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obsesssedblerd · 7 months ago

Note

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!

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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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nanamineedstherapy · 2 months 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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kenm4vhs · 1 year ago

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they’re soooooo father and son coded

#even the spiked hair it’s the same i can’t :((#i love my husband and child #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #satoru gojo #jjk satoru #gojou satoru #gojou #jujutsu gojo #satorugojo #jujutsu satoru #megumi fushiguro #jjk megumi #jujutsu megumi #jujutsu kaisen megumi #jjk fushiguro

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jujutsukaisenwriting · 6 months ago

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JJK Characters Accidentally Receiving a "Love You" Text

POV: you accidentally sent the "love you" text to a wrong recipient, then immediately follow with a "sorry, wrong recipient message" aaaaand...

Yuji Itadori: "confused but hopeful" Uh okay, no worries, maybe we can talk about it later!

Fushiguro Megumi: k

Nobara Kugisaki: wait but WHO is the right receiver?? See you in 10 min and DONT YOU DARE IGNORE ME

Gojo Satoru: lol funny. love you too ;)

Geto Suguru: it's okay, but the right receiver is lucky indeed :*

Inumaki Toge: ouch it hurts but there is always hope :)

Ryomen Sukuna: um whatever

Hanami: it's alright dear, best of luck :*

Joko: "blushing and confused" NO WORRIES OKAY!!

Nanami Kento: I am not sure how I even got involved in this

Choso: ..........

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notyashiro128 · 1 year ago

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Iam sorry

Small one-shot

Fluff fluff fluff

Megumi During the day he'll be ignoring you being a bit mean to you

Because He doesn't want Nobara Yuji and Gojo to know about your relationship with him

But today He was so mean to you that you were sick and cuz of what he's done you got angry

"fushiguro can you please give me your notes?" You asked him

Yuji and nobara They were behind you

They asked Megumi before you but Megumi's response was no

"Why didn't you write your note?" he was upset

"no, I was a little tired can I take them? "You asked nicely

"Don't take responsibility, you idiot" he said Coldly leaving the class

'Did this mf called me idiot that bitch then in the night he'll be beging me to sleep with him ' you said it to yourself

"What a mean .hey it ok y/n " Nobara tried to calm you down

"Its okay y/n I'll tell him later to give us-"You interrupted Yuji

"no, We don't need his notes"You left the class and closed the door hard behind you. You went to your dorm as soon as you entered, took off your shoes and went to your bed to sleep.

In middle of night about 2 am

As soon as you woke up, you noticed Megumi sitting at your table, writing something. you couldn't help but feel a bit surprised. You wondered how he had gotten there and why and what he was writing in your room without your permission. You decided to confront him and demand an explanation for her actions.

"m-megumi" you said sleeply Megumi turned to you and got up, walking towards you

"What are you doing here "you said sleepily with a soft town

He then lay down next to you and quickly you sat on your bed. "What are you doing here?' you asked madly" I just came to write you the notes you need and I want to sleep with you today" . You gave him look, "huh? " Side eye 😏

"Its just sorry I yelled at you in the morning," He then grabbed your hands and pushed you to lie on your back while Megumi placed his head on top of your chest ( what a boobie guy)

"I'm sorry" He nuzzles your neck and then h buries his face in your chest even more

"ah me_gumi stop, you're crushing me" you were about to moan

"Oh, I forgot that they are very sensitive but soft like a pillow or marshmallow~," he murmured sleepy then He laid next to you on his side while you lay on your back you you got up and sat in a chair,

"Y/N. What's wrong with you?" He sat on a bed. "Don't talk to me. I won't sit next to you" you said Coldly

."Why said I'm sorry? " He said it softly. " No, I will not accept your sorry, sorry won't fix a broken heart"

As Megumi approached you, you couldn't help but feel a bit uneasy. You quickly rose from your seat and tried to distance yourself from him, but he followed you. Suddenly, you found yourself pressed against a wall, his hand resting on your waist. You couldn't help but feel a rush of excitement and nervousness as butterflies fluttered in your stomach. You mustered up the courage to speak up, "Please, stay away from me, Fushiguro."

When you called him by His first name he knows that you are upset

Then he picked you up and put you in a bed. He covered you with a blanket and hugged you tightly. You were tired

iam sorry *kiss at your forehead* iam sorry*kiss at the tip of your nose* " iam sorry" * kisses at your cheeks* "iam sorry" * kiss at your lips* you giggled trying to hide your smile

As Megumi hugged you tightly, you could feel his hand running over your arm. He leaned in towards you and planted a gentle kiss on your cheek, followed by the words, "I love you." You couldn't help but feel a shiver run down your spine as you realized how soft and warm his touch was. The moment was so tender and intimate that it made you feel safe and loved.

"I love you too goodnight," You Said quickly trying to back to sleep. Megumi couldn't sleep, but he kept watching you.

What's next?

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megumismyhusband · 2 months ago

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megumi sat at his desk, his pen paused over a stack of paperwork. he stared blankly at the page, his thoughts somewhere else entirely. absentmindedly, he reached for his wedding ring, a habit of his whenever he was deep in thought. he would spin it on his finger, the subtle weight grounding him, reminding him of home.

but today, his finger was bare.

his heart dropped as the realization hit him. his ring. he’d forgotten it.

megumi’s mind raced, replaying his morning routine. he’d set it on the nightstand before his shower—he always did—but in his rush to leave, he must have forgotten to put it back on. the guilt hit him instantly, a dull ache settling in his chest.

how could he forget something so important?

the rest of his day passed in a blur of half-hearted focus. every time he looked at his hand, the absence of the ring mocked him. by the time he returned home, he’d already planned multiple ways to apologize.

as he stepped into the house, he found her in the living room, stretched out on the couch with a book in her hands. she looked up, her face lighting up with a smile that, despite his self-imposed guilt, managed to ease some of his tension.

“you’re home,” she greeted warmly, setting the book down.

“y/n,” he started, his tone heavy with regret. “I… I forgot my ring today.” he held up his left hand, his finger still bare. “I didn’t realize until I was already at work. I’m sorry. I—”

y/n tilted her head, confused, and then a small laugh bubbled from her lips. “that’s it? megumi, it’s fine. I noticed it on the nightstand this morning. I figured you’d just forgotten.”

“but—”

“no buts,” she interrupted, her voice gentle. “It’s okay. really.”

megumi wasn’t convinced. his brows knit together as he straightened. “I’ll make it up to you,” he said firmly, heading toward the kitchen before she could protest.

y/n tried to stop him, but he was already pulling out ingredients, his focus locked in on the task. she shook her head, a soft smile playing on her lips as she watched him work.

it was impossible not to find his stubborn guilt endearing.

when dinner was ready, they sat down together, and y/n couldn’t help but tease him as he nervously glanced her way after every bite.

“It’s all good, gumi,” she said with a grin. “quit worrying so much.”

later, they curled up on the couch under a cozy blanket, a movie playing softly in the background. megumi’s arm was draped around her shoulders, his fingers brushing over her arm in quiet affection.

“I’m really sorry,” he murmured, his voice barely audible.

y/n turned to him, her expression equal parts fond and exasperated. “you’ve apologized enough. you didn’t forget me, gumi. You forgot a ring. It’s okay.”

he sighed, leaning his head against hers. “I’ll never forget it again.”

she laughed, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “you’re impossible.”

“I love you,” he murmurs. “more than anything in the world.”

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its-prachi · 2 months ago

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HAPPY BIRTHDAY POOKIE 🤭

#megumi fushiguro #jjk megumi #jujutsu megumi #jjk #megumi x reader #jujutsu kaisen megumi #happy bday #happy birthday #i love him #my husband #i love it

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clairewritesjjkxreader · 2 years ago

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Sukuna's Wife and Yuuji's Onee-chan (Sukuna x Reincarnated!Y/N) Part 2

Part 1

Several hundred years ago…

You adored autumn more than any other season. Leaves drying, flowers falling to the ground–you felt most alive surrounded by death.

“The leaves remind me of your hair,” you said to him, holding up a red maple leaf.

“You did not just compare me to a dead leaf.” He watched with crossed arms as you fiddled with the leaf before letting go.

“It’s a compliment. Though…I guess the maple is prettier,” you teased him. The rubiness of autumn maple was rich and with a charm incomparable to any flower.

He huffed.

You laughed a bit, though your giggles were covered up with coughing.

He strolled closer, wrapping a scarf around your neck, his large hands careful not to pull on your hair. “You love autumn but can barely stand the cold.”

You snuggled closer to his side, placing your ear close to his heart. “Then it’s a good thing I married you.”

***

Present day.

Yuuji was the single most precious person to you. He and old man Wasuke were more your family than the actual people who made you. When the toddler first grasped your finger, tightly and warmly, you swore that nothing else mattered in the world.

As the days passed and that little crybaby grew up into a taller crybaby, your sentiments only got stronger.

No one cared, no one mattered, not even yourself.

If anyone deserved to live a long, happy life, it was your sweet, salt of the earth Yuuji.

That’s why, after the man called Gojo explained everything: from curses and cursed energy to Yuuji’s fate after eating one of Ryomen Sukuna’s fingers, you found yourself getting down on both knees and laying your nose on the ground.

“Please,” you begged, “please spare Yuuji. If you need another host, then transfer Sukuna inside me and take me instead, but leave my brother alone.”

All three men were stunned.

Fushiguro reluctantly opened his mouth, “H-hey–”

“Nee-chan, get up.” Yuuji went to grab your shoulders, but he was taken aback when Gojo knelt down in front of you.

He hummed, before asking, “You sure are a good sister. You realize that you’re basically asking us to kill you?”

You said nothing as you kept your forehead on the ground.

“So that’s your answer.” Gojo crossed his arms and pretended to think.

“Darling.” Sukuna appeared on Yuuji’s cheek. He growled, “Get up. You shouldn’t be prostrating yourself in front of these scum.”

Gojo snapped his fingers. “Leave it to me, Y/N-chan!”

“Hey!” “Oy!”

Fushiguro and Sukuna chorused, “You’re not really dragging her into this, are you?” “You damn sorcerer, don’t you dare call her so intimately. Only I can–”

“Raise your head, Y/N-chan.” Gojo chuckled. “I’ll take care of you and Yuuji.”

Despite everything, Gojo needed to be sure of Itadori’s potential as a vessel, so he knocked the boy out and did the same to you before you could try to hit him.

“You’re not really thinking of using that woman as a vessel, right?” Megumi watched as his teacher held you in his arms. “And how do you even plan on transferring Sukuna into her?”

“Tell me, Megumi, do you want Itadori-kun to live?”

“Of course, I do.”

“How about his darling nee-chan?”

“Yes, but–”

“Sukuna cannot be trusted, but if he really does care for this girl then we can use that to our advantage, don’t you agree?”

Megumi couldn’t protest. He didn’t like the idea of getting civilians involved, but if he had to choose between two people and the rest of the world, then the answer was obvious.

The day Old Man Wasuke was hospitalized, you already took a leave of absence from college. Quitting your part time jobs and packing up your belongings took less than a day, and cutting ties with the rest of the world you knew was easy. You had no warmth for your colleagues, or your classmates, or the lonely old house you grew up in.

Sukuna was surprisingly quiet the whole ride to the high school, but when Satoru Gojo started flirting with you, an eye and mouth would open up on Yuuji’s cheek and demand he stay away from you.

“How dare you lay your filthy hand on my beloved–”

“You mad? What’re you gonna do from waaaay over there?” (You seriously started to worry about your brother’s safety while being protected by this moron.)

Yuuji was placed next to Megumi Fushiguro (a polite but reserved boy, you noted) while you were put in the girl’s dormitory, which was practically empty. Sukuna was vocal about “being left behind,” but Gojo was adamant about separating the boys from the girls like the rules state.

Lies, Megumi thought to himself. He just wants to piss off Sukuna. That and it was for your own safety. Though the King of Curses seemed attached to you, he was still a curse, and his attitude could’ve been a mask.

You were used to being alone so living without a roommate or “friends” in a large building was no big deal. Once you were settled in, you returned to Yuuji’s dormitory, but when you found him unconscious and tied to a chair by talismans, you threw a shoe at Gojo without thinking.

“Why are you so violent?” Gojo complained as your shoe bounced off his infinity.

“You said you would protect him!”

“Calm down,” Fushiguro said from behind you. “Please, Gojo-sensei may look and act like that–”

“–oi, what do you mean by ‘that’–”

“–but I promise you, he’s doing this for everybody’s benefit.”

“...You’re lying.”

Fushiguro’s blood froze as you gazed into his eyes. He has never felt such intense blood lust from a single human before.

“You’re not doing this for my baby’s sake… you’re lying… you’re tricking us…” Your voice dripped with ice, your stare glazed over.

Fushiguro was speechless. Something told him you weren’t talking about just Yuuji right now.

“Give him back to me.” You gripped Fushiguro’s arms. “GIVE MY CHILD BACK!”

