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obsesssedblerd · 7 months ago

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PLS PLS PLS DO A FIC WHERE GOJO AND Y/N ADOPT THE FIRST YEARS BASED ON THAT SMAU PLSSSSSSS

I GOT YOU ANON!!!! oh, i've been dying to write this one!

Filling the Empty Spaces

Synopsis: You always thought that the house that you and your new husband, Satoru, lived in was way too big. One night after a rough mission, the both of you decide to keep an eye on Yuuji, Megumi, and Nobara as they recover. You grow to love their company, and realize that they fit so perfectly not just in your house, but also your life.

Wc: 5.1k

Contains: teeth-rotting fluff, soft husband! gojo, yuuji no longer being sukuna’s vessel, gojo and reader are married, reader has a technique but it’s not explained, reader used to be a teacher but quit, gojo and reader adopting the first years, only a dash of angst, pregnancy (but only at the end), some suggestiveness but no smut, everyone is happy bc i said so. (gege don’t ever let me catch you)

a/n: this has to be the sweetest thing i’ve ever written in my life lol. also this is barely proof-read, so sorry for any mistakes!

-------------------------------------------------

Even with all of yours and Satoru’s belongings, the house that was left for him was still insanely huge. Your footsteps echo in the hallway as you mentally count the empty spaces. Three empty bedrooms, three empty bathrooms, another large room that could be considered a second living room. You knew it was big; Satoru said it was prior to you two getting married and moving in, but you wondered if you’d ever get used to having that much extra space.

“Oh, wifeyyyy,” Satoru calls out to you in his usual, sing-songy tone, his voice echoing throughout the hallway. “Where are you?”

“Near the kitchen!” You call back to him.

Your tall and handsome husband appears not even a minute later. The corner of his mouth pulls upwards into a smirk as he sees you sitting on the counter of the kitchen island. “Well, hello there, Mrs. Gojo.”

Your heart stutters in your chest, and you cast your eyes downward. “It’s gonna take a while before I get used to that.” You smile and lift up your left hand, allowing the gorgeous diamond on your fourth finger to glimmer in the sunlight that filled the space. “I still can’t believe it.”

Satoru steps in front of you and grabs your hand, bringing it to his mouth and placing a small kiss on your palm. “Believe it, pretty girl,” he says, his cerulean eyes meeting yours. He takes your other hand, then tugs upward so your arms are around his neck, his own hands settling on your hips. Your fingers brush against his undercut, then play with his soft white hair. “After all.” His voice dips to a sensual purr as his face inches closer. “I did tell you that I was going to make you my wife, didn’t I?”

He kisses you, and you sigh blissfully into his mouth as your eyes shut. Despite being practically glued to him during your two-week honeymoon on a beautiful island, you still craved him. His hand barely slides underneath your shirt before his phone starts ringing. He groans, and you giggle as he pulls away and grabs his phone out of his pocket. “Work?” You ask.

“Work. However, it’s Yuuji, not Yaga.” Satoru answers and begins talking while you hop off of the counter and decide to make both of you some tea. It wouldn’t be long before the sun begins to set, so you start thinking about what to make for dinner.

You look over to see Satoru’s brows furrowed. “Ah, I see,” he said to Yuuji on the other line. “Well, good to hear that you made it back to the school safely. Are you three alright? Megumi went to see Shoko for that injury?”

That worries you. From the sound of it, the first years went on another dangerous mission this afternoon. You knew that Kento Nanami was watching them, but with three students and dangerous curses, anything could happen. “I think I’ve come across a curse like that before,” Satoru says. “You get sick only after it hits you with that goo. Since you and Nobara only got a bit of it on you, you won’t die. However, it still concerns me. One second, okay?”

He tilts the phone away from him and turns to look at you. “Megumi got injured. Shoko healed him but needs to rest for at least a few days. Yuuji and Nobara might also become sick.”

Your heart sinks. Yuuji, Megumi and Nobara were just kids. You remember battling curses as a teen alongside Satoru and Suguru Geto before he became a curse-user, but becoming an adult and watching the next generation of students throw themselves into battle gave you an entirely different feeling. Around two months ago, Yuuji officially separated from Ryomen Sukuna and was freed from the burden of being his vessel; but you were getting a feeling that he still wanted to prove himself as a sorcerer by going on tough missions, all so he could stay around.

“They’re gonna need someone to keep an eye on them for a while. Everyone else at the school is busy,” you say, and Satoru nods. You pause on making the tea, then make a decision. “Alright, have Ichiji bring them here. We have plenty of space, as you can see, and I can help them out while you’re at work over the next few days.”

After all, the first years didn’t have anyone else.

Satoru kisses your forehead, then tells Yuuji the plan. Meanwhile, you double-check the three empty rooms and bathrooms. Each of them had freshly made beds, clean bathrooms and some decorative furniture—thanks to the housekeeping that maintained this house before you and Satoru moved in.

While you were thinking hard about some extra items that you didn’t have, Satoru comes up behind you and places his hands on your shoulders, which immediately slump under his touch. You sigh as he rubs the tension from them. “Baby, whatever we don’t have, and they need it, we can just buy it. Yuuji’s telling them to pack enough clothes for a while. Just relax. It’ll be okay.”

Right. It’ll be fine.

— — — — —

When Yuuji, Megumi, and Nobara arrive, your face splits into a wide smile. You haven’t seen them since you and Satoru got married. A rush of movement, and the pink-haired teenager is hugging you tight, excitedly rambling about how much he missed you. The brown-haired girl is next, and Nobara literally squeals as she hugs you. Finally, the dark-haired teen, who is much calmer than his fellow first years. However, he doesn’t shy away when you hug him gently—being careful not to touch his side that was injured in battle—and he mumbles that it’s good to see you.

“Wow, this house is huge!” Nobara exclaims as she wanders around the kitchen, then the living room.

As always, Yuuji matches her high energy. “No kidding. There’s like a million rooms in this place!”

Satoru chuckles. He was dressed in his usual uniform and blindfold, leaning against the wall of the living room with his hands shoved into his pockets. “I’m glad you like it. This place was left for me. I knew that I wanted to move in here only if I got married. For a while, I thought I’d never touch it. Then I met that lovely sorcerer over there.”

Your cheeks heat, and the students ‘aw’ over his words. The oven dings, and you spring up. “Great, dinner’s done. Give me some time to set up.”

Satoru and Nobara sit with Megumi on the couch in the living room to watch TV, and Yuuji follows you to help set the table in the dining room. “You don’t want to go sit down?” You ask, reaching over to ruffle the boy’s hair. “You’ve had a long day.”

“It’s okay, I wanna help. Besides, it’s been so long since I’ve seen you. I missed talking with you.”

Your heart swells. You pass him some plates and some silverware, and he stacks it so he can take it to the table. “How are you holding up?” You ask as you pull the food you prepared out of the oven.

“Doing good. It definitely feels nice not having his voice in my head anymore,” he says from the dining room, neatly arranging the dishes. Five plates, five glasses, five sets of silverware. “Or worrying about him taking my body at any second. Just knowing that no one has to deal with him ever again brings me so much peace.”

“I’m so proud of you.” You take off of your oven mitts and walk towards him. “So is Satoru and the rest of your teachers, and so is your grandfather. He’d be happy knowing that you’re still helping people by fighting curses.”

That makes Yuuji pause. His smile is still there, but it wobbles at the corners. He turns away from you to hide his face, but the tremble in his shoulders is impossible for him to conceal. “Yuuji,” you call softly, and he sniffles, still turned around. Your heart aches, and you pull him to you. He immediately wraps his arms around you as his head settles onto your chest, his body shaking as he sobs quietly. You were thankful that the TV was on in the living room so he could have this moment privately.

“It’s okay to cry,” you whisper as you stroke his hair. “Everything’s alright. You’re brave, but it’s okay to break down, too.”

“Only reason I‘m alive is because you and Gojo-sensei fought against my execution.” He uses a sleeve of his jacket to wipe his tears. “I’ll be honest. There were so many times where I thought I wasn’t going to make it, or if it would be impossible to be separated from Sukuna without hurting anyone else. But you two had so much hope for me, and it pushed me to keep fighting.”

Tears fill your eyes, and you blink them back. “I’ll always fight for you, you hear me?” Yuuji nods, and you let him hug you for as long as you like.

Unbeknownst to you, Satoru watches you both from the living room with a gentle smile.

— — — — —

Dinner is filled with fun stories, jokes, and plenty of laughter. Once everyone has finished eating, Satoru and Yuuji do the dishes while you and Nobara help Megumi into one of the spare rooms after his shower.

“The bed’s super comfortable,” Megumi says, not fighting a single bit when you cover him with the blanket. “Thank you.”

“You better get some rest, Fushiguro,” Nobara says seriously as she crosses her arms. “Shoko said four days.”

“She’s right,” Yuuji comments as he walks into the room, sitting next to her on the edge of Megumi’s bed. “Not a single hour before.”

Megumi frowns. “You both are being dramatic.”

“Look, if Kugisaki and I have to lock you in here so you can rest, then that’s exactly what we’ll do.”

“Yup!” Nobara agrees with her usual grin, popping the p for extra dramatics. “And if that doesn’t work, we’ll just call the Gojos. Do you really want to get lectured by them?”

That makes you laugh. “Alright, you two, I think he gets it.” You gently fix Megumi’s hair—noting that his eyes were beginning to droop with exhaustion—then stand up. “Besides, you both might also be on bedrest. You did get hit by that curse earlier, and Satoru said that the effects won’t kick in until tomorrow. So it’s important that you two get plenty of sleep as well.”

Yuuji and Nobara say goodnight to Megumi, then the three of you leave his room. You decide to take your shower, making a mental list of groceries to buy for tomorrow now that the first years were staying with you for a few days. When you exit the bathroom in some sleepwear, you hear quiet giggling and snickering coming from the kitchen. You scoff, put on your house slippers and go investigate.

First, you see your husband’s white hair in the dimly-lit kitchen. You flip on the light switch, and burst out laughing at the sight. Satoru, Yuuji, and Nobara were stuffing their faces with cupcakes, all dressed in their pajamas. They were Satoru’s favorite, and he requested them from you every chance he got. “Now, what is going on here?” You ask.

“His idea,” Nobara attempts to mumble with her mouth full as she points at Satoru. Yuuji immediately nods in agreement and also points at his teacher. Satoru only shrugs with his usual smile, using a thumb to wipe away the blue icing on his lips before licking it clean. Then he offers you one. “Here, have one. They’re delicious.”

“No, silly, it’s late.” You put the cupcake back in its container, then hand the two teens a napkin. “And you two should be getting some rest. Megumi’s already fast asleep.”

Surprisingly, they don’t put up a fight. You happily do skincare with Nobara in the bathroom of the bedroom that she was using, and you both make plans to go shopping for some face masks once they’re all feeling better. When she finishes moisturizing her face, she gives you another hug. “Missed you,” she mumbles into your shoulder.

“Aw, sweetheart,” you sigh as you return the hug. “I’ve missed you as well. Was it a long few weeks for you?”

“Well, kinda,” she says as she pulls away, then goes to sit on her bed. “I know you and Gojo-sensei were on your honeymoon, and we expected that, but we’re all just getting used to the fact that you’ve officially quit working at the school. We support it, but it sucks knowing that we’re not going to see you as much.”

The thinly-veiled sadness in her eyes makes your gut twist. Of course they were going to miss you. You saw them and worked with them every single day. “Nobara, I’m always going to be here for you. Just because I no longer work there, that doesn’t mean I still can’t visit or even help out with you three.”

Nobara rests her head on your shoulder, and you rub a comforting hand up and down her back. “Promise?” she asks quietly.

“I promise.”

When she goes to bed, you leave her room and shut the door behind you. Finally, you walk to Yuuji’s room, which is still lit up. You get to the doorway, and you hide a laugh when you see that he fell asleep almost immediately after laying down. More than likely got more comfortable than he thought when he tested the bed. You adjust the pillow so it’s under his head, pull the blanket over his body, mess with his hair once more, then switch the lamp off so he can rest. You leave, then shut the door.

