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nanamineedstherapy · 3 months ago

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Crack Extended Cut: Third Wheeling Your Own Marriage

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

A/N: Hello. This is not a drill. Nor is it essential to the main plot. This is the DLC side quest that unlocks when your marriage turns into a corporate hostage situation and your therapist writes war reports in scented ink. I present to you: the fic where your postpartum calendar has more kill zones than a military campaign. This one-shot contains: A tactical NanamiA feral Gojo who thinks “time” is a suggestion A reader held together by caffeine and spite And a support staff that deserves a collective raise and possibly divine intervention No plot, just vibes. No fantasy, just Gojo accusing your babies of tax fraud. Reblogs > therapy. Comments > hydration. I crave chaos like Gojo craves unregulated sugar intake. Now enter the battlefield responsibly. Tuesdays only.

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Pre-Shoot: Vogue Verification Interview Recording —Not For Public Release

Int. Briefing Room—Late night.

A silent camera blinked in the corner like it had seen things it wasn’t ready to process. This wasn’t the real interview—just a “vibe check,” according to the email. A pre-verification to confirm nobody would say anything libelous, horrifying, or Gojo-related on camera.

The staff had been summoned. Not invited. Summoned. Like spirits.

A whiteboard stood at the front of the room, bleeding unhinged red ink:

Nanami-San’s Postpartum Operations & Domestic Warfare Protocol (V.17.6.4B)

Below it:

Postpartum Infantry: Rules Of Engagement

Weapons Free = Tuesdays Only —underlined three times.

Keji stood beside it like a grim-faced ghost from a failed banking career. He flipped through a leather-bound operations manual with a pen clenched between his teeth and the eyes of a man who had held your hair back while you vomited from prenatal vitamins and regret.

Someone had left a half-eaten mochi on a legal folder. Someone else held up a single baby sock with tongs, like it was evidence from a crime scene.

“If I don’t make it out of this,” Keji muttered, “delete my browser history and feed Takahashi. Norwegian sardines only. Room temp. Sprinkled with shame.”

The door hissed open with the threat of management.

Enter: Nanami Kento.

Tactical trousers. Black turtleneck. Sleeves rolled with Swiss-watch precision. The expression of a man prepared to deliver disappointing performance reviews and execute people over misfiled invoices.

He didn’t say a word. Just dropped a laminated master schedule onto the polished walnut table like a war crime.

The staff exhaled collectively, like they'd been holding their breath since week 12 of your pregnancy.

Behind him: Gojo Satoru.

He strolled in late, sipping an electric blue drink from a child’s sippy cup shaped like a bear. No shoes. Chest visible under open robe, sweatpants. One sock had a hole in the toe. His hair looked expensive, and his smirk said he knew it.

He radiated power, chaos, and the energy of someone who didn’t believe in chairs.

“Who moved my peach gummies?” he asked the room, deadpan. “Someone’s lying. I can smell fear.”

And then, you.

Barefoot. Hoodie stretched over a bump that could clear a subway seat in under four seconds. Pajama pants. Laptop under one arm, half-eaten protein cookie in the other. You weren’t late, just existing on your own non-Euclidean timeline now.

Your posture: collapsing. Your dignity: questionable. Your husbands: problematic.

Nanami cracked a pointer stick against the table like a courtroom gavel. “The schedule is sacred. That includes hydration windows and postnatal exorcism rotations.”

Gojo leaned toward the baby monitor mounted on the wall, whispering like it was a co-conspirator. “I’m going to teach them to cry in Morse code. Every blink means ‘fart.’”

You sank into a chair like you’d been shot. Your laptop slid out of your arm. You didn't flinch as Keji caught it. Your head lolled sideways—Nanami caught it with the side of his neck without looking, like this happened three times a day.

“I don’t know either of these men,” you told the camera, voice flat as you yawned. “I met them on Craigslist. They won’t leave.”

Gojo gave the camera a peace sign with one hand while texting with the other. "She's lying. I was advertised as a limited-edition collectible. Fully poseable with infinite attachments. No refunds."

Nanami didn’t look up. “No perfume in the nursery. No microwave-heated formula. And under no circumstances is anyone allowed to call the pacifier a ‘binky.’ This is a Japanese household. Not a sitcom.”

CUT TO: Staff lineup; each stood like extras in a corporate thriller that got too real too fast. Their vibes screamed “LinkedIn Premium” with undertones of “We were not trained for this.”

Int. Staff Conference Room—Pre-Shoot Day (Camera: Silent, Judgmental)

STAFF ROLL CALL:

Cursed-Artifact Housekeeper (¥20M+)

Ex-Vatican restorationist. Has opinions about demons. Dusts while muttering “Dies irae.” Once threw bleach on a haunted Fenty gloss. Still invoices Nanami in Latin.

Pregnancy-Specific Chef (¥35M+):

Michelin-starred. Male. Korean-Mexican fusion. Wept when Gojo requested “a smoothie that tastes like unresolved childhood abandonment.” Currently sourcing artisanal wasabi for anti-nausea tea. May be possessed.

Cybersecurity Lead (¥40M+):

Ex-CIA. Latina trans woman. Tatted in binary. Regularly hacks into Gojo’s fanmail database to block “OnlyFans” proposals. Helped Madame leave the country overnight (husbands suspect her involvement but are too terrified of looking her in the eye). Quietly reroutes paparazzi drones and blocks fans mailing Gojo erotic origami and “used sanitary products.” (You had given then strict instructions to never Gojo be traumatized like that. And that was the most important rule.) She and Madame share silent eye contact whenever the men get unhinged now, which screams, “Let the men speak, but never trust their judgment.”

Smart-Home Engineer (¥38M+):

Filipino. Nonbinary. Built a Wi-Fi stabilizer that prevented the twins from toggling Doomsday Mode via uterus kicks. Also installed a voice-activated "Nanami Cooldown Mode." It just plays whale sounds. Doesn't work. They now live under the table during briefings, taping baby-proof foam strips to every sharp corner like it’s an active warzone.

Sommelier/Other Butler (¥20M+):

Ex-mistress handler. Moroccan. Mastered in tea ceremonies. Now curates Gojo’s obsession with bubblegum candy-flavored tequila with real sake. Hasn’t spoken to Nanami since the “your scotch lacks character” incident. Passive-aggressive tray clinks intensify weekly.

Family Assistant (¥80M+):

Ex-G7 UN Summit Logistics Head. Japanese Female. Ex-JSDF Special Forces. Trained in executive protection and electronic countermeasures.

Now manages three calendars:

—Wife’s Business affairs

—Nanami’s postnatal defense doctrine

—Gojo’s untraceable activities (e.g., “baby yoga raves” and “hibernation days”)

Never blinks. Might be legally dead inside. Files tax returns in combat boots.

Gojo Whisperer (¥25M+):

Ex-BTS manager from Busan. Korean, 22/Male. Fluent in TikTok, baby psychology, and tactical concealer.

Stops Gojo from buying entire candy factories "for the babies." Sometimes, a budget magician when Gojo needs to be distracted. Manages his spontaneous "daddy-dates" (he keeps trying to drag Madame to onsen trips).

Falsifies ¥10M+/week expense reports to keep Gojo’s sugar empire hidden from Nanami; wife continues to spoil him.

Has a licensed industrial-grade taser for when Gojo gets the zoomies. (Gojo is yet to figure out which one of his spouses gave him that.)

Authorized to use it when Gojo hits Mach 3 after fruit snacks.

They all stared at the camera with thousand-yard stares. One was sweating so hard his collar had fused to his neck. Another mouthed the word “help” while clutching a binky like a rosary.

Keji—the Head of Ops—looked up from the whiteboard of doom and met your eyes with bleak hope.

“Is it too late to transfer to the Shibuya branch?”

“No one survived the Shibuya branch,” Nanami said dryly.

Gojo added, “And they didn’t even have your beloved Madame to save you.”

Keji rolled his eyes and sighed; this was just the prep day.

Camera: Blinking like it wanted to quit.

Sound: Still muted.

Vibes: War.

You were half-asleep in a hoodie and pajama pants, laptop now balanced on your bump, chewing your fourth protein cookie with the same energy as a raccoon mid-heist. Your head rested on Gojo’s shoulder until you leaned the wrong way, and Nanami instinctively caught it against his neck without looking up. They knew it before you, that the third trimester had you either climbing the walls or falling asleep mid-walk.