Fushiguro was at a loss, though your nails dug into him, he couldn’t bring himself to summon his familiars or push you away. You were a bit violent, but he saw Tsumiki in you.

Wait, did she just say child?

@laurcad123 @aidanstan @deepinballs

Part 3

A/N:

I'm getting way too lazy to write full fledged prose.

Anyway, I love soft sukuna.

Also, med school is murder T.T

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gah-who-are-you · 5 months ago

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Thinking about you... (Nanami Kento x Female Reader) -SFW- [ANGST]

So I had this idea of where you and Kento are sorcerers and after the Shibuya incident only Nanami and Yuji remain. (As well as the other sorcerers it's just you know I'm focusing on how they deal with your loss, mainly focused on Nanami) This is him dealing with your loss. You've been his wife that worked as a jujutsu sorcerer. This story also has Yuji, where he see's you as his mother figure. Reader is female and is said to wear a dress. Okay let's get into it and see if I end up crying writing this. (´∩｀。)

-----Start!------------------------------------------------------------------

Nanami saw, saw when Mahito killed you. When he hit that finishing blow. You had been fighting Mahito, despite the burns that covered your body, despite the blood you lost, despite everything you knew you had to fight. Yuji, yuji can't handle this alone. You thought to yourself. Yuji doesn't have to bear with all of these curses. You thought as you fought Mahito. That was your first error, allowing yourself to think. You had gotten distracted with your thoughts, leaving yourself open. Mahito hit you with a hard punch to your side, sending you flying into a wall, you slump weakly onto the ground. Damn it... Damn it this isn't good. You thought to yourself as you tried getting up, but couldn't. Your body was giving out on you. A laugh could be heard, a laugh that surrounded you, overwhelmed you.

There stood Mahito losing himself in his amusement. "I thought you'd be more entertaining." He said and sneered. Mahito walks over to you about to take the finishing blow, until he saw Nanami enter, alongside with Yuji. Mahito could only smile in amusement. After all this was entertainment for him. He could see the way Nanami's soul shook in fear seeing you so defenseless before Mahito. Mahito could only smile in glee. Kento looked your body from afar. He saw the way you tried to support yourself up, your arms shaking, weak. A side of your face covered in scars and burns. The blood falling from your mouth. The body that he kissed, that he loved, that he would caress at night. Now having been marked and tainted with scars, burns, and blood. Kento called your name desperately and started running to you. "Kento don't!" You shout shakily.

Yet Kento didn't listen he ran towards Mahito, anger showing on his face, his brows furrowed, his heart racing, his soul trembling. Trembling in fear for you. "Kento, Stop!" You shouted and used your technique. Releasing a big rabbit shikigami, that ran into Nanami and held him in place. It took all the strengths left of you. Yuji tried running for you as well, but the shikigami grabbed onto him as well and embraced them in a tight hug. "Mrs.Nanamin!!" Yuji yelled out to you shakily, tears threatening to spill from his eyes. He tried and tried to pry himself from your shikigami, but instead caused it to hold onto them tighter. "Kento..." You say shakily as you lay there on the ground, blood dripping from your mouth. "Go to the beach for me..." You say, coughing out blood, as you try to crawl weakly to him. Yet you felt the sharp pain of something pierce your leg. You screamed in pain, tears falling from your eyes. You looked up and saw a sneering Mahito, his arm morphed to that of a blade, that's now driven into your leg.

Mahito only laughed and mocked your expression. Faking a cry and wiping a fake tear from his eye. You looked at Kento and tried to smile one last time for him. "Kento take care of Yuji. Take him to the beach again with you instead of me. Make Yuji enjoy his life. I love you Nanami Kento, with all of my-." And there before him Mahito placed his hand on your head, exploding it there before Kento's eyes. What was left of your dropped limp to the ground. Your blood coating the floor. Your Shikigami then disappeared releasing Yuji and Nanami. "She talked too much." Mahito said and huffed. "I was getting bored." He said with a yawn and stretched. Nanami's eyes widened, tears spilled from his eyes. Nanami was mad, no, he was furious. His heart, his love, his soul was dedicated to you. The very person who held him. Who traced the scars along his arms with love, who kissed him so gently and lovingly that it had him wanting to cry of joy. She who made sure to love him until her last breathe. He lunged forward to Mahito, a cry unlike anything was heard. A cry of anger, a cry of loss, a cry of despair for the one he loved. The one who he had planned to devote himself to until they both let their last breathe together. And there beside him ran Yuji. Accompanied with the cry of a son, the cry of someone who lost someone they saw as a mother to them, the cry of someone who lost a person who had seen him as her son.

-time skip-

The sound of keys jingling can be heard from outside your house. The doorknob twists and from there emerges Kento. His steps slow as he enters the house. He takes his shoes off, placing them next to a empty spot where your shoes usually were. Matter of fact your clothes are still hanging from the sweater rack. Your hats hanging there, alongside with the scarf he had gifted you once on your birthday. He walked into the living room, looking at the picture frames, photo's of you and Yuji, you and Kento, you, hanging along the walls or decorating the tables. He looked at the sofa, the sofa where you two would fall asleep together, watching movies until sleep overtook your two. He then raised his eyes. He sees his reflection on the tv. Half of his face having burn marks. His shirt loose on his body to prevent from hurting him from the burn marks that cover half of his upper body. His eye looked solemn, distant, and lonely. He turned away in disgust from his reflection and walked to your shared room.

He looked at the room and walked up to your nightstand. His hands gently tracing the perfumes you had and the different jewlery hanging from small hooks. He started to pick up one of the perfumes but quickly put it down. He didn't want to move it, wanting to leave it where you had left it last. Making it seem as if you had used it this morning. as if you were still here.

He then rummaged through his pants pocket, his burnt hand then holding up your wedding ring. He remembered how Yuji and him fought Mahito. Nobara having interjected and helped the two of them fight. After defeating Sukuna, Nanami walked back to where your body rested. Endless tears spilled from his eyes, as his hands reached down to pick your body in his arms. His hand held onto yours, your wedding ring coated in your blood. His face buried in your chest, muffling the sobs that escaped his lips. Your shirt drying the tears spilling from his eye. He held onto you desperately. He didn't leave your side, not until yuji found him holding you, cradling you, whispering how much he loves you. His body shaking as tear after tears, cry after cry, left him. Only then did Nanami let you go, Yuji prying him away from you. Hugging Nanami tightly, as he too cried. He hugged Nanami tightly from behind as he tried to pry him off of you. As tears spilled from his eyes, his face pressed against Nanami's back, not wanting to face your dead body, not wanting to face Nanami. A part of both of their heart staying there with you.

They left the station, holding one another's hand, their faces stained with tears, Nanami's body covered with your blood. Your wedding ring hidden between his fist. Yuji holding onto Nanami's other hand, in search of comfort that he knew Nanami needed desperately. That they both needed.

Nanami then snapped out of his memory, his mind focusing on his burnt hand holding your wedding ring. Reminding him that it was all over. He placed your wedding ring on your nightstand where you'd usually put it when you'd go to sleep. As he was about to turn away something caught his eye. It was a camera memory card. He picked it up gently and then walked over to the rooms closet. He rummaged through and pulled out a camera you used to use. He took in a sharp breathe and shakily placed the memory card in. The screen of the camera showing a video. The light reflecting upon Nanami's eye.

The sound of waves crashing is heard along with the chatter of someone in the background, slightly muffled. It's at first completely dark, but the sound of shuffling can be heard. Soon a pair of hands enter the frame, picking up the camera and moving it to face her. "I think it's working." A woman's voice can be heard through the camera. The lenses of the camera adjusting and showing a perfect image of her. A image of you, a sun hat resting on your head, a nice light dress covering your body.

You then gently place the camera down on a rock. You then turn around, away from the camera, walking towards the shore. The sea crashing against the sand, offering a beautiful rythmn. The sand offering a warmth to your feet. You look down at your feet, moving you toes slightly, allowing the sand to coat your feet. A small hum of satisfaction leaving your lips can be heard faintly. Meanwhile the blue sky is clear, welcoming you to look at the white pure clouds decorating it. The sun smiles down at you offering a warm hello to your skin. Then the sound of a man calling out your name can be heard. You in response turns towards the sound and a wide smile can be seen gracing her face. You run towards the man. The man before you of blond hair, sharp features and with the biggest hug anyone can offer. He catches her in his arms. She wraps her arms around his neck, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. Hugging her tightly, holding her close. A warm smile on his face, a smile so warm and gentle that it'd melt anyone in a instance, a smile that put the very sun that's shining down at you to shame. He then places her down gently.

A energetic voice can then be heard, and a blur of pink hair can be seen, soon a familiar face is shown, Yuji. It seems he's standing behind the camera, his back curved as he's looking at it upside down. He then disappears from view and enters the view again, crouching down in front of the camera. "Yo!" he says with a big grin and waves at the camera. He then hears you calling his name. He turns around and stands up straight. "Mrs. Na-Na-Min!" He shouted enthusiastically and ran up to hug you. A laughter can be heard leaving you as Yuji quite literally almost tackled you in a hug. "Glad you could make it." You say and ruffle his hair. Yuji grins and then looks at Nanami. "Yo Nanam-!" He was saying but stopped as he sees the serious stare Nanami was offering him. Nanami then starts to scold Yuji, telling him how he could've hurt you. Yuji scratched the back of his head and smiled sheepishly at you two. He then bowed and apologized. You chuckled lightly and then hugged him tightly. "You're good don't worry about it." You say with a grin. Yuji looked at you, a little shocked but nonetheless he couldn't help but ease himself into your arms. Hugging you back. "I promise I won't do it again." He said and looks at Nanami who couldn't help but smile in approvement. You then pull away from Yuji. "Okay who wants some watermelon!" You asked excitedly and turned to the two. Yuji hand quickly shot up. "I'd like some Mrs.Nanamin!!" You chuckled and looked at Nanami. "I'll have some please." He said and kissed your forehead gently. You nodded and walked out of the frame.

Soon a white haired man flew into the frame splashing into the water. "Oh come on! That's no fun!" he shouted. You then walked into the frame. "Well you wait for you watermelon they asked for some first. You can't sneak up on me and expect me to not react." The response earning a pout from the white haired gentleman. "Be glad I didn't react with the knife in my hand." You say and huff. Nanami could be seen holding in his laugh. Meanwhile Yuji let it out, clutching his stomach as pain coursed through his body from the laughter that erupted from him. "Sensei! You went flying!" He said as he tried to stop laughing. You sighed in response and walk over to Yuji and Nanami. "Here's your watermelon and remember, sometime has to pass before you decide to swim so your food can pro-" But you were caught off guard with Yuji handing you back a empty plate and running into the water to tackle Gojo. "Let's see if he ends up throwing up." You said with a amused tone and turn to Nanami. Nanami sighed and handed you the plate marching into the water to drag Yuji out. Yuji protested distracting Nanami, causing Gojo to then tackle Nanami into the water. You could only laugh, tears forming in the corner of your eyes as you saw the three tussle in the water. You then looked over to the side and waved. Shoko entering the frame now, alongside Nobara and Maki. You hugged each of them and offered some watermelon. Maki and Shoko declining. You nodded and handed Nobara some watermelon. Yuji perked up from the grasp of Gojo and waved at Nobara. "Nobara hey!" He shouted before being dragged by Nanami out of the water. A pout forming on Yuji's face.

Nobara waves at Yuji. "Oi, what'd you do this time?" Maki asks and looks at yuji with a raised brow, a amused smile gracing her face. Yuji shrugs and stands up, once Nanami let's him go. Gojo follows short after, trying to bring Yuji back in the water to play with him. Then a small hey can be heard. "ME-GU-MIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII" Gojo shouted and ran to Megumi. Megumi quickly averted him, causing Gojo to stumble and fall face flat. "Sensei!!!" Yuji shouted and walked over to Gojo who got up slowly, wiping a fake tear from his eyes, clearly hurt on how Megumi avoided his embrace. Megumi glared at Gojo and then turned to Yuji. "Hey" He said, Yuji responding with a hug and a energetic "Hey!". They both then walked over to Nobara and Maki, sitting down next to them. Gojo then walked up to you, hunched over. You chuckle lightly and patted his back gently. "He's just not used to it Gojo." You say with a amused smile which causes Gojo to sigh. He then straightens his posture and walks over to the students ready to annoy them yet again.