“They all fell asleep so quickly,” you say to Satoru once you walk into your spacious, shared bedroom. You climb into bed next to him, sighing when you feel the soft, silk sheets against your skin. Like every night, he tugs you into his large, muscular arms, and you rest your head against his chest.

This was your favorite spot to be; in the arms of the strongest, most powerful man in the whole world. Satoru was protective in every sense of the word. Nothing would ever happen to you as long as you were with him.

“I’m certain that those rooms are much more comfortable than the dorms at the school,” he says. You feel his hand rubbing soothing patterns against your arm. “So, what’s your plan for tomorrow?”

“Keeping an eye on them. I’m almost one hundred percent positive that they’re all going to be sleeping most of the day.” You then press a kiss against Satoru’s jaw. “And when you get home from work tomorrow, I expect you to rest, too. I know you’re dealing with the higher-ups.”

“Eh, who cares about them?” Satoru scoffs. “I tune them out.”

“Yeah, you really gotta stop doing that.”

— — — — — — — —

Your morning starts early. You’re barely awake when you feel Satoru kiss your cheek, whispering in your ear that he loves you and that he’ll see you after work. You sleep for about another half-hour, then decide to get up. After brushing your teeth, you walk down the hallway leading to the kitchen. The sun is already shining through the large windows of the sunroom, and you pause in your tracks when you see Megumi, silently reading one of the many books you kept in there.

He’s sitting on a bean bag chair towards the corner of the room, and you notice two more books on the ground next to him. When he sees you staring, he sits up and shuts the book. “Sorry.” The apology comes out in a faint, yet frantic rush. “I-I was just curious, and I’ve never seen a huge collection like this, and—”

“Megumi.” Your soft voice stops him, and his shoulders slump in relief when he sees you smile and sit in the bean bag chair adjacent to his. “It’s alright. Books are meant to be read. I’m just happy you found this room. I thought you might like it.”

“It’s so peaceful here,” he comments as he looks around slowly, taking in the beauty of your favorite room in the house. One wall is lined with books, neatly organized on floor-to-ceiling, wall-to-wall shelves. There is also a tall ladder that slides smoothly across the shelves, which aids you whenever a book is placed far too high. The rest of the room is filled with bean bag chairs, plants, and a few small, decorative statues.

You tilt your head to get a closer look at the book in his hand. “What are you reading?”

“A sci-fi,” he says, “I’ve kind of been interested in them since watching Human Earthworm with Itadori.”

“Ah.” You stand up, drag the ladder towards the middle of the shelves, then climb up to retrieve a duology. “I think you’ll like this series, then. In addition to the books you also have with you.”

Megumi rubs the back of his head bashfully. “I hope I’ll have enough time to get through these,” he says, then yawns. “And energy. Still tired even though I slept for a while.”

“Your body needs rest, and it’s okay. You can keep the books until you’re finished. Take your time.”

Megumi smiles at that. It’s small, but it’s there, and you love it. “Thank you.”

“Of course.”

— — — — — —

Like you expected, Yuuji and Nobara weren’t feeling good that morning. They had some body aches, chills and a light cough. Luckily, they had you to look after them. You prepared soup for the three of them, and you made sure they were comfortable and hydrated. When Satoru returned from work, he gave all three of them medicine to help with any pain. The both of you kept an eye on them as they slept.

Over the next few days, they were all feeling better, however, both you and Satoru kept making excuses to keep them for another day. What if their cold comes back? Or, Maybe Shoko miscalculated and Megumi needed a few more days to fully recover?

Even when the first years were well enough to start going on missions again, Satoru had made it a habit to bring them back with him at the end of the day. You’ve also made new habits since the first years entered your home. Every morning, you would make breakfast for everyone to enjoy at the table. You loved seeing Yuuji, Megumi, and Nobara’s smiles, or hearing them groan whenever Satoru made a joke that was just a little too cheesy. And their hugs. Oh, you loved their hugs. You hugged them before they went off to jujutsu high with Satoru each morning, and you hugged them each night before bed.

After about six weeks, you were so used to them being over every night; so much to the point that you and Satoru stared at Yuuji in confusion when he asked if you were tired of them. Both of you had never said, “No,” so fast in your lives.

Not only were you used to it, you loved it. You loved sitting quietly in the sunroom with Megumi, enjoying each other’s company while reading your respective books. You loved listening to Yuuji’s wild stories about his epic adventures as a sorcerer, even better when Satoru joined in and helped him with the dramatics. You loved doing face masks and painting your nails with Nobara. You were pretty sure you spent up to a few hours each week in the bathroom with her, laughing joyfully and listening to music as you played around with cosmetics.

You loved movie nights with the five of you sitting together on the couch, passing popcorn and other treats amongst each other. You loved it when each of the teens came to you about what was bothering them. By the second month, all of them had trusted you enough to cry around you. You loved comforting them—being a sorcerer is hard and gruesome, and anyone would need support. You loved holding them, wiping their tears, and feeling them settle when you reassure them that you and Satoru would keep them safe. You loved seeing them play silly games in the spacious backyard. Sometimes, you and Satoru joined them so you could have fun with them.

Before any one of you knew it, five months of this had passed.

At that point, Yuuji, Megumi, and Nobara’s dorms back at the school were practically deserted, and the once-empty guest bedrooms of yours and Satoru’s home were filled with their belongings. Clothes, shoes, books, posters, souvenirs, trinkets, and photographs. You and your husband never did hold back when it came to spoiling them, whether with materials or experiences. You had noticed that the three of them were glowing. Louder laughs, smiles that reach their eyes, sleeping better, feeling more comfortable, and overall, looking much happier.

“They feel loved,” Nanami had told you once you explained it to him on a day you went to visit the school. “Everyone glows when they feel loved.”

— — — — —

“We should adopt them.”

At Satoru’s words, you look up from your book to face him. He’s laying down in your shared bed, facing the ceiling with an arm tucked behind his head. It is nearly midnight, and you are the only ones awake in the house. “Really?” You ask, unable to hide your smile. You shut your book and put it on the bedside table. This was a conversation that you’ve been hoping to have for a while. Finally, you’re talking about adopting those three and officially having them as your kids.

“Yeah.” He sighs as he sits up. “I like having them here, and I can tell that you do, too. I can also tell that they like being here. They’re much more relaxed. Yuuji and Nobara are sleeping so much better, and plus, I don’t think I’ve ever seen Megumi smile so much.”

“I love having them here,” you say. You reach for his hand, and he clasps it with yours, intertwining your fingers together. “I don’t want them to ever go back to that school. They’re so happy here. I want to keep them happy. Besides, if we adopt them, I’m pretty sure that would keep the higher-ups from deciding to toss them into reckless missions simply because they have no legal guardian. They’d have to go through us first, right?”

“They’d have to go through us first regardless.” Satoru then chuckles. “Have you been wanting to talk about adopting them, pretty girl? You seem like you’ve put so much thought into this.”

“You have no idea.”

“I wish you said something sooner. Honestly, we could’ve done this a few months ago.”

You kiss his cheek, then rest your chin on his shoulder. “Well,” you start, “I remember you saying that you were hesitant about starting a family towards the beginning of our relationship a few years back. I didn’t know if your mind had changed or not. Adopting three teenagers falls into that category.”

“Ah, so that’s why you never talked about it recently,” he says with a thoughtful hum. “Before we got together, I didn’t know how I felt about having a family, simply because I got to a point where I could never see myself having such a thing. But, then I fell in love with you, and in love with life with you. I’d love to start a family with you.” He kisses your hand, then continues, “And I’m not just talking about adopting Yuuji, Megumi, and Nobara.”

You gasp lightly, and your heart begins to race in excitement. You lift your head, then turn your body so you’re directly in front of him. “Satoru.” Your voice comes out in a barely-audible whisper. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

Gentleness glimmers in his blue eyes, and he uses a hand to stroke your cheek. You instinctively lean into the touch, and his thumb wipes away the tear that barely slides from the corner of your eye. “If you want to,” he starts, “and if you’re ready, I’d love to have a baby with you.”

You think you’re dreaming. You feel like your body’s about to explode. It takes everything not to squeal loudly and wake up the teens. You smile and nod, wiping away the tears of joy before they blur your vision any further. “I’d love that, too.”

Satoru leans in and kisses you. It’s slow, loving and so very gentle. He slightly trembles, and you open your eyes to see that he was also tearing up from the happiness. “I love you.” His voice is low, yet shaky. “I love you so fucking much.” He kisses you again, then moves from your mouth, slowly down your neck. “I’ll take care of you. All of you.” He gently pushes you back against the sheets, and you sigh as his hands trail down your body. You wrap your arms around his neck to pull him closer.

“All five of you.”

— — — — —

“So, you wanted to talk with us?” Yuuji asks.

You, Satoru, and the teens all sit on the luxurious couch in the living room the next morning. Since there’s no missions for them, they get to relax at home. All three of them were still cozy in their pajamas, and they finished eating their breakfast not too long ago.

“Yes,” you say as you sit up. “So, it’s been five months of you all staying here.”

At once, Yuuji, Megumi, and Nobara stiffen, then share grim looks with each other. It confuses you, and before you can ask about it, Nobara sits up. She gulps hard, and you know from her staying with you for so long that it’s because she’s trying to choke back tears so they wouldn’t form in her eyes. “It’s okay,” she says, “we understand. We knew that this would be a temporary thing.”

“Huh?” Satoru asks, also confused. You can tell that his brows are furrowed underneath his blindfold. “What’re you—”

“I mean, five months is a lot. We get it. You didn’t have to keep us for this long, but you did. Thank you,” Megumi says.

Yuuji nods with a smile, but you know it’s a fake one. It makes your heart ache. “Just know that we’re extremely grateful for everything.”

“Every last bit of it. Thank you so much,” Nobara chimes in.

“Okay, all of you, stop.” Your voice is firm, and it silences them all at once. Megumi is facing the ground to hide his face, Yuuji’s fake smile fades as he casts his eyes downward, and Nobara looks over at the wall, nervously chewing at her lip. “This isn’t what you think it is. Satoru and I don’t want you three to leave.”

Now it’s their turn to look confused. However, they’re all finally looking directly at you, and that makes you feel a little bit better. “We were going to ask if you’d like to make it permanent, because we’d love to adopt you three.”

They gasp, and their eyes widen in shock. It’s silent for a few beats, then Nobara faintly asks, “...What?”

Satoru chuckles, then claps his hands together once. “Aw, c’mon, Nobara! Surely, you know what ‘permanent’ means!” You roll your eyes. Adding humor to make a situation less tense was such a Satoru Gojo thing to do.

The teens still look in shock. “So…” Megumi starts, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’d be our parents?”

“Yes,” you reply with a smile.

Nobara sniffles, and you look over at her to see that she’s no longer holding back her tears. “And- And we’d be your kids?” Her voice is also quiet. Yuuji, on the other hand, is much louder with his question. “And these two would be my siblings?!”

You giggle, then nod again. “Yes, one hundred percent yes. I know it’s sudden, and if you all need time to think about it—”

“Yes!!” Nobara practically screams, then runs over to hug you and Satoru as she begins sobbing. A split second later, Yuuji is there too, also hugging you tight. Megumi joins last, and the five of you remain there, embracing each other. Embracing your husband, your two new sons and your new daughter. Your eyes shut as you laugh with joy, unaware of your own tears.

— — — — — —

Six months later

“So yeah, that’s the story of how Mom and Dad adopted us,” Yuuji concludes, then places his hand against your swollen tummy. “Pretty cool, right?”

As if responding, ‘Yes,’ the baby within you gently kicks. “Ha!” Yuuji exclaims excitedly, then grins over at Megumi and Nobara. “I told you that they like my voice!”

Nobara rolls her eyes. “Oh, please, Yuuji, they like all of our voices, but they like mine the most.” Now she puts her hand against your stomach, leaning close so the baby could hear her better. “Right, sweets? Isn’t your big sister your favorite sibling?”

Two light kicks. Yuuji gasps in surprise while Nobara cackles victoriously. Megumi scoffs at their foolishness, and you laugh.