Keji looked haunted, eyes hollow as he addressed the camera. "Last week, Nanami-san asked me if I could calculate the milk-to-curd ratio in breast milk. I said no. He said he was ‘disappointed but not surprised.’ I haven’t known peace since."

Across the room, Gojo glared at the entire staff with a sort of whimsical malice that made the power flicker. "If any of you so much as breathe weird around my wife," he said slowly, “I will erase your entire bloodline from history like Thanos, but hotter and funnier.”

You, mid-cookie, squinted. "Who laminated the poop log?"

Nanami, without even glancing up from the documents, replied simply, "For consistency."

The family assistant looked directly into the camera. Her voice was calm, but her eyes screamed war trauma. "I used to negotiate nuclear ceasefires. Now I track nipple balm expiration dates."

Nanami clicked his pen like it was a detonator. "Moving on: Emergency protocol in case of Gojo malfunction."

Keji, smiling at the camera, said, "I am the malfunction protocol."

Nanami had already moved on. "All visitors are now subject to background checks. That includes the lactation consultant and the diaper delivery guy. One of them may be a c-user."

The staff, in perfect sync, turned toward the camera and said as one, "We live in hell."

You, sipping matcha like it was a tranquilizer, gave a wistful smile. "I love them. I also want to strangle them both with my display cable."

Gojo, suddenly grave, spoke with the conviction of a cult leader. "Our babies are probably going to burp a 7.5 on the Richter scale. They're strong. Like me."

Keji, tapping the whiteboard with the air of someone losing grip on reality, muttered, "Next slide."

You addressed the camera, monotone. "I founded a trillion-plus-dollar gaming company. I hold three postgraduate degrees. My CHRO made Forbes under 25. And I’m in a mandatory tactical briefing about... pacifiers."

Nanami, flipping to the next chart, continued unfazed. "Section 4A. Microwave usage is strictly forbidden. All formula is to be temperature-verified manually. Twice."

Gojo mock-whispered, "He once used a laser thermometer on me when I had a fever. Told me I was ‘not up to code.’"

Your eyes met the cybersecurity lead’s across the room. No words were exchanged. Just silent recognition. Mutual war veterans.

Keji, meanwhile, tried to quietly staple two copies of the Emergency Latch Failure Flowchart, but the staple jammed. He stared at it like it just insulted his mother.

Gojo, now sideways in a chair chewing a Pocky stick like a cigarette, asked, "Hypothetical. What if the babies explode? Not in a ‘haha’ way—but like biblically."

Nanami didn’t even pause. "I’ve accounted for it."

Gojo tilted his head slowly towards you and slid his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose with a single finger. Smirked. Then leaned into your space with that familiar looseness in his spine and a dangerous glint behind his lashes and stole a quick kiss. “...Okay.”

Before you could stop it, your lips twitched. A smile slipped through. You tried to bury it in your matcha, but your eyes were already shining.

Gojo noticed. Of course he did.

His grin curled, already leaning in for another kiss—

—but Nanami, still reading, extended one arm with clinical practice and shoved Gojo back into his chair without so much as a glance. Then, in the same fluid motion, he pulled you to his side by the curve of your waist like it was procedure. Like you hadn’t already been sitting close enough to share body heat.

You inhaled. Subtle. His cologne—woodsmoke, vetiver, clean linen. Your eyes were half-lidded before you caught yourself.

Nanami was aware. Didn’t comment. He merely flipped a page.

Just then, the sommelier entered with a lacquered tray of wine samplers resting on pastel bunny-shaped coasters. Gojo perked up. Your eyes narrowed.

You turned to Nanami. Gaze sharp. Daring him. Try it. Challenging him to drink so you can fight him today. Right now infact. Your hormones were jumping up and down to square up.

The sommelier, reading the room perfectly, murmured, "Non-alcoholic. For scent pairing analysis."

You sipped one, internally deflated that you couldn’t fight Nanami, and deadpanned, "Tastes like passive aggression and unpaid emotional labor."

Nanami exhaled slowly and rubbed his temple with the pad of his thumb. “The twins’ feeding chart is now synced to the smart-home alert system. There is no excuse for missed warm-up times.”

Under the conference table, the smart-home engineer gave a thumbs-up, fully tangled in foam strips and headphone cables.

Gojo raised his hand. “Follow-up: Is warm subjective?”

Nanami didn’t answer. He didn’t need to.

You tried to keep a straight face. You failed. Again.

Then, you turned to the camera, whispering, "They built a failsafe so I wouldn’t scream when the doorbell rings. I haven’t turned it off in six weeks."

Gojo suddenly yelled, "Question! If I accidentally ordered ten pounds of mango mochi, does that violate the 'no sugar after 3PM' clause?"

Nanami replied instantly, "Yes."

Gojo grinned, leaping up from his chair, and ran outside. "Good. It’s here."

Moments later, a scream echoed from the front door. Gojo re-entered the room, triumphant, robe flapping on top of his bare chest, mochi bag in hand.

The Gojo Whisperer stormed in behind him. "Sir, please stop chasing couriers with your robe open."

Nanami, without blinking, stated, "This is why we have tasers."

Keji looked into the lens and grinned. "I’m considering faking my own death. Not out of fear. Just boredom."

The whiteboard cleared as a new slide clicked into place.

Emergency Infant Power Surge Protocol: Level Orange

An ominous illustration of a baby surrounded by flames. Possibly prophetic.

Nanami, completely unbothered, said, "Drills begin Monday."

Gojo, now lying flat on the floor with his legs perched on a chair, muttered, "If I die in this meeting, bury me in the nursery. Tell the babies I tried."

You, now chewing the mochi Gojo gave you, eyes glazed, said, "I told Business Insider I was on sabbatical. This is not a sabbatical. This is a hostage situation with burp cloths."

Keji, with full deadpan gravitas, yanked the lever labeled ‘Practice Fire Only.’ "Meeting adjourned."

[Camera: Still Rolling]

[Tension: Unresolved]

[Vibes: Maximum]

[End Pre-Shoot Briefing]

A/N: Thank you for surviving this HR-compliant fever dream masquerading as domestic fluff. If you’re wondering whether the weapons are metaphorical, I’m legally not allowed to confirm. This fic was brought to you by: * A passive-aggressive butler with unresolved scotch trauma * A cybersecurity goddess who blocked Gojo's unsolicited foot pic subscribers * A sommelier with a vendetta and an exorcist who beefs with haunted lip gloss * And one extremely tired wife who never asked for twins, two husbands, or Tuesday warfare Leave a comment or reblog with: Your favorite cursed staff member What you think Gojo’s sippy cup drink was made of Whether Nanami has ever smiled in this scene (answer: no, but lie to me) Reblog if you'd hire the Gojo Whisperer. Comment if you'd run. Bookmark if you're also third-wheeling your own relationship bcs he won't stop hanging with his homies. Tag yourself. I'm the smart-home engineer living under the table.

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ao3feed-nanago · 3 months ago

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Third Wheeling your own Marriage-Crack Extended Cuts

by NanamiNeedsTherapy Collection of oneshots that didn't make it into the main plotline but are still funny. Gojo Satoru becomes a model, and Nanami Kento has beef with Vogue. Their housekeeping staff meets the office. Mostly fluff with light angst. Will add other couples too down the line. Reality + Social Media + Poly + Vogue + Unhinged murderous raccoon + Bored staff who roast Gojo. Words: 17466, Chapters: 15/?, Language: English Series: Part 4 of Third Wheeling Your Own Marriage AU Fandoms: 呪術廻戦 | Jujutsu Kaisen (Manga), 呪術廻戦 | Jujutsu Kaisen (Anime) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: F/M, M/M, Multi Characters: Gojo Satoru, Nanami Kento, Reader, Anna Wintour, Pet Raccoon, OC Butler, Kole from Tokyo Sims Relationships: Gojo Satoru/Nanami Kento/Reader, Gojo Satoru/Nanami Kento/You, Gojo Satoru/You, Gojo Satoru/Reader, Nanami Kento/You, Nanami Kento/Reader, Gojo Satoru/Nanami Kento Additional Tags: Crack Treated Seriously, Fluff and Crack, Crack, Crack Relationships, JJK meets Vogue, Gojo Satoru is a Little Shit, Gojo Satoru Needs a Hug, Gojo Satoru is His Own Warning, Gojo Satoru Being an Idiot, Nanami Kento is So Done, Protective Nanami Kento, Light Angst, Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Romantic Fluff, Family Fluff, Anna Wintour - Freeform, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Polyamory, Polyamorous Character, Polyamorous Recs, Polyamorous Pack, JJK Poly Ship Week 2025, Interviews, Reader is Not a Jujutsu Sorcerer (Jujutsu Kaisen), reader is tony stark but nicer, Reverse Harem, tokyo sims, Pregnant Reader-Insert, Body Horror, Social Media, Celebrities, Gojo Satoru is a Menace to Society, Nanami Kento deserves hazard pay, Interview gone wrong, Tokyo Sims TikTok Canon, Aftercare, Domestic, News Media, Newspapers, Non-Graphic Smut, Implied Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Sexual Humor, Resolved Sexual Tension via https://ift.tt/iv4TSq2

#IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic #nanago #gojo satoru #nanami kento #jjk #jujutsu kaisen

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anobscurename · 5 years ago

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ocean eyes – chris evans

previous part: PART XVII — masterlist

concept: you surprise chris for his birthday while he's shooting in italy. the slowest of slow burns. the ever anticipated part eighteen of many.

pairing: chris evans x reader

word count: 4.3k

warnings: fluff. just prepare to melt.

author's note: everyone can thank @tonystankschild for this one. she was deep in the dm's asking for fluff and i intended to deliver the fluffiest of fluffs.

You liked to consider yourself a rational person at the best of times.

That consideration, however, was entirely negated by the fact that you were now on a flight to Italy to surprise Chris for his birthday. There was nothing rational about it.

But you had saved for this trip, and Chris had done so much for you in the past year or so, that you had wanted to do something for him.

And you had decided that no one should be alone on their birthday, no matter how far away they were.

You had caught a flight from Boston after making the forty-four hour roadtrip to drive Dodger there, not having the funds to fly him to the Evans' household. The fees of bringing an animal on board were astronomical, and you were still balking from how high the number was.

Chris was a wealthy man, however, and those types of costs never quite fazed him as much as they did you.

So you had driven him to Lisa's, a thousand thank yous on your lips as she delivered you to the airport to minimize on the extra cost of leaving your car at the airport parking lots.

Scott – who had still been there from the Patriot's game, "tryin' to get as much family lovin' as he could" as he put it – smiled knowingly at you when you had brought Dodger in.

"You go, baby vamp," he'd whispered to you. It was an outdated saying, but you knew it anyways, and laughed him off.

"We're just friends, Scott."

"Yeah, just like these highlights are from the sun."

He had given you a tight hug, wished you luck on your trip, and – like Lisa would later do at the drop off – made you promise to wish Chris a happy birthday from them.

When you touched down in Italy, it was early morning, that hovering between night and dawn.

You had once again called Chris' agent – Mark – to get details on the shoot, ones which he reluctantly handed over.

You thought that perhaps he was trying to save Chris the PR scandal of being seen with another woman while publicly in a relationship with Lily, but you had pointed out that you had been clearly established as friend of the couple with your global third wheel memes. It didn't take much pressing, because Mark knew how much you both cared about each other and how happy you being there for Chris' birthday would make the actor. So he emailed you the shooting location, with a schedule and call sheet. The tagline was very quick: "Don't interrupt shooting :)"

After a quick shower at the affordable three star you'd rented for the weekend, you got ready in spite of the weariness the plane left you with. Hot water did wonders to waken you, and a touch of makeup never hurt.

You stepped out in the warm breeze, the wind toying softly with the skirt of the summer dress you wore. You easily hailed a cab, and, after failing at the pronunciation of where you were headed, let the cabbie read the location off your phone.

The first person you saw when you got out of the car was Chris.

He was stood off to the side by the craft table, a crewmate quickly doing a last minute adjustment to his hair as he went over his lines. Dressed in an Italian pinstripe suit, you remembered what the film was about.

The indie flick told the tale of an arranged marriage between the son of an Irish mob boss and the daughter of a New York mafia don. Most of the film, however, was set in Italy, where the son, Mickey, had to travel to win the favour of the extended mafia family for the blessing on the union. Briefly, the scene with the strawberries popped into your mind.

You were stopped by security, but Mark – who had been waiting for you – vouched for your admittance.

You stood a little ways away from Chris, within eyesight, but not obvious. It was a surprise, after all.

You called him, watching from where you leaned against his trailer wall. Chris, ringtone blaring for his attention, quickly patted down his suit pockets before finding the device. His glance at the caller I.D. was followed by his whole face lighting up, soft smile on his lips.

"Hey there, Sleeping Beauty," he said into the receiver. "Isn't it a little late in L.A.?"

"It is," you replied. "But it's your birthday tomorrow, and I couldn't resist."

"You know, I've been told I'm irresistible before," he chuckled. "Just never thought I'd hear you say it."

"Well, what can I say? Suits do it for me," you smirked, dropping your first hint.

Scott was right. Chris really could be clueless. "You'd love the one they just put me in then," he murmured, distracted by the food on display at the craft table as he perused the options. "A real classy number."

"What are your plans for the rest of the weekend?"

"They gave me the weekend off to celebrate, but you know me... Probably will go wine tasting by myself and look at some art or something. Oh, man, read a book. Yeah, haven't done that in a while."

You watched as he plucked a strawberry from the table, and your stomach fluttered.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Hmm?" He hummed as he bit in to the sweet fruit.

"Aren't you sick of strawberries by now?"

Chris froze, eyes wide in shock. Running his tongue over his teeth smoothly and swallowing the bite, he began swiveling his head, trying to look out for where you may be hiding. "Where are you?" He grinned.

"Guess."

And then he saw you.

And then he had you wrapped in his arms, the force of the running tackle hug sending your back crashing into the trailer, metal creaking.

You laughed breathlessly, hanging up the call as you hugged him back.

"Chris," you strained against the bone crush of his fierceness. "Oxygen–"

He loosened his grip, but didn't take back his arms. "You have no idea how much I missed you."

His whispery breath in your hair as he deeply inhaled the apple scented shampoo clinging to you had electricity coursing through your veins. "My bones have some idea, I think you might've fractured a rib."

The rumble of the chuckle reverberated through his body and into yours, and heat dusted your ears and cheekbones. "Sorry, I just can't believe you're here. I had to make sure you were real." And then, the question you'd expected: "Where's Dodger?"

"Dodger is in Boston with your mom. And I'm here, I'm real," you reassured him, smoothing your hands over the back of the meticulously woven cotton of his suit. "But you also have a real job to get back to."

"Oh, right," he groaned sheepishly. In his joy, he'd almost forgotten where he was. "Just hang around for a bit, we're only filming a little today before we're off."

So you did. You got given a seat, just off camera, and watched Chris do his thing. His performance was breathtaking, the way he embodied such a dangerous man. It was enough to make you flushed, the square of his shoulders, the confidence in his stride – the danger lurking under Italian silk lined cotton. You'd never quite seen him like this.

And it thrilled you to see a man you usually felt so safe around look so menacing.

It was the love proclamation scene that served to be your undoing, however.

The director kept hounding Chris, demanding retake after retake. He wanted that genuine love to flow through, and it simply just wasn't.

"Think of someone you love," the director suggested. "Put them in your mind's eye. You have a girlfriend, yes? Would it help to bring a picture for you to look at off camera? Tell the picture you love her. Someone get me a picture of this man's lover, please! Imagine you've never told her how you feel. And you've been feeling it for a while, and even though it was very... what is the English word? Uncommon? It was uncommon meeting circumstances you met... You love her. Si?"

Chris grit his teeth and nodded, ready to comply. And once the picture was brought out, the call for quiet on set rang out.

But once the director called action, Chris didn't look at Lily. Your heart clenched, your breath catching in your throat.

No, his eyes found you.

"I love you," he said the words you'd never thought you'd hear him say – at least not to you – and the sincerity in his cracked voice was overwhelming. His eyes were watery, relief dropping his shoulders – as if he'd kept this inside for too long and a weight had been lifted. He sighed it again and again, as if it was the only thing that was going to save him, as if it's the only words he'd ever known.

And when the director called cut, singing Chris' praises, he was still looking at you.

———————

"I still can't believe you're wearing that," Chris chuckled.

