up. “i’m sure you can finish yourself off.” getos mouth opened in disbelief. “if you need some help, i have porn from last night still up on my laptop, feel free to check it out. it’s really good stuff.” with a wink, he left geto gaping and alone in HIS room with his stiff cock in his hand.

fucking biiiitch.

[nanamineedstherapy]

Third Wheeling Your Own Marriage

F!Non-Sorceres 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.

Major Tags: Graphic Violence, SMUT—Minors DNI, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Polyamory, Founders and Executives, Gaming Industry, Canon-Divergence

Additional Tags: The Office-style Commentary, Crack Treated Seriously, Social Media Meltdown, Mendez Brothers Vibes, JJK Headcanons, Hurt Reader, Pregnancy Complications, Regretful Gojo and Nanami, Protective Yaga, Internet Sleuths, Domestic Chaos

Warnings: Emotional Abuse, Poly Relationship Drama, Unplanned Pregnancy, Medical Emergency, Canon-Typical Violence, Social Media Backlash, Emotional Distress, Slight Body Horror

A/N: Before you dive in, remember:

You iz kind. You iz smort. You iz a Bruce Wayne-level CEO who works harder than Gojo avoids accountability.

Your employees? Taken care of so well they’re bored—so bored that they are all unhinged.

You’re remote working this chapter because even god-tier CEOs deserve to peace out occasionally.

Alot of 4th wall breaking in this, but not fr.

This chapter was supposed to be a chill 5k words. Now it’s a 17k monster that eats vibes and spits out madness. Next chapter will probably be shorter. Probably.

Graphic John Wick-style violence & SMUT ahead. Not between the people you wanted (sorry not sorry), but it’s there. If you’re underage, go touch grass. Minors, DNI.

Square brackets are included if you wanna skip the smutty bits, but honestly, why would you?

Smut? Yes. Is it good? It’s only my second attempt, so please bear with me, mi lords and ladies.

Buckle up, ladies, because there’s only madness past the first flashback. Leave your brainz at the door, grab some snacks, and prepare to yell in the comments.

Previous Chapter 1: Home Is Just a Place You Leave (Tumblr/Ao3)

Previous Chapter 2: Collateral Void (Tumblr/Ao3)

Chapter 3 - Corporate Warfare: Protocol The Circus of Two

They thought they knew you—until the battlefield proved otherwise.

The day Gojo had had to kill Suguru, Gojo had run. The moment the deed was done—when Suguru’s body fell lifeless to the ground, his eyes still open in that final, silent understanding—something inside Gojo shattered. He didn’t think. He couldn’t. So after seeing his students off, his feet carried him to the only person who might understand the weight of what he’d done.

Nanami had been in Kyoto Tech at the time, finishing the mission log in the dim light of a conference room, when Gojo teleported outside. The door swung open without warning, Gojo’s figure a silhouette in the frame. He stood there, disheveled, his hair matted and sticking to his forehead. His blindfold was gone, revealing eyes that looked wrong—too bright, too sharp, and yet so utterly empty.

Nanami’s heart was racing, but he didn’t need to ask. The haunted look on Gojo’s face told him everything.

Gojo didn’t move at first, his shoulders trembling faintly as he stared at Nanami like he wasn’t sure if he was real. Then, without a word, he stepped inside, his footsteps slow, dragging like his legs could barely carry him. Nanami didn’t speak as Gojo stopped in front of him, his hands hanging at his sides, fingers twitching like he wanted to reach out but didn’t know how. The silence between them was thick, heavy with things unsaid.

Nanami caught it—the unspoken plea in Gojo’s eyes, the desperation he didn’t have the words for. It wasn’t a question. It wasn’t an ask. It was something raw, something broken, and Nanami understood.

He got up and stepped forward, closing the space between them, and pressed his lips against Gojo’s.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t tender. It was teeth and tongue and the kind of desperate hunger that tasted like grief, like anger, like trying to drown something that couldn’t be killed. Gojo’s hands finally moved, clutching at Nanami’s shirt, fisting the fabric so tightly it wrinkled beneath his grip. Nanami pushed him back, their bodies colliding with the table, their kisses bruising and violent. Gojo bit at Nanami’s jaw, his neck, dragging his lips down like he was trying to consume him, to pull him into the void that was swallowing him whole.

Nanami let him. He let Gojo take what he needed, even as his own guilt gnawed at him from the inside. He kissed Gojo back just as hard, his hands gripping at Gojo’s hair, his shoulders, as though anchoring him would somehow keep him from breaking apart. They didn’t speak. There was no need for words—words would have made it real.

[The table groaned under the force of their weight as Gojo pulled Nanami forward, their lips never breaking apart, breaths harsh and uneven. Gojo’s hands roamed over Nanami’s chest, clawing at his shirt until the buttons popped, exposing the pale, toned skin beneath. Nanami tilted his head back slightly, a ragged exhale escaping as Gojo’s mouth latched onto the curve of his collarbone, biting hard enough to draw blood—almost. Neither of them were a fan of giving up control, so the fight for dominance was inevitable.

And Nanami had never been passive. He pushed back with equal force, his hands sliding under Gojo’s shirt—sliding it off along with the rest of his clothes, nails raking against his skin. Gojo hissed, his body arching into the touch, but Nanami didn’t let up. He gripped Gojo’s hips, slamming him back against the conference table. The sound echoed through the dimly lit room, but neither of them flinched.

Nanami’s hands moved, pinning Gojo’s wrists above his head as his mouth descended again. Lips trailed down Gojo’s throat, brushing over the rapid pulse there. His teeth scraped lightly before biting down, leaving Gojo gasping, his head tipping back against the polished wood. Nanami’s tongue followed, soothing the sting, as though the pain and comfort were two halves of the same need.

Gojo’s hands twisted above his head, his defiance crumbling under the weight of Nanami’s control. Neither of them had ever been inclined to give up control, but Gojo needed this—needed someone else to take the reins, to silence the screaming guilt and grief that echoed inside him. And Nanami, for all his quiet guilt and simmering self-loathing, would give Gojo anything. His strength, his control, his very life, if it meant giving Gojo a moment of peace.

Every kiss, every bite, every desperate movement between them was laced with the raw edge of grief they couldn’t articulate. Gojo’s hands finally broke free, tangling in Nanami’s hair and pulling hard enough to make him hiss.

Nanami then grabbed Gojo’s thighs, hoisting him higher against the edge of the table with a strength that left Gojo momentarily stunned. Nanami’s lips crashed into his again, cutting off any retort, teeth nipping at Gojo’s bottom lip before sucking it into his mouth. Gojo groaned, his fingers tightening further in Nanami’s hair as Nanami’s hands dug into his thighs, keeping him pinned in place.

The fight for dominance was relentless, neither man willing to yield. Gojo clawed at Nanami’s shirtless back, leaving red welts in his wake, but Nanami didn’t falter. His weight shifted, one hand sliding up to grip Gojo’s jaw, forcing their gazes to lock. The intensity crackled like a live wire between them.

“Enough,” Nanami growled, his voice low but commanding. He didn’t wait for Gojo’s reaction. His next kiss was slower, deeper, taking control with a deliberate intensity that left Gojo breathless. The resistance in Gojo’s body faltered, his defiance softening as Nanami’s hands roamed lower, grounding him in the moment.

Nanami didn’t rush. His fingers traced the lines of Gojo’s chest, his touch firm but reverent, as though mapping every scar, every curve, every part of him that told a story. Gojo arched into the touch, his breath coming in sharp bursts as Nanami’s lips followed the path of his hands, marking him with bites and kisses.

Gojo gasped sharply as Nanami’s teeth grazed over the line of his Adonis belt, his back arching off the table. The tension in his body trembled, the lines between anger, desperation, and grief blurring into something visceral. Nanami’s eyes flicked up, meeting his gaze—dark and intent, grounding Gojo in the present even as his own thoughts warred with the past.

Nanami trailed his lips lower, marking every inch of Gojo’s exposed skin, while his hands traced a slow path down Gojo’s thighs. The sensation was maddening, Gojo’s chest heaving as he bit down on his bottom lip to stifle a groan. The restraint only made Nanami’s expression shift—something raw and predatory flashing in his eyes as he gripped Gojo’s waist, holding him steady.

“Let go,” Nanami murmured, his voice low and steady, almost scolding. His fingers wrapped around Gojo’s cock, stroking him with a maddening gentleness that made Gojo’s breath catch. Gojo shot him a glare, but it lacked its usual sharpness, replaced by a haze of frustration and need.

Nanami let go of his cock and dipped his fingers lower, wet with Gojo’s slick precum, trailing a path to his entrance. He circled the rim with deliberate ease, watching the way Gojo’s body tensed and tried to flinch away, only to be held firm by Nanami’s other arm pressing against his stomach. Gojo’s breathing turned heavier, his half-lidded gaze locking onto Nanami’s with something akin to defiance.

When Nanami finally pushed one finger inside, Gojo’s head fell back, a sharp gasp escaping his lips. The stretch was barely there, but the intimacy of it—the vulnerability—made his chest ache in a way that had nothing to do with the physical.

It was Nanami’s silence that struck him the hardest. The way he didn’t speak, didn’t fill the air with meaningless words, but instead focused on Gojo with a devotion so absolute it made his heart twist. Gojo closed his eyes, the memories of Suguru flashing unbidden. The look in his best friend’s eyes before he’d—

He couldn’t think about it. Not now.

Not with his husband. Not with Nanami. He didn’t deserve that.

Soon Nanami dipped another finger inside, drawing a loud groan from Gojo that echoed in the quiet room. Gojo’s hand shot up, grabbing Nanami’s collar and yanking him down, his lips crashing against Nanami’s in a bruising kiss. It wasn’t about dominance anymore—it was about escape. Gojo bit at Nanami’s lip, his nails dragging against his back as though trying to claw away the weight pressing down on his chest. Nanami dipped a third finger in.

Gojo squirmed, trying to crawl away from the overwhelming sensations building inside him, but Nanami wouldn’t let him run. He kept his arm firmly pressed over Gojo’s stomach, pinning him in place even as his fingers worked him open. The stretch was relentless, the deliberate pace leaving Gojo trembling, his body betraying him with every shiver of pleasure.

“Dammit, Kento,” Gojo hissed, his voice cracking as his head tipped back against the table. His pride was in tatters, but his need was stronger. “Please—” The word slipped out, not mocking like he intended but a whimper, and Gojo hated how much it revealed.

Nanami’s gaze darkened like he’d tasted a new kind of meat, his lips curling into something feral as he withdrew his fingers, leaving Gojo gasping at the sudden emptiness. He didn’t speak—he didn’t need to. He pressed the head of his cock against Gojo’s entrance, his hands gripping Gojo’s waist as he slowly pushed in.

Gojo’s breath hitched, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. The stretch burned, his body trembling as Nanami coaxed him through it with words—Gojo was too dazed to understand—with a touch so steady it made Gojo’s chest ache. His hands clawed at Nanami’s shoulders, pulling him closer until he was forcefully all the way in Gojo’s soul, his lips seeking Nanami’s in a desperate kiss, or was it his desperate need to connect with someone who’d understand?

A single tear came unbidden, hot and stinging, as Gojo clung to him. The memories of Suguru—of his smile, his voice, the way he’d always understood him without any explanations—flooded back, drowning Gojo in a wave of grief that threatened to choke him. “I didn’t want to do it. Why’d I have to do it, Kento,” he whispered, his voice barely audible, broken. Gojo wasn’t asking.

Nanami stilled, his forehead pressing against Gojo’s, his breath mingling with Gojo’s shallow gasps. He wiped away the single tear with his thumb, his touch gentle, reverent. “I know,” he murmured, his voice low and steady, a quiet absolution that Gojo didn’t think he deserved.

When Nanami began to move, it was slow, deliberate, every thrust measured to draw out the tension in Gojo’s body. Gojo gasped, his head tipping back as his legs wrapped tighter around Nanami’s waist. The pleasure was overwhelming, crashing over him in waves that blurred the line between pain and relief.

Nanami’s grip moved back onto Gojo’s waist, tightening, his movements becoming more deliberate, more focused. Gojo’s sobs turned into broken groans, his body trembling as Nanami pushed him past the edge, leaving him gasping and undone. But Nanami didn’t stop. He held Gojo together, anchoring him with every movement, every touch, every unspoken word.

Nanami moved with purpose, his thrusts deliberate and hard, his control unwavering. Gojo’s gasps turned into whines, his body trembling with the force of the pleasure building inside him. Nanami’s grip on his hips tightened, keeping him pinned as he pushed Gojo past the edge multiple times that night.

When Gojo finally shattered for what felt like the nth time that night, his mind became a static blur, reminiscent of an old TV, while his overstimulated body arched off the table. A choked cry escaped him as his hands clawed desperately at Nanami’s back. Moments later, Nanami followed suit, his control slipping away as he buried himself deep, pressing his forehead against Gojo’s.

They stayed tangled together, their breaths mingling in the heavy quiet. Gojo’s fingers traced idle patterns over Nanami’s back, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. Nanami’s arms wrapped tightly around him, his grip firm but steady, as though anchoring them both to something solid amidst the storm of their shared grief.