You could only look at them amused and turned to Nanami, who seems to already be tired of the antics of Gojo. "Remind me why we decided to do this again?" He asked and turned to you. "Well everyone needs a break dear." You say with a hum and wrap a arm around his waist. He responds with a hand resting on your back. He nods his head softly. "You're not wrong." He says and sighs. "Here let me help you put sunscreen on." You say with a hum. "Call Yuji over so he can get some on too." Nanami nods and kisses your cheek gently before turning to the direction of Yuji. "Itadori! Come over here so you can get some sunscreen on." Yuji turns to your direction and walks over. "I'm here Nanamin!" He said happily and placed his hands out. You then grabbed the bottle of sunscreen and placed some on his hands. You then put some on your own hands and spread it on Yuji's back. "There, you should be fine now." You say with a hum. "Thank you!!" he chirps happily. "Now Yuji remember, don't go too far out! You may be strong but I sure don't want to have to get Nanami to go and fish you out of the water." You say seriously and poke Yuji's nose. "You're just a child after all." You say with a soft smile. Yuji couldn't lie that the comment you made caught him off guard. Yet he couldn't deny the small smile that was forming. he nodded his head. "Thank you Mrs.Nanamin." He says and hugs you.

Nanami then looked at Yuji. "Don't go out to far." He said with a serious tone, making sure it gets through Yuji's thick skull. Yuji nods his head and turns to Nanami, surprising him with a hug. "I promise I won't" He says softly and then turns away, running off to the ocean, Nobara following close by, with Megumi walking towards them. Gojo appearing and running to Megumi and picking him up, ready to throw him in the water. Megumi shouting at him and trying to pry away from him. You and Nanami looked upon the sight a smile graced on your face, meanwhile Nanami could only sigh but didn't hide the smile forming on his face. "He's gotten quite fond of you." He says and squeezes your shoulder lightly. "I can say the same for you Kento." You say with a hum and squeeze his waist gently. You then turn to Nanami and spread sunscreen on his back. Over his arms and shoulders. You hands lingering over scars on his body, tracing them gently and pressing a small kiss to them. You then turn to Nanami with a smile. "He's a good kid, I feel like he forgets that at times." You say, a small frown beginning to form on your face. Nanami notices and cups your face gently. "He'll have us there to remind him." He says softly and kisses your lips gently. You smiled against his lips and kissed him back.

A loud "OOOOOOOOH!" breaks through your moment. Nanami looks up, slightly annoyed but that only grows as he notices Gojo being the one who said that. Gojo grins and starts to make fake making out noises, clearly trying to instigate Nanami. Nanami's brows furrow and his jaw clenches, veins appearing on his arms. "Nanam-" You say but are being cut off as he takes of his sunglasses and places it in your hands. "Hold this for me dear." He says and kisses your lips gently. He then marches over to the water seriously and grabs Gojo. The two now starting to tussle and wrestle in the water. "ow ow ow!" You can hear Gojo say as Nanami holds him in a head lock.

You look at the scene wide eyed, but couldn't help but burst into a fit of laughter. Nanami doesn't usually act like this, maybe Gojo finally got on his nerves. But you knew he wouldn't do any harm to gojo. You then see Yuji try to join in, tussling with Gojo and Nanami. Megumi tried to inch away from it not wanting to get involved, but soon getting dragged in by Yuji. Meanwhile Nobara cheered on, Maki just watching amused with the scene. Shoko snapping photos, ready to make fun of them after. You then started walking to the camera and picked it up, the lenses focusing on you face. You smiled at the camera. "Chaotic much huh?" You ask the camera and chuckle. "Quite the family we have." You say with a hum. "I wish time could freeze when moments like these happen." You say as you set the camera down next to you, pointing it to you. A sigh leaving your lips. "I'm glad I was able to record this, it really show how close everyone is with one another. Others more distanced, others more bonded" You say and look ahead, where the camera isn't showing. Your dress flowed with the wind. Your hat moving slightly. You looked down at the camera a smile forming on your face. "I hope to be able to make our own little family soon. A daughter or son. Maybe both. And then Yuji." You say with a chuckle. "He's quite the burst of energy." You say and look back up. "Yuji!! Make sure to put on more sunscreen later!" You called out, a distant energetic "okay!" responding to you.

You then look down at the camera, and look at it for sometime, as if you're thinking of what to say. "Hey kento." You say softly. "I love you, I hope you see this video soon and remind yourself of this day. I hope it was a day you enjoyed." You say and pick up the camera. You then kiss the camera and hug it against you chest. "Get your sleep, eat well, and make sure to take care of yourself when I'm not around. I hope that's not anytime soon though, as selfish as that sounds." You say gently. "I want to be the one taking care of you, till the end of day, till I breathe my last breathe, till my body gives out. I love you Nanami Kento, I love you with all of my being." You say with a smile and reach out to the camera. The video ending.

Nanami stared at the camera screen, your smile still showing. The screen light shone on Nanami's face. Soon the light dimmed, the screen going dark, and there reflected was Nanami's face. He hadn't noticed but he was crying. Tears spilled from his eye, his hands trembling as he held the camera. He looked at the burn covering the side of his face. His hand reaching up to touch his face. He then imagines, imagines you're there. Your hand tracing over his scarred face, leaving kisses all over it. You fingers tracing hearts over them. He swear he hears you. He can already imagine the things you'd say.

You'd call him beautiful, as you'd kiss his burned hand. You'd press his hand against your face, and trace with one hand his face. You'd tell him how much you love him. With burns and all, with a heart that's been stomped over, you'd love him no matter what. You'd joke that his heart is yours and Nanami would nod. He'd nod and burry his face into your neck. He'd cry in joy for having you with him now. He'd hold you tight. He'd kiss you, he'd show you how much he loves you. But now his heart doesn't beat, his heart is gone. That very light that ignited his heart has diminished, leaving it cold. Nanami cried, his body trembling, shaking, as he pressed the camera to his chest. Maybe deep inside he was hoping time could freeze like you had said. So that he could go back to that day. Back to the day he was annoyed with Gojo for being a idiot. Back to the day Yuji surprised him with a hug. Back to the day he held you close to him.

His body heaved. His heart crying along with him as he pressed his face against the camera. "I love you." He said shakily again and again. He digged the camera into his chest, as far as it could go. He wanted to merge with it at this point. Wanting so desperately to feel you. Not caring if his scars opened, not caring if it hurt. He spent the rest of the day like this. Holding the camera close to him, and flipping through the different videos of you. Imagining as if you were sitting next to him, as if your head was resting against his shoulder. As if you were there pointing and laughing at certain parts of the videos or photos you took. Soon night arrived and Nanami had fallen asleep with the camera tightly in his arms, enveloped in the blankets of your shared bed. Your scent surrounding him, comforting him.

The next morning arrived and Nanami woke up. He noticed the camera wasn't in his arms anymore, instead laying neatly on his night stand. He slowly got up from your shared bed. He walked into the hallway a sizzling sound heard. He turned the corner and found Yuji standing in front of the oven staring at a cooking egg. Yuji then picked up the cooked egg and placed it on a plate. Yuji then turned around and placed two plates on the table. He looked up and noticed Nanami standing there, surprised from having seen Yuji cooking in his house. "How did you?.." Nanami started asking but soon remembered as Yuji pulled out a copy of the house key.

Not long ago did you end up gifting Yuji a key to your house. Assuring him that if he needed anything he could pass by. This led to Yuji passing by at times to join you in dinner, or would just want to be held in your arms. Sometimes you and Nanami would be sitting on the couch watching a movie and you'd hear the sound of the door opening. Yuji would appear before you two and greet you cheerfully. He'd sit down between the two of you and watch the movie along with you. You usually noticed something was bothering him, or that he'd be tense. You'd help him relax, wrapping a arm over his shoulder and nudging his figure over, causing his head to rest on your shoulder. Meanwhile Nanami would wrap a arm behind you two, or would ruffle his hair.

Though something that would happens at times is Yuji would end up falling asleep, his posture would shift and he would lay against Nanami. Nanami wouldn't move him, wouldn't wake him up but rather shift him slightly to make him comfortable and would rest his head on Yuji's. The two falling asleep then. You saw them once like that and sneakily took a photo of the two of them. Making it as your home screen wallpaper.

Nanami nodded his head. "Right." He said and walked over to Yuji. "I made us breakfast, I hope it isn't a bother." Yuji said quietly. Nanami reached out and took a plate from his hand. "Thank you." he said softly, his voice raspy from how much he had cried the day before. The two sat down in silence. The sound of forks clinking against the plate breaking through the silence. Nanami looked down at his plate, staring at the egg, looking at each detail, the crisp. Trying to get his mind off everything. When the sound of sniffling can be heard. Nanami looks up and sees a crying Yuji. A Yuji who's face is staining in tears. A Yuji who looks so heartbroken. Nanami stood up and walked over to Yuji. He could see Yuji's body trembling, heaving, as tears flowed down his eyes, as sobs broke through his lips.

Nanami reached over, his arms wrapping around Yuji tightly. Yuji's cries grew louder, sob after sob being ripped from his heart. He clinged to Nanami, and turned to face him, hugging him tightly. His fist curling to tug at the back of his shirt. Gripping onto him as his life depended on it. "I miss her." Cried yuji, his voice muffled slightly. "I miss her so much." He said shakily as a sob broke free. Nanami hugged Yuji tighter and buried his face in his hair. "I know." He said shakily in response. "I do to." He said as tears also started to spill from his eyes. "I miss my mom." Yuji said, shakily, hesitantly, as if afraid to say it. Nanami tensed up slightly but relaxed, he was grateful. Grateful that you had meant so much to Yuji. Grateful that Yuji had come to love you as his mother. For you had come to love him as your own son.

Nanami then stroked Yuji's hair gently. "I'll be here, I'll carry with you her love." Nanami said shakily, his voice cracking as he started to lose his composer. Tears spilling from his eyes as well. Yuji nodded his head as Nanami wiped the tears from his face. Nanami then scooted his chair next to Yuji. And they sat there. Tears falling from their eyes as they ate in silence, but now with the comfort of one another. The occasional sound of a hiccup heard. The occasional sound of a tear falling and sounding against the table.

They both lost something that day.

For one of them a wife.

For one of them a mother.

And for both of them a piece of their heart, having been left behind with you.

--------Author's note-------------------------------------------------------So I may kind of have um gone a little over board. Not gonna lie thinking about this and writing it out made me shed tears. But yeah I hope you like it. -I'm sorry if you cried (｡Ó﹏Ò｡)-

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obsesssedblerd · 4 months ago

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“Just give up, Fushiguro.” The tallest kid of the group says, crossing his arms over his chest and flashing Megumi a grin. “There’s five of us and only one of you. There’s no way you’d win.” On either side of the bully, four more kids snickered, practically salivating over the idea of outnumbering him.

Megumi sighs irritatedly. This is why he hates staying after school. On one hand, he’d be the first one to greet Yuuji once he’s done with his sports practice, but on the other hand, he’d end up getting into more altercations since he’d made quite a bit of enemies at his school. Your face floats in his mind, along with you worriedly asking him to promise that he wouldn’t fight anymore.

Suddenly, the leader’s smile drops, and the five of them take a couple of fearful steps back as their gazes drift upwards. Two tall shadows loom over Megumi, and he doesn’t have to turn around to know who’s there.

“Well, well,” Toji, his father, says with a lazy smile, then looks over at the man in his mid-twenties next to him. “Looks like you weren’t exaggerating after all. He really is fighting multiple students each time.”

Satoru Gojo chuckles, then ruffles Megumi’s hair. “Told ya. And he hasn’t lost a single fight. However, anyone can tell that he’s holding back.”

“Oh?” Toji raises a brow curiously, then taps his son’s shoulder. “That true? You’ve been holdin’ back?”

Megumi turns around and meets his eyes. He nods once, and Toji gestures to the five kids. “Wanna stop?”

The boy frowns. “I’ll get expelled.”

“Trust me.” Satoru peers at him over his glasses, his blue eyes shining mischievously as he reassures him with his usual grin. “You won’t. Suguru’s already at the front desk taking care of it. I’ll head up there in a second to make sure everything’s going smoothly. Go on and handle it, kid.”

His eyes widen slightly, and then he looks over at his father again. Toji’s scarred mouth lifts into a small, vicious smile, granting permission. “You heard your teacher.”

Megumi nods, faces the bullies with a similar smile, and cracks his knuckles.

—

“Hey there, Mrs. Fushiguro!” Satoru Gojo greets you when you walk into the school’s front office. Next to him, Suguru Geto gives you a friendly wave. “Picking up Tsumiki? Wow, you’re kinda early!”

“Uh, yeah… What’re you two doing here? I know that Megumi is supposed to meet you both at Jujutsu Tech since Yuuji wanted to hang out after practice.”

Satoru and Suguru laugh nervously, and you squint your eyes at them. Something’s up. “What did you two do this time?” You ask.

“...Nothing.”

“Nothing at all!”

The doors to the principal’s office open, and you gasp loudly when you see five students sniffling as they walk out with their parents. All five of them were teary-eyed if not sobbing, bruised and holding ice packs to different parts of their bodies. Once they’ve left the school, you hear familiar voices.

“Did you see how the last one ran?” Megumi snickers as he shoves his hands in his pockets.

“Yup.” Toji laughs. “And you didn’t let him get far. That’s my boy! Let’s talk about how you tossed that one kid into the other and they hit the wall. Did Gojo teach you that one?”