You dipped your sunglasses lower on the bridge of your nose to observe him critically. He was leaning against a Vespa, arms folded, the sleeves of his loose white cotton button down rolled up to his elbows, barely containing the bulge of his muscles. Black trousers clad his legs, on his feet a pair of black Italian leather loafers he'd gotten as a gift from his co-star. He wore his own pair of sunglasses, hair swept back, being tousled by the passing breeze.

The statement had been made in reference to the silk scarf you wore, twisted around your neck delicately in a way that was reminiscent of Audrey Hepburn. "If I'm going to have a Roman holiday," you giggled, tripping a little on your way to the Vespa – Chris moved to catch you, but you righted yourself, "you best believe I'm going to fucking look like it."

You had gone to a wine tasting in a vineyard on the outskirts of Rome, somewhere far into the countryside. You had both goofed off the entire time, earning yourselves scolding looks from the sophisticated tourists and the locals, who had wanted a peaceful afternoon at the farm.

You sniffed the wines, obnoxiously listing all the strange terminology the haughty wine connoisseurs would throw around casually, before taking your sips.

It became somewhat of an inside joke between the two of you, finding yourselves lagging behind the group because you couldn't stop laughing. And whenever you were shot a dirty look, it would only make you laugh more.

"You're meant to taste it," he'd whispered to you.

"I am tasting it," you shot back.

"No, you're chugging it like a sixteen year old whose parent made the unwise choice of leaving unsupervised."

The tour guide had been eyeing the two of you up, waiting for your silence. The rest of the tour group turned their critical gaze too, and you gave Chris' foot a soft stomp to get his attention.

Both of you shut up, giggling under your breaths as Chris had practically bowed in his gesture for the guide to continue.

But now it was time to go back to the inner city, and Chris had waited patiently for you by the Vespa while you'd gone to freshen up a bit. The cobblestones were hell for your tipsiness, but you were wine and laugh drunk, and hadn't a care in the world.

"You know how they say there's always that one pair of annoying people on wine tastings that ruin the experience for everyone?"

"They do?" Chris' brow creased in question as he grinningly handed you your helmet.

"Of course they do. Well, I couldn't find them, so it must be us."

Chris clicked his own helmet in place as he caught sight of the hostess by the front door giving you both a dirty look. "What finally gave it away?"

He slid easily onto the Vespa seat, heeling up the kickstand and righting the orientation.

"Hop on, princess," he beckoned you with a nod. You regretted wearing a dress for this part, but you were serious about the Roman Holiday aesthetic.

Serious enough to risk flashing someone as you mounted the scooter behind Chris. But luckily you didn't.

"Hold on tight," Chris called over his shoulder. You complied, encircling your arms around his waist, pressing your bodies together.

You could feel his heart rate pick up, but before you could think too much about it, he took off – cobblestone streets and ivy climbed buildings flying past you in your bliss.

————————

Two of the three worst things that could've happened to you while riding a scooter in the countryside did.

The scooter had broken down and it had started to rain. Not only rain, but fucking pour. You were drenched through to your skin, pulled over on the side of the road, Chris trying to kickstart the machine into working again.

After his fifth attempt, he came over to you, squinting in the rain.

"It's not working," he shouted over the droning rainfall. "Let's just find some shelter and come up with a game plan!"

There were nothing but open spans of green fields and wheat as far as your eyes could see. But a little while back, just over the hill, there had been lights in the haze of rain, a little nondescript sign on the side of the road that you'd whipped past suggesting the shelter that you so desperately craved.

"I think there was a house back there," you yelled back. "Maybe they could help out."

He nodded imperceptibly in the shower of droplets, hand on the small of your back, fitting so seamlessly in the curve of your spine, and began guiding you.

You both dashed across the road, and then you were tearing through the long grass in a shortcut to the twinkling beacons of the lights in the windows, looking like eyes peering at you in the darkness.

Somewhere along the way, you'd found out that Chris was a little ticklish at his waist, and after you'd discovered it – he'd flinched away from you and begged you to stop, but you'd continued just to antagonise him – you wouldn't let it go. It took you much longer to get there than would be normal, but soon, you were both stood, shivering and drenched on the porch step.

There was a sign on the door telling you it was a little inn – an underused bed and breakfast, most likely for road weary travelers on their way to Rome.

You didn't bother knocking as you entered the lobby, spilling inside with laughter still on both your lips. Muddied shoes squelched, and your sodden clothes dripped onto the floor.

You immediately moved to the fire while Chris went to go confer with the front desk.

His two months in Rome had taught him a fair amount of Italian, but it was still quite broken, and he found himself floundering with a lot of the words.

The landlady – a portly old woman with an extraordinarily kind smile and crows footed crinkles by her eyes – understood the predicament.

She explained to him in English – loud enough in the silence so you could hear over the crackle of the fire – that the road services would probably only be available to come out so far tomorrow morning, and that it'd be best to stay the night.

She didn't seem like someone who would scam you into staying at her little roadside hostel – even going so far as to give Chris some white fluffy towels for the both of you.

He paid for the last room available with soggy money, and returned to you, fresh towels in his arms.

He draped one over your shoulders first, and when you reached out to cling it to your frame, your fingers brushed.

That same electricity jolted through you both, travelling with lightning quick velocity down both your spines to spark alive the restless butterflies you had well and truly thought you had put to rest. You were the first to withdraw, allowing Chris to put a towel over himself.

He ran it through his hair, the pieces that had been plastered to his skin with water raising into spikes.

You laughed, reaching out a tentative hand – giving him ample time to withdraw should he need to – to smooth it back and away from his face.

But your laughter died down, as it inevitably did whenever he looked down at you like that. Because how the hell were you meant to function when his eyes were on your lips the way they were now?

And you damn near choked when he started leaning down, lips pressing closer to yours...

But before they touched, he broke into a gut-wrenching smirk, moving past your tingling and awaiting mouth to whisper in your ear. "I dibs the shower."

And then he was sprinting up the stairs.

You were so in shock that for a minute you couldn't even register what had happened, and when you did, you cursed at him, following him up, swearing you'll skin him alive.

And all the while, the landlady was watching the two of you, a knowing glimmer in those kind eyes. She muttered something in Italian, one she repeated many a time during your stay, a saying you would come to know as "young love."

And she didn't even care that you had tracked mud into her hotel and soaked the carpets through from your wet clothes.

She just cared that there were still kids in love in this world.

———————

Once you had both taken a shower and were wrapped up in your complimentary hotel bathrobes, you realised that neither of you were tired.

Your clothes were laid out, sprawled over the backs of chairs, drying by a fire Chris had taken the liberty of building.

So you both decided to go downstairs, and see what activities you could engage in with the other guests. It would do well to help you forget the prospect of having to share a bed with Chris.

According to the landlady, this was the last room available. And of course, Chris had offered to sleep on the floor, as gentlemanly as ever.

But you couldn't do that to him on his birthday, so you'd told him it would be fine, as long as a pillow fort was built to prevent any unnecessary contact.

The common area was woefully empty, save for a couple of sleepy looking musicians, poised atop their makeshift stage, on the brink of passing out on their instruments.

When you and Chris entered, however, they livened up, striking up some traditional Italian melody you may have heard before in passing.

It wasn't that late, so the bar was still open, and Chris managed to purchase a bottle of wine.

Most of the seats had been stacked on the tables, and he helped you pull some down before seating yourselves.

He poured you both wine, and you sat there in your robes, listening to the music.

The landlady came by, at some point, to light the tea light candle on your table.

When you thanked her, she said the same thing she had said earlier – in Italian, so you struggled to understand.

Chris, however, who had been taking a hearty sip of wine, nearly choked. "Mille grazie," he winked.

She scoffed, patting his cheek affectionately, much like a grandmother would her grandson. You didn't catch much of what she said, aside from one word. Cacciatore, in reference to a flirtatious man.

"What did she say to you?"

"She said amore giovane. It means young love."

You turned to try and find her – wanting to correct the innocent mistake of having her assume that you and Chris were in love. Fact of the matter was, there was still with Lily, and you couldn't stand to think of the PR nightmare it would be if it were to get out that he was at an admittedly romantic bed and breakfast with you of all people. "Oh, no, we aren't..." You faded out awkwardly. "He has a girlfriend!"

"Actually," Chris said softly, as if he had been wanting to tell you this for a while. "I don't. Not anymore. Not since the last day at the Hamptons."

Relief flooded you, followed by something undetermined – hope, you would later discover – before you were floored with absolute sympathy. "Oh, Chris. Chris, I'm so sorry."