Neither of them spoke. The silence was deafening, filled with the weight of everything they couldn’t say. But for now, it was enough. ]

The cycle started that day.

Every time the silence grew too loud, every time the weight of what Gojo had done—what they had done—threatened to pull them under, they turned to each other. Which was almost every night. Their bodies collided in the dark, sometimes tangled in sheets that smelled faintly of you. Gojo whispered things Nanami didn’t understand, half-formed words lost between gasps and bitten-off groans. Nanami gripped Gojo’s waist, leaving marks that bloomed like bruises, as if hurting him could stop the ache in his own chest.

But no matter how many times they fucked, no matter how many times Gojo’s hands shook as he held Nanami’s face, whispering pleas like a prayer, it didn’t change anything. It didn’t bring Suguru back. It didn’t make Gojo whole. And it didn’t stop Nanami from feeling like a thief—like he had stolen Gojo from someone who should have mattered more.

It was as if they were locked in a silent agreement. Thus was their wretched loop of avoidance sex, a desperate attempt to connect while simultaneously avoiding the deeper issues that lay beneath the surface. Neither of them wanted to acknowledge Gojo’s depression stemming from killing Suguru, nor did they want to confront Nanami’s guilt for taking Gojo away from the dead man, a guilt that festered quietly in the background.

This unspoken tension ultimately led to the situation they found themselves in today. The woman they had both cared for was left out in the cold, cast aside as they spiraled deeper into their own emotional turmoil. In their minds, they had decided she wouldn’t understand—after all, she didn’t know Suguru, nor did she know the truth about Gojo’s actions that day. They feared that if she found out, she’d leave them; she wasn’t a sorceress and would think that their bond was built on betrayal rather than the complex web of grief and guilt that had ensnared them both. So, they kept her at arm's length, convinced that their silence was a form of protection, when in reality, it only deepened the chasm between them.

Now, Gojo paced the apartment like a caged animal, his sunglasses discarded, his eyes wild and frantic, his hair falling out of place. Every inch of the apartment had been turned over, every piece of furniture moved. The emptiness of it was suffocating.

“She didn’t just vanish,” Gojo muttered, pacing the kitchen with the kind of manic energy that only he could produce. His hands slammed down on the counter, sending a ripple through the glass of water he’d left there hours ago. “She’s somewhere, Kento.”

Nanami stood by the window, his back turned, his eyes locked on the skyline of the city. He looked tired, his tie loose around his neck, his posture broken in a way Gojo hadn’t seen before. “She left because of us,” Nanami said, his voice almost hollow, like the weight of the words had crushed him from the inside out.

Gojo stopped pacing, spinning to face him, the anger burning in his chest like a fire. “So what? We just let her go?!”

Nanami’s jaw clenched. He took a slow breath, as if fighting against the storm in his own chest. “No,” he said, his voice sharp, a crack of desperation. “We don’t just let her go.”

It was a quiet acknowledgment of everything they had broken, but neither of them knew how to fix it. Gojo’s frantic search was a result of the chaos inside him—he couldn’t sit still, couldn’t bear the silence of their shared space without her. Nanami, in contrast, withdrew, still retreating into himself as the guilt gnawed at him, the sense that he had lost something he couldn’t ever get back.

Gojo threw himself into the search, combing every bar, every café, and every corner of Tokyo. Nanami’s focus turned inward, poring over old texts, receipts, anything that could give them a hint of where she might be. Days turned into weeks.

“She’s too smart. She doesn’t want to be found,” Nanami admitted one night, rolling the whiskey glass on his forehead for its cold, staring at the fire. His voice was thick with guilt and self-loathing. His words hung heavy in the air, like the weight of an irreversible decision.

“I don’t care,” Gojo snapped, throwing his glass into the fire, making it explode as the alcohol burned. The desperation leaked through. “We owe her that much.”

The next day, with his arms out of his coat sleeves, as it billowed behind him like a cape, Gojo stormed through the glass doors of your office building in Shibuya, Japan—you no longer operated from, but they didn’t know that—with Nanami, whose presence was no less menacing. The hum of low conversations died instantly. The receptionists froze at the sight of them, barreling in like a hurricane. Nanami opted for dark blue, while Gojo wore black formal attire, both pairing their outfits with white shirts to blend in.

“We’re here to see her,” Gojo declared, his voice booming across the expansive space. His crystalline eyes, unshielded and glinting dangerously. His smile, sharp and humorless, made the newly hired receptionist visibly flinch.

The young man behind the desk stammered, his hands trembling as he tried to maintain professionalism. “S-sorry, sir. Who exactly are you looking for?”

Gojo leaned down, planting both hands on the counter. His height, broad shoulders, and intensity loomed over the receptionist like a storm cloud. “Your CEO,” he said, his voice dropping an octave. “We’re here for her. Where is she?”

Before the poor receptionist could crumble entirely, Nanami stepped in. His tone calm, polite even, but carrying a razor-sharp edge. “The founder of this company,” he clarified. “You know exactly who we’re talking about. We need to see her. Now.”

The receptionist swallowed hard. “Sirs, please allow me to check. Till then, please have a seat, and we’ll send someone over with desserts.”

Nanami sighed, but it wasn’t of relief but of poorly suppressed anger. “We’re not here for dessert.”

Gojo turned to him, eyes wide with fake betrayal. “Nanamin, I’m trying to mourn our wife running away, and you want me to not have dessert at her company?” He was indirectly taunting the receptionist who had gotten the response to his question on the Slack channel as he eyed the computer screen conspicuously.

A voice from the crowd mutters, “He’s married?”

Another voice whispers back, “To our CEO. Both of them.”

The first voice gasps. “No wonder she ran away.”

Your poly marriage was not public information given your private nature; only the employees who’d been around for a while knew.

Glancing over his shoulder as if praying for backup, the receptionist stuttered. “S-sirs, I… I don’t have the clearance to schedule a meeting with the founder. You’ll need to leave—”

Gojo straightened, laughing sharply. “That’s adorable,” he sneered. “She’s not answering my calls. She hasn’t answered for weeks. I’m not an idiot—someone in this office knows where she is.”

The receptionist’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. Before he could muster a response, Gojo shoved his phone back in his pocket and turned on his heel, stalking towards the elevators. “Fine. I’ll find her damn office myself.”

“Gojo,” Nanami barked, making Gojo freeze mid-step, his smile sharpening into something more feral.

“Don’t make a scene,” Nanami said, his tone carrying the weight of an order. “She won’t like it.”

“A scene?” Gojo turned back, his smile widening in mock offense. “Me? Never.”

Before the tension could escalate further, the sharp sound of heels clicking against marble echoed through the lobby. The employees instinctively parted, revealing the Chief Human Resource Officer (CHRO). Tall, poised, and impeccably suited, she approached with an air of authority that demanded respect.

“Gentlemen,” she said, gaze flicking between them with thinly veiled disdain. “You’re causing a disruption.”

Gojo turned to her with his signature you-will-give-me-whatever-I-want smirk, though desperation simmered beneath the surface. “Perfect timing. Maybe you can help us. We’re looking for your CEO. She’s my—”

“I’m aware of who she is to you,” the CHRO cut in sharply, her voice laced. “And I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to discuss her whereabouts.”

Nanami stepped forward, his calm exterior cracking slightly. “She hasn’t responded to our calls. She could be in danger—”

“Your phantom concerns are your problem, not ours,” the CHRO interrupted, her tone scathing. “Your personal issues have no place here. She has made it very clear that she does not want to be contacted by either of you.”

Gojo faltered, his fists curling at his sides. “She wouldn’t say that. Not about us.”

“She did. Explicitly. And I have it documented.” The CHRO’s tone was measured but unyielding, her gaze sharp. “Do you really think her treatment went unnoticed? That no one here saw what was happening? She may not have voiced it, but anyone who worked with her could see the signs. Employees observed your social media overflowing with pictures of you and your husband for months, while her accounts went silent.

"Do you have any idea how damaging that is to the reputation of a CEO of her stature? She’s not just another executive—she’s the head of a global gaming powerhouse, a company on par with Nvidia in scale and influence. Meanwhile, you two are private individuals with no significant public following. Thankfully, her low profile on social media prevented this from spiraling into a major PR crisis. Otherwise, the company’s image could’ve suffered irreparably.

"And let me remind you—I cautioned her against this marriage. I warned her about the potential risks. I take no pride, but unfortunately, it’s clear now that I was right.”

Her words carried the weight of her authority, cutting through any defense they might have offered. Gojo’s jaw tightened, and Nanami stood motionless, his expression unreadable but his posture rigid.

Around them, murmurs began to spread. Employees exchanged knowing looks, their disapproval evident in the sharp, critical glances they directed toward the pair.

It seemed they were the only ones who didn’t notice anything until it was too late.

The DM HR whispered, “I knew those two were bad news; who the fuck is naturally blond and platinum blond in Japan?!”

The senior executive who knew too much whispered back, "Right!!… I always kinda knew something was off. She’d come in wearing sunglasses, looking like she hadn’t slept. Meanwhile, the blonde one’s voice notes were so passive-aggressive I got secondhand anxiety. It’s giving ‘marriage is a scam.’"

The junior game tester joined in, "I don’t know what they did, but I do know this: if you marry someone who wears a suit every day and doesn’t look at memes while the other one only looks at memes, it’s over for you. Trust me."

The art director sighed, "She’s in some other country sipping a margarita while these two out here embarrassing themselves. Goals, honestly."

The barista chimed in as well, "Okay, so we’re all pretending not to simp for the blond one, right? Cool. Cool. But also... is he single now? Asking for research purposes."

There was a collective groan of, “No, Linda, they are both red flags!”

“It’s not what you think,” Gojo started, his voice dangerously low.

“Isn’t it?” The CHRO’s crimson lips curled faintly. “I will not assist you in locating her. Nor will anyone else in this building.” With a swift motion, she turned on her heel, her voice carrying as she continued walking. “I am running late for a meeting. Kindly ensure they are escorted out.”

Nanami exhaled sharply as she left the building, getting in her car, leaving an unsettling silence in her wake. He closed his eyes for a brief moment. Gojo’s shoulders tensed, his six eyes snapping toward one of your old assistants.

“Mr. Gojo, Mr. Nanami,” the assistant said, approaching them with a clipped, professional demeanor—tall, wiry, and clearly regretting his life choices, his jaw tight with tension. “You’ve already been told that Madam does not wish to be contacted. Please leave before this becomes… unpleasant.”

Nanami exhaled sharply, lowering his head momentarily before meeting Gojo’s gaze. “Satoru. Time to go feral.”

Gojo grinned wide like a mad dog just unleashed to spread his rabies further, like a predator released from its cage with a single command, his eyes burning with excitement. He cracked his knuckles, his energy palpable. His voice was calm but laced with a chilling menace. “Oh, we’re well beyond unpleasant.”

Without another word, he moved with blinding speed, a blur that left the assistant frozen in shock. In an instant, Gojo was on him, seizing the assistant by the lapels and slamming him against the nearest wall. The impact echoed through the building, rattling the artwork and leaving a spiderweb crack in the marble.

The memory of last night’s meticulous planning surfaced in Nanami’s mind. They’d known this wouldn’t be a simple task. Your company wasn’t just a tech giant—it was a fortress, a gaming empire rivaling the likes of Amazon and Apple combined. Its headquarters was an impenetrable monolith, a testament to the power and influence you wielded. But the real challenge wasn’t the walls or the tech—it was the people.

The staff here were loyal to a fault, not just because of contracts or NDAs, but because you were a CEO unlike any other. Benevolent, visionary, and fiercely protective of your employees, you had built a culture of unwavering trust and admiration. The perks alone were legendary: comprehensive health coverage that extended to employees’ families, generous vacation policies, and an unheard-of pension plan that not only matched inflation rates but exceeded them. Even retirees were treated like royalty, their benefits growing year after year. You had created an environment where people didn’t just work; they thrived. No wonder they’d fight tooth and nail to protect you.

Nanami had pointed this out last night. “They’ll never betray her. Not willingly. We’ll have to be... persuasive. And tech companies also keep task forces on a leash. We’ll need to be prepared for more than just resistance.”

Gojo had smirked then, the same smirk he wore now. “Persuasion’s my specialty.”

“Where is she?” Gojo was currently growling, crouching down and pulling the assistant’s collar tight, his crystalline eyes glinting with something unhinged.

“I’m not telling you anything,” the assistant spat, trying to maintain a semblance of dignity. It lasted all of two seconds before Gojo’s fist connected with his jaw, sending him sprawling onto the floor with a strangled cough.

“Should… should we call someone?” A voice whispered behind the reception desk.

“What do you think I’m doing?! I’m hiding!” A voice whisper-yelled back.

Across the room, a lead sound designer—stocky, sweat beading on his forehead—had been inching toward the emergency security button. Nanami calmly appeared behind him, like he was Dumbledore and the lead sound designer was Harry Potter putting his name in the Goblet of Fire. His hand shot out, grabbing the man’s wrist before it could reach the button. The lead sound designer yelped as Nanami twisted his arm behind his back, his voice low and terrifyingly calm.