“Actually, I watched you handle—” Upon seeing you, Megumi stops in his tracks, and he gulps nervously. “Hi, Mom.”

Toji’s eyes go wide. “Oh shit.”

You cross your arms over your chest, and Satoru clears his throat. “Let’s look at the bright side here. He won’t be expelled or even suspended! It’s like the whole thing didn’t happen.”

You ignore them and sigh at the sight of Megumi’s reddened knuckles. “Didn’t I tell you that you shouldn’t fight anymore? Your hands—”

“Are strong enough to take out multiple enemies,” Toji says, wrapping a strong arm around your waist and pulling you closer. “We’re very proud of him. Can you imagine what he’ll do when he starts curse-hunting? His training is paying off.”

You glare at him. “That’s true, but don’t try and– Mm…” Your mind goes completely blank when your husband gently kisses you. Behind you, Toji gestures to the three of them to leave now.

When you hear footsteps shuffling away and the door closing, you pull away from Toji’s mouth and whirl around, groaning when you see that your son and his two teachers are gone. You turn back around to face him, and he smiles charmingly. “This isn’t over,” you tell him.

“I know, I know.” He kisses your forehead, then chuckles. “You can lecture me after we grab Tsumiki and go for ice cream.”

#toji and gojo getting along and dealing with middle school megumi together is one of my fav aus #toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fluff #toji fushigro x reader #toji imagine #toji fushiguro au #gojo satoru #gojo satoru fluff #megumi fushiguro #dad toji #toji fushiguro #written by rey <3 #suguru geto #geto suguru #jjk au #jjk fluff #husband toji #jjk x reader

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nanamineedstherapy · 1 month ago

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Third Wheeling Your Own Marriage

F!Non-Sorceres Reader X Gojo Satoru X Nanami Kento

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

Trigger Warnings: Workplace harassment, pregnancy complications, verbal abuse, grief, and loss. Tags: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Found Family, Redemption Arc, Workplace Dynamics, Gamer Culture, Mystery Identity, Mild Violence, Pregnancy Complications, Emotional Hurt, Disassociation, Depression.

A/N: Before you start reading— 1. Man, after finalizing this chapter, I was the Ben Affleck meme outside, chain-smoking my sanity away. 2. Minors, DNI. It’s not spicy, but seriously, don’t ruin your innocence here. 3. Our reader is tough as nails, but damn, even I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy. 4. I’ve sprinkled some links, a playlist, and a meme to lighten the vibe, but customize the vibe however you need. 5. Fair warning: the ending’s gonna hurt. If you’re not in the headspace for that, skip the parts marked with { }. Take care of yourself, okay? Let’s get wrecked together.

Previous Chapter 5 - Something Soft, Something Sharp (Tumblr/Ao3)

Chapter 6 (alt ending 1.2) - Veiled Realities

The gaming convention hall pulsed with energy—screens flashing with gameplay demos from various companies, creative souls showcasing their cosplays, excited chatter bouncing off the high ceilings, and the occasional triumphant shout from someone winning a round. You kept your barely see-through-only for you-hood low, blending seamlessly with the crowd as you moved toward your company’s booth. The email from your employee still sat in your inbox, her words playing on a loop in your mind:

“I wanted to bring to your attention a concerning issue that has been occurring within our team. Certain male employees have been engaging in inappropriate behavior towards their female colleagues, making comments that suggest women do not belong in the gaming industry.

Despite providing multiple rounds of workplace etiquette training, these individuals continue to make such remarks, often doing so after the training sessions have concluded. While we have attempted to address the situation discreetly, the behavior has persisted and is becoming increasingly problematic.

I felt it was important to make you aware of this issue, even if no immediate action is taken, as you are committed to fostering an inclusive and respectful work environment.”

You weren’t about to let it slide.

Your gaze landed on your company’s booth, where a small group had gathered. Two men—mid-forties, loud with unwarranted confidence—were smirking as they leaned toward a younger woman who stood stiffly, her arms crossed.

“Come on,” one of them said, his voice dripping with condescension. “You can’t even finish a round without dying. How are you going to tell us what to do?”

“Yeah,” the other chimed in, his laugh grating. “We're not sexist or anything, but gaming’s just not your thing. Stick to HR or something.”

You gritted your teeth, the instinct to step in bubbling beneath the surface. But you held back, watching as the woman squared her shoulders and prepared to fire back. Before she could, you pulled out your phone. With a few quick taps, an email was swiftly dispatched to the CHRO, with the COO, CSO, CMO, and the event coordinator all included in the loop for informational purposes.

The response from the CHRO came immediately: "We’ll start the off-boarding right away."

Within minutes, the two men’s phones buzzed simultaneously. They frowned, pulling them out, only for their faces to pale.

“What the—”

“Fucking hell!”

They stared at their screens, then at each other, and finally back at the woman they’d been harassing. “It’s you—”

Before they could finish, your voice cut through, calm. “You have five minutes to vacate the premises, or security will escort you if needed.”

The woman blinked at you, her surprise quickly replaced by a smirk as the men stammered and shuffled off grumbling to gather their things. You turned away before she could say anything, your hood still obscuring your face.

Then a loud voice rang out. “No, no, NO! Game broken! Is not me! Me loyal fan!”

Heads turned, including yours, to a really tall man with bright white hair and pale skin standing at the demo station, gesturing wildly at the screen. His coat hung loosely around his shoulders, and he wore dark sunglasses indoors. With his striking appearance, he could easily model for Giorgio Armani.

“Mechanics! Broken! No strong! Me? Strongest!” he declared, his English so fractured and accented that it took you a moment to piece together what he was trying to say.

One of your employees—a nervous-looking junior—stammered, “Uh… sir, maybe you just need more practice?”

The man looked personally offended. “Me beat curse! Me GOAT!” He paused, frowned, and then switched to rapid Japanese, clearly too frustrated to stick with English.

The junior blinked, helplessly lost. “Uh… what?”

The woman who had been dealing with the earlier bullying snorted. “Looks like you’ve got competition, Steve,” she muttered, glaring at her now ex-coworker as they left before turning to the man. “Sir, maybe try again? Second round’s free.”

“Free?” His face lit up like a Christmas town. “Yay! Free! Strongest WIN!”

“Stop embarrassing yourself,” came a calm, deep voice from behind him.

You tilted your neck to see another man—a tall figure, though not quite as towering as his counterpart—impeccably dressed in black. Neatly styled blond hair framed his face. With his striking looks, he would make a perfect brand ambassador for Tom Ford or Bironi; he resembled a male Victoria's Secret model. Beneath his green-tinted glasses, his eyes flicked to the white-haired chaos generator with the resigned air of a pet parent.

The white-haired man turned to glare at him. “No embarrassing! Winning!”

“Winning,” the blond deadpanned, glancing at the screen where the white-haired one’s character had just been obliterated.

He pouted, muttering something in Japanese that sounded suspiciously like an insult, and you had to bite your lip to keep from laughing.

The blond man sighed heavily and said something in Japanese. “Sore wa gēmudesu. Kojin-tekina fukushūde wa arimasen.” (“It’s a game. Not a personal vendetta.”)

The white-haired one said something that the blond pointedly ignored. “Sō, fukushūda! Noroi o uchiyabutta. Subete o uchiyabutta, daga kono bakageta... Mekanikku dake wa!” (“Yes, it is vendetta! I beat curses; I beat everything, but this stupid... mechanics!”)

Despite yourself, you couldn’t help but find the men’s voices incredibly attractive, even though they were completely different from each other—or was it the fact that they were speaking Japanese? Anyone with half a brain cell knew how undeniably masculine the language sounded.

“Anata to issho ni kurubekide wa nakatta to wakatte imashita.” The blond said, his tone clipped as he hovered by a different station, playing an older game in your company’s lineup—one that hadn’t done well financially but had won multiple awards and had a loyal following. (“I knew I shouldn’t have come with you.”)

You weren’t usually one to ogle men, but damn, the blond one’s biceps looked very chewable. Underneath his overcoat, you could imagine them flexing as he moved his fingers on the keyboard.

You immediately cringed at your own thoughts and made a mental note to stop spending so much time with your unhinged employees.

The white-haired one ignored him. “More round!” he yelled at the junior, who sighed and let him.

The man launched into another round, biting his lower lip in concentration like a child. Was that lip gloss?!

He was really close to perfecting the strike when the in-game AI learned his moves and took him down. He looked like he was about to cry, and you couldn’t help but chuckle at how adorable he was.

The blond’s gaze shifted to you, his eyes narrowing slightly in recognition—or perhaps suspicion. “You’re enjoying yourself?” he asked, his English perfect, despite the accent.

You tilted your head, feigning innocence. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

The white-haired one suddenly perked up, finally noticing you. His eyes widened, and he jabbed a finger in your direction. “You! Pretty hoodie lady! Play?”

Caught off guard, you blinked, face still obscured by the hood. “Play what?”

“Game!” He gestured wildly at the screen. “Strongest win! You lose!”

The blond groaned softly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Gojo, stop harassing strangers.”

“Me no harass! Me... invite!” The Gojo declared, beaming at you.

Against your better judgment, you stepped closer, curiosity outweighing caution.

The woman from earlier smirked, stepping up to the console. “Oh, this is going to be good.”

“Think you better?” He grinned, clearly convinced he was about to crush you, then pointed at the blond. “Nanamin, see me!”

“Don’t call me that!” The blond spat at him, making you think—was ‘Nanamin’ a derogatory word in their language?

The blond furrowed his brow, his gaze flicking over you. Something about the way you carried yourself seemed… off. Not in a bad way, but something didn’t fit in his mind.

You slid into the seat across from Gojo, the monitors facing the opposite way. “Alright, fine. Let’s see what the ‘strongest’ has got.”

The first round was a blur of offensive movements and insults—Gojo threw out broken English mixed with Japanese, your focus entirely on the screen.

To your dismay, he was… good. Annoyingly good. You’d come up with the idea and then tested this game for over 5,000 hours. You were basically omniscient in it—knew every trick and exploit, but Gojo’s reflexes and instincts were ridiculous.

So you cheated.

Subtly, of course.

A quick input enabled God Mode, giving you just enough of an edge to win the round.

Within minutes, Gojo’s smug grin crumbled as you utterly demolished him in-game, your hands moving with muscle memory.

The blond, who had been watching silently, let out a low chuckle. “Looks like you’ve met your match, Gojo.”

Gojo froze, his eyes narrowing as he stared at the screen. “You cheat!”

You grinned, leaning back. “No, I’m just better,” you said smoothly, your voice calm. Inside, you panicked a little; he couldn’t have possibly known; your screen wasn’t facing him.

“Yes! CHEAT! Me see!” He tapped his temple. “Muttsu no me! Me see!” Then he made a gesture that encompassed the whole planet with his long, troll-like arms. (“Six eyes.”)

You smirked, but before you could respond, the blond interjected. “Gojo, you’re imagining things.”

“Sōzō janai yo! Kanojo wa hontōni zuru o shita nda! Anata mo mitadesho. Eigo de itte!” Gojo gestured wildly at Nanami, who barely glanced at him. (“I’m NOT imagining! She literally just cheated! You saw it too. Say it in English!”)

“You’re hallucinating,” the blond said flatly.

“I am NOT!”

“Yes, you are. You’re tired. No more video games; go sit down over there.” The blond had seen you cheat, but he wasn’t letting the opportunity to embarrass Gojo pass.

Gojo sputtered, clearly betrayed, while you fought to keep a straight face.

“Impossible!” Gojo huffed at you, but there was no malice in his tone, only a kind of begrudging admiration. “You… strong.”

You shrugged, pulling your hood up just enough to smile. “Told you.”

Gojo’s throat made a strangled sound that suspiciously resembled a mewl; he seemed like a nerd. “Me ahh Gojo Satoru. He Nanami Kento.” He pointed at the blond without looking away from you.

Nanami’s eyes lingered on you for a moment longer than necessary, his expression unreadable.

“So, Gojo and Nanami are your names? I believe Japan has a different naming convention, right?” You asked, steering the conversation away to avoid revealing your own name. Surrounded by a crowd, you felt uneasy about receiving random CVs and taking selfies with men whose hands seemed to wander a bit too freely.

Nanami was caught off guard by your knowledge. “You are correct. No, those are our surnames. He doesn’t know much English.”

He continued eyeing you with a poker face. “I don’t suppose you’d tell us your name?”

You scrambled to respond, giving them your gamer tag, which sounded surprisingly like a real name.

Gojo laughed, while Nanami’s gaze remained fixed on you. “Pardon my English, but I meant your real name.” He looked a bit smug as if saying, I-didn’t-stutter.

Damn! They were too perceptive. “Maybe next time,” you said, already rising to your feet, turning on your heel, and slipping into the crowd before they could press further.

You could feel their eyes on you, with Nanami’s gaze lingering the longest, as if he were piecing together a puzzle.