“I won’t lie though,” Megumi says. “I’m curious about what technique they’re going to have.”

“Yeah, will it be Mom’s or Dad’s?” Yuuji asks.

You shrug. “We don’t know yet.”

The front door opens, and you hear Satoru call out, “I’m home!” as he walks towards the living room where all of you were sitting. Like every day, he gives Yuuji, Megumi, and Nobara hugs as he asks about their days, then comes to you. He kisses your forehead, then your tummy. “Hey, little one,” he quietly coos. “Hope you didn’t give mama too much trouble today.”

“No vomiting today, so, yeah, they did pretty good.” You gently stroke his cheek. “Missed you today. How was work?”

“Yeah, how was work?” Nobara asks excitedly. “Any special grade curses?”

“Eh, nothing like that today,” Satoru says as he sits in between you and Megumi, ruffling the boy’s hair. “However, the second years are starting to plan a surprise party for Okkotsu’s birthday. I passed the word to the rest of the staff, and now I’m letting you all know about it.”

Megumi nods as he settles back into the comfortable couch cushion. “Inumaki did text me about that earlier.”

“This is going to be so fun!” Yuuji exclaims.

“Yeah, as long as we don’t leave you in charge of handling the cake like we did for Nanamin’s birthday last year, since you like to drop them,” Nobara scoffs.

“Oh, come on! That was one time!”

Megumi tsks, and shakes his head. “One time is too many.”

As they playfully squabble, you and Satoru watch them with soft smiles. His blindfold was lowered, so you got to see the pure love and happiness in his eyes. He finally has the family that he once dreamed of as a child. You lean on his shoulder, and he kisses your cheek.

Finally, your house was full, and so was your heart.

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dilfsfordinner · 1 year ago

Text

a/n- this is how i cope with aot ending

pairing- husband gojo x wife!reader

—————————————————————————

“Satoru, I’m back!” you called out, feet quickly slipping and kicking your shoes at the front door, arms struggling to keep the 10 grocery bags you had balanced from smashing to the floor.

“‘m sorry it took so long-” shuffling to the kitchen, you continued to talk to the open space, assuming your husband was actually listening, “-traffic was terrible. I didn’t even think it could snow this early.”

Your words trailed off into little mumbles, talking to yourself about every irritant you’d encountered in the grocery store. It was strangely quiet in the house, the usual squeals of laughter and giddy conversations gone from the common routine, the oddity oblivious to you and your focused state.

Leaning back with your hands on your hips, you sighed in relief, muscles relaxing as you took in your good work, cabinets full and refrigerator stocked, the kitchen now completely organized to perfection. Humming contentedly, the previous relief you’d felt turned awry, smile disappearing from your lips.

It was so.. quiet. Too quiet.

“..Toru.?” for the first time in the last 20 minutes, it had finally clicked that something was off. A kiss and hug weren’t given to you at the door, the tv was off, there was no nighttime bath running for Megumi. Everything was so still and silent.

Padding throughout the house, you quickly checked every room, the empty spaces throwing your brain into panic mode, all your worries coming to mind as you looked for your husband and little boy.

After your thorough search, one room remained, the door of your shared bedroom just the slightest bit ajar.

You were about to call for him again when a familiar tuft of white hair caught your eye. Pushing into the room, you took in probably one of the cutest sights you’d ever seen.

There, curled up in bed, fetal position, was your 6’6” husband, his chest slowly rising and falling with the pattern of sleep. Almost laughing at yourself for being so worried, you inched closer to your side of the bed, about to join him under the covers.

A patch of black hair stopped you this time though, little Megumi hidden in the pool of blankets that surrounded him and your lover’s bodies. Stifling an ‘aww’, you fought off the urge to film the two of them, Megumi’s little fingers clutching onto Gojo’s shirt as the two of them snored.

His tiny form was nuzzled into Gojo’s side, chubby cheeks pushed against Satoru’s ribs, drool collecting at the corner of his mouth, staining your man’s new, black sleep shirt, a fact you ignored as you imagined Gojo’s melodramatics certain to occur.

Although they acted like yin and yang, the way Gojo cradled him was so sweet, you really had to fight off the waterworks. His large hands held the little boy securely, long fingers resting on Megumi’s back and head, keeping him close, protecting him, like a real father would for his son.

Leaning down, you brushed Satoru’s hair away from his forehead, leaving a gentle kiss to his porcelain skin, then continuing to do the same to little Megs, the young boy’s breath hitching, dark eyelashes fluttering before his quiet snores started back up, fingers curling even tighter around Gojo’s sweater.

Tip-toeing to the door, you looked back one more time, the two of them nestled perfectly in a sea of blankets. “My sweet boys..” you murmured to yourself, shaking your head with a smile as you turned out of the room, clicking the door shut, leaving your two favorite people to their much needed rest filled bonding time.

—————————————————————————

#gege’s gonna cry #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #gojo fluff #gojo x reader #husband gojo #gojo satoru fluff #dad gojo #baby megumi #jujutsu kaisen fluff #gojo satoru x reader

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ponderingmoonlight · 9 months ago

Note

Gojo falls ill and reader does finishes his missions and her own missions as well do Gojo doesn't have a pile of work waiting for him once he gets better. Gojo gets better. And finds out. Hehehehe Lobe u babes

omg I love this, let's do it hehe

Reader finishing Gojo's missions when he falls sick and he finds out

Pairing: Gojo x wife!reader

Word Count: 2,3k

Synopsis: When your husband falls sick, you don't think twice about completing all of his tasks in order for him to not be stressed - even if it means multiple sleepless nights for youself. Little did you know that your husband will find out about it and thank you in his own way...

Warnings: pure fluff over fluff so enjoy, Gojo basically being THE husband for y'all, not proofread because it's already darn late here and I'm way too tired

„Oh come on, don’t tell me the honoured one caught a cold”, you playfully tease your beloved husband.

He’s definitely ill, there’s no doubt in that. The way his forehead is covered in sweat, his unusual pale face paired with his heavy breathing. Let alone the sight of his red and runny nose.

You never thought this is possible. After all, Satoru is one of the few people who are able to use revered technique. Isn’t he able to heal himself, to prevent his body from falling sick?

“Looks like I overdid it those last weeks. My body is catching up on my apparently”, he replies weakly along with a nasty sounding cough.

You know all too well these last weeks were like a trip to hell and back for him. This is actually the first time you saw your husband after one whole week of him running from mission to mission and coming home into bad past after midnight. Being two special grade sorcerers, it is your responsibility to prevent the worst things from happening. Especially during summer, the number of curses triples. And that paired with the stinging fact that jujutsu sorcerers die like flies each and every day…

It’s no wonder his body took a toll on him.

“You’ll stay here for the rest of the week, babe”, you instruct him gently while pulling a blanket up his chest.

“Nah, no chance. I’ll have a pile of work when I get back and-AH.”

It’s frightening, the way he almost chokes while coughing so roughly that it vibrates through your whole body. This doesn’t sound good at all. To be exact, you’ve never seen your husband like this despite the fact that you’ve been together for multiple years by now. If he’s feeling this miserable, it’s definitely time for a break.

“Don’t worry about that. I hold the position while you’re gone.”

Little did he know you meant that.

-a week later-

“It’s far past midnight. Why are you still up, (y/n)?”

His hoarse voice rips you out of your microsleep immediately, lids so heavy they feel like closing by themselves if you don’t pay close attention.

“Oh, just work.”

No, it’s not just work. Apart from the daily drama you have to endure, you made it your mission to complete each and every task your husband would face as soon as he comes back. You know all too well he’ll throw himself fully into work again, not thinking about his own health a single second. And to prevent that, you decided to finish his missions as well, to teach his students, to do anything in your power to prevent Satoru from a pile of work.

Including swollen eyelids, constant grumpy mood, no effort to eat and your shoulders hanging down onto the ground.

You hate to admit it, but you are exhausted. You never realized how much work your husband does during the day. Must be easier for him, though. Teleportation sure sounds nice at the moment…

“I’m worried about you, babe. Are the elders bombarding you with work again? Maybe I need to have a serious talk again-“

“No, don’t think too much about it. I’m just hanging on a bit, that’s it”, you lie.

Oh, Satoru knows it is. After all, you’re talking about yourself. You, so disciplined that you’d never leave work unattended. No, it’s absolutely impossible that you’re “hanging on a bit”. But what else is it? The dark circles underneath your eyes look like valleys in the soft light of a lamp, tired eyes failing to focus on the paperwork in front of you. Usually, this is what you’re doing straight in the morning when he’s still asleep. What keeps you so busy these last days? He has to find out, he-

He almost chokes on himself again, earning a concerned side eye from you. It’s been a week and he’s still sick to the brim. Worry lines decorate your face, palm gently resting against his scorching hot forehead.

“Off to bed with you.”

“Don’t stay up too long, okay? All you seem to do is work these last days”, your husband replies worried himself.

You sigh to yourself. That’s because you do. But leaving your husband to a pile of work after he returns to Jujutsu High only to get sick again? You grab the pen in your hand tighter, force your eyes to fully open. Only a few more days and you’ll be done. After all, you’re doing this for him, right?

Satoru is definitely worth the sleepless nights.

-a few days after-

“Turns out I’m fully back at normal again, babe!”, your husband announces proudly.

You blink against the harsh light of the merciless sun, eyes dry like sand. Only a few hours ago, you returned from a village Satoru was supposed to inspect. Well, minutes turned into hours when a special grade curse appeared out of no where and made your life living hell. The sun already began to rise when you carried yourself back into bed.

But still, you can’t help but smile at him. These last days were rough for him. Him, the strongest, passed out because of a cold. He wasn’t himself all this time, weak body bound into bed with his limbs aching.

“So glad to here that”, you mumble while pressing a gentle kiss onto his lips.

“Sleep in for a while, you look exhausted (y/n). I know you just came back a few hours ago and don’t you dare to lie at me.”

Your eyes widen in an instant, cheeks blushing ever so slightly. You were so careful about leaving and returning, his even and long breaths not giving a single hint that he might be awake.

“I’m heading to Jujutsu High, bet work piled up pretty bad. Wish me good luck and have a good rest princess, I’ll kick their asses if they try to call you!”

With one last loving glance at you, he’s gone. And you can’t help but pass out immediately.

“Guess who’s back to save the day!”, Satoru announces proudly into the room filled with his students and Yaga Masamichi who looks at him with the same disinterest as usual.

“You? Didn’t even know you even exist anymore”, Nobara mumbles while filing down her nails.

“How are you? (y/n) told us you were sick”, Yuji interjects.

“I’m completely back to normal!”

“What a shame”, Megumi mumbles under his breath.

“Sooo, what side of earth do I have to save today? I’m sure a lot of work piled up while I was gone. After all, I’m the strongest.”

Satoru stretches himself playfully, waiting for the director to tell him about all different kinds of missions, curses and teachings he has to deal with these next few days. But instead, he just shrugs his shoulders.

“What? Got nothing to say? Okay, let me guess, what about that special grade curse in the village-“

“Done”, Yaga Masamichi replies dryly.

“The combat training with the first year-“

“Done.”

“Any curses that appeared in Tokyo?”

“Done.”

“Taking care of-“

“Done.”

This can’t be true, the man in front of him has to joke. Apart from you, Satoru is the only special grade sorcerer here at Jujutsu High. No one would ever be able to fulfil some of those missions, let alone teach his students just like that. Not even the director himself is capable of dealing with that special grade curse he was talking about just before Satoru got sick. But who…?

“Didn’t your wife tell you she already managed all those things?”

Oh, he was so stupid that it hurts. All these nights he caught you almost falling asleep on your desk, the multiple times you sneaked out of bed far past midnight, the dark circles under your eyes. All this time, you weren’t only busy with your own missions. No, you actually fulfilled all of his work for him as well.

“Just the amount of work I have to do when I come back. Urgh, being sick sucks.”

“Don’t worry, love. I’m sure you’ll be fine.

Yeah, he sure as hell is. But only because you decided to make your own life living hell for two weeks straight.