“I wouldn’t,” Nanami murmured, bending low to speak in his ear, his tone smooth, almost polite. “You won’t like where this ends.”

The lead sound designer struggled, his free hand flailing as Nanami yanked him forward and sent him crashing face-first into a coffee table. Sending papers exploding into the air like confetti.

“Holy shit,” a gameplay engineer whispered from under a coffee table. “Did he just suplex Salaryman Kenjiro Tsuda?”

“Kenjiro Tsuda’s dead. He’s gone. He’s not getting back up.” A UI/UX designer shot back, whimpering behind the couch nearby.

“I just wanted to finish my latte...” Their project manager nearly cried behind the large vase.

“You’re wasting our time,” Nanami said coldly, adjusting his coat as though nothing had happened.

Gojo then moved again with his inhuman speed and dragged the your assistant toward the center of the room, tossing him into a coffee table like a rag doll.

“You still haven’t answered his question. Tell us what you know, or we’ll continue this conversation elsewhere you won’t like,” Nanami said, his voice calm but cold as he stepped over the downed lead sound designer and turned back to the assistant. The man was crumpled, his face pale as he clutched his ribs.

“Talk,” Gojo snarled, his foot pressing down on the man’s chest.

“She’s gone,” he gasped finally, his voice shaking. “She left the country. She’s never coming back. I swear, that’s all I know.”

“Never coming back?” he repeated softly, almost to himself. “You’re lying,” Gojo said, his grin widening into something almost feral. He reached down, grabbing the man by the collar again, ready to strike.

“No! I swear! She said she’ll never come back, and she doesn’t even hold video calls for daily sprints anymore, so we have no idea where she is. Last I talked to her, she was feeling cold, but it’s December; every place is cold.” The assistant garbled out, not risking getting his face destroyed further.

The admission landed like a death knell. Gojo’s smirk faltered, Nanami’s expression darkening.

The employees who hadn’t fled watched from behind ferns and corners, their faces pale with a mixture of fear and morbid fascination. A public relations manager whispered to another, “This is like that time in marketing when Cathy somehow exploded the printer, but… worse.”

“Way worse,” the marketing director whispered back.

The sharp clang of boots against marble rang out like a countdown, each step reverberating through the tension-filled lobby. The security guards fanned out, their polished batons glinting as they moved to encircle the two men.

Gojo stood in the center of it all, a smile curling his lips—a sharp, dangerous thing that didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m not leaving until someone tells me where she is,” he said, his voice low, almost guttural, a barely contained growl.

The guards exchanged uneasy glances, their hesitation palpable. But their leader, a gruff man with a scar bisecting his forehead, barked, “Take them down!”

Nanami winked at Gojo, “Remember, they’re just the warm-up.” Making him momentarily stunned but regaining his composure quickly, Gojo moved first, a blur of motion that defied logic. The first guard swung his baton, aiming for his ribs, but Gojo sidestepped effortlessly, his body twisting like liquid. His knee shot up, driving into the guard’s gut with a loud thud. The man folded, wheezing, and Gojo didn’t miss a beat—he grabbed the guard by the collar and flung him into another like bowling pins.

“Did he just yeet Security Steve?” a junior designer whispered from behind a potted plant.

“Steve’s out,” murmured another, sipping a coffee she’d swiped from the break room. “We’re down to eleven if the others don’t come soon.”

Nanami moved with cold eyes. A guard lunged at him, baton raised, but Nanami caught his wrist mid-swing. His grip tightened, the muscles in his forearm flexing as he twisted sharply. The guard yelped, his baton clattering to the floor, and Nanami didn’t hesitate. He pulled the man forward, slamming his elbow into the guard’s jaw with a brutal accuracy that left the man crumpled.

“Jesus Christ, did he just disarm a guy with his bare hands?” a lead artist whispered from behind a pillar.

“He did the 12-to-6 elbow; that move is banned in MMA for a reason. That’s not disarming; that’s un-aliving,” came the shaky reply by a lead writer.

More guards poured in, the clash of bodies and batons filling the air. Gojo’s movements remained fluid, playful, but his grin twisted darker. He ducked under a swing, countering with a quick jab to the guard’s armpit, his knuckles connecting with a force that echoed like a gunshot.

“God, why is he so hot?” a QA automation engineer whispered from behind a pillar.

“He’s literally committing felonies right now, Karen.” Her trainer reprimanded, hiding behind her.

“You are not being very inclusive right now,” Karen shot back.

Nanami was fighting like a machine, his strikes calculated and devastating. Another guard came at him, swinging wildly, but Nanami sidestepped, his body language calm, bored. He caught the man’s shoulder, driving his knee into the guard’s sternum with a force that left him gasping.

“He’s like… Scandinavian Batman,” an AI programmer whispered reverently from behind the aquarium.

“Except, you know, without the no-kill rule,” came the dry reply from a senior gameplay engineer, beneath the coffee table next to the aquarium.

“Hey! Note that down! We’ll use it for the Viking action-adventure game we need to pitch next week. Fuckers at Rockstar can suck it!!” A game director yelled at her junior character designer from behind a cactus.

The atmosphere shifted abruptly when the Special Response Team arrived. 

“Is that the SWAT team?” a social media manager hissed, peeking out from behind a fern.

“Girl, that’s not SWAT. That’s Jason Bourne’s cousins.” The office manager retorted, adjusting her glasses to get a better look.

 The exhausted HR assistant sighed, "I told my manager we should’ve installed metal detectors at the entrance. Now look—half the lobby is wrecked, the marble’s cracked, and we’re out of espresso pods. This is literally the apocalypse."

These weren’t the standard-issue security guards with clipboards and walkie-talkies. No, these were professionals—ex-military operatives handpicked for their ability to handle high-stakes breaches and hostile intrusions. Clad in sleek tactical gear that screamed government contractor, they moved with precision, their boots hitting the marble floor in perfect synchrony. Each carried state-of-the-art equipment, from compact but lethal rifles to augmented-reality visors that displayed a live feed of the situation.

Tech companies don’t just build empires—they defend them like kingdoms. These teams are the unsung sentinels of corporate fortresses, trained to neutralize everything from industrial spies to unhinged fanatics who believe their favorite game updates were divine messages.

The lead operative raised a gloved fist, halting the team’s synchronized march. Without a word, they fanned out, forming a perimeter around Gojo and Nanami. The room filled with the muted hum of high-tech visors scanning every inch of the space.

“They’ve got earpieces and custom boots, so hunky!” a compliance officer whispered from behind a couch.

“They’re like the Navy SEALs of HR.” A graphics programmer whispered back.

“Finally,” Gojo muttered, rolling his shoulders as though shaking off the boredom of waiting. “Took you long enough. I was starting to think you guys got lost in the parking lot.” In truth, it had been barely eleven minutes since the CHRO had walked off.

The operatives ignored the jab. Their leader barked a command, and in perfect unison, weapons were raised, laser sights painting the room in jagged streaks of red.

Nanami sighed, adjusting his tie. “You could at least pretend to take this seriously.”

Gojo tilted his head, mock offended. “I am serious. Look at me.” He gestured at his perfectly tailored coat. “I dressed for the occasion.”

Nanami’s eyes flicked to the nearest fire alarm. With a flick of his wrist, he sent his sleek metal pen—one of those metal executive ones—straight into the fire alarm. The glass shattered, and a shrill, ear-piercing alarm filled the room. Water cascaded over the operatives, drenching their tactical gear. They hesitated—just for a second—but it was enough.

“Really?” Gojo smirked. “You couldn’t just use a smoke bomb?”

Nanami remained unbothered. “Subtlety isn’t your style, and I wasn’t about to bring explosives into her building.”

Then, without another word, they quickly but smoothly shrugged off their coats. Nanami folded his neatly before setting it on a chair, while Gojo chucked his haphazardly onto the floor. Rolling up their shirt sleeves with a synchronized efficiency, Nanami tugged his tie free, wrapping it around his right palm. He spared a glance at the advancing operatives. “Remember, we planned for this.”

“Oh, I remember.” Gojo’s voice was low, dangerous, and filled with anticipation. He cracked his neck as he finished rolling his sleeves.

The operatives regrouped, their leader barking, “Engage! Fire at will!”

But it was already too late.

Nanami was on the first operative before the man could steady his aim. He caught the barrel of the Glock 19 mid-raise, twisting it free and disarming him in one fluid motion. The weapon clattered to the floor as Nanami’s elbow connected with the man’s temple, dropping him like a stone.

Gojo, meanwhile, launched himself at six operatives with reckless glee. His movements were a chaotic masterpiece—dodging, weaving, and landing bone-shattering blows. A Sig Sauer P320 was aimed at him, but he ducked beneath it with an almost lazy smirk, countering with a spinning kick that sent the shooter flying.

An operative tried to flank him, but Gojo grabbed the man’s wrist mid-swing, twisting it until the Beretta 92FS fell from his grip. “Nice try,” he quipped, slamming the man into a nearby coffee table with enough force to shatter.

“He fights like he’s straight out of The Matrix,” an IT support specialist whispered, her voice barely audible over the fight.

An overworked developer muttered from behind a snack bar, “You know what? If my ex showed up here demanding answers, I’d just fake my death. But hey, I guess being a genius CEO means you attract unhinged hot guys who can fight security guards like it’s Mortal Kombat.”

Gojo turned back to Nanami as he ducked another swing. “You know, this is way more fun than that yappy meeting with the higher-ups we skipped.”

Nanami calmly dropped another operative with a swift kick to the tailbone. “You might be right.”

“Always,” Gojo dodged a tackle and sent his assailant flying into a wall with a perfectly executed throw.

The air grew oppressive, tension thick enough to choke on, as the lobby’s glass shattered. A hulking armored vehicle—more tank than truck—rolled in with a deafening crunch of marble beneath its tires. The metallic clink of magazines being loaded and safeties clicking off filled the space, a sound that froze even the bravest in place. Men and women in full tactical gear poured out in synchronized formation, their movements efficient, rehearsed, and mercilessly precise. Their advanced tactical vests gleamed under the harsh fluorescent lights, patches marking them as the Advanced High-Risk Operations Team—a group designed to handle threats so extreme most civilians wouldn’t survive the first couple minutes of their engagement.

These weren’t just ex-military like the Special Response Team. They were former elite military operatives—snipers, demolitions experts, and tactical leaders. Their specialty? Taking down impossible threats, the kind most people didn’t even know existed. They were armed to the teeth with machine guns, shotguns, and gear straight out of a warzone. They moved like a single, deadly organism, each step to dominate and overwhelm.

Nanami had expected a special response team—maybe a few ex-SWAT officers at most. What he hadn’t expected was this: a team that looked like it had just walked off the set of Sicario. The sheer audacity of it. Gojo tilted his head, an almost childlike curiosity flickering in his eyes as he watched the team fan out across the lobby.

The air thickened with a tension so sharp it felt like it could slice through steel. The Advanced High-Risk Operations Team advanced, their tactical gear gleaming under the cold, artificial lights. Each step they took was deliberate, their augmented-reality visors casting an eerie glow as they moved. This wasn’t just about security anymore; this was war.

Gojo tilted his head, his grin stretching wide enough to reveal the kind of madness that sent lesser men running. “She really went all out, huh? Gotta say, it’s... kinda hot.”

“Focus,” Nanami snapped, his voice steady but laced with something darker, his tie already off and wrapped tightly around his hand like a makeshift gauntlet. His eyes followed the operatives’ every move, tracking patterns and deducing weaknesses. “They have machine guns. Don’t underestimate them.”

“Who’s underestimating?” Gojo rolled his shoulders, his smirk turning razor-sharp. “I’m appreciating. Big difference.” He didn’t seem to care, given he had the biggest cheat code in this gaming company’s building—the infinity.

The operatives spread out, their leader’s hand slicing through the air in a silent command. Rifles raised, safeties off, they moved like predators circling prey.

Gojo leaned closer to Nanami, his voice low, almost conspiratorial. “You think they know we’re not exactly, y’know, normal?”

Nanami didn’t answer immediately, his focus unwavering. But a faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “They’ll figure it out soon enough.”

This wasn’t a challenge they had to face. It was one they wanted.

Gojo’s grin was practically splitting his face in half now. The Cheshire Cat would be scared of him, all teeth and no warmth, none. “It’s practically foreplay,” he quipped, already cracking his neck like a boxer about to step into the ring.

Somewhere far away, you joined on a call with your COO, grim-faced, as the tactical team’s live feed streamed across the screen. You had one hand on your heavily pregnant stomach and the other clutching a headset, voice calm but commanding.

“Operative 3, move left. Do not engage head-on. Divide their attention. Nanami will neutralize you with precision if you get too close, and Gojo—” you hesitated, lips pressing into a thin line. “Gojo thrives on chaos. Starve him of it.”

Your COO watched her in stunned silence. “How do you know all this?”

“Because I’ve spent years listening to them yap about how they’d fight their enemies,” you replied, gaze never leaving the screen. “Now, we’re the enemies.”