You reached over to link your fingers in a reassuring hand hold, and his focus was pulled to that singular touch, that point of joining.

"If there's anything I can do to help..."

"No, it just..." He swallowed, finally pulling those ocean eyes to you. "It just wasn't meant to be, I guess. She wasn't the one."

His eyes told a story much deeper, hinting to something that you didn't have the strength to uncover. You'd been hurt too many times by these false feelings, you really weren't sure how ready you were to face them once more.

"What happened?"

"She thinks I'm in love with someone else." When you didn't say anything again – too stunned to do so – Chris cleared his throat. "I, uh," he tried for a smile, "I believe you owe me a dance."

It took you a while to recall him asking you to save him the last dance at the charity gala, and when it registered, you grinned, questions of who dissipating. "Let's go dance."

The band saw you and Chris approach the dancefloor, and immediately switched to a slow waltz. Chris took you in his arms, and as you both swayed to the music, you could almost imagine you were back in Vegas, before Lily, before everything, when the biggest problem in your life was that you had kissed your best friend on your birthday.

His body was so warm pressed to yours, that you felt every tense muscle in your body relax. That hand – forever fitted so perfectly to the groove of the small of your back – traced delicate patterns through the flannel of the gown.

Your cheek was on his chest, and your eyes were closed, and you couldn't see the way he was looking at you.

Because in his eyes – those beautiful ocean eyes – was a love. The love that you were incapable of seeing, but one that everyone else had – including Lily.

There was worship in every sapphire fleck, and there was pure adoration in the inky depths of his pupils.

And as he held you, body nestled so perfectly against his, knew that the angels would damn themselves for you. Because he sure as hell would.

———————

When Chris had gone to get more drinks – the bottle you had shared being finished – you had gone to speak to the musicians.

And surprisingly, they had what you had requested.

Chris was uncorking the bottle when you had hopped up on stage.

There was no microphone this time, and the musicians were glad to receive a break, joining the landlady at the back for a drink – leaving you and Chris alone in the room. Their departure caught his attention, and he glanced at you, before doing a double take.

You were sat at the edge of the stage – feet dangling off to graze the floor every now and then – and in your hands was a ukelele.

The memory of the last time you played for him was chased away by the excitement of this next song.

You were tuning it when you finally noticed Chris watching you. He had that look in his eye – one you were so used to seeing, but one you never quite let yourself understand – and he slowly sank into his seat to watch you. He propped his head on a fist, candlelight flickering in his eyes.

And without much of an introduction, you plucked at the strings delicately, beginning a ukelele rendition of "La Vie En Rose."

His smile broadened into a beam when you started singing. Never had he felt absolute peace like this – at least without having you in his arms.

Hold me close and hold me fast

This magic spell you cast

This is la vie en rose

You looked up at him, your expression earnest. You always found yourself being much more capable of conveying emotion in your actions, rather than with your words. Words made things messy. Music... that was beauty incarnate.

When you kiss me, heaven sighs

And though I close my eyes

I see la vie en rose

Chris breathed in deeply, his heart stuttering, but heavy in his chest. The hold – that spell – you so flawlessly cast on him was rising again, and he knew, with all certainty, that he would not wish to break the enchantment for anything in the world. He was Icarus, and you were the sun – the magnetic pull he felt was that strong.

When you press me to your heart

I am in a world apart

A world where roses bloom

Your eyes found his and you grinned, beguiling him. As you played the interlude, you mouthed to him "happy birthday;" and it was. It was perhaps one of the happiest birthdays he'd had in a while, because it was the one he'd spent with you.

And when you speak, angels sing from above

Everyday words seem to turn into love songs

His heart was swelling, throat thick with emotion. His eyes burned, but he was almost certain the tears gathering was from a lack of blinking. He didn't want to pull his gaze away from you, not for a single second. He had told you he had loved you earlier that day – and this felt like more of a response than he'd ever receive. He knew how difficult it was for you to say those words. And he was okay with that. He'd take what you gave, and you were giving him this – a song as lovely as the woman who was currently singing it. And he thought he was going to simply die when you looked up at him with those eyes, and that smile, and that voice reaching out to him, singing that final verse.

Give your heart and soul to me

And life will always be

La vie en rose

Little did you know, you already owned those things.

You'd owned them since the night you met.

#chris evans #chris evans fanfic #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #chris evans/you #dina writes #chris evans fluff

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nanamineedstherapy · 3 months ago

Text

Crack Extended Cut: Third Wheeling Your Own Marriage

F!Pregnant Reader x Gojo Satoru x Nanami Kento Previous Oneshot Chapter [Tumblr/Ao3] | Main Series [Tumblr/Ao3]

Group Chat: Dad Crimes 💀 (Anon)

Daddy: Did you know a fetus can taste what the mother eats?

Father Time: Yes.

Daddy: Did you know the placenta produces more estrogen in a day than a non-pregnant person in three years?

Father Time: Why are you like this?

Daddy: Because she’s glowing. 😏

Father Time: What are you implying?

Daddy: [Attachment: blurry pic of you asleep, hand on bump]

Father Time: Delete that.

Daddy: I refuse to be censored. Did you know pregnancy can cause increased vaginal lubrication?

Father Time: Stop.

Daddy: If someone were to—apply that information correctly—

Father Time: Satoru.

Daddy: It’s for science. 😏

Father Time: You're why science gets a bad name.

---

Daddy: Also, clitoral enlargement during pregnancy is a thing.

Father Time: No.

Daddy: Bet you're thinking about it now.

Father Time: Stop.

Daddy: But what if—

Father Time: You’re on thin ice.

Daddy: …I could feel it through the sheets.

Father Time: Neutering you is back on the table.

Daddy: 😳

Father Time: Pregnancy increases cervix sensitivity by 200%.

Daddy: WHY ARE YOU TELLING ME THIS.

Father Time: You started it.

Daddy: I was flirting. You’re citing sources.

---

Daddy: I think she got bigger.

Father Time: That’s generally how pregnancy works.

Daddy: No, like... I had a religious experience.

Father Time: You need a therapist.

Daddy: We already have one. She thinks you need a therapist.

Father Time: She's not wrong.

---

Father Time: She made that face again.

Daddy: The “I’m going to ruin you” face?

Father Time: Yes.

Daddy: 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

Father Time: You’re sick.

Daddy: You’re attracted.

Father Time: I didn’t say that.

Daddy: You didn’t deny it.

---

Father Time: She sighed in her sleep.

Daddy: Was it a sexy sigh?

Father Time: Why does that matter?

Daddy: Because I heard it through the wall and I haven't recovered.

Father Time: Get a grip.

Daddy: I have a grip. On nothing. Because I’m being respectful.

---

Daddy: I walked in. She was doing yoga.

Father Time: …and?

Daddy: Downward dog.

Father Time: You're pathetic.

Daddy: You weren’t even in the room and you’re sweating.

Father Time: [Seen 11:24 PM]

---

Daddy: She came out in your shirt.

Father Time: …Which shirt.

Daddy: The white one. No bra. Wet from the shower. It’s transparent when wet.

Father Time: Do not elaborate.

Daddy: I saw heaven and hell simultaneously.

---

Daddy: She said my name in her sleep.

Father Time: She said mine yesterday.

Daddy: …Do you think she has a favorite?

Father Time: If you ask her, you’ll die.

---

Father Time: Did you know the cervix produces natural anesthesia during labor?

Daddy: …Like numbing cream?

Father Time: Endorphins. It can override the pain entirely.

Daddy: So it’s like… euphoric pain?

Father Time: In rare cases, it leads to orgasm during childbirth.

Daddy: I’m calling the Vatican.

---

Father Time: Blood flow to the pelvis increases 30%.

Daddy: Kento.

Father Time: Heightened arousal. Pressure. Release.

Daddy: KENTO.

Father Time: I'm just explaining the biology.

Daddy: You're explaining my kink.

---

Father Time: Vaginal elasticity increases.

Daddy: Kento.

Father Time: Meaning the body is more capable of accommodating

Daddy: DO NOT FINISH THAT.

Father Time: You’re the one who started this.

Daddy: You're the one talking about accommodation like a hotel brochure.

---

Daddy: Status?

Father Time: Sleeping. [Attachment: peaceful pic of you curled on your side]

Daddy: She looks like she’s dreaming of stabbing us.

Father Time: Possibly. Still beautiful.

---

Daddy: She ate five burgers.

Father Time: Good. She needs the calories.