“Please don’t tell me (y/n) did all of my stuff while I was gone.”

“I’ll never understand how a kind-hearted woman like her ended up with you. She didn’t even stop when I told her to and somehow managed to get information about the missions I prepared for your sick ass”, the director replies dryly.

“Call her in right now.”

Words aren’t enough to thank you for this. No, you deserve way more than that, way more than his mouth could ever give you.

“And let her leave again in about an hour.”

-an hour later-

“Again, sorry for calling you in, (y/n). Now get back home, you’re free tomorrow.”

“Thank you”, is all you’re able to reply, wobbly feet carrying you back into your car and onto the road.

You sigh to yourself. Well, you definitely didn’t expect the director to call you this early when you just returned from an exhausting mission. But who are you to say no to him? After all, it’s your job to do this, it’s your job to protect the innocent.

But…Is it also your job to answer strange questions from your students in the morning?

“Come on, use your brain! You know what the director said!”, Nobara hisses through gritted teeth, the trio sticking their heads together after you were forced to drop your haircare routine to Nobara.

“Ehm...so…well…”

“If you don’t have any further questions, I’ll go-“

“Yes! I have a question!”, Yuji screams so loudly that his voice echoes through your tired brain.

“What is it, Yuji?”, you mutter with your eyes closed.

“How exactly are babies made, (y/n)-san?”

“You’re an idiot…”, Megumi grumbles.

“Really? This is all you have left in your pea-sized brain?”

“What? You just told me to ask her something and that’s what I came up with!”, Yuji defends himself.

“Yeah, but that ‘something’ definitely didn’t include THAT!”

It’s almost as if they were forced to ask you dumb questions. You’ll definitely have a talk with your husband about their strange behaviour when you caught up on sleep. But before that…

You open the door with a swift motion.

Your heart skips a beat, eyes widen.

The usual so modern and clean living-room is now covered in rose pedals and filled with the fresh scent of sakura leaves, your couch unfolded and covered in the most fluffy blankets, pillows and stuffed animals you’re ever seen. And there he sits.

He, your beloved husband, holding up your bathrobe oh so inviting.

“What’s going on here?”, you breathe out.

Suddenly, all the exhaustion you felt earlier disappeared into thin air. Did he really do all of this for you? The candles flickering, the blankets, the strawberries covered in chocolate waiting on the table, him wearing that black t-shirt you love so much.

“Guess what, I found out what you did. Did you really think you’ll get away with stealing my work in silence?”, he teases, love dripping from each and every word he says.

“It was nothing”, you try to brush him off.

But instead, he gets up and grabs your hand in order to guide you into the dim bathroom that is only lightened by a few candles. Again, the lovely smell of sakura leaves radiates from the bathtub filled with bubbles and hot steam. Just the thought of letting yourself sink into that warm water, to finally release the tension in your sore muscles-

Before you’re even able to comprehend what’s happening, Satoru took off your clothes and lifts you off the ground with ease. Your body doesn’t dare to fight back, too weak from all the missions you completed these last days. Just the tip of your toe, relaxing in the water for a few minutes before returning to Jujutsu High…

“Nothing, huh? So you mean doing the stuff I need a month for in two weeks besides your own missions is nothing? Words can’t express how thankful I am to have such a sweet, caring and steaming hot wife”, he whispers against your ear, his fingers starting to massage your back oh so skilled.

You allow yourself to sink into his touch, to rest your eyes for a few minutes. Well, there is no denying in the fact that this was a little too much for you. All the fighting, the paper work, the heart and soul you poured in each and every work.

And then there’s him. Satoru, your beloved husband, who massages your back with his skilled fingers. How lucky you are to call him your husband, that he decided to spend the rest of his life with you. Even though he scolded you ever so slightly for managing his pile of work, you know he’d do the same for you in a heartbeat. What a treasure, how glad you are to know him, how wonderful he is…

“(y/n)?”, Satoru purrs against your ear.

You don’t response, chest rising and falling slow and steady. He can’t help but smile to himself, admiring he beauty of your finally resting face. Carefully, he lifts you out of the bathtub and covers your body in the fluffy bathrobe you love so much. You definitely deserve some rest for all the work you did these last days.

He can’t help but gently caress your cheek, making sure you’re completely tucked you underneath your favourite blanket.

“What a lucky man I am”, he mutters to himself while outlining your parted lips.

“To call someone so wonderful my wife…”

Tags:

@arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @hellkaiserinphoenix

@lauv4chuuya @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen @magalimachete

@gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut @mynahx3

@sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @chuyasthighs0 @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly

@froufrousnowman @tomiokathedepresso @gojosrealwife @coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi

@chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain @risuola @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper

@baku2345 @polarbvnny @ruixrei @bam-bam-bam-bame-blog @lavenderdrxp

@localhehecat @alicerhr @belovedvamp @wifenanami @dlwlrmas-world

@darkstarlight82 @satoreo @tachiharazsstuff @kentocalls @cheesemachine44

@ryva @komelrebi-san @deezy12299 @okay-it-is-ivy

(this took me forever so if I tagged u be so kind and leave a like/comment/reblog lol)

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nanamineedstherapy · 26 days ago

Text

Third Wheeling Your Own Marriage

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

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

Tags: Angst, Found Family, Dark Humor, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Pregnancy Drama, Unreliable Narrators.

Warnings: Body Horror, Mentions of Emotional Neglect, Pregnancy Complications, Nightmare Imagery.

A/N: The mystery Hunk is finally here! We’re diving headfirst into the start of an alternate ending I had previously intended for this fic mid first scene, so buckle up. I promised this chapter wouldn’t have funny bits, but apparently, Mystery Hunk had other plans. Also, the husbands will be getting an earful of their own shit. If you’re here for cursed energy-infused pregnancy drama and Mystery Hunk stealing hearts with his black cat husband energy while side-eyeing Karens, you’re in the right place, and yes, he’s stealing the spotlight unapologetically. Let me know in the comments: Is he the best worst fake husband ever?

Previous Chapter 4 - The Gravity of Running (Tumblr/Ao3)

Chapter 5 - Something Soft, Something Sharp

You didn’t even have time to react before his hand snaked around your leg. The two of them dragged you out of your hiding spot, your thrashing limbs no match for their combined strength.

They had found you.

“Running away doesn’t suit you,” Gojo said, his tone mocking, dangerous.

You glared at him, removing the scarf from your mouth, your movements jerky, your hands trembling as you shoved both their hands off you. “Don’t touch me.” You tried to stand.

The effort was futile—your legs buckled, and you sank back down. Pain radiated from your swollen belly, grotesque.

Their gazes dropped to your stomach, the sheer size of it impossible to ignore, finally noticing what you’d been trying to hide.

Even at just five and a half months, your uterus had already distended to a grotesque parody of its former shape. The two tornadoes brewing inside you made you look eight months pregnant, their relentless growth stretching your abdominal wall to its limits. Your stomach bulged outward, a taut and swollen orb that seemed to strain against the confines of your skin, as if the very fabric of your body was being slowly, inexorably torn apart from the inside out.

Nanami’s eyes widened. “You’re…”

Gojo’s expression cracked, his six eyes glowing faintly as they locked onto your swollen stomach. “You’re pregnant.”

The twins squirmed beneath their stares, sending sharp jolts of pain through your abdomen. You bit your lip, refusing to show weakness, to clutch your belly, even as your body betrayed you.

You didn’t dignify their obvious revelation with a response, focusing instead on pulling yourself upright. Every attempt to rise felt monumental, the strain making your head swim, but you managed to straighten up, your breathing ragged. Their awkward, hesitant hands reached toward you, only for you to glare them down.

They stood there, helpless, as you hobbled past them toward the living room. Each step felt like dragging yourself uphill in a storm, the strain making your vision blur. By the time you reached the couch, you were shaking so badly that you had to clutch the back of a chair for balance. Lowering yourself onto the cushions was its own Herculean task, the pain so intense you had to bite back a scream. Your hand moved instinctively to your belly, rubbing slow, trembling circles over the taut, aching skin.

You spoke low but firm, “Leave.”

“We’re not leaving,” Nanami replied, his voice firm but strained, his face a storm of conflict. “You’re pregnant, my love. You didn’t even tell us.”

You let out a bitter laugh, the sound harsh and humorless. “What’s there to tell? It’s just a medical condition, right?”

“At least lie better,” Gojo said, his tone mocking as his eyes lingered on your stomach, then continued, “Although I thought you had had a hysterectomy?”

Nanami’s hand twitched; his jaw tightened at Gojo’s casual demeanor. “Don’t.”

Your anger flared, the months of humiliation and abandonment clawing their way to the surface. “Don’t what? Diminish it? You mean like you two diminished me?”

You had deduced earlier that Gojo’s RCT might have detected your lack of a uterus and classified it as an error, then corrected the said error. Or perhaps it was Nanami’s RCT’s doing, considering he could now heal himself and was immune to attacks like fire since becoming a special grade. Although as far as you knew they couldn’t heal people but it might have changed when they would have been inside you. You didn’t care to find out any more, and you certainly wouldn’t let them in on it.

The words hit like a slap, the air between you crackling with tension.

“It’s none of your business,” you spat, your voice shaking with rage.

“None of our business?” Nanami’s voice was low, his usual calm cracking. “We’re your—”

“You’re nothing to me anymore,” you interrupted, your tone icy. “You made sure of that.”

“That’s not true,” Gojo flinched as if struck, his voice breaking in a way like it was about him, making you hate him more. “We—”

“You abandoned me!” The words tore from your chest before you could stop them. “You left me alone for months! You laughed, you fucked each other, then posted all your OMG-I’m-so-in-love photos online for my employees to stare at and give me looks of sympathy. While... while I sat there and died inside!”

“You left without telling us!” Gojo’s voice rose, desperation creeping into his tone.

“And you didn’t notice for six weeks!” You yelled, your voice breaking. “You were too busy fucking each other to even see me! I could have been tortured, raped, killed and buried long ago with evidence wiped, but you both were too busy fucking each other to see me!”

Gojo’s expression twisted, the pain in his eyes cutting deeper than any accusation. “We didn’t know how to reach you. We thought you needed space.”

“Space?” You laughed again, the sound hollow. “You gave me space to suffocate.

Nanami visibly recoiled, guilt carving deep lines into his face. “We made a mistake—”

“Mistake?” You cut him off, your voice cracking under the weight of your fury. “Mistakes don’t last for months. Mistakes don’t make someone feel so invisible they disappear. Mistakes don’t force someone to flee halfway across the world just to fucking breathe! You think I’ll forgive you just because you decided to find me now?” You huffed and continued, “Well, guess what? I learned to live without you two a long time before I left, so why don’t you both go fuck each other some more and leave me alone!”

Gojo spoke softly, inching to touch you. “We’re here. We care about you.”

“Care?” You laughed bitterly, tears spilling down your cheeks. “You humiliated me. Your stunt at my office nearly destroyed everything I’ve built. Do you think anyone respects a CEO whose husbands storm her building and beat up her employees?”

Nanami’s gaze dropped to the floor, his fists clenching at his sides. Gojo opened his mouth, but you didn’t let him speak.

“And let’s not forget the internet is a circus, and you’re the clowns.,” you hissed, your voice shaking, ears burning with humiliation. “I’m being dragged into the spotlight for something I never wanted public. All because of you. They’re calling me a sexual deviant and undermining everything I have ever done while simultaneously thirsting over you two, because, of course, men don’t get the same treatment. #TwoHolesForAReason is still trending. What the actual fuck, Nanami? You too?”

Your voice trembled with a mix of anger and despair, and your breathing grew heavier, each word feeling like a weight pressing down on your chest. The injustice of it all clawed at you, the betrayal stinging sharper than any physical wound. You felt exposed, vulnerable, and utterly powerless as the world turned your life into a spectacle, and the very people you loved were at the center of it.

Nanami’s jaw tightened, his eyes darkening with a mix of anger and sorrow. “We were wrong. We should have been there for you. We should have…” He trailed off, unable to find the words.”