The operatives adjusted their strategy in real time, your voice their guiding force.

The first shot rang out, a deafening crack that sent shards of marble skittering across the floor. The employees—already huddled behind desks and furniture—ducked lower, their whispered commentary drifting through.

From behind the coffee station, a QA tester whispered, voice muffled, “Are those… machine guns?”

“No, Shivi, they’re Super Soakers. OF COURSE THEY’RE MACHINE GUNS!” came the panicked reply from a QA automation engineer, who clearly had never seen a water fight escalate this quickly.

“Holy shit, it’s John Wick level now,” an event coordinator hissed, ducking even lower, as if the coffee machine could provide cover.

“No, moron. It’s Black Hawk Down,” the Chief Creative Officer whimpered. “If I don’t make it, tell my cats I loved them! And that I left them a very detailed will… in my browser history!”

“They won’t shoot us. They don’t have instructions for that,” the chief of security whispered, his voice shaking as he huddled beneath a coffee table, clutching a stapler like it was a grenade.

“Where did you come from?” they shrieked in unison, as if he had just materialized from the break room.

“Never mind, aren’t you ex-Interpol? Why are you hiding? Go fight them!” a network programmer snapped, clearly forgetting that the only thing he fought was the Wi-Fi signal.

“I have plants at home now!” he retorted, clutching his knees like they were his last line of defense. “They depend on me! Have you seen how needy succulents are?”

The product manager cried fake tears, "I’m sorry, what? The CEO ghosted her husbands? I can’t even get one person to text me back, and she’s out here dodging two supermodels with a God complex and an anger management issue. She’s the whole mood board.” Little did she know, you were also in the same boat despite being married to the two men—who were probably just as confused about their relationship status.

Gojo darted behind a toppled desk, his movements almost lazy in their fluidity. He peered out, his eyes practically glowing. “Pinned down by Nerf blasters. What a tragedy.” They couldn’t use any of their techniques; this was already drawing too much attention now, but they needed answers.

Luckily, all employees were already hiding at the other end of the great hall and nowhere near the fight. 

“Cover me,” Nanami said curtly across from him, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Gojo chuckled, cracking his neck as he stood. “Anything for you, darling.”

Without hesitation, he vaulted over the desk and sprinted into the open. Bullets followed him, tearing through the air, but Gojo moved like water—unpredictable, untouchable. His steps were erratic, yet every movement was to draw attention.

Nanami used the distraction to close the distance between himself and the nearest operative. The man barely had time to register Nanami’s presence before the barrel of his rifle was wrenched upward, a burst of bullets shattering the ceiling tiles. Nanami’s elbow came down hard, connecting with the operative’s nose in a sickening crunch.

Another operative lunged, swinging the butt of their rifle toward Nanami’s ribs. He caught it mid-swing, twisting it free with a motion so smooth it seemed almost effortless. He stepped forward, driving his knee into their stomach, and they crumpled to the ground.

Gojo was a genius tactician, and he was using guerrilla warfare to his advantage. He had taken his theatrics to another level. He vaulted over a couch, landing behind an operative with an almost casual air. “Nice gear,” he quipped, plucking the man’s rifle from his hands and tossing it aside like trash. “But you’re not using it right.”

He spun the man around, delivering a swift uppercut that sent him sprawling into a glass partition. Gojo’s laughter echoed through the lobby. “Man, this is better than Pilates!”

The operatives regrouped, their leader barking orders. “Surround them! Do not engage alone!”

Nanami glanced at Gojo, who was now crouched on top of a desk like some deranged bird of prey. “Stop playing around.”

Gojo grinned, hopping down with exaggerated grace. “Who’s playing? I’m multitasking—kicking ass and staying fabulous.”

The team leader’s voice crackled through their comms, audible even over the noise. “Regroup and contain! Reinforcements inbound!”

Gojo paused, his smile faltering slightly. “Reinforcements? Oh, now they’re just spoiling us.”

Nanami adjusted his tie-gauntlet, his expression grim. “Focus. This isn’t over.”

“Holy shit, it’s like Call of Duty in here!” A game dev muttered from behind another cactus.

“Dude, no, this is Apex Legends. Look at their loadouts!” His team lead corrected, whispering.

“Can someone livestream this? I need content!” A game tester whisper yelled.

Across the world, you leaned closer to the screen, voice calm and clipped as you spoke into the comms. “Switch to suppression tactics. Target their movement patterns. Nanami leads with his left; exploit that. Gojo thrives on unpredictability; isolate him.”

Back in the lobby, the operatives adjusted their strategy, their movements suddenly more coordinated. Nanami noticed immediately, his eyes narrowing.

“They’ve changed tactics,” he said, glancing at Gojo.

Gojo tilted his head. “Well, that’s interesting.”

He vaulted over the reception counter, sliding across its surface as bullets followed him like angry bees. “You guys shoot like stormtroopers!” he yelled, grabbing a fallen baton mid-roll. In a single, smooth motion, he swung it, knocking the rifle from an operative’s grip.

The man lunged at him, but Gojo sidestepped, his baton finding the back of the man’s knee. The operative crumpled with a grunt, and Gojo didn’t waste a second, delivering a sharp jab to his ribs that left him wheezing on the floor.

Nearby, Nanami grabbed another operative’s wrist and twisted sharply. The man’s weapon clattered to the ground as Nanami followed up with a brutal uppercut that sent him sprawling. But even in this situation, Gojo couldn’t resist being Gojo.

As if the fight wasn’t chaotic enough, Gojo’s eyes flicked to Nanami mid-battle. More specifically, to Nanami’s chest. “Damn,” he said, abruptly abandoning his position to sidle up behind his partner.

Nanami had just disarmed another operative when he felt Gojo’s hands clasp over his pecs like a makeshift bra.

“Nice form,” Gojo said, squeezing for emphasis. “You been working out?”

Nanami froze for a half-second, his face twisting into an expression of pure exasperation. Without breaking stride, he drove his elbow backward into Gojo’s stomach, sending him staggering.

“Focus,” Nanami growled, his tone razor-sharp.

“I am focused,” Gojo wheezed, clutching his stomach but still grinning. “Just multitasking.”

“Idiot,” Nanami muttered, stepping over another unconscious operative.

That made your blood boil further. A distorted voice crackled through the operatives’ comms, audible even to Gojo and Nanami.

“Pull back. Regroup. Adjust formation to staggered offense.”

Nanami froze mid-motion, his eyes narrowing. He heard the distorted voice.

Gojo, too, paused, his grin faltering for the briefest of moments. “Wait a minute…”

At home, you leaned closer to the screen, expression unreadable as you switched to a line only the team would hear.

“Do not let them bait you,” you said into the mic, voice cutting through like blade. “You’re dealing with professionals who are used to being underestimated. They’re dangerous because they don’t need their full power to win. Treat them like the threats they are.”

The COO on call with you could only say. “You’re directing them. You’re actually directing them.”

Your gaze never wavered from the screen. “I’m not letting a midlife crisis derail my employees’ lives. Not today.”

The remaining operatives regrouped, their leader barking orders. “Switch to suppression fire! Keep them contained!”

Bullets tore through the air again, forcing Gojo and Nanami to take cover. Gojo crouched behind an overturned couch. “This is fun. Think they’ll invite us back?”

Nanami kept looking ahead at the operatives changing positions as he said, "You have issues but I can't believe I'm saying this ever since I became a special grade, I have developed a taste for this." He adjusted his grip on the broken chair leg he’d been using as a weapon, his voice low and calm. “And even if I wasn't, there’s an old saying about Grade Ones: a tank might not be enough. And I don’t see the government allowing her a fucking tank.”

Gojo’s smirk widened, the faint shimmer of his Infinity flickering to life. “And she’d need something bigger than a tank to take me down. Maybe a ‘Domain Expansion: The Sun.’” He glanced toward the operatives, his tone turning mocking. “Guess they’re settling for machine guns and prayer.”

One of the operatives moved in close, his Heckler & Koch MG5 machine gun aimed directly at Nanami. But before he could fire, Nanami swung the broken chair leg with enough force to stab his thigh, making the man bolt over. He followed with a quick, brutal jab to the man’s throat, dropping him instantly.

“Did he just take down a guy with a chair leg?” The sales director whispered, wide-eyed behind a metal statue.

“He’s built different,” came the recruiter’s reverent reply, next to her.

The operatives shifted tactics, their movements suddenly more calculated, their strikes coordinated in a way that made Nanami pause.

Quickly regaining himself, Nanami lunged from his position, closing the distance to one of the operatives in seconds. His elbow connected with the man’s solar plexus, sending him crumpling to the ground. Another operative moved to flank him, but Nanami was faster, twisting the rifle out of the man’s grip and using it to knock him unconscious in one fluid motion.

Gojo, meanwhile, had somehow disarmed three operatives, all while maintaining a running commentary. “Honestly, you guys are doing great! I’d give you a solid eight out of ten. Nine, if you stopped aiming for my hair—do you know how hard it is to style this?”

The fight raged on, the duo moving like a well-oiled machine despite the chaos. Nanami’s brutality contrasted sharply with Gojo’s chaotic energy, but together, they were unstoppable.

The lobby doors burst open, and another team entered, this one carrying heavier gear.

“Is that… an exosuit?” Gojo muttered, tilting his head like a curious cat.

Nanami’s jaw tightened. “She’s serious.” Under no circumstance did they think this thing would show up.

The tide of the battle shifted when the exo-suited leader charged. His movements almost too fast for Nanami to block. Gojo managed to land a hit with his baton, but it barely slowed the man down.

It was clear whoever it was, was no ordinary opponent. “This guy fights like he’s got the script,” Gojo muttered, barely avoiding a blow aimed at his ribs.

“He’s not cursed, but he’s better than most sorcerers I’ve seen,” Nanami admitted grimly, blocking a strike and countering with a knee to an operative’s gut.

“You two aren’t bad,” the leader taunted, voice cool. “But you’re not winning this.”

“Winning?” Gojo smirked, dodging a blow. “Buddy, we’re just warming up.”

Nanami’s elbow struck the exo-suited leader’s side, a blow meant to disable, but the man pivoted with an agility that shouldn’t have been possible. Gojo, seeing an opening, aimed a strike at the man’s helmet, his baton swinging with purpose.

The crack echoed as the face shield shattered, pieces scattering to the ground.

The room seemed to freeze. The operatives hesitated, glancing at their leader, while Gojo and Nanami stood stunned. The man’s face was visible now—sharp features, familiar piercing eyes that could cut through steel.

Nanami’s breath caught in his throat. “Haibara…” he whispered, his voice shaking.

The man flinched at the name but didn’t lower his guard.

Gojo's usually flippant tone uncharacteristically quiet.

Nanami took a shaky step forward, lowering his hands slightly. “Haibara… Is it…?”

The man’s brows furrowed, but his face hardened again, but there was a weight to it, as if he’d carried the name like a burden.

Nanami staggered back as if the words had struck him physically. The resemblance was uncanny—too much so. If Haibara had lived, this man could have been his mirror. The same age, the same eyes.

Gojo finally found his voice, though it was softer than usual. “So, what, you’re family? Explains the talent.”

The man didn’t respond immediately, his gaze shifting between the two of them. “I was told about you. About both of you. You were… important to him at that cult school.”

Nanami clenched his fists, his voice trembling with barely restrained emotion. “And you’re here to fight us? Why?”

The man’s lips pressed into a thin smile, his expression cocky. “Because it’s my job. Nothing personal.”

“Nothing personal?” Nanami snapped, his composure fracturing. “You wear his face, carry his name, and you think this is just another job?”

The man’s eyes darkened, but he didn’t reply.

Gojo tilted his head, a slow smirk creeping onto his face despite the tension. “Well, this just got a lot more interesting.”

Haibara—if that was truly his name—moved like a shadow, slipping through Gojo and Nanami’s strikes with a precision that bordered on inhuman. Every dodge, every counter, every attack felt surgical, as if he knew exactly where to hit and how hard.

Gojo growled, swinging his baton in a wide arc. The exo-suited man sidestepped smoothly, grabbing Gojo’s wrist and twisting just enough to force him to release his grip. The baton clattered to the ground, and he delivered a sharp kick to Gojo’s ribs, sending him stumbling back.

“Damn it,” Nanami muttered under his breath. He lunged at the man, aiming for a takedown, but the man anticipated it. He caught Nanami’s arm mid-strike, using the momentum to flip him onto the floor.

“Sloppy,” the exo-suited man said, his voice low and dispassionate.

You watched it all unfold on your monitors. A smirk played on your lips as you spoke into the comms only the exo-suited man could hear, your voice calm and instructive.

“His Infinity is predictable. He relies on it too much—press him into close quarters. As for the other one, his technique is strong, but he’s methodical. Exploit his rigidity.”

The exo-suited man didn’t respond verbally, but his movements shifted immediately. He closed the distance between himself and Gojo, moving faster than the sorcerer could react. Gojo’s smile faltered as the man’s fist connected with his jaw, followed by a brutal sweep that knocked him off his feet.

“Focus, Satoru,” The man said, his tone clipped but mocking.