Later, after you walked out of the convention hall and made your way toward the food stalls, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself. You’d come to check on your team and ended up with a story you’d never forget.

Unbeknownst to you, Gojo was still at the booth, raving about the “mysterious hoodie lady” who was, in his words, “gaming goddess.” Nanami simply shook his head, filing away the memory of your smile for reasons he didn’t fully understand.

Nanami commented, “We never got her name.”

Gojo, beaming, muttered, “Me find her. Strongest reserves rematch.”

Nanami rubbed his temple. “It’s ‘deserves.’”

Gojo waved him off. “Ya ya that!”

Hours later, you stepped outside to go home.

The alley was dimly lit, the faint glow of a flickering streetlamp casting long shadows against the brick walls. You tugged your hood tighter, the weight of the day settling heavily on your shoulders as you made your way through. Just as you reached the halfway point, angry voices broke the quiet, followed by the unmistakable sound of heavy footsteps closing in.

“You think you can fire us just like that?” One of the men sneered, his face twisted with rage as he stepped into view. His friend loomed beside him, cracking his knuckles with an air of smugness.

You stopped, turning slowly to face them. Your pulse quickened, but you kept your tone cold. “I don’t think,” you replied, as you shifted into a defensive stance. “I know.”

The first man lunged, and you dodged, pivoting on your heel to avoid his clumsy attack. Your brain kicked into overdrive, calculating angles and weaknesses as you landed a solid kick to his shin, your heels digging in. He stumbled, cursing, but his friend was already charging at you.

You ducked, your fists up, but you weren’t trained for this. They were bigger, stronger, and clearly fueled by rage. Damn it, you thought bitterly, wishing you’d waited for Megumi—or at least brought your security detail in regular clothes.

“HEY!”

The voice boomed down the alley, startling everyone. You froze mid-dodge, turning toward the source of the voice.

Gojo stood at the entrance, his white hair glowing faintly under the streetlamp. His grin feral, hands shoved casually into his pockets. “What this? Fight? Without me?” His English was awful, the words garbled but unmistakably confident.

Behind him, Nanami appeared with the air of someone ready to ruin someone’s day. His eyes locked on the men, his expression grim. “Let’s divide and conquer.”

What followed was a masterclass in contrasts, a scene you’d replay in your mind for days.

Gojo’s opponent barely had time to process the incoming whirlwind before Gojo sidestepped his first punch with an exaggerated lean, one hand cupping his chin as if bored. “Loser shit,” he said.

The man swung again, and Gojo ducked low, popping up behind him like a magician revealing his latest trick. “Try harder! Or you go home?” His English faltered, and he switched to Japanese mid-sentence, gesturing at the alley’s exit.

Frustrated, the man lunged, but Gojo pivoted effortlessly, his movements mocking. “Ah-ah!” he teased, flicking the man’s forehead with enough force to send him faltering back. He could have actually flicked him through the wall, but he was trying to impress you, not terrify you. Then, with a theatrical spin, he delivered a sharp kick to the back of the man’s knees, sending him crashing to the ground.

“Strongest wins!” Gojo declared triumphantly as the man groaned in pain.

Meanwhile, Nanami was a study in calm brutality. His opponent came at him swinging, fists wild and uncoordinated. Nanami stepped to the side, his movements smooth, allowing the man’s momentum to carry him forward.

The attacker stumbled, and Nanami seized the opportunity. A precise jab to the spine sent the man gasping, doubling over in pain. Without missing a beat, Nanami delivered a swift knee to the stomach, his face utterly impassive as his opponent crumpled to the ground.

“Pathetic,” he muttered, adjusting his collar with indifference.

Within moments, both men were on the ground, groaning and defeated as the security—who’d arrived mid-fight—dragged them away.

Gojo glanced over at Nanami. “Why so serious, Nanamin?!”

Nanami shot him a flat look. That was the only phrase Gojo knew properly.

Gojo turned to you, his grin impossibly wide. “Hoodie lady! You okay?”

You adjusted your hood, making sure your face stayed hidden, though a faint smile tugged at your lips. “I’m fine. Thanks.”

Nanami stepped closer, his gaze lingering on you with quiet intensity. “You shouldn’t be out here alone,” he said, his tone edged with concern.

“I can handle myself,” you replied, though your voice softened.

“Clearly,” Nanami said, his lips twitching into the faintest hint of a smile.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket, and you pulled it out to see a notification from your ride. “Well, thanks again for saving me.”

You turned to leave, but Gojo moved faster than you could anticipate, stepping into your space with a speed that made your heart skip. He leaned in, his face far too close as he tilted his head, his eyes still obscured by the ridiculous sunglasses. “Name,” he demanded, his tone expectant.

“Gojo,” Nanami barked, grabbing a fistful of his hair and yanking him back. “Control yourself.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle softly, still obscured by your barely see-through hood.

Well, they did save you, and no one was around right now, but they could be stalkers. So you only told them your nickname, essentially half your first name.

Gojo repeated it, his accent thick as he rolled the syllables around in his mouth like a taste he wanted to savor. Nanami echoed it under his breath, committing it to memory with far more subtlety. You had never loved your name more.

Gojo clapped his hands together, his grin as bright as the streetlamp above. “Okaaay, now us food! You come us!”

You blinked at him, bewildered.

Nanami immediately choked, “My apologies, my colleague means, would you like to join us for dinner?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Maybe next time. My grumpy ride is here.”

Before they could argue, you slipped past them as the soft hum of a sleek black Maserati cut through the alley’s quiet. The car glided to a stop, the sharp lines of its body catching the faint light from the streetlamp. The door opened smoothly, revealing a young Japanese man with sea urchin spiky black hair and a scowl sharp enough to rival Nanami’s deadliest glare.

He stepped out, his tailored suit pristine despite the late hour. His deep blue eyes swept over the scene, narrowing slightly as they landed on Gojo and Nanami. There was no mistaking the barely contained irritation in his expression as he glared daggers at the two men.

You smiled faintly as you approached and side-hugged him; his gaze softened, though the crease in his brow remained.

“You’re late,” he muttered, holding the door open for you. His English and accent perfectly matched yours, so Gojo deduced he definitely hadn’t lived in Japan much.

“You’re crabby,” you replied, sliding into the passenger seat.

“I wouldn’t be if you didn’t insist on wandering into alleys like this,” he said, his tone exasperated but tinged with familiarity. He cast one last glance at Gojo and Nanami, his lips curling slightly in what could only be described as a warning.

“Wait... you sent the security?” You asked, tone surprised.

“Yes.” He clipped, tone not revealing much. You’d later learn that the men who’d tried to hit you disappeared under mysterious circumstances after tonight. When you asked Megumi, he’d just glare at you and mutter about not having time to look into freeloaders.

Gojo tilted his head, his six eyes narrowing as he watched the interaction with growing curiosity. Nanami too had his gaze locked on the Maserati as the young man slipped back into the driver’s seat. The way his hand lingered on the steering wheel, his face scanning you for injuries. His head tilted slightly toward you as you spoke, suggesting something closer than casual acquaintance.

Nanami thought of looking you or the young man up on LinkedIn only to realize he never actually saw your face or knew the man’s name.

As the car pulled away, the faint glow of the interior lights illuminated your face behind the dark-tinted windows for just a moment. Gojo’s grin widened as he caught a glimpse of your smile, and Nanami’s eyes narrowed as he committed the fleeting image to memory for some reason he still didn’t understand.

Gojo’s eyes remained fixed on you as the guy driving whisked you away, scolding you for not waiting for him.

Nanami was also watching your retreating car in the distance. His thoughts lingered on the brief glimpse of your smile—the only part of you they’d truly seen. “Boyfriend?” He asked.

Gojo smirked, “You are awfully curious today, Nanamin.” Switching back to Japanese.

“Just answer the question.”

“I’m actually not sure. But the boy is a Zen'in; interestingly enough, the one’s father I killed before Suguru ran away.”

Gojo’s smile widened as you removed the hood from your face a few meters away. He had never been more grateful for his six eyes.

Good. He had a face now.

He clapped Nanami on the back. “Hoodie lady is full of surprises.”

Nanami’s expression remained unreadable. “You don’t even know her full name.”

Gojo’s grin only widened. “I’ll find her.”

Little did you know you had just met your future husbands.

After ensuring a safe distance between you and the men he’d encountered, your best friend turned to you, his expression serious. “Stay away from those two; they are sorcerers.”

"But aren't you?"

He immediately cut you off, "I only share the bloodline nothing else. You know what sorcerers did to my father. Besides, I think it was one of them."

You understood the weight of Megumi’s words, but you also knew why his father had been killed. It wasn’t because sorcerers were inherently dangerous, but because he had been too much of a thrill-seeker. “You do realize I’m not your child, right? I’m older than you.”

“Well, that’s too damn bad, Grandma.”

“Heyy!”

He chuckled to himself, but the laughter quickly faded as he asked, “What did they want with you anyway?” He was trying hard not to let you know he was probing.

“Nothing. They just wanted to know my name, and I kept dodging it with pseudonyms. Then they asked me to dinner, and I told them next time. But you don’t have to worry about it. I don’t think I’d ever see them again.” You said this absentmindedly, focused on ordering takeout on your phone before you arrived home.

“Good. Keep it that way. Don’t entertain them again.”

“Italian?” you asked, trying to shift the conversation.

“Get that Spinach and Broccoli Alfredo from that small place. Put it on my card.” He liked the dish, but it wasn’t his go-to for special occasions; it was yours.

“Aww, what’s the occasion?”

“You almost getting beaten up.”

You scowled at him.

“Relax. I’m just making sure you’re okay, or my father will resurrect himself and beat my ass.” He laughed, but there was an edge to his humor.

You thought of the men for a few days, their faces lingering in your mind, but you quickly moved on with your hectic life. You were determined not to let Megumi down. He didn’t have many friends besides you that he’d hang out with, let alone have around with his mom, and with his dad gone, he’d never recover from the betrayal if something happened to you.

But when had you ever listened to Megumi?

Today, you wished you had.

After they’d left you alone, the days bled together in a haze of exhaustion and dread. You busied yourself with the mundane tasks of preparing for the twins, folding impossibly tiny clothes, and arranging bottles on the counter like talismans against the pain threatening to consume you. Sukuna had been true to his word, filling the gaps with his presence and resources, but even his towering strength couldn’t shield you from the memories.

Each kick, each flutter, was a visceral reminder of the life growing inside you—a life you were determined to protect. Yet, every movement felt like a betrayal, a reminder of the faces you couldn’t erase. Gojo’s sharp grin, dulled now by sorrow. Nanami’s stoicism, cracking under the weight of his regret. They haunted you, their voices whispering in the silence of your nights, their hands ghosting over your skin in dreams that turned to nightmares.

One evening, Sukuna returned, his silhouette framed by the doorway. He carried bags of groceries, the muscles in his arms flexing as he set them down with more care than you thought him capable of. His usual smirk was absent, replaced by something foreign: concern.

“You’re wearing yourself thin,” he said, his voice rough but quiet. His crimson eyes swept over you, lingering on the trembling in your hands as you folded a onesie.

“I’m fine,” you muttered, though the lie sat heavy in your chest.

“Princess,” he said again, softer now, and the nickname cracked something inside you. “You’re not fine.”

Your hands froze mid-fold, the fabric slipping from your fingers. The room seemed to tilt, the walls closing in. “I don’t know how to do this,” you whispered, your voice breaking.

Sukuna crossed the room in three strides, his arms encircling you. His touch was firm, grounding, and you let yourself lean into him. “You’re doing it,” he murmured against your hair. “And you’re not alone.”

But the words couldn’t reach the hollow ache inside you.

The next day, the soft knock at the door was more polite than usual, almost hesitant. Sukuna didn’t wait for you to answer—he never did; he never even knocked—but this time, he lingered in the doorway, his hulking frame lit by the warm glow of the sunlight filtering in through the window. His expression was unreadable, though the faintest flicker of something nervous passed through his crimson eyes.

In his hands, he held a large box, haphazardly wrapped in crinkled newspaper and secured with what looked like electrical tape.

“What is that?” You asked, narrowing your eyes.

He grunted, stepping inside and setting the box down on the coffee table with a thud. “It’s for them,” he said, jerking his chin toward your stomach.

You blinked, thrown off by the unexpected gesture. “You got them… a gift?”

He shot you a glare, defensive already. “Don’t make it weird. It’s not a big deal.”

Your curiosity got the better of you, and you shuffled over to the box, careful to lower yourself onto the couch. Sukuna watched, his arms crossed over his chest, as you peeled back the layers of tape and newspaper.

Inside was chaos.

A mishmash of items tumbled out—two tiny leather jackets, complete with spikes on the shoulders; a set of Blobfish plushies; and what could only be described as baby-sized combat boots, polished to a mirror shine.

Your jaw dropped. “Sukuna… what the hell is this?”

He shrugged, his smirk returning, though it was softer than usual. “Gear. For when they’re old enough to not embarrass me.”

You couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up, loud and uncontrollable. It startled even you, breaking through the thick fog of grief and exhaustion that had clung to you for days. “Spiked leather jackets? Combat boots? What are they, tiny bikers?”

“They’re going to be strong,” he said, his tone matter-of-fact as he dropped onto the armchair across from you. “Might as well dress the part.”

You shook your head, still laughing as you held up one of the jackets. It was absurdly small, the spikes dulled for safety. “This is so extra.”

“You’re welcome,” he shot back, though the faint twitch of his lips betrayed his satisfaction at your reaction.

You set the jacket down, your laughter fading into a softer smile. “You didn’t have to do this.”

Sukuna leaned back, his gaze locking onto yours with a rare intensity. “I know,” he said simply.

For a moment, the room was quiet, the air between you charged with something unspoken. He broke the silence first, waving a hand toward the mess of items on the table. “I’m not saying they’ll ever use this crap. Just… figured it might make you laugh.”

Your chest tightened, the ache of loss mingling with something warmer, something unfamiliar. “It did,” you admitted, your voice softer now.

“Good.” He stood abruptly, brushing imaginary dust off his pants. “I’ll pick up something more normal next time. Maybe. Only if you drink enough water.”

You laughed again, shaking your head. “Please don’t. This is perfect.”

Sukuna’s smirk widened as he swaggered toward the door. Just before he left, he paused, glancing back over his shoulder, and said, “I’m not going anywhere, Princess.”

In a moment that could only be described as peak Sukuna, he turned to make his grand exit, only for his nose to collide with the door frame with a resounding thud.

“Stupid... who put this here?” He grumbled, rubbing his nose furiously as if it were the door’s fault for existing. You couldn’t help but burst into laughter, the sound echoing in the room like a cackling hyena.

“Maybe it’s a sign you should start ducking!” You teased, and he shot you a look that was half annoyed, half amused, like a cat that had just been splashed with water, but it was warm.

“I’ll just buy a bigger door!” He retorted, throwing his hands up in exaggerated exasperation.

With that, he turned to leave again, but not before bumping his head against the door frame once more, muttering, “This door is clearly out to get me.” You couldn’t help but laugh even harder.

And then he was gone, leaving you surrounded by the absurdity he’d brought with him. You looked down at the tiny jackets and boots, your hand resting on your stomach as the twins stirred softly. Maybe your laughing did calm them.

Same night, your bedroom was cold, the soft glow of a nightlight casting shadows that seemed to shift with your every movement. You slept in the center of the room, one hand resting on your swollen belly. The twins kicked softly, their presence grounding and tormenting you in equal measure.

The guilt was a living thing, coiled tight around your chest. Sukuna had done everything—more than you could have asked for—but the lie you’d spun had fangs. Each day, it bit deeper, carving wounds you couldn’t heal.

You woke screaming, clutching your stomach as panic clawed at your throat. Sukuna was there in an instant, his hands steady on your shoulders, his voice sharp and commanding. “What is it?”

“They’re going to take them,” your voice raw and broken. “They’ll find a way.”

“No one’s taking anything,” his crimson eyes blazing with an intensity that should have comforted you. But the storm inside you raged on.

“You don’t know them,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “They’ll stop at nothing.”

Sukuna cupped your face, his touch surprisingly gentle in his large hands. “They won’t get near you. Not while I’m here.”

But his words were like whispers against a hurricane. You turned away, your gaze falling to the crib, its bars a reminder of the prison you’d built around your heart.

“I’ll protect you,” you murmured to the twins, your hands trembling as you traced the curve of your stomach. “Even if it kills me.”

The room seemed to hold its breath, the silence heavy and oppressive.

“I won’t let you die.” Sukuna whispered. You turned to look at him only to be kissed by him on your temple. It wasn’t anything passionate; it was as if he was sealing a promise.

The next morning, you shuffled into the living room, your back aching from another restless night. The twins had been unusually active, their cursed energy—or at least what you deduced was cursed energy—pressing against your insides like waves crashing against fragile glass. You’d woken up drenched in sweat, the faint outline of one of their hands or feet briefly visible under your skin before retreating into the shadows of your body. It was horrifying and beautiful, and you hated that you didn’t know how to feel about it.

Sukuna was already in the living room, sitting on the floor, a cup of coffee in his hand. He glanced up as you entered, his crimson eyes scanning you like he could read every thought you were trying to suppress.

“You look worse than usual,” he said, his voice cutting but not cruel.

“Thanks,” you muttered, dropping onto the couch with a wince.

He didn’t respond right away, just set his cup down, straightened and stretched, his maroon hoodie riding up, revealing markings on his stomach. He watched you with an expression you couldn’t quite place. Despite being on the floor, he was somehow on eye level with you.

After a moment, he stood and disappeared into the kitchen. You didn’t have the energy to ask what he was doing.

When he returned, he was holding a glass of water and a small bowl filled with neatly peeled and cut fruit. He handed them to you without a word, his hand lingering for a moment as you took the bowl.

“Eat,” he said simply, sitting back down on the floor in front of you.

You stared at the fruit. “You didn’t have to—”

“Stop,” he interrupted, his tone firm. “Just eat.”

You did, the sweet and sourness of the fruits grounding you. Sukuna watched, his gaze flicking between your face and your stomach.

After a while, he spoke again, his voice softer. “You hate looking at yourself, don’t you?”

Your breath caught; you definitely had a type. Type that kept seeing through your lies!

You didn’t answer, but the way you looked away was answer enough.

Sukuna shifted closer, resting his forearms on his knees. “Can I?”

You frowned, unsure. “Why?”

“Just trust me, Princess,” he said, his smirk faint but not unkind.

Reluctantly, you let him. His hands moved to your baby balloon, his touch firm but careful, soothing you as he pressed his palms against the curve.

“Feel that?” he murmured as one of the twins shifted beneath his hand, the movement almost shy.

You nodded, your throat tight.

“They’re strong,” he said, his voice steady. “They know you’re protecting them.”

Another flutter beneath your skin, this one softer, more deliberate. Sukuna’s hands didn’t move, his warmth radiating through you like a shield against the chill that had settled in your bones.

“You’re not broken,” he said after a moment, his tone uncharacteristically gentle. “And you’re not alone in this.”

“You sure are comfortable touching them now.” You teased.

He snorted. “And here I thought I was helping you feel better.”

You laughed and closed your eyes as the twins settled, their energy calming under the weight of his words. The war inside you felt a little less unbearable.

A few days later, the apartment was warm, sunlight streaming through the half-open blinds and landing in soft streaks across the living room floor. You sat on the couch, one hand absently resting on your stomach while the other scrolled through your phone. You weren’t looking at anything in particular, just trying to distract yourself from the relentless ache in your lower back and the twins’ ongoing UFC match in your uterus.

Sukuna walked in, carrying a bag of groceries like it was filled with feathers as usual. His broad shoulders filled the doorway as he kicked it shut behind him. He looked at you, then at the untouched snack bowl on the coffee table, then back at you.

“You didn’t eat the strawberries I cut,” he said flatly, setting the bag down.

“I wasn’t hungry,” you replied without looking up.

“You’re always hungry,” he shot back, folding his arms.

You finally glanced up at him, raising a brow. “Maybe I’m evolving.”

He snorted, dropping onto the armchair across from you. “Yeah, into a cranky gargoyle. What’s up with you today?”

“Nothing,” you said quickly, your tone too breezy.

His eyes narrowed, sharp and calculating. “Bullshit.”

You sighed, setting your phone down. “I’m fine, Sukuna. Can’t a woman just sit in peace without being interrogated?”

“Not when that woman’s got two cursed powerhouses doing cartwheels inside her,” he replied, his smirk faint but pointed.

You rolled your eyes, leaning back against the couch. “I’m just tired, okay?”

He stared at you for a long moment, his crimson eyes flicking to your stomach, then back to your face.

“You’re not tired,” he said finally, his voice quieter. “You feel weird. About your body.”

Your head snapped up, your mouth opening to protest, but he cut you off with a raised hand.

“Don’t even try to deny it,” he said, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “You’re confident, sure. You’re also human. You’re carrying their demon spawns, and it’s messing with your head. I’d feel weird too.”

You blinked, thrown off by the bluntness of his words. “That’s… not exactly how I’d put it.”

“Whatever,” he said, waving a hand dismissively. “Point is, you’re not as slick as you think you are, Princess.”

You stared at him, unsure whether to laugh or be offended. “And what, you’re here to be my body image coach now?”

“Very perceptive of you,” he said, standing abruptly. He grabbed the bag of groceries and pulled out a tub of chocolate ice cream and a loaf of bread. Even your cravings weren’t original from your husbands.

“What are you doing?” you asked, watching in bemusement as he started slathering jam on a slice of bread.

“Making you a snack,” he replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Pickle and peanut butter sandwich. Ice cream chaser. Don’t knock it till you try it.”

“That’s disgusting,” you said, wrinkling your nose.

“Yeah, well, so’s the idea of that white-haired one being someone’s dad, but here we are,” he quipped, tossing the sandwich onto a plate and handing it to you.

You stared at the monstrosity, then at him. “This is your solution to my body issues? Weird snacks?”

“No,” he said, sitting back down and gesturing at you with a flourish. “My solution is this: you’re hot, you’re badass, and if anyone says otherwise, I’ll break their spine. But you’re also you, which means you’re allowed to feel weird about turning into a walking incubator for two special-grade cursed-energy gremlins. Doesn’t mean you’re less of anything.”

You blinked. “That’s… oddly sweet.”

“I aim to please,” he grumbled, grabbing the remote and turning on the TV. “Now eat the sandwich before I change my mind.”

You laughed, taking a tentative bite of the pickle-peanut butter monstrosity. It was terrible, but for some reason, it made you feel a little better.

The next day, the air was crisp, the kind of weather that made the leaves crunch underfoot and the sunlight feel softer. Sukuna strolled beside you, a reusable shopping bag slung over his shoulder like a fashion statement, his other hand steadying you as you waddled along the cobblestone path of the farmer’s market, your face obscured by a large mask. The twins had been kicking non-stop since breakfast, and your back felt like it was holding the weight of the world.

“I don’t know why you dragged me here,” you muttered, squinting at a stall of overpriced honey jars.

“Because you’ve been sulking for days,” Sukuna replied, smirking. “And I’m tired of watching you fold tiny clothes and cry about it.”

Before you could retort, he veered off toward a stall selling baby onesies, grabbing one with a print of a cartoon goat that read Mommy’s Little Terror. He held it up, raising a brow. “This fits their vibe.”

You snorted despite yourself. “They’re not even born yet, and you’re assigning them a vibe?”

“Yeah,” he said, tossing it into the bag. “And this.” He grabbed another onesie, this one pink and emblazoned with Future World Domination Leader.

You laughed, leaning on his arm for support as the twins shifted again. Sukuna noticed immediately, crouching slightly to meet your eyes. “Tired?”

“A little,” you admitted, though your body screamed a lot.

Without a word, he scooped you up effortlessly, one arm under your knees and the other supporting your back. “What are you—put me down!”

“Shut up, Princess,” he said, grinning as heads turned to stare at the giant man carrying a visibly and heavily—maybe too heavily—pregnant woman like she weighed nothing. “You’ll thank me later.”

An older woman at a nearby stall clasped her hands together, her face lighting up. “Oh, isn’t he just wonderful? So attentive!”

Sukuna didn’t miss a beat. “Yeah, I’m pretty great,” he said, flashing her a cocky grin. “My wife’s a champ, though. Carrying our twins and still managing to look this bewitching.”

You groaned, burying your face in his shoulder. “Stoppp.”

He ignored you, turning his attention to the woman. “I’m so proud of her. She’s going to be an amazing birthgiver.”

The woman beamed, clearly swooning. “You’re both so lucky!”

“Yeah,” Sukuna said, his voice softening just enough for only you to hear. “I am.”

Later that week, Sukuna insisted on taking you grocery shopping. You protested, but he ignored you as usual, guiding you through the aisles with a hand on your lower back.

“Pickles?” he asked, holding up a jar with a raised brow.

You nodded, reaching for it, but he pulled it back. “What’s the magic word?”

“Are you serious?”

“Deadly.”

“Fine,” you huffed. “Please.”

He handed it over with a smug grin. “See? Was that so hard?”

At the checkout, the cashier—a young woman with doe eyes—couldn’t stop glancing at Sukuna, her cheeks pink as she scanned the items.

“These pickles,” she started, clearly searching for a conversation starter. “A craving?”

Sukuna nodded solemnly. “Yeah. She’s eating for three, and I’m eating for stress.”

You choked on a laugh, swatting his arm. “Don’t listen to him.”

The cashier giggled nervously, her eyes lingering on Sukuna a moment too long. He didn’t even notice, too busy helping you into your coat and carrying all the bags in one hand like they weighed air.

Outside, you leaned against him, your feet aching. “You didn’t have to do all of that.”