You could see the guilt etched on their faces, the way they shifted uncomfortably, as if your words were a physical weight pressing down on them.

“Tell me,” you said, your voice low and trembling, “did you even think about me when you were together? Did I ever cross your minds?”

Gojo opened his mouth, but no words came out. Instead, he looked at Nanami, a silent plea for understanding passing between them, but Nanami kept staring at your stomach. The moment stretched, and you could feel the desperation radiating from them, but it only fueled your anger.

“Don’t look at him,” you snapped, your voice sharp. “You both made this choice together. You both decided I was expendable.” The image of Gojo grabbing Nanami’s pecks mid-fight at your company came to your mind, and you resisted the urge to bash his head in.

Nanami’s shoulders slumped, the fight draining from him. “We were selfish,” he admitted, his voice thick with emotion.

Gojocut him off, his hands trembling like he wanted to reach for you but didn’t dare. “We love you.”

“You love each other,” you said, your voice barely a whisper, breaking. “And I was just... there. An afterthought. An inconvenience.”

Silence.

Nanami stepped closer, his hand reaching out instinctively, but you shrank further. “Please,” he said softly. “Let us help.”

Gojo stepped forward, his hands outstretched, but you recoiled, the instinct to protect yourself overwhelming. “Don’t,” you warned, your voice trembling. “Don’t you dare touch me.”

The hurt in his eyes was almost unbearable, but you couldn’t allow yourself to feel sympathy. Not now. Not when the wounds were still fresh, still bleeding.

“Just go,” you said, your voice breaking. “Just leave me alone.”

Nanami’s face fell, the weight of your words crashing down on him. “We can’t just walk away,” he said, desperation creeping into his tone. “We love you. We want to be here for you. And the babies.”

You wrapped your arms protectively around your belly, your body trembling from the effort of holding yourself upright, the weight of their presence suffocating. “I don’t need you. We don’t need you.”

Your voice cracked on the last word, betraying the pain you’d tried so hard to hide.

The finality of your words made them both freeze, their faces pale and stricken.

You turned your face away, unwilling to look at them any longer. The silence stretched, broken only by the sound of your ragged breathing.

(alt ending 1.1)

“You heard her.”

The voice from the doorway made you freeze.

Sukuna leaned against the frame, arms crossed, his tattoos stark against his pale skin. His grin was sharp, dangerous, and entirely out of place in your tiny apartment.

“And who the hell are you?” Gojo snapped, his six eyes narrowing as he turned to face the intruder.

Sukuna’s smirk widened. “None of your concern. But unlike you two, I don’t barge into her life uninvited.”

Nanami stepped forward, his gaze calculating. “This doesn’t concern you.”

“It does when you’re upsetting her,” Sukuna said, his tone light but edged with menace. His crimson eyes flicked to you, softening slightly. “You good, princess?”

You nodded, swallowing hard. “I’m fine. Just… please get them out of here, Ryo.”

The way you said his name weakly made Sukuna straighten, his grin turning feral as he rolled his shoulders like he was preparing for a fight. “You heard her. Time to go.”

Gojo stepped toward Sukuna, his grin tight, his energy shifting. “You think you can just waltz in here and—”

Sukuna cut him off by closing the gap in a single step, towering over him. His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. “Try me, pretty boy.”

Nanami's shoulders squared, his gaze calculating. “Leave. This doesn’t concern you.”

Sukuna’s eyes flicked between them, his lips quirking into a smirk. “I’m here because she wants you out. Seems like it’s very much my concern.”

Gojo rolled his shoulders, the first hints of tension seeping into his movements. “You’re barking up the wrong tree, pal. She’s our wife. We’re not going anywhere.”

“Both your wife. Eww, Sukuna grimaced.

Before Sukuna could continue berating them, Nanami moved. His fist lashed out, aimed for Sukuna’s jaw.

Sukuna caught it with an open palm, the force reverberating through the room.

“Oh, we’re doing this,” Sukuna said, voice maniacal, before pushing Nanami’s fist just enough to force him to step back.

Gojo lunged, his speed almost imperceptible, but Sukuna sidestepped him lazily, his movements fluid. “Do you two always resort to fists first?”

“Do you always waltz into someone else’s business uninvited?” Nanami countered, already throwing another strike.

You tried to rise, your voice strained. “Stop—”

Your attempt was cut off by a sharp, tearing pain in your abdomen. A cry escaped your lips as your hands instinctively cradled your belly.

Nanami faltered mid-punch, his head snapping toward you. “She’s in pain. Gojo, stop!”

Gojo hesitated, his fists lowering as he glanced back at you. “What’s wrong? What’s happening?”

You couldn’t answer, your breaths coming in short, shallow gasps. Sukuna moved before either of them could, crossing the room in a few steps. He knelt in front of you, his large hand resting gently on your knee.

“May I?” He asked, his voice calm.

You nodded weakly, unable to muster the energy to speak.

Sukuna’s hand moved to your belly, his palm warm against the strained skin. A faint glow surrounded his fingers as his RCT began to work. The relief was almost immediate, the tightness easing as the twins’ restless movements stilled.

Nanami stepped towards you, his fists clenched. “Get your hands off her.”

Sukuna didn’t look up, his focus entirely on you. “She needs this. Or would you rather let her suffer while you two throw tantrums?”

Gojo bristled, his hands twitching at his sides. “I don’t trust you.”

“Good,” Sukuna replied smoothly, his tone almost mocking. “I wouldn’t trust me either. But I’m not the one who left her to deal with this alone.”

That struck a nerve.

You let out a shaky breath, your body finally relaxing as Sukuna pulled his hand away. “Better?” he asked, his gaze meeting yours.

You nodded, tears stinging your eyes.

Sukuna stood, his movements unhurried as he turned to face the two men. “She’s carrying enough weight without you two adding to it. If you really care about her, prove it by doing something useful. Like fucking off.”

The tension in the room was palpable as Gojo and Nanami glared at him, their fists tightening at their sides.

Before Gojo could move, Nanami placed a hand on Gojo’s shoulder, pulling him back. “Enough. This isn’t good for her.”

Gojo’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t resist.

“We’ll be back,” Nanami said, his gaze steady as it locked onto yours. His voice was low, carrying both regret and resolve.

Sukuna snorted. “Not if I can help it.”

Without another word, they turned and left.

Once the door clicked shut, the silence rushed in, oppressive and heavy.

Sukuna turned back to you, his expression softening. “You need to rest.”

You nodded, your voice barely above a whisper. “Stay?”

He smiled faintly, taking a seat next to you on the couch with respectable space between you two.

Your head swam, a sudden wave of dizziness taking hold. They were coming more frequently now, spells that left you breathless and trembling.

But before you could fall off the couch on your head, Sukuna was there, one of his large, calloused hands wrapping securely around your upper arm. The heat of his touch grounded you as he guided you carefully to the other side of the couch.

“Easy,” he murmured, his voice a soft rumble. The sharp edge was still there, but muted, like a blade sheathed. “You don’t need to waste energy on those idiots.”

A weak laugh slipped past your lips as you wiped your eyes, though it sounded more like a gasp. “They’re not idiots. They’re just… pain in my ass.”

His eyebrow arched, he chuckled, the sound warm. “Could’ve fooled me. Barging in here like they own the damn place. If it were me—”

“Don’t,” you cut him off, shaking your head even as your hand trembled against the couch cushion. “I don’t need more madness, Sukuna.”

His grin softened, though it didn’t lose its devil-may-care quality. “Fair enough. But you’ve gotta be smarter about this. They’re not going to stop just because you want them to.”

“I know,” you whispered, barely audible, as your hands cradled your belly. The motion was protective, almost subconscious, as you rubbed soothing circles on it.

His sharp crimson eyes followed the movement, narrowing as they settled on the curve of your stomach. “You gonna tell me the truth now?”

Your throat tightened, the walls closing in as panic tried to claw its way to the surface. “I—”

“Relax.” His voice dropped lower, almost a purr, as he leaned back against the couch. “I’m not here to judge. Just saying, if you need someone to run interference, I’m your guy.”

You blinked at him, your heart hammering as you searched his expression. “Why are you helping me?” You asked, the words trembling in the air.

His grin returned, sly and self-assured as always. “Because it pisses them off. And because I like you, princess. Not in a ‘love thy neighbor’ way, but in a ‘let me take you on a date’ way. You’ve got guts.”

A laugh bubbled out of you, shaky and wet with leftover tears but real nonetheless. “Thanks, Sukuna.”

“Anytime.” He shifted, his arm draping casually over the back of the couch, though the movement seemed deliberate, protective. “Now, what’s the plan? Because those two aren’t going to stop sniffing around just because I scared them off.”

You let your head fall back, exhaustion pulling at your limbs, heavier than ever. “I don’t know. I just need... time.”

“Then time’s what we’ll give you,” he said, his voice low and firm. “Let me handle the sorcerer boy band.”

For the first time in weeks, you felt a small flicker of hope.

Sukuna didn’t waste time. The same night, after Gojo and Nanami showed up, he had you telling him what you wanted packed. His demeanor calm, though his crimson eyes burned with quiet determination.

“We’ll leave at midnight,” he said, tossing your suitcase onto the bed. “New place, new names.”

You hesitated. “Sukuna, this is… too much.”

He glanced over his shoulder, his grin not unkind. “It’s not. They’re sorcerers, princess. And the strongest too, but not stronger than me.” His tone was laced with a smug confidence. “If you want to stay hidden, you don’t half-ass it.”

By dawn, you were in another country; your new apartment was upscale and screamed money, but it was cozy too. The marble floors, high ceilings, and soft leather couches were a far cry from your tiny space.

Sukuna waved off your questions about how he’d managed it all so quickly, his smirk the only answer you’d get. He had taken care of everything—paperwork, flights, even a fake backstory in case anyone asked too many questions.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about it,” he said, tossing you the keys. “Welcome to your new life, and just enjoy the upgrade.” He lounged on your new couch, his relaxed posture a stark contrast to the turmoil inside you.

He refused to leave your side, and you didn’t argue. It was a relief to have him there, especially since you were certain they would show up eventually. Also, you needed someone around, not just for protection but also because you weren’t exactly the icon of flexpertise right now. The morning sickness and dizzy spells had become a regular part of your day, making even simple tasks feel daunting. Plus, he could help pick things up from the floor and assist you when you needed it. His RCT would also come in handy if you got sick.

The following days blurred into one another, Sukuna taking charge in ways that left you both grateful and unsettled. He was relentless, managing everything from your meals to your prenatal vitamins.

One day he dragged you somewhere the sun hung high in the sky, casting a warm glow over the bustling streets as Sukuna pulled you along, his grip firm yet gentle around your arm. You could feel the heat radiating from the pavement, the air thick with the scent of blooming flowers and street food. It was a stark contrast to the anxiety swirling in your chest.

“Are you sure about this?” you asked, glancing around nervously. The last thing you wanted was to run into someone who recognized you from the controversy that had followed you like a shadow. The thought of being exposed made your stomach churn, the twins inside you shifting restlessly in response to your unease.

Sukuna paused, turning to face you, his crimson eyes piercing yet reassuring. “Trust me. No one will recognize you here.” He flashed a grin, the kind that made your heart race despite the worry gnawing at you. “Besides, I’ll be your husband today. No one will question us.”

You raised an eyebrow, skepticism creeping in. “Husband? What if someone asks questions?”

“Then I’ll just tell them I’m the luckiest man alive,” he replied smoothly, his tone playful. “And you’re the most beautiful woman in the world.” He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “And if anyone gets too nosy, they’ll be disposed off.”

You thought he was just joking at the last bit, but little did you know he was serious.

You couldn’t help but smile at his bravado, even as a flutter of anxiety twisted in your stomach. “You really think this is a good idea?”

“Absolutely,” he said, resuming his pace, his hand still firmly guiding you by the arm. “You need to get out, meet other birthgivers, and enjoy this experience. It’s good for you and the brats.”

As you approached the community center, the sounds of laughter and chatter filled the air, mingling with the soft strumming of a guitar. The vibrant colors of the decorations and the cheerful atmosphere were infectious, but your nerves still danced beneath the surface.