Nanami pushed himself to his feet, blood dripping from a cut on his forehead. He met the man’s gaze, his expression a mixture of frustration and disbelief. “You’re too good at this,” he said, his voice low. “How do you know exactly where to hit?”

The exo-suited man didn’t answer. He simply turned his attention back to Gojo, who was already preparing for another assault.

You leaned closer to the mic, your tone carrying a hint of amusement. “He doesn’t need to know where to hit. I’m telling him.”

Haibara, or whoever he was, his lips twitched into the faintest hint of a smirk, though he didn’t say a word.

Meanwhile, Gojo and Nanami exchanged a glance, frustration etched on their faces. They couldn’t hear you, but they could feel the weight of your absence.

Their attacks grew more desperate, their frustration boiling over. The man, however, remained calm, his movements fluid and unyielding. He fought like a man with nothing to lose and everything to prove.

“You’re really doing this,” he said softly, more to himself than anyone else.

But you didn’t waver. You leaned back in your chair, watching as the fight unfolded.

They had come to find you, but they weren’t prepared for the version of you they’d left behind—the one who had learned to fight back in ways they couldn’t anticipate.

“Who’s calling the shots now?” Nanami muttered, ducking a blow and countering with a sharp jab.

Gojo grabbed an incoming rifle mid-swing. “Whoever it is, they’re good. Like, scary good.”

A faint laugh echoed through the comms, just audible enough for them to catch.

Gojo’s grin vanished entirely. “No way…”

Nanami’s jaw tightened.

The operatives pulled back, forming a tight defensive line. Over their comms, your voice rang out clearly for the first time.

“Enough. Stand down.”

Gojo’s eyes widened, and he turned to Nanami. “Is that—?”

Nanami didn’t answer, his expression grim.

The operatives held their ground, weapons still raised but no longer firing. The tension was palpable, the air thick with unspoken words.

Gojo blinked, and for once, he had nothing to say.

Until an ominous whistle cut through the air, stilling the gunshot sounds.

Higuruma Hiromi stepped into the lobby, his presence commanding. The police officers flanking him raised their weapons, but Higuruma looked in charge. “Stand down,” he ordered. His hand itching to bring out his sword if Gojo and Nanami didn’t comply. Bastard was crazy enough to expose them.

Gojo straightened, his smirk fading slightly as he turned to face Higuruma. “You’re late,” he said mockingly, though his voice carried a hint of exhaustion.

“I’m right on time,” Higuruma replied, his gaze steady. “Unless you’d like to escalate this further?”

Nanami placed a hand on Gojo’s arm, his voice low. “Enough.”

The operatives moved in cautiously, their rifles trained on the duo. Gojo and Nanami didn’t resist as they were cuffed, their expressions unreadable. Even as they were both hit hard with the machine gun’s back square on the face, making them bleed a bit.

The employees emerged slowly from their hiding spots, their whispers filling the air once more.

“Did you see that? They fought armed guards with their bare hands.”

“Yeah, but like… hotly.”

“They actually got arrested.”

“I thought they’d fight their way out,” another replied, munching on a croissant stolen from the cafeteria during the chaos.

As they were led away and shoved into the back of the police car, Gojo’s voice broke the silence, low and filled with a bitter determination. “She’s hellbent on not letting us find her.”

Nanami’s expression was unreadable, his tone flat. “Wouldn’t you?”

Once shoved inside, Nanami leaned back in the cramped police car, his face shadowed by frustration, like a brooding hero in a low-budget action flick. The distant wail of sirens echoed in the background, but it felt more like a soundtrack to his existential crisis than an actual emergency.

“I knew she was capable,” he began, his voice low, almost like he was convincing himself. “But this... this is something else. No tech CEO operates at this level of... preparedness. Even Tesla doesn’t have an Exo-Suited Special Response Team. I mean, what’s next? A drone army?”

Gojo, for once, was silent, his eyes fixed on the streaks of light flashing past the windows, probably imagining himself in a high-speed chase. Finally, he scoffed, his tone uncharacteristically bitter. “She directed them like she’s been doing this her whole life. Like she was trained for it. But she wasn’t. Was she? Did we miss the memo on her secret ninja training?”

Nanami didn’t answer immediately. His jaw tightened as he replayed the fight in his mind—the way her voice cut through the comms like a hot knife through butter, her precise commands, the exo-suited leader’s unerring strikes. “No, she’s never been formally trained,” he murmured, feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders. “But she definitely had a PowerPoint presentation on it somewhere.”

Gojo laughed, but it was humorless, almost self-deprecating, like he was trying to laugh away the absurdity of it all. “We spent all that time together, and what do we know? She likes her coffee and hates hot weather. And apparently, she moonlights as a tactical genius.”

“She’s running a gaming empire,” Nanami said quietly, his tone heavy with realization, like he’d just discovered the meaning of life. “Of course she’d know how to fight. She built this company from nothing. I mean, have you seen her spreadsheets? They’re practically battle plans.”

Gojo leaned his head back, staring at the car ceiling, then suddenly looked at Nanami with wide eyes. “Wait… she runs a gaming company. Man, that’s why she knew how to fight. All those late-night gaming sessions were just her training montages!”

Nanami sighed, rubbing his temples as if trying to massage away the absurdity of the situation. “Still, she was too prepared. I never expected her to be into all this. Tactical shit. I thought we were just going to fight a few ex-military guards, not engage in a full-blown ‘Operation Entebbe.’”

“Next time, we should bring snacks,” Gojo said, deadpan. “You know, for morale. Nothing says ‘we’re about to face armed tactical teams’ like a good box of mochi.”

“Yeah, because nothing calms the nerves like diabetes in a firefight,” Nanami replied, rolling his eyes. “Maybe we should just ask her for a tutorial on how to survive higher-ups warfare while we’re at it.”

After a moment, Gojo spoke with a dark expression. “We’re not stopping.”

“Right? I can see it now: ‘How to Negotiate with Hostile Takeovers and Tactical Dinosaurs.'” Gojo chuckled.

Nanami nodded once, his gaze fixed ahead. “No. We’re not.”

//

You’d underestimated them.

A few more weeks into your quiet life in this distant city, the first ripple of their presence reached you: a phone call from your old assistant. Her voice was strained, awkward as she tried to navigate the message she had to deliver.

“Your… husbands,” she said, as if she couldn’t bring herself to say the word, “are here looking for you.”

You didn’t let her finish. You hung up before she could speak another word, your heart pounding, panic clawing at your throat as you got on a call with the COO and handled it.

Now it was a couple of hours later that you leaned back in your chair, one hand resting on your heavily pregnant belly, the other typing furiously.

“Alright,” you began, your voice calm but firm as you addressed the executive team over an audio call. “Here’s how we’re handling this.”

Compensation for Injured Staff: “Each affected employee will receive a one-time payment equivalent to ten times the maximum insurance coverage, along with full medical and rehabilitation coverage. Paid leave until they’re fully cleared by their doctors. If they choose not to return, offer severance packages generous enough to ensure their future security.”

Security Upgrades: “Increase armed security personnel across all locations—minimum 45 per site. Implement biometric access controls for high-level areas. I want Fushiguro Sentinel Security Solutions contracted by the end of the hour. Get Megumi Fushiguro himself to oversee it.”

Mental Health Support: “Offer optional counseling for all employees affected by the incident. Trauma doesn’t vanish just because we’ve handled the threat.”

Legal Proceedings: “Gather all evidence. If either of those men steps foot in any of our offices again, treat them as threats immediately. Coordinate with external consultants to reinforce all protocols.”

Additional Measures: “Expand pension plans to cover additional contingencies. This company thrives because of its people. Their safety is non-negotiable.”

Your CFO cleared his throat. “And the cost implications?”

Your expression unyielding. “The cost of doing nothing is far higher. Do it.”

You addressed the CHRO. “Prepare an official statement. No names, no details. Just reassurance that we’re handling the situation.”

“And what about...” the COO hesitated, “...them?”

Your lips thinned. “That’s already being handled.”

With a final ‘later,’ you ended the call, exhaustion creeping into your posture. Your hand lingered on your belly, a silent promise to the life you were protecting—not just your own.

//

Soon the police station buzzed with the kind of energy reserved for high-profile cases and celebrity sightings. Rows of employees from your gaming company sat awkwardly on long benches, clutching half-empty specialized beverages and wearing various levels of workplace chic—some in sweatpants, others in blazers that screamed, I might be a startup founder someday.

The detective in charge, a middle-aged man who looked like he had seen everything and regretted it, pinched the bridge of his nose as the first employee was ushered into the interrogation room.

Employee #1: Kyle from Game Dev

Kyle slouched in his chair, his hoodie emblazoned with “I paused my raid for this?” barely containing his indifference. He adjusted his wire-rimmed glasses and gave the detective a bored stare.

“So, you’re telling me you saw two men—your CEO’s husbands—engage in what can only be described as a brawl royale with armed guards?”

Kyle shrugged. “Yeah, but like… it was kinda sexy? No homo.”

The detective blinked. “Sexy?”

“Yeah. Like, Mr. Nanami was giving off ‘dad who knows how to use a grill but also owns a sword’ energy, and Mr. Gojo? He’s got that unhinged hotness. Like, he’d ruin your life, but you’d thank him after, y’know?”

The detective stared at him, unamused. “No. I don’t.”

Kyle sighed, leaning back. “Look, I don’t even know why you’re asking us. The CEO is fine. She’s probably somewhere sipping an iced tea, plotting how to save the company from whatever PR disaster her husbands bring next. She’s like the gaming industry’s Tony Stark, but nicer. And hotter. Wayyyy hotter.”

The detective grimaced on your behalf.

Employee #2: Mia from Finance

Mia swept into the room, her oversized blazer barely concealing the “I heart NPCs” T-shirt beneath. She placed her iced coffee on the table like it was a prop for a monologue.

“Let me just say,” she began, her voice dripping with theatrics, “that our founder is an icon. THE queen. The moment.”

The detective sighed. “Can we focus on the incident—”

“Icon,” Mia repeated, cutting him off. “She’s literally married to the human equivalent of menace incarnate and a tax auditor (or my floor manager)’s wet dream. Like, opposites attract, am I right?”

The detective raised an eyebrow. “Did you actually witness the fight?”

“Oh, I saw everything. Mr. Nanami broke a guy’s body like he was folding a paper plane, and Mr. Gojo? He threw someone into a wall, and it was like—BAM! Pure art.” She paused, sipping her coffee. “Honestly, I was rooting for them.”

The detective scribbled something on his notepad. “You realize this isn’t a sports match?”

“Okay, boomer,” Mia replied, waving a dismissive hand.

Employee #3: Jay from HR

Jay adjusted his pastel tie, his laptop bag slung awkwardly across his chest. “First of all, let me just say, as the HR liaison, I do not condone violence in the workplace.”

The detective nodded approvingly. “Good, someone reasonable.”

“That said,” Jay continued, “Mr. Gojo and Mr. Nanami are, like, built. I wonder how much they bench press. Did you see their arms? I don’t even like men, but I get it. You know what I mean?”

The detective dropped his pen. “No, I don’t. Can you please just tell me what happened?”

Jay frowned, pulling out a tablet. “I made a PowerPoint, actually. Slide one is a detailed breakdown of Mr. Nanami’s fighting stance—very efficient. Slide two is Mr. Gojo’s ‘feral cat energy.’ Slide three is a pie chart of how many employees think they’re hot versus terrifying.”

The detective’s fist hit the desk.

Employee #4: Fatima from Legal

Fatima entered, heels clicking against the tile, her expression unreadable. “I’ll keep this brief,” she said, setting a stack of papers on the desk. “These are affidavits from the employees. They’re… unhelpful.”

The detective flipped through them.

Testimony 1: “Mr. Nanami looks like he drinks black coffee and hates fun, but man, can he punch.”

Testimony 2: “Mr. Gojo has main character energy. Like, if life were an anime, he’s the guy who shows up shirtless for no reason.”

Testimony 3: “Madam Founder’s taste in men? Impeccable. Very disturbing, but impeccable.”

Fatima crossed her arms. “Frankly, I think this whole thing is a waste of time. Our founder will probably pay off the damages and add a bonus to everyone’s paycheck for the inconvenience. She’s that kind of person.”

The detective looked up, incredulous. “You’re saying she’d reward people for being attacked?”

Fatima smirked. “Welcome to corporate, Detective.”

Employee #5: Emma from Sales

Emma, the youngest employee, clutched her bubble tea like it was a lifeline. “Okay, so, like, are we getting extra PTO for this? Because I was traumatized. Like, literally.”

The detective pinched the bridge of his nose. “You saw the fight?”

Emma nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, Mr. Gojo threw a guy into the cactus I named Greg. Poor Greg. RIP.”

“And Nanami?”

“Oh, he broke three ribs on that big guy from the response team. It was… beautiful.” She sighed dreamily. “Honestly, our CEO is living the dream. Two hot men fighting over her? Dream.”

Break

As the employees filed out, the detective stared at the pile of testimonies, his faith in humanity dwindling.

One officer leaned over, muttering, “So… what do we do with the husbands?”