He smirked, draping an arm around your shoulders. “Sure I did. It’s my job to keep you entertained.”

A couple of days later, at the park, Sukuna insisted on renting a swan paddle boat “for the twins.” The boat was comically small for his frame, his knees practically up to his chest as he paddled with exaggerated effort and heavy breaths.

“Why are we doing this?” you asked, trying not to laugh.

“Because I like suffering,” he said, glaring at the water like it had personally offended him.

He was doing it for you, to make you laugh as much as possible.

Then when you finally broke into giggles, he grinned, satisfied.

That night, when you struggled to sleep, Sukuna sat by your bed, massaging pain-relieving oils into your swollen ankles with surprising care. His hands were rough but gentle, his expression focused.

“You don’t have to do this,” you murmured, your voice thick with exhaustion.

He glanced up, his crimson eyes softer than you’d ever seen. “I know,” he said simply, his hands never faltering.

You fell asleep to the sound of his low, rumbling voice, humming an off-key lullaby he’d probably made up on the spot. His humming seemed to soothe the twins into no-cartwheeling sleep, which helped you relax for the night.

Sukuna never thought he could be perfect, but in those moments, he was everything you needed.

The next day, the yoga studio smelled faintly of lavender and freshly cleaned mats. Sukuna walked in beside you, his presence as imposing as ever. His crimson eyes swept over the room, narrowing slightly at the women who turned to gawk. He helped you settle onto your mat with the kind of careful attention that seemed absurd coming from someone like him, crouching to adjust the pillow beneath your knees before straightening to his full, towering height.

The murmurs started immediately. Low at first, barely audible, but growing louder with every second. You could feel the weight of their stares pressing against your skin, even through the mask you wore to keep a low profile.

Sukuna noticed too. His gaze darkened, his smirk vanishing as his eyes darted across the room. “What’s their problem?” he muttered under his breath.

You tried to ignore it, focusing on your breathing as the instructor began leading the class through stretches. But the whispers didn’t stop.

“She’s the one,” someone hissed, loud enough to reach your ears.

“Carrying twins,” another added, voice dripping with disdain.

You clenched your fists, your nails biting into your palms. Sukuna’s head snapped toward the source of the voices, his expression hardening.

And then, of course, Karen appeared.

She strode across the room, her leggings pulled so high they might as well have been a second ribcage. Her smirk was cruel as she stopped in front of you.

The room went quiet. She loomed over you—as you were sitting on the floor—her arms crossed, her expression smug. “What’s it like being the talk of the internet? The woman who couldn’t keep her men in line?”

You felt Sukuna tense beside you, his hand twitching at his side. You placed a hand on his arm, silently telling him to hold back. “I’m here to practice yoga, not entertain you.”

Karen’s smirk widened, her gaze flicking over you like you were something stuck to the bottom of her shoe. “Practice yoga? That’s rich. You mean parading around with your ‘fake husband’ after your other two clowns beat people up? Gave people permanent injuries?”

Then she turned to Sukuna and continued, “Oh, I knew for a fact you were a chum who got stuck with her. I was right, and you lied.”

You kept your grip on Sukuna’s arm firm. You spoke calmly but firm. “Watch your mouth! First of all, don’t bring Sukuna into this. Second, I was the one holding them back. I didn’t incite it. I kept my employees alive that day.”

Karen’s gaze swept over you, landing on your stomach, clearly not ready to back off. “Honestly, it’s impressive,” she continued, her tone dripping with mockery. “First, you marry two men, and then you end up with him?”

Sukuna’s growl was low and guttural, his towering frame eclipsing hers. “Watch it.”

“Karen,” you yelled, “you don’t know anything about my life. You don’t know what I’ve been through, what I’ve survived.”

“Survived?” Karen scoffed. “You mean you survived your ‘unnatural ways’ coming out in front of the entire world? Or is it surviving the fact that no one takes you seriously anymore?”

“Sukuna,” you said, your voice lowering. “Let’s just go.”

Your stomach was churning, the weight of her words sinking in like lead. Sukuna’s hand rested lightly on you, grounding you, but even his presence couldn’t shield you from the growing stares around the room.

Karen stepped closer, looming over you, invading your personal space. It felt as though she might resort to physical violence with you at any moment. Her voice dropped, but the venom in her tone remained unmistakable. “People are calling you a sex addict, you know. Can’t say I blame them. Married to two men, pregnant with God knows who’s kids, and now cozying up to him?” She sneered. “You’re not just a scandal—you’re a disgrace. You can’t live without dick can you! What now? You’ll add him to your harem too, you whore! If I were in your place, I would have killed myself!”

The words hit like daggers, each one twisting deeper. Your breath caught, but before you could respond, Sukuna moved.

It happened in an instant.

You gasped, “Ryo!”

The slap cracked through the studio like a thunderclap, silencing the room. Karen stumbled, clutching her cheek, her eyes wide with shock and disbelief.

Sukuna loomed over her, his towering frame casting a shadow that swallowed her whole. His voice was low, a growl that rumbled through the silence. “Say one more word, and I’ll make sure you never speak again.”

Karen’s confidence crumbled instantly, her wide-eyed shock betraying the venom she’d spewed moments ago. She glanced around the room, searching for someone—anyone—to come to her defense, but the silence was deafening. The other mothers avoided her gaze, their expressions a mix of discomfort and quiet satisfaction.

Her husband wasn’t there, of course. He’d finally had enough of her tirades, her endless need to dominate every room she walked into. The divorce papers had already been filed, and his absence spoke louder than any words ever could. Karen, with her toxic cocktail of insecurity and unchecked cruelty, had been left with nothing but her bitterness.

She didn’t belong here. She wasn’t pregnant and had no intention of ever being so. For years, she’d come to these classes not to bond or prepare for motherhood but to belittle and bully anyone she deemed weaker. She was a relic of high school, clinging to the power she once wielded over others, desperate to make someone else feel smaller to distract from her own failures.

Today, you had been her target. Her divorce had clearly left her hellbent on tearing someone else down, and she might’ve succeeded—she might’ve even turned to violence—if Sukuna hadn’t intervened. You were glad Sukuna didn’t see gender while serving people their karma.

Your heart pounded, but you forced yourself to stand—or try to. A sharp cramp shot through your side, stealing your breath. You stumbled, clutching your stomach as the twins shifted violently.

Sukuna caught you before you could fall, his hands steadying you as he glared at Karen.

His growl cut through the silence. “We’re leaving,” he said, his voice cold and final.

He didn’t move at first, his glare fixed on Karen like a wolf deciding whether the hunt was worth it, like debating whether she deserved another hit.

Finally, he relented, his muscles relaxing as he focused on you. “I’ll get you a private instructor,” he added, his tone softening as he looked at you.

The twins stirred. Pain shot through your abdomen, and you gasped, clutching at Sukuna’s shirt.

“Hang on,” he muttered, his voice softening as he carried you out of the studio.

Behind you, Karen stood frozen, her face pale and her cheek still burning red. No one moved to comfort her. No one even looked at her. The only sound in the room was the quiet creak of the door as it closed behind you.

Once in the car, you buried your face in his chest, your breathing erratic. He held you close, his large hand stroking your hair awkwardly but gently.

“Don’t listen to them,” he said, his voice firm but uncharacteristically tender. “Only you know the truth. Only you know what you went through and how you survived.”

The ride home was quiet. Sukuna carried you inside, settling you on the couch with the kind of gentleness that made your chest ache.

But the silence stretched on, and the weight of Karen’s words pressed down on you like a vice. The twins shifted again, their energy erratic, feeding off your turmoil.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Sukuna crouched in front of you, his large hands resting on your knees. “Don’t,” he said firmly. “Don’t apologize for insecure humans.”

You nodded, but the hollow ache in your chest didn’t ease.

As the hours passed, you found yourself staring out the window, the city lights blurring as tears filled your eyes.

Sukuna stayed close, his presence steady but silent. When the tears finally came, hot and unrelenting, he pulled you into his arms, holding you as you cried.

And though he didn’t say it, his arms were a fortress around you as the world outside kept spinning, cruel and unforgiving. He silently vowed that no one would ever hurt you again.

Days after that, the silence that pressed down on your chest and made it hard to breathe. You sat curled up on the couch, an old photo clutched tightly in your hands. It was worn at the edges, the glossy finish dulled from countless times you’d held it. In it, Gojo was grinning, his arm slung lazily over Nanami’s shoulders. You were in the middle, laughing at something you couldn’t remember now, your face lit with a happiness that felt like it belonged to someone else. The pain it brought was sharp, raw, an open wound that refused to heal no matter how much time passed.

Maybe you didn’t love them anymore—not in the way you once had. That love had been replaced by something darker, heavier. But the ache of what they’d done to you, the way they’d left you to drown in your own loneliness while they found comfort in each other… it consumed you.

You didn’t hear Sukuna until he was standing in the doorway, his broad frame silhouetted against the dim light of the hallway.

“Why do you keep doing this to yourself?” he asked, his voice softer than usual but still carrying that edge of exasperation.

You startled, quickly tucking the photo under your thigh. “I’m not doing anything.”

His crimson eyes narrowed, and he crossed the room in two strides, crouching down in front of you. “Don’t lie to me, Princess. You’re terrible at it.”

You looked away, unable to meet his gaze. “I just… I don’t know. Maybe I shouldn’t have left.”

The words tasted bitter on your tongue, but they were out before you could stop them. Sukuna’s expression shifted to something unreadable.

“You’re joking,” he said, his voice flat.

“I’m not,” you whispered, your hands trembling in your lap. “I mean, they didn’t care about me, not really, but… I still left, and so much happened. People got hurt.”

“You kept the people alive!” Sukuna said, his tone sharper now. He leaned closer, his crimson eyes boring into yours. “You walked away because they didn’t deserve you.”

You shook your head, the tears falling faster now. “What if I made a mistake? What if I should’ve tried harder? Maybe none of this would have happened.”

“Stop,” Sukuna snapped, his voice cutting through your spiral. He grabbed your chin gently but firmly, forcing you to look at him. “Do you really think that despite one of them having the gift of six eyes, if he still couldn’t see the life growing inside you, they wouldn’t have taken you for granted through the pregnancy as well?! They’re the ones who fucked up. Not you. They had you—you—and they chose to ignore you. That’s on them, not you.”

The conviction in his voice made your chest tighten, but the doubt still lingered. “But—”

“No,” he interrupted, his thumb brushing against your jaw in a soft gesture. “No ‘but.’ You didn’t leave because you stopped loving them. You left because they stopped showing you they loved you.”

His words cracked something in you, like an old vase you never saw but always sensed the presence of in your heart’s home.

You let out a shaky breath, the photo slipping from your lap and landing face-up on the couch. Sukuna glanced at it, his jaw tightening for a moment before he reached for it. He studied it silently, his thumb brushing over your smiling face.

“They didn’t deserve this version of you,” he said, his voice low. “And they sure as hell don’t deserve the you now.”

The warmth in his words, the unguarded softness, made your heart ache in a different way. He handed the photo back to you, his hand lingering over yours for a moment.

“I’m not saying it’ll stop hurting,” he admitted, his crimson eyes meeting yours. “But don’t waste your time wondering if you should’ve stayed. You didn’t leave for no reason. Remember the past version of yourself in that exact moment when everything was crumbling around you. What you felt. Don’t put yourself through that.”

You nodded, the weight in your chest easing just slightly. Sukuna stood, offering you his hand. “Come on,” he said, his smirk returning faintly. “You’ve been crying for hours. Let me make you something to eat before you wither away. Besides, you deserve better. Better than them. Better than what they gave you.”

Then smugly added, “Someone as amazing as me.”

Despite yourself, you laughed softly, taking his hand.

The first signs came like whispers in the dark—a sharp, fleeting twinge low in your abdomen, a dull ache spreading like ripples in water. You brushed it off as stress, convincing yourself it was nothing.

But Sukuna noticed. He always noticed.

His crimson eyes tracked your every move, narrowing at the way you shifted uncomfortably in your seat, your hand lingering on your belly a beat too long.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing,” you lied, forcing a smile.

His gaze hardened, the muscle in his jaw ticking. “You’re a terrible liar, Princess.”

That evening, as you struggled to stand after dinner, a sharp gasp escaped your lips. Sukuna was at your side in an instant, his large hand steadying you.

“That’s it,” he said, his voice brooking no argument. “We’re going to the hospital.”

You tried to protest, but the look in his eyes silenced you.

// Music

{The hospital was cold, sterile as usual. The fluorescent lights buzzed faintly, casting harsh shadows on the linoleum floors. The smell of antiseptic clung to everything, making your stomach churn.

You sat on the examination table, the thin paper gown sticking uncomfortably to your skin. The room felt too bright, too exposed. Sukuna sat beside you, his broad frame dwarfing the small plastic chair. His expression was unreadable, but his hand rested on his knee, the tension in his fingers betraying his calm façade. The fake husband playing the role perfectly.