Sukuna opened the door for you, his demeanor shifting to one of quiet authority as he ushered you inside. The room was filled with expectant mothers, some cradling their bellies, others bouncing babies in their arms, some even with their partners. You felt a pang of envy at their ease, their confidence radiating like the sunlight streaming through the windows.

“See? Just regular people,” Sukuna said, his voice low and steady as he scanned the room. “You’ll fit right in.”

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. “What if someone recognizes me?”

“Your mask won’t let them. And if someone does recognize you, I’ll tell them you just look like the CEO, but you have been my wife and have never been to Japan,” he replied, his tone light but firm. “And if that doesn’t work, I’ll make sure they forget they ever saw you.”

His confidence was infectious, and you found yourself relaxing slightly as he led you to a circle. He settled beside you, his presence a comforting weight. As the instructor began to speak, you felt Sukuna’s hand rest on your knee, a grounding touch that eased the tension in your body.

After a brief round of introductions, the instructor clapped her hands, her voice that chipper mix of optimism and oblivion. “Alright, everyone, before we start our poses, let’s share a bit about our experiences as parents! Who’d like to go first?”

Sukuna leaned back, arms draped lazily over his knees, his smirk sharp enough to slice through the tension. “I’ll go,” he said, his tone dripping with casual confidence. “So there we were—me and my lovely wife—on a little trip to the beach. You know, just a casual day in the sun.”

The other mothers leaned in, their eyes sparkling with interest, while their husbands shot daggers at Sukuna, their expressions a mix of envy and irritation. He was tall, muscular, and exuded an effortless charm that made him the center of attention. You could practically feel the heat radiating from the glares directed at him, but Sukuna seemed unfazed, basking in the admiration like a cat in a sunbeam.

“Of course, I had to carry her to the water,” he continued, gesturing dramatically. “She was so heavy with those twins, I thought I might need a forklift!” Laughter erupted from the mothers, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes, a smile tugging at your lips despite yourself.

Turning back to you, his expression triumphant. “So, I heroically carried her through the waves, and she screamed like a banshee when the water hit her feet.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the absurdity of the situation washing over you. “I did not scream like a banshee!” you protested, but the laughter bubbling up made it hard to keep a straight face.

“Sure you did,” he teased, leaning closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “And I was the brave knight saving you from the evil ocean.”

“Look at him,” one mother whispered to her friend, her eyes sparkling. “He’s like a model or something!”

“Right? And he’s so sweet with her,” her friend replied, glancing at you with a mix of admiration and envy.

Soft giggles bubbled through the room, accompanied by fluttering lashes and whispers. Sukuna exuded a kind of dangerous magnetism.

One mom whispered too loudly, “He’s like... a walking romance novel,” her husband coughing pointedly beside her.

Sukuna caught the comment and scowled. “Eyes up front, lady,” he muttered under his breath, annoyed but not surprised. When another woman blatantly winked, he leaned closer to you, slipping an arm around your waist with exaggerated intimacy. “Isn’t that right, sweetheart?” he cooed, voice low enough for only you to hear. “These vultures are giving me a headache.”

You rolled your eyes and shoved him off.

The instructor spoke. “Okay! Let’s get into couples’ poses. First, the trust fall!”

Sukuna stood, cracking his neck like he was prepping for a fight. You shot him a warning glance. “Don’t drop me.”

He smirked. “No promises.”

As you leaned back, trusting his arms to catch you, another mom muttered something about his “strong, capable hands.” Sukuna sighed, catching you effortlessly before twirling you upright with unnecessary flair. “Keep staring, and I might start charging admission,” he called out, his voice a mix of annoyance and smugness.

“I got one more.” He didn’t wait for approval, because, of course, he didn’t. “So there we were, me and my beloved wife”—his crimson eyes flicked to you with a smirk that screamed chaos—“on a romantic hike in the wilderness. Out of nowhere, she decides to wrestle a goat because it wouldn’t let her pet it.”

The room froze. A couple of moms paused mid-stretch, their jaws dropping like they’d just heard the start of a soap opera. The dads exchanged side-eyes that translated roughly to, Who the hell is this guy?

“And, naturally,” Sukuna continued, his voice syrupy with faux affection, “I couldn’t let her handle it alone. She’s fearless, sure, but not exactly built for a one-on-one with livestock.”

“Oh my god,” you hissed under your breath, digging your nails into your mat. “Stop lying.”

Sukuna ignored you, gesturing dramatically like he was recounting a battle for survival. “So I stepped in, took down the goat, and carried her—my delicate, fragile wife—back to safety.” His grin widened, exposing sharp canines. “All in a day’s work.”

A collective sigh swept through the room, a mix of disbelief and blatant swooning. One mom muttered, “That’s so... romantic.” Another just stared, eyes tracing the veins in his forearms like she was drafting fan fiction in real time.

The dads? All glaring, but none of them dared to say a word. Sukuna, at 6’6” with biceps that looked capable of cracking skulls, radiated the kind of energy that said, Try me. I dare you.

“Alright, Romeo,” you muttered, elbowing him. “Enough.”

Before he could retort, a woman in leopard print, Karen—yes, she had the haircut and everything—stood up, arms crossed and nose wrinkled like she smelled bullshit.

“Excuse me,” she said, voice whiney, “but that story sounds ridiculous. And frankly, this is a yoga class, not open mic night.”

Sukuna turned his head slowly, like a predator catching the scent of fresh prey. “Oh? Didn’t realize we had a fact-checker in the room.”

Karen puffed up, undeterred. “I just think it’s important to set a good example for our kids. You’re just trying to make yourself look good in front of all these women. What kind of husband are you, anyway? And lying—”

“Lying?” Sukuna interrupted, his tone dangerously sweet. “I don’t lie, sweetheart. Some of us just have a sense of humor. You want proof? I’ll take you hiking. Maybe you’ll end up wrestling a goat too.”

Karen crossed her arms with a smug smile on her face and leaned in with a condescending tone. “So, what exactly makes you think you’re qualified to be a husband? I mean, can you even handle a simple pregnancy without making a joke out of it?”

Sukuna’s voice dripped with mock sincerity. “You’re absolutely right. I’m a terrible husband. I should’ve let her handle the goat alone, huh? Really prove her mettle.” His smile dropped as he deadpanned, “Maybe next time, I’ll wrestle your husband instead.”

The room went silent, save for a muffled snort from someone in the back. Karen’s husband, who had been trying to become one with the floor, suddenly found the need to tie his shoelaces.

“Well, no real husband would let his wife wrestle a goat. And clearly, this yoga class is for serious parents, not... posers. Some of us treat the miracle of life with the respect it deserves. I mean, she probably got pregnant out of wedlock, and you’re probably the chump who got stuck with it,” she spat, her eyes narrowing as she regarded you with open disdain.

You opened your mouth to retort, but Sukuna stood up, towering over her with an intimidating presence. The air crackled with tension as he leaned in slightly, his voice low and menacing.

“For the final time, I. AM. HER. HUSBAND. The kind who’s here to support his wife, unlike some people,” he said, his tone dripping with a dangerous edge. The room fell silent, the other husbands shifting uncomfortably, their glares intensifying as they sensed the storm brewing.

“Back off, lady,” one of the husbands muttered, clearly not wanting to get involved but unable to resist the urge to defend his pregnant wife.

Karen’s husband made a strangled noise, somewhere between a cough and a plea for help. Sukuna glanced at him, sizing him up like he was calculating the time it’d take to fold him into a yoga block. “You good over there, champ?”

The instructor, visibly sweating, clapped her hands again. “Okay, time for the next pose, the Partner Downward Dog! Let’s channel all that energy into our health!”

Sukuna groaned, muttering under his breath, “This woman and her yoga cult...” He shot a glance at you, his crimson eyes narrowing slightly. “You good to do this, or do I have to carry you like the delicate little penguin you are?”

“I’m fine,” you shot back, already struggling to maneuver your cumbersome body into position. Your stomach felt stretched beyond reason, and every movement brought a new kind of discomfort.

Sukuna was behind you in an instant, his large hands steadying your hips. His touch was firm but not rough, a quiet kind of reassurance he’d never acknowledge. “Alright, lean forward. I’ve got you.”

You could feel his gaze linger—not on the curve of your belly but lower. “Are you ogling my ass?”

“Shut up and focus on not falling,” he grumbled, though his smirk gave him away.

The instructor clapped again, her forced cheerfulness grating. “Great job, everyone! Now, onto the partner wheelbarrow pose.”

You groaned, already dreading it. Sukuna, however, was unfazed. He easily lifted your legs, holding you steady as you awkwardly braced your arms on the mat.

Karen, the reigning queen of unsolicited advice, determined to assert dominance. “You’re supposed to engage your core more,” she said, her voice cutting through the room like nails on a chalkboard.

Sukuna didn’t even glance at her. “You’re supposed to shut up, Karen.”

She gasped. “My name is not…How dare you—”

“Don’t care.” Sukuna set you down and stood, cracking his knuckles. “Focus on your own yoga or let’s take this outside, or are you gonna send your husband?”

Karen sputtered, her face turning red as her husband tugged nervously at her sleeve. Now actively sweating. “Uh, babe, maybe let it go.”

Karen turned on him. “Are you scared of him?!”

“...Yes.”

“Don’t you start!” She snapped on him.

“...Okay.” He shrank back, clearly regretting every life choice that had led him to this moment.

Meanwhile, the instructor was frantically flipping through her clipboard. “Uh, next pose! Let’s try... uh, partner flying boat!”

Sukuna raised a brow, clearly unimpressed. “Flying what now?”

“Just lift me,” you muttered, too tired to argue.

With an exaggerated sigh, he grabbed your hands and hoisted you into the air. The ease with which he balanced you on his feet was almost insulting. He looked up at you, a cocky grin spreading across his face. “See? I’m a natural.”

“You’re a show-off,” you grumbled, though the slight flutter in your chest betrayed you.

Behind you, Karen tripped over her mat again because her husband was clumsy, landing face-first with a muffled shriek.

Sukuna grinned, all teeth. “Careful, Karen. Wouldn’t want your husband to have to wrestle me over that.”

Her husband? Already halfway out the door.

He didn’t stop there. With unnecessary flair, he spun you around, earning gasps from the other moms. “He’s so strong,” one whispered, her voice tinged with awe.

“I can hear you,” Sukuna said sharply, his glare cutting through the room like a knife. “Eyes off.”

The mom in question flushed, looking away quickly. Even Karen seemed momentarily stunned into silence.

When Sukuna finally set you down, his hands lingered on your arms, steadying you. “Alright, you’re done for today,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“You don’t get to decide that,” you protested weakly, already too exhausted to stand.

“I just did,” he shot back, his voice softer than usual as he guided you to sit. His attention was back on you, the rest of the room forgotten. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you mumbled, leaning against him. Despite his gruffness, you couldn’t deny the safety his presence brought.

Throughout the class, Sukuna was incredibly attentive, fetching water for you whenever you needed it and ensuring you stayed focused. You found yourself laughing openly after months, his unhinged stories and sassy comments bringing a lightness to the atmosphere. He reminded you of Megumi’s dad from years ago, the way he openly showed affection to Megumi’s mom. You couldn’t help but wonder how they were doing after his father passed away long before you reconnected with Megumi in college. The last you heard, his father had left a substantial sum to his mom to start their security solutions business, which Megumi had been managing while also pursuing his psychology degree.

He was quite a few years younger than you, and despite the years of no contact, he had come through for you when you needed him. But you couldn’t reach him now; he had a knack for tracking people down like his father. You remembered Megumi’s frustration when you had to leave your home country to marry the two men. He had been openly against your decision ever since he met them—he could warm up to Nanami, but Gojo? Marrying two men? That was a different story entirely. A wave of nostalgia washed over you as you realized how much you missed your college friends.

As you watched Sukuna’s antics, a swell of gratitude filled your heart. His unwavering support was a comforting presence, even as the reality of your situation loomed in the background.