Daddy: She made eye contact during the last bite. It felt threatening.

Father Time: Sounds accurate.

---

Father Time: Her back hurts.

Daddy: So does mine.

Father Time: Not the same.

Daddy: Emotionally, it is.

Father Time: You're a clown.

---

Daddy: Her boobs.

Father Time: Don’t.

Daddy: They exist, Nanami. And they are not playing fair.

Father Time: I’m blocking you.

Daddy: She was cutting watermelon. Sweating. Arms flexing.

Father Time: I'm regretting everything.

---

Father Time: Her feet are swelling.

Daddy: And her thighs are looking—

Father Time: Don’t say it.

Daddy: Juicy.

Father Time: You’re a menace.

Daddy: Takes one to text one.

---

Daddy: She wore the sundress.

Father Time: Mm.

Daddy: With the slit.

Father Time: I know.

Daddy: It moved, Nanami.

Father Time: We're in public.

Daddy: You looked.

Father Time: I never said I didn’t.

---

Father Time: She cried over melted ice cream.

Daddy: And you still went back for more.

Father Time: Obviously.

Daddy: You’re going soft.

Father Time: You’ve always been soft.

Daddy: I’m crying right now.

Father Time: Me too.

---

Daddy: She looks huge now.

Father Time: I know.

Daddy: We’re almost there.

Father Time: I know.

Daddy: I’m scared.

Father Time: Same.

Daddy: But I think we’ll be okay.

Father Time: We will.

---

A/N: Comment something, I like reading comments.

Previous Oneshot Chapter [Tumblr/Ao3] | Main Series [Tumblr/Ao3]

Next Chapter - TikTok Warfare in the Polycule - [Tumblr/Ao3]

All Works Masterlist

Beta - @blackrimmedrose

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nanamineedstherapy · 9 months ago

Text

💀JJK MASTERLIST|CRACK, ANGST & UNHINGED CHAOS💀

📌If you like corporate angst, questionable power dynamics, toxic love triangles, and men being menaces, congrats—you’re in the right place. 🖤💀 StrawPage - [Link]

💌ABOUT MY CATS💌

🐾 My Cats with Flowers

🔥HEADCANONS & UNSOLICITED OPINIONS🔥

📜 JJK Controversial Opinion: The Anti-Sugar Baby Manifesto 📜 [Tumblr/Ao3] 🌌 Why yo JJK Daddy won't fuck you in his domain 🌌 [Tumblr/Ao3] 👔 Nanami Kento - Swearing Headcanon 👔 [Tumblr] 🧿 Why Nanago makes more sense than Satosugu - A psych eval 👩‍💻 Angsty Nanago Glazers Community - A support group for those of us who believe Nanago makes more sense than Satosugu. Go argue with a wall. ⚡ Kashimo's Cult: Shocking Behavior Only - Because Kashimo Hajime deserves more than 12 panels & a death sentence.

📖LONG FICS & SERIES📖

🥂 Third Wheeling Your Own Marriage 🥂 [Tumblr/Ao3] - Ongoing Nanami Kento x F!Non-Sorceress CEO Reader x Gojo Satoru Ryomen Sukuna x F!Non-Sorceress CEO Reader Higuruma Hiromi x CHRO F!Reader 📖 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. Multiple readers + multiple endings with different men.

🦝 Crack Extended Cut: Third Wheeling Your Own Marriage 🦝 [Tumblr/Ao3] - Ongoing Nanami Kento x F!Non-Sorceress CEO Reader x Gojo Satoru 📖 Summary: Collection of oneshots that didn't make it into the main plotline but are still funny. Gojo Satoru becomes a model, and Nanami Kento has beef with Vogue. Their housekeeping staff meets the office. Mostly fluff with light angst. Will add other couples too down the line. Reality + Social Media + Poly + Vogue + Unhinged murderous raccoon + Bored staff who roast Gojo.

🌘 Third Wheeling Your Own Marriage - Glass House 🌒 [Tumblr/Ao3] - Alternate Universe Oneshot Completed Nanami Kento x F!Reader x Gojo Satoru 📖 Summary: It begins with a knock at the door, and Nanami is met with an unexpected visitor: drenched & seemingly lost. As the rain pours outside, he reveals a haunting truth—he believes he has seen someone from their past, someone they both thought was gone forever. As the night unfolds, the two confront that linger in their memories, grappling with the shadows that refuse to fade. With tension building & emotions running high, Nanami must navigate the other's unraveling mind while facing the specters of their shared history.

🤖 Artificial Devotion 🤖 [Tumblr/Ao3] - Ongoing Satoru Gojo x F!Reader + Alpha!Nanami Kento 📖 Summary: In a society ruled by intimacy algorithms & scent-coded hierarchies, Alpha Nanami Kento pays to keep two rogue Omegas safe—Satoru & the girl he would die for. It’s not love. It’s a transaction. Until it isn’t. A dystopian Omegaverse with low smut, more power, longing, & the slow horror of wanting to be chosen. Omegaverse (but make it dystopian no power AU), less-smut-focus, plot-heavy, dark sci-fi, psychological, a lil bit feral.

🥩 Mouth to Meat 🥩 [Tumblr/Ao3] - Completed Cannibal Yakuza Ryomen Sukuna x [Retracted] F!Reader 📖 Summary: Dr. Y/N L/N is tasked with profiling Ryomen Sukuna, a feared yakuza boss known for his violent tendencies and taste for human flesh. Through a series of therapy sessions, she gains his trust—or so it seems. But Sukuna isn’t the only predator in the room. Behind Y/N’s professional demeanor hides a secret far darker than even Sukuna’s sins. When the masks drop, it’s clear: monsters don’t always look like him.

📚 To Love & To Ruin 📚 [Tumblr/Ao3] - Ongoing Teacher!Geto Suguru Vs Nanago (Nanami Kento x Gojo Satoru) 📖 Summary: Suguru finds himself entangled in a web of his own making, unsure whether he’s trying to fix what he broke or just ruin what Gojo has built. Meanwhile, Nanako and Mimiko’s meddling could have consequences none of them are ready for. Also, Sukuna’s getting sealed in Shibuya!

🧂CRACK COCAINE🧂

🐯 Ooga Booga Battle Royale 🐯 [Tumblr/Ao3] F!Reader x Pre-Historic Neanderthal JJK daddies + mommies (Gojo Satoru, Nanami Kento, Geto Suguru, Zenin Toji, Ryomen Sukuna, & more) 📖 Summary: Prehistoric, period-accurate Neanderthal JJK daddies fighting over you? With grunts, rocks, & zero verbal communication? Say less.

☕ Coffee, Chutiyas, & a Very Violent Parking Lot ☕ [Tumblr/Ao3] 📖 Summary: It’s like Gangs of Wasseypur & Succession got drunk at a Hauz Khas bar, snorted a line of coffee powder, & decided to start a Delhi startup staffed entirely by war criminals, gym bros, & HR violations. Mainly Slice of life, but aggressive. (Startup AU x Gangs of Wasseypur x Lobotomy Kaisen.) Can also be read as an AU to "Third Wheeling your own Marriage."

🤰 Help! I'm a Woman & I Got My Two Male Boyfriends Pregnant 🤰 [Tumblr/Ao3] Gojo Satoru x F!Reader x Ryomen Sukuna 📖 Summary: You got Gojo Satoru & Ryomen Sukuna pregnant. Now they’re spiraling, thinking you’re going to leave them. Send Mother Mary.

🥣 How a PowerPoint Ruined My Sex Life (And Why I’m Suing Yuki Tsukumo) 🥣 [Tumblr/Ao3] Nanami Kento x Alien Reader 📖 Summary: Nanami Kento is a man of discipline, reason, and impeccable self-control. But when his alien girlfriend learns about "consent" from Yuki Tsukumo's questionable PowerPoint, his life spirals into chaos. Now, he’s eating cereal in the corner of his apartment, questioning his choices, and plotting revenge.

☎️ Final Fantasy Grandpa Buys a Phone ☎️ [Tumblr/Ao3] Ft. UncKuna Ryomen Sukuna, Retail Worker GN!Reader, Gen Z Android User Itadori Yuji, Millennial iPhone User Inumaki Toge (Can & will speak), Hot Crush at First Sight Fushiguro Megumi 📖 Summary: Ryomen Sukuna, the King of Curses, discovers the horrors of modern technology while trying to buy a phone. Yuji drags his immortal uncle through the chaos of retail hell, Inumaki records everything for clout, & Megumi accidentally becomes the Internet’s newest thirst trap. Or: In which Sukuna learns about Bluetooth while he and Yuji gets a crush, & Inumaki becomes the worst kind of friend. (Feat. awkward flirting, grandpa rage, accidental simping, & enough secondhand embarrassment to power a small city.)