The doctor entered, her face carefully neutral, but you caught the hesitation in her movements.

“Let’s take a look,” she said, her tone professional but soft.

The ultrasound gel was cold against your skin, and the room silent except for the faint hum of the machine. You stared at the monitor, waiting for the familiar sound of their heartbeats.

But the silence stretched on.

The doctor’s brow furrowed, her hand pausing over the probe.

“What is it?” Sukuna’s voice was tense.

The doctor hesitated, her hand hovering over the ultrasound machine as though the pause could soften the blow. Her eyes flicked to you, then back to the screen, her expression unreadable.

“I’m… not detecting a heartbeat.”

The words knocked the air from your lungs.

“No,” the denial spilling out before you could think. Your voice trembled, barely audible. “No, that’s not right. They were moving. Just yesterday. I felt them. I was craving pickles, and I had really bad back pain too; they were moving so much.”

The doctor’s face was heavy with sympathy as she set the probe down. “I’m so sorry.”

You shook your head, the room tilting around you. Your hand flew to your stomach, pressing against the curve as if your touch could summon them back, as if you could will them to respond. “They can’t be gone,” you choked out, your voice breaking.

The doctor took a breath, her voice steady but clinical, as if detachment could lessen the cruelty of what she had to say. “It’s an extraordinarily rare case—heteropaternal superfecundation combined with double fertilization. Their development was… incompatible with life.”

The medical jargon felt cruel, meaningless. Just noise.

Sukuna’s hand found yours, his grip firm, grounding, but it only highlighted how far away you felt. It made it real. His jaw was clenched, his crimson eyes darker than you’d ever seen, but he said nothing. He couldn’t.

Your head spun, the walls closing in, the fluorescent lights glaring like they were trying to expose every raw nerve. The doctor’s voice faded, a dull hum drowned out by the pounding of your own heartbeat.

“They were mine,” you whispered.

Sukuna leaned closer, his hand steady against your back.

The doctor excused herself quietly, the door clicking shut behind her. The silence that followed pressed against your chest like a weight you couldn’t lift.

You sat frozen, your hand still pressed to your stomach, waiting for something—anything. A kick, a flutter, some proof that they were still there.

But there was nothing.

You curled into yourself, clutching your stomach as though you could shield what was already gone.

“They were mine,” you repeated, the words a broken mantra. “They were mine.”

Sukuna’s grip was almost bruising. His other arm wrapped around you, pulling you against his chest.

He didn’t speak, didn’t try to fill the silence with empty reassurances. He just held you, his breath steady against your hair as your world fell apart.

After months of crying, your tears had finally run out. You couldn’t will them now, not that you wanted to.

You were done.

The dissociation came slowly, creeping in like a shadow. You faded into hollow silence, your body still in his arms. You stared at the floor, your eyes unfocused, your mind retreating into a void where the suffering couldn’t reach you.

Sukuna’s voice broke through the fog, low and firm. “Stay with me, Princess.”

But you couldn’t. Not anymore.

The hollowness swallowed you whole, leaving nothing but the ghost of what could have been.

But Sukuna stayed, his presence a steady anchor in the storm, an anchor you couldn’t see.

The procedure to remove them was a nightmare. The machines beeped; the cold metal of the instruments glinted, their sharp edges catching your eye and filling your chest with dread.

Sukuna stood by your side. His hand wrapped around yours like a hazy lifeline, anchoring you to a reality you didn’t care about.

His crimson eyes never left your face, his expression unreadable but tense, his jaw set as though he could will the universe to reverse itself by sheer force.

The procedure began, the doctor’s voice a muted hum in the background. Pressure built in your abdomen, the sensation alien and invasive, like something being torn away from the core of your existence. You bit your lip hard enough to draw blood, the metallic taste grounding you.

But you didn’t scream no matter how much it hurt. You couldn’t bring yourself to care whether you made it or if the universe would be kind enough to end it all through a freak incident of medical malpractice.

Sukuna didn’t flinch, didn’t move, his grip tightening as if to remind you he was there. The machines continued their cold, unfeeling symphony, and the minutes stretched into an eternity.

When it was over, there was only silence. The absence of their presence, a void that swallowed everything else.

The doctor murmured something to Sukuna, her words slipping past you like water over stone. You sat up shakily, the hospital gown sticking to your damp skin, your breath coming in short, shallow bursts. But mind wasn’t there.

“I want to see them,” you whispered. “Please.”

Sukuna was in front of you in an instant, his broad chest blocking your view as he pulled you into his arms. His grip was firm but careful, cradling you as though you might shatter as the doctors moved discreetly behind him.

“No,” he said, his voice low but resolute. “You don’t want to see them, Princess. Trust me.”

You clutched at his shirt with trembling hands. “They were mine,” you choked out, your words muffled against him.

“They still are,” he murmured, his tone softer than you’d ever heard. His hand stroked your back in slow, grounding motions, his presence steady even as his own turmoil blared beneath.

The sight of them would haunt him forever.

He’d seen them as the doctors worked quickly, their small, fragile forms laid out in a shallow steel tray. The boy’s limbs were long, spindly, his jawline so sharp it was almost serrated. His translucent skin revealed a web of delicate veins, branching like cracks in glass. The girl’s features were softer, her tiny hands fused into curling nubs, her face serene despite the unnatural bulge beneath her closed eyelids. Their hair split down the middle—one half blond, the other stark white—a cruel mirror of their fathers.

They were chimeric, a grotesque fusion of too much DNA, as the doctors explained to him later, alone. “Incompatible with life,” they had said clinically, as though that phrase could encompass the enormity of the loss.

They told him there was no recorded case of such a thing ever happening.

Sukuna stayed silent through it all, his hand flexing at his side as if he wanted to destroy the room, the machines, the universe itself. But when he returned to you, he was calm again, his rage buried beneath layers of quiet resolve.

The hospital was a blur after that, like you were seeing through water. Sukuna dealt with the hospital staff in his usual manner—efficient, cold, terrifying. He had the remains cremated, sparing you the finality of their lifeless forms. You barely noticed when he disappeared to speak with the staff, his voice low and clipped, or when he returned, his presence looming beside you like a shield you didn’t ask for.

When you asked about the remains, your voice hollow and detached, he didn’t sugarcoat it. “It’s already done,” he said simply, his tone leaving no room for questions.

You nodded, not because you agreed, but because you didn’t care enough to argue.

“Let’s go home,” he said, his voice steady as he helped you to your feet.

You clung to him as he carried you out of the hospital, but your expressions remained unreadable. The hollow ache in your chest felt endless, but Sukuna didn’t let go, his presence a fragile shield against the unbearable weight of what you’d lost.

The days after were an endless cycle of nothingness. Sukuna filled the void with his relentless presence, taking over everything he already used to manage. He cooked meals you barely touched, cleaned the apartment with medical precision, scheduled your appointments, and arranged therapy without asking.

“You need this,” he said when you stared blankly at the brochure he placed in front of you. His tone firm, final.

You went because it was easier than refusing. The therapist spoke gently, her words carefully chosen, but they washed over you like white noise. You answered her questions in monotone, offering just enough to keep the sessions moving. He drove you to and back from your appointments and waited for you in between.

“It’ll take time,” she said once after your session, her voice warm with reassurance. Sukuna nodded. You didn’t respond.}

At home, you spent hours by the window, staring at the sea. The waves rolled in and out, unchanging, as if mocking the chaos that had become your life. Sukuna hovered in the background, his movements quiet. He never pushed, never demanded anything from you.

Sometimes he’d sit nearby, reading or scrolling through his phone, his presence grounding in its consistency. Other times, he’d leave you entirely alone, his heavy footsteps echoing down the hallway as he gave you space you didn’t know how to fill.

When nightmares came, they weren’t violent anymore. They strangled you silently. You’d wake in a cold sweat, your chest heavy with an ache that felt like it would never leave. Sukuna was always there, sitting at the edge of your bed, his hand resting on your shoulder or his voice a low murmur in the dark. Had he stopped sleeping? You were too dissociated to argue.

“It’s okay,” he’d say, though you didn’t believe him.

One night, you woke to find him standing in the doorway, his silhouette stark against the faint light from the hall. He didn’t notice you watching as he muttered under his breath, his voice low and dangerous.

“If they ever come near you again, I’ll kill them.”

You didn’t ask who he meant. You didn’t want to know.

No matter what Sukuna did—his soft gestures, his quiet presence, his unwavering care—you remained numb.

He brought you flowers once, bright and vibrant, placing them on the table with a small, awkward shrug. You glanced at them briefly before returning to your spot by the window.

He cooked your favorite meal, setting the plate in front of you with a forced smirk. “Eat, Princess,” he said, but when you pushed the food around with your fork and left the table without a word, he didn’t stop you.

Even when he tried to make you laugh—muttering sarcastic comments about the people outside, rolling his eyes dramatically when the news played something ridiculous—it barely registered.

The world felt distant, like you were watching it through frosted glass.

Sukuna’s presence was the only constant, but even that felt like something happening to someone else.

And though you didn’t react, didn’t acknowledge the weight of his efforts, he stayed. Silent, steady, unyielding.

One night when the pain got too much, you walked to his room and cried in his chest. After months.

He held you the way he always did, but it was stronger this time, as if trying to anchor you in a storm that wouldn’t pass. He didn’t fill the void with empty reassurances, nor did he push you to speak.

The next day, things went back to you staring at nothing.

Japan

Gojo sat slouched, manspreading on the couch, his T-shirt messy like his hair, eyes uncovered, hands dangling between his knees, a photo clutched so tightly the edges were crumpled. The room was dim, lit only by the gray haze of a city that never quite slept. His six eyes scanned the image for the hundredth time, even though he knew every detail by heart—the grainy black-and-white outline of two unmistakable shapes, curled together like yin and yang. He’d gotten it from the hospital you visited before leaving.

He let out a hollow laugh, the sound breaking the oppressive silence. “Twins. Our twins.” His voice cracked, and he swallowed hard.

Nanami stood by the window, staring out at the endless city lights. His sweater covered with alcohol stains, his sleeves rolled up to reveal veins that looked ready to burst.

Gojo tilted his head back, his eyes burning as he stared at the ceiling. “Do you think she—” He stopped, his voice failing him. He tried again. “Do you think she hates us?”

Nanami’s face was as if it had been carved from stone, but his eyes betrayed the storm beneath. “She doesn’t hate us,” he spoke lowly. “She… doesn’t trust us. There’s a difference.” It sounded more like he was trying to convince himself.

Gojo’s laugh was sharper this time, almost cruel. “Trust? Trust died the night we left her alone in this goddamn drawing room. Remember that? Her silently crying, begging us to tell her we cared, and we…” His voice faltered, and he shook his head. “We crawled into bed together like cowards.”

Nanami’s jaw tightened, his hands clenching, shattering the glass he’d forgotten he was holding. But before Gojo could look up, his own RCT healed him. He stared at the disappeared wound like he wanted it back. “I remember, but I don’t think that was the final straw. I think it was the same weekend.”

Gojo stayed silent for a long time at that and then asked, “do you think they’ll look like her?” His voice softened, and he stared down at the photo, his thumb brushing over the image. “Her smile…”

Nanami’s gaze dropped to the floor. “I hope they don’t look like us.”

Gojo’s head snapped up, his six eyes narrowing. “Why the hell would you say that?”

Nanami’s voice was barely above a whisper. “Because we ruin everything we touch.”

Gojo leaned back, letting the photo fall to the coffee table. His hands ran through his hair, tugging hard enough to sting. “They’re better off without us.”

Nanami walked over and sat across from him, the weight of the moment pressing down on both of them. “Everything hurts.”

Gojo’s lips twitched, almost forming a smile before falling flat. “Hurt? Nanami, this… this is beyond hurt. This is…” He gestured vaguely, words failing him. “I’m empty. She’s gone, and I…”

Nanami reached for the photo, his fingers brushing against the image. “At least we have this,” he said, his voice steady but tinged with something raw. “Something to know it was real.”

He paused for what felt like an eternity and then added, “She’ll protect them.”

Gojo’s six eyes dimmed, their usual brilliance dulled by exhaustion. “Yeah. She’ll protect them. From us.”

Nanami’s grip on the photo tightened. “From the world we brought her into.”

The two men sat in silence, the photo lying between them like a ghost of what could have been. The air was thick with grief, regret, and a despair so deep it felt like drowning. Neither spoke again that night.

A/N: Okay, y’all, save the rage essays for after the next chapter—then hit me with your 14-page death threats. This pain was necessary for the redemption arc, but I promise groveling starts in the new year. Pain first, comfort later—like a good skincare routine. Drop your theories, death threats (creative ones pls), or tell me if Gojo should be banned from gaming conventions forever. Your comments = my serotonin boost, so don’t hold back. Did this chapter ruin your day, your week, or your will to exist? Let me know. 😘"

Chapter 7 (alt ending 1.3) - Sapphire Echoes (Tumblr/Ao3)

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