The detective sighed. “Honestly? Let’s just hope their CEO comes back before they burn the city down.”

//

News segment played on TV in the station.

Anchor:“In a shocking incident at a company’s headquarters in Japan today, two unidentified men stormed the building, engaging in what witnesses describe as ‘Hollywood-level combat’ with security forces. Eyewitness footage shows the men, dressed in business attire, taking on armed guards with hand-to-hand combat skills that defy explanation.”

A clip plays, showing Gojo disarming a guard with a grin while Nanami methodically neutralizes another.

Anchor:“Social media users have been speculating wildly about the identities of these men, with theories ranging from disgruntled employees to members of organized crime. However, sources have confirmed that the men are not affiliated with any criminal organization.”

Tech Analyst:“What’s even more surprising is the revelation that these two men are reportedly teachers at a private academy—one known for its... unorthodox curriculum. And here’s the kicker: they’re allegedly married to the CEO.”

Anchor:“Married? To the CEO? Both of them?”

Tech Analyst:“Yes, it appears to be a polyamorous marriage, which was previously undisclosed to the public. Social media is now ablaze with debates over how two ‘regular teachers’ possess such combat skills—and why they would confront a company known for its impenetrable security.”

Anchor:“This story keeps getting stranger. Are they former military? Yakuza? Or something else entirely? And why storm your own wife’s company? Stay tuned as we dig deeper into this unfolding drama.”

The internet had already imploded.

It started with a single tweet.

@GameNewsNow:“BREAKING: Chaos at a gaming company’s Japanese HQ as unidentified intruders engage in combat with security. Witnesses report hand-to-hand combat, shattered glass, and… exosuits? Details unfolding. #TechWars”

Replies:

@PixelPrincess: “Wait, isn’t this the gaming company with the smart CEO? What is happening?

@CoffeeAndCode: “Nah, this is real. My friend works there. She said the intruders were FIGHTING SECURITY WITH THEIR BARE HANDS.”

@KDramaKween: “Exosuits?? Is this a promo for their next FPS game?”

Reddit was next.

r/TechDramau/InsiderGameDev: “Two guys stormed the Japanese HQ, and apparently, they’re just… teachers? One’s a blond with weird goggles; the other looks like a pissed-off salaryman. They fought like action movie stars. Who are they?”

Top Comments:

u/YakuzaWatch2024: “Teachers? Yeah, right. This screams Yakuza.”

u/CyberNerd93: “Plot twist: They’re her secret bodyguards.”

u/TinfoilHat47: “Jeff Bezos definitely paid them.”

Then TikTok exploded.

@HQBaristaVibes:“POV: You’re hiding behind the coffee station while two men in suits literally suplex security guards.”

The video shows Gojo vaulting over a desk while Nanami delivers a brutal elbow to an operative. A whisper in the background: “I’d show up to their Magic Mike Show!”

Comments:

@GamerGorlly: “This is giving Halo vibes. Is this a movie?”

@BossLadyFan: “WAIT, a woman can marry two hot men and not get arrested?! Plot twist of the century.”

@BigYakuzaEnergy: “Teachers don’t fight like that. I’m sticking with the Yakuza theory.”

Another TikTok showed Gojo yelling, “YOU’LL NEVER KEEP US FROM HER!” before being tackled by five armed men.

Caption: “These men are TEACHERS. At a school. Who TF approved this hire?!”

Comments:

@CultLeaderSuguru’sUnwashedSocks69: “Okay, but how do I apply to this cultist school?”

@WeedFinanceBro420: “Nanami can destroy my 401k; I’d still say thank you.”

@MommyIssuesInc: “Gojo screaming like he’s in a shonen anime is sending me 😭😭😭.”

Then came a shaky, vertical video posted to TikTok under the caption: “Me watching the CEO’s husbands wreck the office like it’s WWE 🫠 #CorporateDrama #TheyHotTho”

The video opened with Gojo throwing a security guard into a potted plant, the sound of shattering ceramic audible over the chaotic screaming in the background. Nanami steps into frame next, calmly adjusting his cufflinks before delivering a devastating elbow to another guard.

Text overlay read, “Who are these men?? And why are they fine while committing felonies??”

The video cuts to a shaky zoom on Nanami’s face, looking utterly unbothered while dragging another guard to the ground like a trained killer.

Caption updated to, “Is he single?? Asking for my friend (it’s me).”

Comments:

@Financically Challenged: “HR would never approve.”

@CorporateTea: “She really deleted her account before the tea spilled.”

@ILoveMyGamerBoysLite: “THEY’RE FINE, BUT WHY DO THEY FIGHT LIKE STREET FIGHTER CHARACTERS?”

@Man-whore: “I’d like to thank whoever recorded this masterpiece. My serotonin levels are soaring.”

Fan accounts dedicated to your company were flooded with reposts of TikToks and blurry images from the incident.

One post, in particular, gains traction: a screenshot of Gojo being escorted out by Higuruma, still grinning like a maniac. The caption reads: “Find you someone who looks at you the way Gojo looks at the camera. 🥰 #CoupleGoals”

Meanwhile, Reddit threads dissect the entire event like it’s a true crime case.

r/CorporateDrama:

u/ThrowawayEmployee123:

“I work in the cafeteria, and I swear one of them stole a cherry tomato before elbowing a guard.”

Top Comments:

u/NoHRLeft: “This has to be staged, right? Like a marketing stunt? No way two hot dudes just... do this.”

u/DefinitelyNotNanami: “They do. Trust me.”

r/GamingGossip:

AlphaDaddyInumaki69:

“CEO’s SECRET MARRIAGE EXPOSED!”

Top Comments:

u/BlueEyes6’5”Simp: “Gojo Satoru is a whole ass menace. I respect it.”

u/CoffeeAndGuilt: “Nanami could throw me through a window, and I’d thank him.”

u/TakadaChanSimp9000: “Focus, people. What does this mean for her company’s next game launch???”

//

After Break

The detective’s patience wore thinner with every passing second, while Higuruma Hiromi, now leaning casually against the wall with a cup of tea in hand, watched with the faintest glimmer of amusement in his otherwise stoic demeanor.

Employee #6: Lily from Social Media

Lily adjusted her oversized cat-eye glasses and placed her iced matcha latte on the table. “So, like, first of all, you should know this isn’t the worst thing they’ve done. Did you hear about the time they took Madam Founder to karaoke? There’s a whole thread about it on our company’s internal social media site. It trended for days there. Someone recorded it while they were there too.”

The detective rubbed his temples. “Miss, this isn’t about karaoke.”

“I’m just saying, they’re iconic. Like, I don’t condone violence or whatever, but when Mr. Gojo ripped that baton out of a guard’s hand and spun it like a lightsaber? I mean, c’mon. That’s main character behavior.”

Higuruma took a slow sip of tea. “Main character behavior,” he repeated dryly.

“Exactly!” Lily pointed at him like he’d just validated her existence. “And Mr. Nanami? He’s the broody love interest with a tragic backstory who you know secretly listens to metal while making cute teddy bear bento for his wife. You can’t be mad at them.”

The detective glared at Higuruma, who raised an eyebrow in return. “Don’t look at me,” Higuruma said. “I’m just here for the tea. Literally.”

Employee #7: Vikram from Quality Assurance

Vikram, who looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks, slumped into the chair with a half-eaten bagel. “So, here’s the thing. I respect the CEO, right? She’s like the mom who brings donuts to the office but also could fire you with a single email. But her husband's? Absolute gremlins.”

The detective perked up. “Finally, someone reasonable. Tell me about the fight.”

“Right, right.” Vikram gestured vaguely. “So, Mr. Nanami’s out here breaking bones like he’s crinkling bubble wrap. Efficient. Terrifying. Meanwhile, Mr. Gojo? He’s musically laughing as he bashes people’s stomachs in.”

“Did they say anything about why they were there?”

Vikram frowned, taking a thoughtful bite of his bagel. “Not really. But I did hear Mr. Gojo call one of the guards a ‘budget James Bond,’ so there’s that.”

Higuruma chuckled softly, earning a glare from the detective. “What? That’s objectively funny.”

Employee #8: Nina from HR

Nina walked in like she owned the place, her heels clicking with purpose. She set her iced Americano down and crossed her arms. “Look, I’ll make this simple. Mr. Gojo Satoru and Mr. Nanami Kento are walking red flags. And I say that as someone who’d climb those flags like a jungle gym.”

The detective choked on his coffee. “Excuse me? Aren’t you from HR? What happened to your policies?”

“You heard me.” Nina adjusted her blazer. “Do I think it’s unprofessional that they destroyed company property and assaulted multiple guards? Sure. Do I also think they’re the human equivalent of the ‘Enemies to Lovers’ tag? Absolutely.”

“Ma’am, this isn’t Wattpad,” the detective said, his tone exasperated.

“Could’ve fooled me,” she shot back.

Higuruma leaned forward slightly, his expression neutral but his tone amused. “Did they say anything about their intentions while breaking noses?”

Nina tapped her chin. “Mr. Gojo said something about how he’d ‘burn the world down’ to find the CEO. Very dramatic. Mr. Nanami, though? He just glared at people. I think four guys quit on the spot and then never sent the resignation letter because of our amazing pension package.”

Employee #9: Ramirez from Accounting

Ramirez looked unbothered, scrolling through her phone as she sat down. “Can we speed this up? I’ve got a meeting in fifteen.”

The detective sighed. “What did you see?”

“Mr. Nanami snapped someone’s arm in half like it was a breadstick. Mr. Gojo threw a guy into a cactus. Typical Tuesday.”

“Anything unusual?”

She glanced up, smirking. “Unusual? Detective, our CEO is married to the human embodiment of a power imbalance and a walking midlife crisis. Nothing is unusual anymore.”

Higuruma stifled a laugh behind his tea, earning another glare from the detective.

Employee #10: Li from Design

Li leaned back in his chair, twirling a pen like it was a baton. “So, here’s my hot take: Mr. Gojo’s like that guy who talks shit in the group chat but shows up to the fight in Crocs. Mr. Nanami? He’s the one who silently carries the whole team.”

The detective rubbed his temples. “What does that even mean?”

“It means Mr. Gojo’s unhinged but sexy, and Mr. Nanami’s the Dilf who actually gets things done.”

“Why does everything come back to their attractiveness?” The detective snapped.

Li shrugged. “Because it’s distracting. You ever seen a man fix his cufflinks while choking someone out? It’s an experience.”

Higuruma nodded, thinking of Nanami. “It really is.”

Employee #11: Emily from PR

Emily entered, visibly stressed, clutching a planner filled with color-coded tabs. “I’m just here to confirm that the company’s official stance is ‘no comment.’ Also, the CHRO would like everyone to know that all damages will be covered, and the guards are being compensated handsomely.”

The detective leaned forward. “Does the CEO have anything to say about her husbands?”

Emily hesitated, flipping through her planner. “She said… and I quote, ‘They are on their own.’”

Higuruma snorted, setting his tea down. “Smart woman.”

The detective groaned, slumping in his chair. “I give up.”

Emily adjusted her glasses. “Oh, and she also said the cactus will be replaced.”

From somewhere in the station, a faint cheer could be heard. “Greg lives on!”

Break Again

As the employees filed out, the detective stared at the mess of notes on his desk, each one more absurd than the last. Higuruma stood, brushing imaginary lint off his suit.

“Well,” Higuruma said, his tone dry but amused, “at least we know one thing for sure.”

“What’s that?” the detective asked wearily.

Higuruma smirked faintly. “Your suspects might be unstoppable, but their PR game? Immaculate.”

After Break

The interrogation room had become a revolving door of chaos. Higuruma, sipping tea like he was on vacation, had taken over the questioning, his demeanor a sharp contrast to the detective’s rapidly fraying patience. The employees were less helpful than ever, and now more of the game dev, product launch, and sales teams had joined the fray, bringing their own flavor of madness to the mix.

Employee #11: Kevin from Game Dev

Kevin slouched into the chair, his hoodie covered in suspicious crumbs. He adjusted his gamer headset like he was about to stream instead of give testimony. “Okay, first of all, can I just say? The way Mr. Nanami handled those guards? That’s the kind of realism we need in our combat mechanics. Man’s a walking motion-capture studio.”

The detective groaned. “We’re not here to discuss combat mechanics.”

Kevin shrugged. “I’m just saying, if we had that level of precision, our next release would bankrupt Mojang Studios.”

Higuruma leaned forward slightly, his expression unreadable. “And what about Gojo?”

Kevin snorted. “Mr. Gojo? He’s the kind of guy who’d spam the emote wheel mid-fight. You know, hit you with a ‘Haha, loser’ after parrying your attack, just to flex.”

The detective slammed his notebook shut. “This isn’t a video game!”

Kevin blinked. “Tell that to the cactus. That thing got ragdolled.”

Employee #12: Maddie from Product Launch

Maddie walked in wearing oversized sunglasses and carrying an oat milk latte like she was on the front row of a fashion show. She flipped her hair before sitting down. “So, let me get this straight. You’re asking me to snitch on them?”

Higuruma raised an eyebrow. “We’re asking for facts, not snitching.”