😏 In Ratio Veritas: Someone got Nanami Kento Pregnant & it's not Gojo Satoru 😏 [Tumblr/Ao3] F!Pregnant Reader x Gojo Satoru x Pregnant Special Grade Nanami Kento 📖 Summary: You got Nanami Kento pregnant. Now he's demanding compensation and you didn't even know you could get whole ass special grade man pregnant while also trying to hide it from both your other husband Gojo Satoru or he won't let Nanami live. God Speed.

🥤 Inumaki Toge meets Gojo's wife 🥤 [Tumblr/Ao3] 📖 Summary: What the title says and its 1200 words of misunderstandings and Gojo being Gojo while Nanami sighs and Yuta is questioning his existence.

🐈 Send Gojo? No. Send Nanami? Also No, But Less No. 🐈 [Tumblr/Ao3] Tsukumo Yuki x F!Reader x Ieiri Shoko - Pre-established but Nanami Kento & Gojo Satoru are also here. 📖 Summary: In which Nanami gets emotionally & physically taxed, Gojo should never be left unsupervised, & Shoko, Yuki, & you hold an unholy amount of power over them both. or What if you, Shoko & Yuki, are in a poly relationship & somehow all your cycles sync? How much are we torturing Nanami???

🍗 The Gojo & Geto KFC Breakup: A Sukuna & Toji Reenactment 🍗 [Tumblr/Ao3] 📖 Summary: The JJK gang reenacts the KFC breakup in their own deranged ways.

🌸 Fluffy Oneshots🌸

🍒 Tsundere vs. Tsundere: A Battle of Pride (& Boob Grabs) 🍒 [Tumblr/Ao3] Tsundere!Four-Armed!Ryomen Sukuna x Even More Tsundere!Reader 📖 Summary: You want to touch his tiddies.

💋 Bubble Butt Problems 💋 [Tumblr/Ao3] Nanami Kento X GN!Reader X Gojo Satoru 📖 Summary: Nanami Kento has a problem, you & your wandering hands!

🍼 Indisputable Evidence of Baby Girl Behavior 🍼 [Tumblr/Ao3] Gojo Satoru x F!Reader 📖 Summary: Welcome to the National Baby Girl Census, where we gather empirical evidence on how quickly Gojo Satoru folds when you say one-just one-magic word. This is a scientific study (real). Read responsibly. Or don’t. I know y’all are feral.

🦇 Smudges & Giggles 🦇 [Tumblr/Ao3] Trueform!Ryomen Sukuna x GN!VampireReader 📖 Summary: Vampire you comes home drunk to Ryomen Sukuna, who's trying his best to get the makeup off your face while you try to become a menace incarnate.

💈 Underappreciated JJK Undercut Appreciation: How to flirt with Nanami Kento's Undercut 💈 [Tumblr/Ao3] Pre-Relationship Nanami Kento x Reader 📖 Summary: Nanami Kento: the man, the myth, the legend. Also, the man who’s about to learn that no amount of discipline can withstand the sheer chaos of a reader with a mission. Today’s mission? Touch. The. Undercut. Let’s see how long he lasts. <3

💇 Underappreciated JJK Undercut Appreciation: How to flirt with Gojo's Undercut 💇 [Tumblr/Ao3] Gojo Satoru x Reader 📖 Summary: Gojo Satoru’s undercut is a work of art, & you’re only human. When you finally give in to the urge to touch it, his reaction is… well, let’s just say it’s very Gojo.

🩸The Unsolicited Sister-In-Law/Aniyome/Bhabhi Promotion Arc🩸 [Tumblr/Ao3] Itadori Choso x Reader 📖 Summary: Modern Jujutsu Tech College AU – Choso is a young, grungy yet emotionally competent sorcerer-teacher, sharing faculty duties with Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Haibara, Sukuna (somehow not evil), Toji (we don't ask), and Shoko. You are a non-sorcerer administrative adjunct who somehow ends up in situations you don’t fully understand.

🍷 Sips of Solitude 🍷 [Tumblr/Ao3] Nanami Kento x Gojo Satoru or lovingly Nanago/Gonana 📖 Summary: Satoru Gojo, the invincible sorcerer, faces an unexpected challenge on his birthday: loneliness. But when he ropes Nanami Kento into a night of drinking, things take a hilarious turn. From awkward sips to questionable drinks, watch Gojo navigate the perils of birthday surprises and hangovers, all while discovering the true meaning of friendship in the unlikeliest of places.

🖤 Angsty Oneshots 🖤

🎉 Seven Minutes in Heaven 🎉 [Tumblr/Ao3] Gojo Satoru x F!Reader 📖 Summary: It was supposed to be a normal frat party. Just a stupid game of Seven Minutes in Heaven. Just him, king of never taking anything seriously, getting shoved into a closet for a dumb dare. And yet. Now, he can’t sleep. Can’t think. Can’t stop thinking about you. And one by one, his friends are starting to realize—Whatever happened in that closet? It never really ended.

🔪 We had a taste & now we can't leave you 🔪 [Tumblr/Ao3] Gojo Satoru x GN!Reader x Nanami Kento 📖 Summary: A night of reckless attraction leads to obsession as two dangerous men, Gojo Satoru & Nanami Kento, refuse to let you go. What begins as a fleeting connection spirals into a dark, inescapable reality where freedom no longer exists.

⌛ Heat & Dust: Where the Wind Calls Her Name ⌛ [Tumblr/Ao3] Nanami Kento x F!Wife Reader 📖 Summary: Nanami & his wife were happy. That was before Rajasthan. Because when the wind howls through the ruins, the whispers call a name. (A slow-burn tragedy about a love lost & a man who never stopped looking.)

🦜 The Quiet After 🦜 [Tumblr/Ao3] Lima Syndrome/Yandere Gojo Satoru x F!Reader 📖 Summary: You hated him. He loved you for it. But hate stains—and gods don’t bleed.

🦂 Until the end of me 🦂 [Tumblr/Ao3] Ieiri Shoko x F!Reader x Gojo Satoru 📖 Summary: Gojo Satoru is obsessed with Ieiri Shoko's girlfriend.

🗻Winter’s Last Breath🗻[Tumblr/Ao3] Gojo Satoru x Reader, Prev. Gojo Satoru x Nanami Kento 📖 Summary: Gojo Satoru comes back to Tokyo with no memories, a new wife, & no idea what he’s lost.

☕ Residual ☕ [Tumblr/Ao3] Gojo Satoru x F!Reader in Nanami's body 📖 Summary: They told her he died. Or someone did. Now she walks in Nanami’s body, haunted by memories she never lived—and Gojo Satoru won’t stop looking at her. A story about cursed continuations, misplaced memory, and the kind of love that survives the grave. Not a fix-it. Not quite a romance. Just grief with teeth, liminality, and canon Gojo being canon Gojo: brilliant, broken, and almost remembering. Canon-compliant up to Chapter 236.

🚚 Truck-Kun From Bihar: A Love Square Tragedy 🌌 [Tumblr/Ao3]Non-Sorceress F!Reader x JJK Men 📖 Summary: What if a routine date in Bihar turned into a savage love‑square, existential crisis, & quantum karma all rolled into one? Nanami, Choso, Toji, Suguru, Gojo, Sukuna, & Co. descend on you like cosmic wreckage—& only one heart might survive. Crack humour meets gothic pathos as loyalties, lust, & existential dread collide in unexpected ways that’ll leave you grimacing, snorting, or both. or When a mysterious accident brings four jaded sorcerers & one reluctant civilian onto the same chaotic path, sparks ignite, alliances shift, & what started as a mess turns into a full‑blown emotional battlefield. Between crushing loyalty, unexpected affection, & the ghosts of past betrayals, they’ll learn you can’t outrun your own heart—or the sorcerer racing toward it. You absolutely DO NOT need to know Hindi or be Indian to enjoy this fic—feel free to dive in!