After the class, as you stepped outside into the warm sunlight, Sukuna turned to you, a satisfied grin on his face. “See? That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

You shook your head, a smile breaking through your earlier anxiety. “No, it was actually… nice.”

“Good. We’ll keep doing this,” he said, his tone resolute. “You need to enjoy this time, and I’ll make sure you do.”

As you walked back, the warmth of the sun on your skin and Sukuna’s presence beside you, you felt better. Maybe, just maybe, you could find a way to navigate this new life, one day at a time.

A couple of days later, the hum of your laptop was the only sound in the room, save for the occasional clack of your nails on the keyboard. Deadlines loomed, projects needed greenlighting, and your inbox was a battlefield of investors, board members, and department heads vying for your attention. You weren’t just the CEO of your company—you were the company. And even now, with your back aching and your feet swollen beyond recognition, you were determined to stay on top of it all.

Then, of course, Sukuna had to barge in.

“Are you seriously still working?” he drawled, leaning an arm against the door frame with that maddeningly smug look on his face.

You didn’t bother looking up. “I’m busy.”

“You’re pregnant.”

“And?”

“And you’re about to take a damn break,” he said, stalking into the room like a cat ready to knock something valuable off the table.

You scoffed, glancing at him over the rim of your blue lens glasses. “I can’t just stop working. This company doesn’t run itself.”

“Funny, I thought you hired executives for that,” he shot back, his crimson eyes narrowing.

“They still need me.”

Sukuna crossed the room in two strides, towering over you like a thundercloud. Before you could react, he reached down and unplugged your laptop with a decisive click.

“Hey!” you protested, scrambling to grab the cord, but he was faster. With infuriating ease, he tossed the power adapter onto a high shelf you had no hope of reaching in your current penguin state.

“What the hell, Sukuna?”

“Watch me,” he said, smirking. “Your job is to grow those little gremlins, not work yourself into the ground.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the words died in your throat. The exhaustion hit like a freight train, your body sagging into the chair as if it finally realized it had permission to rest. Your glare softened, replaced by a quiet sigh of defeat. “I can’t just... stop,” you muttered, weaker now.

“You can,” he countered, crouching to meet your eye level. His voice was softer this time, the sharp edges smoothed out. “The company will survive without you for a few months. You? Not so much if you keep this up.”

He had a point, damn him.

“I still need to make arrangements,” you mumbled, leaning back and pressing a hand to your belly. The twins kicked in response, as if to echo his sentiment.

“Then make them,” Sukuna said, standing up and pulling your ergonomic gaming chair—he had gotten you one in your fav color—away from the desk with a gentle tug. “But from the couch. And only after you’ve eaten something.”

You wanted to argue, but the idea of sinking into the cushions and delegating for once was too tempting. “Fine,” you relented, glaring half-heartedly as you stood. “But only because you’re being annoying.”

“Whatever you need to tell yourself, penguin.” His smirk widened as he helped you waddle toward the couch, ignoring your threats of retaliation.

And maybe, just maybe, you felt a little lighter knowing he was right there to catch you when you needed to let go.

The pregnancy itself felt alien. Your body, once familiar, now seemed foreign, stretched to the limits of what it could endure. Veins stood out like rivers on a map, and your skin itched with a ferocity that no cream could soothe. At night, under dim lights, you swore you saw the twins moving just beneath the surface, shapes pressing against your belly as if testing the boundaries of their world.

But when you spoke to them, the chaos stilled. Your voice, soft and uncertain, seemed to reach them in a way nothing else could. “You’re being good today,” you murmured one evening, your hand rubbing olive oil on the tight curve of your stomach. The twins stirred beneath your touch, a gentle nudge pressing against your palm as though answering your unspoken thoughts. Tears welled in your eyes as a fragile smile tugged at your lips. You blinked them away.

From the doorway, Sukuna watched, arms crossed and face unreadable. His presence was always imposing, even when he wasn’t trying to be, but tonight there was something almost tentative about the way he lingered.

“They listen to you,” he said finally, his tone an odd mix of observation and something softer, almost vulnerable.

You nodded, not trusting your voice. The moment felt too delicate to break with words.

Sukuna pushed off the doorframe, his steps heavy but measured as he crossed the room. He reached for the blanket draped over the back of the chair, shaking it out with a flick of his wrist before tucking it carefully over you. His hands moved with an ease that belied his usual brashness, adjusting the pregnancy pillows he’d insisted on buying—three of them, because one wasn’t enough, apparently.

You watched him as he worked, the sharp lines of his face softened by the dim light. He paused when he caught you staring. “What?”

“Nothing,” you said, the corner of your mouth quirking up.

He snorted, clearly not buying it, but didn’t press. Instead, he stepped back, as if retreating to a safe distance.

“Sukuna,” you said suddenly, your voice breaking the quiet.

He stopped, half-turned toward the door.

“Do you want to feel them?” You gestured to your belly, your voice laced with genuine curiosity.

His reaction was instant and comically transparent. His shoulders stiffened, and his crimson eyes darted to your stomach like it might explode. “What? No. Why would I want to do that?”

You tilted your head, your smile turning sly. “Because they’re your kids, oh faux husband?”

“They’re your kids,” he shot back, his voice gruff, but the tips of his ears betrayed him, turning a faint shade of pink.

You laughed, low and amused. “You’re scared.”

“Am not,” he snapped, but the defensive edge in his tone only confirmed it.

You pressed, grinning now. “Big bad Sukuna, terrified of a couple of unborn gremlins?”

He glared, sulking. “I’m not scared. I just... don’t see the point.”

“Right.” You patted the space next to you on the bed. “Come on. They won’t bite.”

He hesitated, looking like you’d asked him to stick his hand into a nest of vipers. But after a moment, he moved closer, his movements awkward and deliberate, like he was approaching a wild animal.

“Here,” you said, taking his hand and placing it gently on your ginormous stomach. His palm was warm and rough against your skin, and for a moment, he didn’t move.

Soon, a tiny kick met his hand, tentative but unmistakable.

Sukuna froze. His eyes widened just a fraction, the briefest flicker of something raw and unguarded crossing his face.

“They’re saying hi,” you teased, your voice soft.

He pulled his hand back like he’d been burned, stuffing it into his pocket and muttering, “Yeah, well, tell them to keep it down.”

You laughed again, a sound that filled the room and made his scowl deepen. But there was no mistaking the way his gaze lingered on you, softer now, as if the weight of the moment had settled somewhere he desperately wanted to acknowledge.

After ensuring you were comfortable, he retreated to his usual spot in the next room. You heard the creak of his bed as he settled in, close enough to hear you if you called out. The bed wasn’t weak; he was just a giant sequoia tree.

Later that night, when the nightmares came—vivid and merciless—you woke trembling; the images of Gojo’s cold eyes and Nanami’s unforgiving hands lingered, still fresh in your mind, as though they were still in the room. Sukuna was there before you could fully sit up, his hands steady on your shoulders.

“Breathe,” he commanded, his voice firm but not unkind.

When your breaths came shallow and quick, he didn’t leave. Instead, he sat with you, his presence solid and grounding as the panic ebbed.

“You’re fine,” he said, his tone gruff but edged with a care he’d never admit. “I’ve got you.”

And he did. Even when his hands trembled just the faintest bit from exhaustion, you knew he wouldn’t let go. You noticed his long nails were filed down now.

His care was relentless, though not without its abrasive edges. He harassed you to eat, to drink water, to rest. When you tried to push back, his response was always the same: “Argue all you want, princess, but I’m not going anywhere.”

And he didn’t. You felt a sense of comfort in that. Your actual husbands, the fathers of your babies, had abandoned you months ago, while this man—who had no obligations to you—loved you as easily as breathing. You could see it in the way he ensured everything was always within reach for you, even when he wasn’t around. If you asked him for water fifteen times in a night, he’d fetch it for you every single time, despite his fatigue. He’d grumble and yell, but he’d still bring it to you without fail.

He hadn’t even mentioned the date he wanted since that day; he gave you the space you needed until you were ready. He did all of this for you without asking for anything in return. Even when you felt like a human submarine, he found ways to compliment you in his own unique manner, while your husbands had long ignored your existence, even before your pregnancy. You felt desirable, but right now, you simply didn’t have the energy to reciprocate anything.

One day the air in the apartment was stifling, even with the ocean breeze teasing the edges of the balcony curtains. You leaned against the railing, letting the salt-tinged wind kiss your skin. Sukuna was out, and for a few minutes, you allowed yourself a moment to enjoy the ocean breeze, to imagine a life where your past couldn’t find you.

Then you saw them.

Gojo’s stark white hair caught the light first, gleaming like a ghost under the streetlamp’s glow. His figure was impossible to miss, a beacon of anarchy, while Nanami’s shoulders were squared, his sharp gaze cutting through the night like a blade, locking onto you with unrelenting sharpness. His arm rose, a silent gesture to Gojo, and together they moved, their silhouettes bleeding from the street into your sanctuary like shadows with intent.

You immediately grabbed your phone.

Ryo: Please come home fast.

The knock was more a warning than a courtesy. Gojo didn’t wait for permission; the door swung open with an ease that felt invasive, wrong. They stepped inside, their presence heavy, oppressive, as if the air itself recoiled from their arrival.

“You’ve been busy,” Gojo said, his voice unnervingly calm. The cocky lilt you knew so well was gone, replaced by something jagged, something that cut.

Nanami’s eyes drifted downward, catching the curve of your stomach. His brows furrowed, confusion twisting into something darker as a ripple moved beneath your skin. It wasn’t subtle—an inhuman and ugly stretch, limbs pressing outward like trapped spirits testing the walls of their cage. You cursed yourself for wearing a crop top, but nothing else fit you these days, and it was too warm here in Schelles. His gaze snapped back to your face, but the damage was done. You saw it: the revulsion, the disbelief.

The air between the three of you crackled, silent but electric. Gojo’s eyes were locked onto yours, an ocean of emotions churning beneath the surface—rage, fear, something almost resembling grief.

“What’s going on?” Nanami finally asked, his voice tight, controlled, but teetering on the edge.

Your throat burned as you swallowed, the words threatening to choke you. Still, you forced yourself to stand straighter, your nails digging crescents into your palms. “Fine. You want the truth?” Your voice cracked, and you hated yourself for it. “They’re Sukuna’s. I’m pregnant with his twins, and since he’s half a curse, so are they.”

The room plunged into a suffocating silence.

Gojo’s grin faltered, the carefully constructed mask he wore slipping. His hands curled into fists at his sides, knuckles white. Nanami’s face was a study in restraint, but the tightness of his jaw betrayed him.

“You’re lying,” Gojo said, his voice low and icy.

You laughed bitterly, the sound hollow. “Why would I lie? You ignored me. You left me in a country where I didn’t even understand the language. Sukuna didn’t. He took care of me when you didn’t even notice I was breaking.”

“Disgusting,” Gojo spat, his words venomous.

Your vision blurred, but you refused to break. Not in front of them. Your hands trembled as you gripped the edge of the counter, the only thing keeping you upright. “Then leave. And don’t come back.”

Nanami flinched—a small, almost imperceptible movement, but enough to make your chest tighten with anger. “You expect us to believe that you… cheated?”

“I expect you to believe whatever lets you sleep at night,” you snapped, your voice trembling but resolute. “Because the truth doesn’t matter to either of you. It never did.”

Gojo’s hands shook now, the façade of control crumbling. “You think this is about us? Do you know what I’ve been through? What we’ve been through? I had to kill my best friend. Suguru—” His voice cracked.

“I don’t even know who that is,” you hissed, your anger flaring. “You’ve never mentioned him before. I don’t understand why you’d react like this over killing some long-lost friend I’ve never even heard of. You’ve spent years with Nanami—more time than you ever did with whoever that is, so for all intents and purposes, he should be your best friend. And even if you were so sad over your so-called best friend, why am I the one left to bear the brunt of your grief? What did I do to deserve this?”

You aggressively wiped the single tear that rolled down your cheek and continued, “I begged you—both of you—for any semblance of affection. I told you I was drowning, and you just... left me. You fucked each other for months while I cried myself to sleep in a corner of your penthouse, wondering why I was even there.”