“Facts?” Maddie laughed, leaning back. “Here’s a fact: Mr. Gojo Satoru is the moment. When he threw that guard into the no-sweetener coffee machine? I felt seen.”

The detective pinched the bridge of his nose, which was reddening now with all the pinching. “Did you actually witness anything useful?”

“Useful?” Maddie repeated, looking offended. “I’ll have you know I was taking notes.Mr. Gojo’s movements? Chaotic but controlled. Mr. Nanami’s? Pure tactical perfection. They’re like the yin and yang of violence.”

Higuruma smirked faintly. “And the CEO?”

“Oh, she’s living the dream,” Maddie said, twirling her straw. “I mean, married to those two? Goals. Sure, they’re a walking HR violation, but I’d take one for the team.”

“Noted,” Higuruma replied dryly, while the detective muttered something about needing a vacation.

Employee #13: Jake from Sales

Jake swaggered in like he was pitching a deal. “Alright, gentlemen, let’s talk ROI—Return on Insanity. Those two? They’re the best marketing campaign we’ve ever had.”

Higuruma tilted his head. “How so?”

“Think about it,” Jake said, gesturing wildly. “We’re a gaming company, right? And now everyone’s talking about us. I mean, sure, there was some... collateral damage. But viral marketing? You can’t buy this kind of exposure.”

The detective’s pen snapped in half. “People got hurt!”

Jake nodded sagely. “Yeah, but did you see the way Mr. Nanami disarmed that guard? That’s brand synergy right there. We could use that in our next trailer.”

Higuruma chuckled softly. “You’re not wrong.”

“Thank you,” Jake said, winking at Higuruma with reddened cheeks.

The detective groaned. “Stop encouraging him!”

Employee #14: Aiko from Game Design

Aiko plopped into the chair, her arms full of sketchbooks and concept art. “Okay, so I’ve been working on a character design inspired by Mr. Nanami. Picture this: a stoic modern-day Viking, his suit pristine, his tie a weapon—”

“His tie is not a weapon,” the detective interrupted.

“Not yet,” Aiko countered, flipping open her sketchbook to a detailed drawing of Nanami mid-fight. “But it could be. Look at these sketches. Imagine the animation potential.”

Higuruma leaned over to examine the art, nodding thoughtfully. “Impressive detail.”

“Right?” Aiko beamed. “And Mr. Gojo? He’d be the chaotic rogue archetype. I’m thinking glowing six eyes, a blindfold that doubles as a grappling hook—”

The detective banged his fist on the table. “This isn’t a brainstorming session for your next game!”

Aiko shrugged. “Could’ve fooled me. This whole situation is giving side quest energy.”

Employee #15: Ellie from HR

Ellie, the most normal-looking person yet, sat down with a clipboard. “So, I’ve compiled a list of damages and injuries. It’s... extensive.”

The detective perked up. “Finally, someone useful.”

“But,” Ellie added, flipping through her notes, “I’d also like to propose a company-wide Mr. Gojo and Mr. Nanami Appreciation Day. Morale has been low, and honestly, they’ve brought us closer as a team.”

The detective stared at her, speechless.

Higuruma chuckled, setting down his tea. “I like the initiative.”

Employee #16: Alex from Marketing

Alex entered with a PowerPoint presentation. “Okay, hear me out. A new ad campaign: ‘Work Hard, Fight Harder.’ We feature Nanami and Gojo as the faces of the brand—”

The detective stood abruptly. “We’re done here.”

“Wait, there’s a slide on cactus replacements!” Alex called after him.

As the employee left, the detective slumped into his chair, glaring at Higuruma. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

Higuruma shrugged, a faint smirk playing on his lips. “I find it... enlightening.”

The detective groaned. “Enlightening? They’re turning this investigation into a fan convention!”

“Better than a riot,” Higuruma replied, his tone mild.

“Barely.”

Another video on TikTok popped up, as these things often did now, apparently. As the grainy, zoomed-in footage of Gojo and Nanami leaving the station hit every corner of social media, the internet collectively lost its mind. Fancams were already being made. The soundtrack? A slowed-down, reverb-heavy version of Britney Spears’ “Toxic.”

Caption: “Gojo Satoru—chaotic, probably rich, can’t keep his mouth shut. Nanami Kento—stoic, terrifying, boss you wanna fuck. You—genius CEO, hot.”

Memes too -

@FinanceBroFails: “Poly relationships are for the weak. Imagine being married to two dudes, and neither answers your calls. Couldn’t be me.”

@HimboAppreciationSociety: “Y’all are simping over these men, but what about the poor employees??? My guy, salaryman Kenjirô Tsuda, is still unconscious in the corner.”

@PolyKaisen: “We need a new game where Gojo and Nanami fight for love and also commit tax fraud. #FreeTheHusbands”

@PolyAmoristsUnite: “This is why we can’t have nice things. People ruin it by marrying two hot men and leaving the rest of us to suffer.”

@FanCamForLife: [Fancam of Nanami disarming a guard in the office fight, set to Billie Eilish’s “You Should See Me in a Crown.”]

By evening, the hashtags were trending.

#PolyPanic2024#TwoHolesForAReason#PolyKaisen

But it wasn’t all jokes. Hate comments rolled in too.

@MoralHighGround: “Polyamory is unnatural. No wonder this mess happened. Pick one partner and stay loyal.”

@TraditionalValuesStan: “This is what happens when corporate culture goes woke. First, it’s diversity hires, then it’s this.”

@PolySkeptic99: “Imagine running a billion-dollar company and thinking two husbands was a good idea. Peak bad decisions.”

Higuruma, scrolling through Twitter, raised an eyebrow at a tweet:

@InLawerDaddyWeThurst: “Higuruma Hiromi in a suit? Is he single? Asking respectfully (not respectfully).”

Hiromi sighs, muttering to himself, “Why does this always happen?”

The detective beside him groaned. “Stop reading it.”

Higuruma continues, hiding a smirk as another notification pops up:

@FiddlingWithBothLawAndOrder🍒: “Hiromi can prosecute me any day 😏.”

The detective, who’s fully checked out, whispered to Higuruma, gesturing at Nanami and Gojo, who were sprawled in a cell quite beaten up by the armed guys who’d arrested them. Gojo’s long legs Sprawled awkwardly over Nanami’s lap, who rubbed them absentmindedly as they both stared at the bulb like they were mothmen, "Do they know they’re walking memes? Like, are they self-aware? Or is this just how they live? Because I’m five seconds from retiring and starting a blog called ‘Hot Men, Bad Decisions.’”

Yaga stormed into the station, his face a mask of barely contained fury. He zeroed in on Gojo, and Nanami sat in the holding area; they were cuffed but unbothered.

After the paperwork was done, Yaga shoved the station doors open, leading the way. Behind him, Gojo and Nanami stepped out, walking with the kind of swagger that screamed, ‘We did it, and we’d do it again.’

A crowd had gathered outside the station, barricades barely holding back a mix of paparazzi, reporters, and what could only be described as the thirstiest group of people Tokyo had ever seen.

“Nanami, are you single? Rearrange my guts, please!”

“GOJO, MY THROAT IS AWFULLY EMPTY!”

The cameras went wild. Gojo smirked like he was on the Met Gala red carpet, tilting his head for the best angles. “Ladies, please,” he said, his voice dripping with charm. “I’m married. You’re breaking my husband’s heart.”

Nanami, trailing behind, adjusted his disheveled sleeves and shot Gojo a glare. “Don’t involve me in your theatrics.”

“You’re literally my husband,” Gojo quipped, tossing his hair dramatically. “You’re involved by default.”

As the reporters’ questions grew louder, Yaga finally snapped. “Shut up, all of you!” he roared, spinning around to face the two men. “Married?! Since when? To each other? And the CEO?! What the hell is going on?”

Gojo looked entirely unbothered, raising his hands in mock surrender. “You didn’t know? Thought it was obvious. We’re very progressive.”

Nanami pinched the bridge of his nose. “It wasn’t exactly public information, Satoru.”

“Well, it is now!” Gojo said cheerfully, waving at the crowd like a pageant queen.

But the crowd didn’t care about the details. The thirst was too real.

“Nanami, I’ll be your wife!” Someone screamed, holding up a sign with his name in glittery gold letters.

“He’s mine!” Gojo muttered under his breath.

“Satoru, I love you!” shouted another.

Gojo paused, smirking at the camera. “Thanks, but I love my husband. And my wife.”

Yaga shoved both men into the back of the car, the force rattling the frame. He slammed the door so hard it was a miracle the glass didn’t shatter. “Unbelievable,” he muttered as he climbed into the driver’s seat, his voice a low growl.

Gojo sprawled out immediately, legs taking up more space than necessary, his hands resting lazily on his lap. “That wasn’t so bad,” he said, tone light and airy, as if the past five hours hadn’t been a descent into insanity. “Honestly, I think I handled it pretty well.”

Yaga’s hands gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. “Handled it well?” His voice cracked like a whip, sharp enough to slice through the air. “You turned it into a goddamn circus! And I just found out my students are married. To each other. And someone else. What the hell is wrong with you two?”

Nanami stared out the window, jaw tight. Gojo, of course, couldn’t resist. He turned to Nanami, a pout tugging at his lips. “See? No one appreciates me.”

Nanami didn’t look at him. “You did turn it into a circus,” he said flatly, his voice calm but laced with quiet exasperation. Then he glanced at Gojo. “But that’s your specialty.”

Gojo grinned, the pout vanishing instantly. “Aw, thanks, baby. That’s why I married you.”

Yaga slammed a hand on the steering wheel, the car swerving slightly. “Are you serious right now?!” His voice was dangerously close to a shout. “You’ve drawn too much attention. The higher-ups are done with your antics. Indefinite leave. Effective immediately.”

Nanami’s head whipped around, a flicker of surprise crossing his usually stoic face. “Indefinite leave?” he asked, though there was no disappointment in his voice.

“Do you even know what indefinite means?” Gojo chimed in, leaning forward with mock curiosity.

Yaga glared at him through the rearview mirror, his expression thunderous. “Shut up, Gojo. You’re lucky they didn’t lock you both in the basement for the next decade.”

Nanami, however, was leaning back in his seat, arms crossed, looking... content. “Perfect,” he said quietly.

Yaga blinked. “Perfect? You’re suspended!”

Nanami glanced at Gojo, a rare spark of energy in his eyes. “Finally. Time to focus.”

Gojo’s grin widened, somehow more unhinged. “On finding her.”

Then behind Yaga’s back, Gojo raised a fist. “C’mon, Nami. Forced vacation means forced bonding time. Fist bump for the road?”

Nanami sighed, clearly annoyed but humoring him. He bumped Gojo’s fist lightly.

“HEY!” Yaga barked, catching the exchange in the mirror. “What the hell is wrong with you two?!”

Gojo shrugged, throwing an arm around Nanami’s shoulder. “A lot, apparently.”

Nanami shoved him off. “Don’t touch me.”

//

You sat in your small apartment, the television blaring the evening news as you unmuted it.

“Today, the gaming world was shaken by an incident,” the anchor said, barely hiding their glee. “The CEO’s secret polyamorous marriage was exposed when her two husbands—yes, you heard that right—stormed the office and engaged in physical altercations with security personnel.”

The screen cut to shaky footage of Gojo grinning smugly as police cuffed him. “Ladies, I’m married,” he said, winking at the camera. “And no, I won’t entertain such things. Besides, Nanami here, my husband would de-ball me.”

Nanami, standing beside him, glared at the reporters and muttered, “You have no tact.”

The news continued: “The CEO, known for her philanthropic efforts and innovative leadership in the gaming industry, has yet to comment. Sources suggest she is out of the country. Social media has been ablaze with reactions.”

For a split second you saw them—Gojo and Nanami; they were staring at you directly like they knew you’d be watching. It made your skin crawl.

You turned the TV off, unable to watch anymore. The words echoed in your mind: “secret polyamorous marriage” and “shaken the gaming world.” You buried your face in your hands, the stress of it all threatening to overwhelm you. The twins inside you shifted uncomfortably, as if responding to your distress.

They don’t even know what they’ve done to me, you thought bitterly. They didn’t even care enough to notice me begging for their attention. And now this?

Your eye flicked to the news flashing on the corner of your laptop screen, “Genius CEO Married to Chaotic Duo? Security Incident at Gaming HQ Leaves Internet Thirsting.”

Your head falls into your hands as you mutter, “This is why I deleted social media. They’ve turned my life into a meme.”

The twins kick inside you, as if to remind you they’re still there, and you sigh deeply. At least someone in your life listens to you… sometimes.

Megumi had come through, and by the end of the night, your offices worldwide were in lockdown, with new measures being implemented to ensure this never happened again. Your heart ached for the lives that had been disrupted because of you, but you refused to let their suffering be in vain.

Later, as you sat in the quiet of your new home, far from Shibuya, you stared at the screen of your phone. The urge to reach out to them lingered, a phantom ache you couldn’t shake. But you knew better.

They had chosen this path, and you had chosen yours.

For now, all you could do was protect the people who relied on you and hope they found their way back to themselves, away from you—without destroying everything in their wake.

But no one could outrun Gojo Satoru and Nanami Kento.

The second time, it would be worse.

//

Later that evening, Gojo slouched on the couch, lazily scrolling through his phone. Nanami sat across from him, surrounded by maps and books, his hoodie’s sleeves scrunched up.

“So, she’s somewhere cold,” Gojo said, tossing his phone onto the table.

Nanami didn’t look up. “We don’t know that.”

“Sure, we do,” Gojo replied, leaning forward. “Her assistant said she was cold. And she hates being cold indoors. That means she’s somewhere where the cold is... unavoidable. Nordic country vibes.”

Nanami frowned, flipping a page in his book. “That’s a stretch.”

Gojo grinned. “Is it? Think about it. Quiet, isolated, and full of tall, serious people. People who mind their own business and won’t notice a powerful CEO roaming around. Won’t snitch to the Gojo clan. She fits right in.”

Nanami’s brow furrowed as he considered it. “She’d hate the lack of convenience.”

“Which makes it the perfect place to hide,” Gojo countered, already standing and stretching. “Pack your overcoat, Nami. We’re going to Scandinavia.”

Nanami closed his book with a snap. “You’re an idiot.”

“An idiot with good instincts,” Gojo quipped, heading for the door. “Let’s go find our wife.”

A/N: Fanart by @Todo269 on Twitter - https://x.com/todo269/status/1834376289526186336 The bomb meme was made by yours truly and the other one I found randomly on pinterest. Did anyone see Special Grade Nanamin™ coming? I sure didn’t, but here we are. Also: Haibara or his lookalike? Yes, that’s for the one person who asked. You’re welcome. @sxlfcxst

Cast your vote in the poll, and don’t hold back in the comments. Let’s hear those unhinged takes! 👑 Because your girl needs validation. Bonus points if you paid attention to the usernames.

Oh, and this update came fast, but don’t get used to it. Friday updates are my fragile sanity’s limit. Don’t break me, please.

All Works Masterlist

Tag-list = @lady-of-blossoms @stargirl-mayaa @dark-agate @tqd4455 @roscpctals99 @sxlfcxst @se-phi-roth @austisticfreak @helloxkittylo @itoshi-r @kodzukensworld

[papernstory]

Killing is illegal 🖤🤍

Prints

[justrustandstardust]

the op of jjk season 2 is rife with symbolism. there's one particular motif, however, that foreshadows the trajectory (and tragedy) of gojo and geto's love story.

almost immediately, we see geto running through the rain. the stylistic choice to portray him holding his bag over his head is deliberate, because it emphasizes what he conspicuously doesn’t have but so clearly needs: an umbrella.

gojo, on the other hand, is not operating with the same sense of urgency, seen through him taking his time looking at a cat. gojo has what geto needs, but he's not rushing. their behaviour is incongruous; geto is hurrying to get out of the rain, and gojo remains still, because he’s absolutely not hurrying at all.

the sense of urgency is compounding, seen through geto bouncing his leg. he’s waiting impatiently in the rain, and he's not using his bag to cover up his head anymore. geto knows gojo is coming; that's why he's impatient— because he's waiting for someone who has what he needs that hasn’t shown up yet.

geto needs him, yet gojo doesn’t pick up the pace. this is despite the fact that he needs to because it’s raining and geto doesn’t have an umbrella. we, as the audience, feel geto's impatience and we're urging gojo on, yet he still doesn't go any faster.

sharing an umbrella is an established trope in japan. it’s widely recognized and practiced enough to have its own designated terminology.

gojo is bringing an umbrella for them to share. that's why it’s repeatedly reinforced to the audience that geto doesn't have one. that’s also why the shots cut between them; it highlights what gojo has that geto doesn’t, and in doing so, ties the narrative together through the umbrella.

by the time gojo finally shows up, the sun has come out. gojo lowers the umbrella and smiles sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. contrarily, geto almost seems resigned, like he’s accepted the fact that gojo took too long. they can’t share the umbrella anymore because they missed their chance to use it.

we can see that geto is saying something to gojo when he finally shows up with the umbrella. you know what i would bet actual money it probably was?

“you’re late, satoru.”

[genderjester]

in my drawing satosugu covered in blood era👍

[sonarspace]

sharing

synopsis: in which geto shares his girlfriend with his roommates. content: nsfw (foursome, kinda). (geto x gojo x nanami x reader) wc: 1.7k a/n: tried something new. i hope you like it! (not proofread)

sitting on the couch on geto’s lap, your face hidden in his neck as his fingers move up your leg under the blanket. you grab his hand to stop his movements but he doesn’t.

his fingers lightly move over your shorts, his knuckles swiping against your clothed pussy. you bite into his neck as the urge to moan overwhelms you.

"they'll see," you whisper into his ear. he turns his face towards them. his two roommates sitting on the other side of the couch. a blanket drapped over their legs. their focus was on the tv but geto could see gojo's hand moving under the blanket and over nanami's crotch.

nanami's eyes widen, his eyebrows shooting up as he quickly glances at gojo's blank face. he turns his face back to the tv and rests his head back on the couch. geto chuckles under his breath, "i think they're too occupied to notice."

confused you pull your face out of his neck and see what geto's talking about. nanami's breathing heavily — gasping every few minutes at the hand rubbing over his hardening cock. gojo turns his face and meets your eyes — a slow smirk curving up his lips.

your legs tighten around geto's hand. “wanna join?” gojo cocks his head. nanami's head snaps towards you and his expression quickly turns into one of pleasure when gojo slips his hand under his shorts. your face warms, a blush creeping up your neck. you gulp and look back at your boyfriend. “i can take you back to our room. or we can take satoru up on his offer. whatever you want baby.” he gives you the choice.

“can we just watch them for now?” your voice only audible to your boyfriend’s ears. he smiles against your cheek and nods. “go ahead satoru. give us a show.” geto drawls with a smirk.

and god does gojo give you a show. geto’s dick hard as ever and your panties so wet they were sticking to you like latex. gojo’s on his knees in front of nanami, face buried and tongue poking out to slicken his balls and cock with his saliva.

gojo pulls back from underneath and rest his face on nanami’s plush thigh, eyeing you and geto. pumping nanami’s thick veiny cock with a teasing smile. nanami’s lips parted and slipping out a mix of shaky breaths and moans.

geto’s hand moving over your clit stops and his breath hitches when nanami cums – his one hand gripping geto’s outstretched foot and other in gojo’s hair pulling his strands.

“suguru,” you whine loud enough that all three men’s attention is on you. your eyes flutter close in pleasure and he picks up the pace once more. his finger moves over your bundle of nerves, paying special attention to your clit. you cum with shy whimpers in his neck.

“no need to be shy,” nanami speaks up, a mocking grin plastered on his face. you pull away from your boyfriend’s neck to face to them. they’re both watching you intensely – as if they wanted to devour you.

“can i taste your girlfriend suguru?” gojo asks. geto looks at you for permission. you nod your head in agreement. your heart picks up a beat in excitement as gojo moves closer to where you’re sitting on geto’s lap.

“i’m not going to bite,” gojo jokes. you lay back on geto’s chest and he grasps your hand, rubbing his thumb over it to keep you calm. you’re acutely aware of their attention on you as your glistening cunt comes into view. gojo and nanami gasp in unison.

“i want a taste too,” nanami requests. you hum in agreement as gojo peppers kisses up your thigh. licking at your bikini line. you huff out a whine as his tongue moves up and down your cunt. messy.

his lips finally closes around your clit and your jerk further into his mouth. you can feel his smile as he sucks your clit fervently. overwhelmed with pleasure you don't realize when your hand moves under geto’s boxers – until he’s squirming behind you.

gojo's on a mission as he continues moving his tongue from your hole to your clit – licking hungrily and moaning at your taste. gojo moves aside - enough so that nanami could join him. you gasp as your legs are stretched further open for them.

feeling both their tongues on your pussy has the coil in your stomach tighten. nanami’s loud as he licks and pecks your clit. groaning out a “she’s so sweet” to which gojo replies “sweetest thing i’ve tasted in a while, no wonder suguru’s pussy whipped.” both of them break out in a light chuckle, face still buried in your cunt.

geto wraps a hand around your neck. grabbing your face and pulling you in a deep kiss. his tongue moving in tandem with yours – both of you moaning into each other’s mouths. you continue jerking him off and gojo joins in on the fun by palming at geto’s balls – massaging them teasingly making geto moan an elongated “fuckkkk,” and “keep going”.

your hand starts to loosen its grip as gojo and nanami’s tongues move over you in sync but gojo’s hand wraps around yours – pumping his leaky cock with you. you can’t tell who’s tongue is pushing deep into your hole and who’s tongue is flicking your nub – you bet they're both taking turns.

geto’s lips continue to move over yours. overstimulated from all the lips on your body – you’re cumming with a loud moan and legs shaking around the two men below.

you can still feel their lips and tongue on you as they slowly pull away and get lost in their own kiss. gojo’s huffing and groaning into the kiss as nanami pulls out his hardened length – covered in so much pre cum you’d think he already came.

nanami starts pumping him and pushing him back to sit on the couch. moving down his neck leaving a red bite mark under his jaw, kissing over his clothed nipples and making him buck his hips in his grip. he pushes out his tongue and licks his tip and gojo hisses out a ��fuckk ken baby, take it easy”. but he’s too lost in pleasuring gojo to hear that and takes him down his throat with ease.

you continue to pump geto and his cum covers your hand. gojo’s eyes snap towards your cum covered hand and he licks his lips in anticipation. his gaze holds yours as you move a finger into your mouth and suck oh so sensually – chest rising and eyes shutting.

it has him hitting the back of nanami’s throat and making the blond man gag. you move out of geto’s arms and close to gojo. squishing his cheeks to make his lips pucker and you let a line of cum fall onto his lips. you pull him into a kiss and he hums at the taste of geto.

you feel geto’s hand on your ass as he spreads your legs apart and licks a stripe from your one to hole to another. you jerk at the sensation and gojo grabs your shoulders to keep you steady and continues kissing you, licking geto’s cum off your tongue.

he bites your lip as he pulls back and shoots a load of his own cum down nanami’s throat. tugging his hair and pulling him into the kiss. geto pulls back and joins your kiss. four tongues mingling with one and another – sharing gojo’s salty but unusually sweet cum.

you pull away and turn to your boyfriend. he licks your lips.. top…bottom. and as soon as you poke out your tongue he’s sucking it into his mouth. your salivas meshing together. “bedroom, please” you speak into the kiss. and he’s carrying and walking upstairs towards his bedroom immediately.

you see the two men still going at it – lost in their own pleasure. palming at each other trying to get rid of any layers that are keeping them apart. both letting out loud groans, hands tangled in each other’s hair.

geto lays you down on the bed. pulling off your shirt and kissing down your body so sweetly. muttering praises into your skin “my sweet baby did so well” with an emphasis on my.

you mewl when he kisses between your legs. “shh, i’ve got you now,” he coos. he places your legs around his waist and lines himself up with you. “just want you suguru, only you..” you whisper in awe of his figure above you. his skin covered in a sheen of sweat.

he pushes into you – his head cocks back in pleasure. feeling your warmth surround his cock and he lets out a loud whimper. you claw at his chest at the feeling of his cock nudging deeper into your core. moving in and out. sounds of your pussy squeezing around him emanating loudly into the room.

he falls over you. his hand squeezing yours as he pushes it up next to your head. dipping his face down to kiss you. and he keeps his lips on yours as he picks up the pace. his hips rutting into yours. you lock your legs behind his back – pulling him in impossibly closer. skin to skin.

he moves a hand down to your clit, spelling his name over your nub. you giggle at the realization. and he smiles gazing into your eyes. you cum once more and milk him in the process. you moan in satisfaction as ropes of his cum reach deep inside you.

he falls on top of you. his body weight comforting. you move a hand into his hair, scratching lightly. “how do you feel?” he checks in with you – knowing that this was an unexplored territory for you. “did you like it? was it too much?” he adds.

“i don’t know,” you hum in thought. “I mean i feel good. it wasn’t uncomfortable. it was just new and i guess i’ve never seen them that way,” you say honestly. “would you wanna do it again?” he asks curiously.

“not sure. i like it when it’s just us. but if you want to, i think i don’t mind trying. i know you’ve done…” you leave the sentence unfinished. he chuckles lightheartedly “heh, baby. i just want you. i like it when it’s just us, too,” he smiles against your lips.

you’re about to kiss when you hear one of them – no, both of them moan each other’s names loudly. you both break out in laughter. they’re going to be getting lots of noise complaints come morning.

𓇼 ⋆｡〰️⋆｡˚𖦹 ⋆𓆞𓇼 ⋆｡〰️⋆｡˚𖦹 ⋆𓆞𓇼 ⋆｡〰️⋆｡˚𖦹 ⋆𓆞𓇼 ⋆｡〰️⋆｡˚𖦹 ⋆𓆞𓇼 ⋆｡〰️⋆｡˚𖦹 ⋆𓆞

a/n: comments, likes and reblogs are appreciated!

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