Nanami stepped forward, his voice steady but strained. “It wasn’t like that.”

“Wasn’t it?” Your voice was a blade, sharp and unforgiving. “When I came back to confront you, you were sleeping peacefully in each other’s arms. Like I didn’t exist. Like I wasn’t your wife.”

The words landed like physical blows. Neither of them moved.

“I’m sorry,” Gojo whispered, the words fragile, brittle.

You shook your head, tears burning tracks down your cheeks. “Sorry doesn’t fix this. Sorry doesn’t erase what you did. You don’t deserve forgiveness. And even if I could forgive you, I will never forget the night I became an intruder in my own marriage.”

Nanami reached out, his hand hovering near your arm, but you recoiled, crossing your arms protectively over your stomach. “Don’t. You don’t get to touch me!”

Gojo’s voice dropped, desperation leaking through the cracks. “We didn’t know you were pregnant.”

“Of course you didn’t,” you said, your voice shaking with fury. “You didn’t care enough to notice. Even with your six eyes and your oh-so-great curse signature reading abilities you always bragged about, you didn’t.”

When you finally spoke, your voice was quiet but unyielding. “Leave. Sukuna will send over the divorce papers. Sign them and don’t come back.”

They hesitated, their expressions unreadable, but when you pointed toward the door, they obeyed. The sound of it slamming shut echoed through the apartment, leaving you trembling in its wake.

It had to be this way if you were to keep your babies safe, away from the dangers of the sorcery world. You needed to ensure that no one could take them from you.

A few minutes later, Sukuna returned. Finding the front lock broken, he rushed inside, his presence filling the space with a warmth you hadn’t realized you needed until now. He took one look at your tear-streaked face and the shattered pieces of your resolve and said nothing. Instead, he crossed the room, his arms enveloping you in a hug, firm and grounding.

“They were here,” he stated, not asked.

You nodded, your voice barely a whisper. “I told them the twins are yours; I’m sorry nothing came to mind.”

He tilted his head, his crimson eyes studying you. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of them when they come back.”

“They won’t,” you said, your voice hardening. “They don’t deserve to know them. Or me.”

Sukuna smirked, but it wasn’t mocking. “Good.”

And when he sighed, content, for the first time in a long time, you truly felt that you were safe.

You peered up at him.

Sukuna smirked, his arms still holding you close. “Told you I’d take care of you, princess.”

But even as you closed your eyes, the weight of your choices pressed down on you, heavier than ever.

The hum of the plane’s engines was a constant, hollow noise, drowning out the world outside. The cabin was dim, lit only by the faint glow of a reading light over Nanami’s seat. He stared blankly at the leather-bound hardcover of The Myth of Sisyphus in his lap, its pages untouched. Beside him, Gojo leaned against the window, his long legs stretched out in the aisle, his eyes obscured by the darkened lenses of his sunglasses.

Neither of them had spoken since takeoff. The silence between them was heavy, a chasm filled with unspoken truths and raw, festering wounds.

“She’s lying,” Gojo said finally, his voice barely above a whisper, like speaking it aloud would make it more real. “The twins… they’re ours.”

Nanami didn’t respond immediately. He flipped the book closed and placed it on the tray table in front of him, his movements deliberate, mechanical. “I know.”

Gojo let out a hollow laugh, pressing his knuckles against his lips. “She doesn’t understand these things because she can’t see them. Those… those legs under her skin.” His voice cracked, and he turned his head toward the window, the faint reflection of his face pale and gaunt. “That’s not Sukuna’s cursed energy. One of them is mine, and one is yours.”

Nanami’s hands gripped the armrests until his knuckles turned white. “It doesn’t matter.”

Gojo turned to look at him, his sunglasses sliding down his nose enough to reveal his bloodshot eyes. “How can you say that? They’re our kids, Kento. She—she’s going to raise them with him.”

Nanami closed his eyes and exhaled slowly, as if releasing the air from his lungs could somehow ease the ache in his chest. The weight of his thoughts pressed down on him, a suffocating reminder of the choices they had made and the consequences that followed. “And what would we offer them, Satoru? A life filled with curses? A life of blood and death?” His voice trembled slightly, betraying the turmoil within. “She’s better off with him, away from us.”

He opened his eyes, staring blankly at the seat in front of him, as if the fabric could somehow absorb his pain. “I’ve looked into him—he abandoned sorcery long ago and holds no loyalty to its hierarchy. He’s free from the chains that bind us, free from the expectations and the endless cycle of violence that defines our lives. He will prioritize her, unlike us, always off on missions with no guarantee of return.” The bitterness in his tone deepened, each word laced with regret. “He will be there for her, keeping her and the kids safe.”

Nanami’s mind raced with images of what could have been—a life untainted by the darkness of their world, where laughter replaced the echoes of sorrow and love flourished without the shadow of fear. He could almost see you smile, the warmth of your presence, and the innocence of their children, untouched by the burdens they carried. But that vision felt like a distant dream, slipping further away with each passing moment.

“Do you think we could have given them that?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking the thought aloud would make it more real. “A chance at a normal life, free from the horrors we’ve faced? We’ve only ever known how to fight, how to survive. What kind of future is that for them?”

The silence that followed was heavy, filled with the weight of unspoken truths and the haunting realization that they had failed not just you, but the very lives they had hoped to protect. Nanami’s heart ached with the knowledge that their choices had led them to this moment, a crossroads where love and duty collided, leaving only fragments of what could have been.

Gojo slammed a fist against the armrest, the sound startling in the quiet cabin. “We didn’t even fight for her. Not once. We just… let her slip away. What the hell is wrong with us?”

The weight of Nanami's eyes settling heavily on Gojo. “We broke her, Satoru. Piece by piece, until there was nothing left of the woman we claimed to love.” His voice was steady, but his words were sharp enough to cut. “And now she’s gone.”

Gojo’s head dropped into his hands, his shoulders trembling. “I thought… I thought I was doing what I had to. After Suguru, after everything, I just—” He choked on his words, his breath hitching. “I couldn’t lose you too. And I did. I lost both of you.”

Nanami’s gaze dropped to the floor, his voice quieter now. “She begged us to see her. To hear her. And we didn’t.”

Gojo dragged a hand down his face, the stubble on his jaw rasping against his palm. “She looked at me like I was a stranger, Kento. Like I wasn’t even human. Like she was scared of me.”

“She had every right to,” Nanami said, his voice carrying a weight of finality. “We left her alone. We left her angry, grieving, and drowning; we made her feel like she didn’t belong in her own home. Then we chased her relentlessly from one country to another. Any woman, pregnant or not, would be scared.”

Gojo’s laugh was bitter, devoid of humor.

The silence returned, heavier now, punctuated only by the muffled sound of Gojo’s uneven breathing. Nanami sat motionless, his hands resting limply on his lap; he looked utterly shattered.

“Do you think she’ll forgive us?” Gojo asked, his voice barely audible.

Nanami didn’t answer immediately. He stared out at the endless expanse of clouds outside the window, his expression unreadable. “I don’t think it matters.”

Gojo’s breath hitched again, and he leaned back in his seat, tilting his head to the ceiling as if he could somehow escape the crushing weight of his own guilt. He murmured. “We could’ve—”

“Could’ve doesn’t change anything,” Nanami interrupted, his voice harsh. “She’s gone, Satoru. And she’s not coming back.”

The finality of those words settled between them, cold and unrelenting. Gojo turned his head toward the window, the light from the wing of the plane catching on the tears that slipped from beneath his sunglasses. Nanami sat motionless beside him, his gaze fixed on the book in front of him.

Neither of them spoke again for the rest of the flight. The weight of what they had lost, what they had destroyed, was louder than any words could ever be.

The days after their visit felt heavier than anything you’d endured. The lie sat like a stone in your chest, each passing moment adding to its weight. You told yourself it was necessary, that it was for your children. But it didn’t stop the nightmares that came in fragments, jagged and disjointed, like shards of a shattered mirror slicing into your subconscious.

You stood in a darkened room, the walls pulsing faintly as if alive. A sickly red light seeped through the cracks, casting terrifying shadows that writhed and twisted. Your breath fogged in the cold air, the chill sinking into your bones.

Gojo was there first, his white hair glowing unnaturally in the dim light. His face was obscured, his features blurred as if smudged by unseen hands. But his voice was clear, cutting through the oppressive silence like a knife.

“You’re disgusting.”

The words echoed, multiplying, each iteration louder than the last until it became a deafening chant. His silhouette loomed larger, his hands outstretched, fingers impossibly long and claw-like. They reached for you, dragging through the air, each swipe leaving behind trails of darkness that spread like ink.

You tried to move, but your feet were rooted to the ground. When you looked down, black tendrils coiled around your ankles, slithering up your legs. They were cold and wet, like the touch of something ancient and decayed.

Behind him, Nanami appeared, his back to you. His suit was untouched by the darkness that surrounded you both. You called his name, your voice trembling and weak, but he didn’t turn.

“Ken!” you screamed, desperation clawing at your throat.

When he finally moved, it was slow, deliberate. His head tilted slightly, just enough for you to catch the edge of his profile. His lips parted, but no sound came. Instead, his skin cracked, fine lines spreading across his face like a porcelain doll dropped from a great height. From the fissures seeped black ichor, thick and oozing, dripping down to pool at his feet.

He turned fully then, and you wished he hadn’t. His eyes were empty voids, twin abysses that seemed to pull you in. His expression was blank, his mouth set in a line of quiet condemnation.

“Why did you lie?” His voice was soft but burrowed into your mind like a parasite.

“I had to,” you whispered, though your words felt small, swallowed by the growing shadows.

“Did you?” he pressed, his figure growing distant even as he stood still.

The tendrils tightened, pulling you downward. You clawed at them, your nails splitting as you tried to free yourself. But they only tightened, dragging you into the floor that had become a gaping maw, teeth lining the edges of the pit.

As you sank, Gojo and Nanami stood above you, unmoving. Their faces blurred together, features melding and twisting until they became something monstrous. Gojo’s laughter echoed, sharp and cruel, as Nanami’s voice droned in an endless loop:

“You should’ve told the truth.”

The last thing you saw before the darkness swallowed you whole was the faint ripple of movement beneath your skin, something inside you fighting against the pull. But even that wasn’t going to be enough.

You woke gasping, your hand clutching your stomach as though to protect the life within. The room was quiet, the shadows still. But their voices lingered, whispering accusations in the corners of your mind.

Sukuna was always there in an instant, holding you as you fought through the panic attack. He rubbed circles on your back and forced you to count and breathe.

A/N: So, mystery hunk (™) is officially in the chat, and yes, he’s soft for our girl in his own chaotic way. Also, the part about Nanami reading Camus? That wasn’t just for flavor text—yes, I went there. If you’ve ever wanted to cry about The Myth of Sisyphus and think about how life is just a series of rolling boulders uphill, congratulations—this chapter’s for you! What do you think Sukuna’s Ryo-side would say to Nanami’s Sisyphus-side? Also, people who are grumbling about Sukuna being our guy, I have my reasons; hear me out: Gojo and Nanami are both special grades in this fic, so you need someone stronk who can proteck and attack you/for you. I will write more fics in the future where you'll have your fav guys as your saviors, so in the meantime, if you have ideas or just want to yell at me, send them on my asks. I’m curious: do you think Gojo’s breakdown was justified, or was he being selfish again? Let’s talk about it! Oh, and if you had to wrestle a goat, which JJK character would you pick to help you? (Sukuna’s banned. Too OP.)

Also this is your manz -

And this is what you married -

Even the stable one is weird -

Chapter 8 (alt ending 1.2) - Veiled Realities (Tumblr/Ao3)

All Works Masterlist

Tag-list = @lady-of-blossoms @stargirl-mayaa @dark-agate @tqd4455 @roscpctals99 @sxlfcxst @se-phi-roth @austisticfreak @helloxkittylo @itoshi-r @kodzukensworld @revolvinggeto @luringfantasy

Disclaimer - I found these memes randomly on Pinterest, so lmk the creators if you know so that I can tag them.

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