🥶 Love, Death & Robots 🥶 [Tumblr/Ao3] JJK Men x Home Appliances Edition 📖 Summary: Ryomen Sukuna = Double-door Fridge, Gojo Satoru = Condensor, Nanami Kento = Microwave, Fushiguru Toji = Dishwasher, Kashimo Hajime = Stovetop Burner, Geto Suguru = Ice Cream Maker, Haibara Yu = Toaster, and Kenjaku = Blender.

🛐 Hollow Worship: It was never about him 🛐 [Tumblr/Ao3] Gojo Satoru x Reader, Nanami Kento 📖 Summary: Gojo Satoru was used to being admired. Worshipped, even. That was the natural order of things. But worship isn’t always devotion. Sometimes, it’s possession. Sometimes, it’s something far worse.

🦴 Marrow 🦴[Tumblr/Ao3] Gojo Satoru x Nanami Kento 📖 Summary: It all begins with a late-night phone call that pulls Nanami from the comfort of his drink & into a chilling encounter. When he arrives, he finds a disquieting state, leading him deeper into a world of unsettling revelations. With tension mounting & secrets unraveling, the two face the darkness that has haunted them for years, leading to a haunting conclusion that challenges their understanding of identity & loyalty.

💉 Anesthesia 💉 [Tumblr/Ao3] Gojo Satoru x Nanami Kento 📖 Summary: In the aftermath of a devastating car accident, Satoru awakens in a hospital room, grappling with the reality alongside Nanami.

🌊 I lost you when I lost me 🌊 [Tumblr/Ao3] JJK Men x Reader 📖 Summary: You never wanted to say it. You never wanted him to know. But when the truth comes out—when the realization hits—there’s no escaping the devastation that follows.

🌼 His Chrysanthemums 🌼 [Tumblr/Ao3] Widowed!Fushiguro Toji x GN!Reader 📖 Summary: Grief lingers like a shadow, following even the strongest hearts. Toji’s world was shattered, and though time moved forward, he remained anchored to the memory of what he’d lost. A new presence offers a chance to heal, but unseen and unheard, someone fights to return to him, defying the laws of life & death.

👁️ In Shadows of His Heart 👁️ Watching Megumi fall in love with someone else 👁️ [Tumblr/Ao3] Fushiguro Megumi x Unrequited GN!Reader 📖 Summary: I watched him from the shadows, from across hallways and rooftops, through laughter and heartache. Over the years, Megumi Fushiguro became the centre of a world he’d never known he created within me. My words stayed locked away, my feelings buried, while he found comfort in another’s arms. And still, I remain—close enough to share his silence, yet forever worlds apart from the piece of him I can never reach.

🤫 Silent Whispers 🤫 [Tumblr/Ao3] Inumaki Toge x F!Reader 📖 Summary: Toge's speech may be limited, but his emotions are not. On his birthday, you both deepen a connection that is quiet yet unbreakable.

🚨 Through Tears & Determination 🚨 [Tumblr/Ao3] Lovely Runner meets Nanami Kento 📖 Summary: Imagine being an obsessed Lovely Runner fangirl, but instead of saving your bias, you’re in Shibuya trying to keep Nanami alive. Good luck.

🔥 Smutty Oneshots 🔥

🤓 The Symphony of Spite 🤓 [Tumblr/Ao3] Ryomen Sukuna x GN!Therapist Reader x Nanami Kento Crybaby!Gojo Satoru x ..... (he's after one of your manz) 📖 Summary: No summary. You can read at your own risk. Because I don't even know what a good summary for this would be. Also Crybaby!Gojo getting backshots from his Yandere. Toji, Hiromi, Shoko, Kusakabe, Ijichi, Ino, Suguru, & Haibara are also here for reasons. Comes with a chart to understand everything better.

⏰ The Cruelty of Time: We all will get old someday, so this is for the small wins. ⏰ [Tumblr/Ao3] Nanami Kento x F!Reader, Gojo Satoru x F!Reader, Ryomen Sukuna x F!Reader (Separate) 📖 Summary: Nanami/Gojo/Sukuna always know when something is wrong. He gives you space. He waits. But patience only lasts so long when the woman he adores refuses to speak. If words won’t do, he has other ways of making you talk. (All men get their separate parts & have different readers, but the plot is connected, so it's recommended to read all.)

💎 Velvet Sin & Clandestine Vows 💎 [Tumblr/Ao3]Nanami Kento x Billionaire F!Reader (Also, Gojo Satoru is there) 📖 Summary: Nanami at a bougie party? Weird. Nanami getting dragged into a bathroom with a mysterious woman? Even weirder. Let the scandal begin.

📬ASK BOX STATUS: OPEN📬

💌 Requests are open! I love writing angst, dark content, & crack humor fluff. Feel free to send ideas or prompts! 🚫 No incest or grooming requests, but murder & genocide? Fine. Hahahaha.

🔗WHERE TO FIND ME🔗

📖 AO3: [Link] 📷 Insta: [Link] 🖤 Tumblr: You’re already here, babe. All gifs have been from @xf4int. Please do check them out.

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nanamineedstherapy · 3 months ago

Text

One-shot Crack Extended Cut: Third Wheeling Your Own Marriage

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

Summary: Collection of oneshots that didn't make it into the main plotline but are still funny. Gojo Satoru becomes a model, and Nanami Kento has beef with Vogue. Their housekeeping staff meets the office. Mostly fluff with light angst. Will add other couples too down the line. Reality + Social Media + Poly + Vogue + Unhinged murderous raccoon + Bored staff who roast Gojo. A/N: This is a canon-adjacent shitpost in my polyjjk AU that was never supposed to exist, but did because I had a cursed thought at 3 AM: “What if a TikTok interviewer asked them how pregnancy works.” Yes, this is technically relevant. Yes, the raccoon has more followers than Gojo. No, I will not explain the medical timeline because there isn’t one. Please enjoy this descent into delusion.

There can be read as oneshots | Main Series [Tumblr/Ao3]

Chapter 1 - Shibuya Polycule meets Tokyo Sims

You should not have asked them to take you on a walk.

You had wanted a peaceful stroll through Shibuya. Some air. Maybe ice cream. But peace, like many things in your life—control, privacy, a properly aligned spine—had long died the moment you married them.

Gojo Satoru, the human embodiment of a PR disaster, was already halfway through a box of his favorite overpriced zunda and cream-flavored Kikufuku, sunglasses perched low on his nose, which did nothing to hide the fact he was hot and obnoxious in 4K. Nanami Kento, by contrast, was walking five paces behind like a government-assigned babysitter. Hands in pockets. Jaw tight. Probably counting down to retirement again.

And you, the visibly pregnant, were waddling through central Tokyo like an angry myth—radiating heat, hormones, and the quiet promise of violence. Every passerby clocked your belly first, then your husbands, then you—and wisely decided not to make eye contact.

But then it happened.

He emerged like a cursed spirit spawning mid-boss fight—mic clipped to his shirt. “Hey! I’m Kole from Tokyo Sims—mind if I ask a few questions?”

You knew exactly who he was. Kole—the TikToker who stopped random people in public and mined their sex lives for content. The internet adored him for one reason: nothing phased him. Not the girl who confessed to biting her friend during karaoke, not the man with an OnlyFans dedicated to Garfield cosplay. Nothing.

Without even glancing at your husbands, you smiled like a crocodile. “Of course.”

Gojo lit up like someone had handed him both a mic and diplomatic immunity. Nanami sighed through his nose, the way men do when they’ve accepted their fate but still resent its timing.

Kole adjusted his grip on the mic. “Cool. So how did you two meet?” He gestured toward you and Gojo, who was clinging to your side like a needy barnacle in couture, his hand inching subtly—like you didn’t notice—toward your sideboob.

“Three,” you corrected.

Kole blinked once. “Three?”

Without ceremony, you reached back and yanked Nanami into frame like a coworker being summoned into a surprise Zoom call.

“We’re married,” Gojo said brightly. “Poly. Very European. Very French.”

“I’m not French,” Nanami muttered.

“I am,” Gojo winked. “When it’s sexy.”

“All three of us are married,” you added, smiling wide. “That’s why they won’t stop bickering.”

Kole stared blankly. “So… like… all three of you. At the same time.”

“You say that like it’s hard,” you deadpanned, knowing that if your stocks were going to tank after this interview, you were going down swinging.

Kole didn’t laugh. He just nodded slowly, like he was trying to remember if this counted as journalism.

“And you’re pregnant,” he added. “Congrats. Who’s the father?”

The silence that followed was dangerous.

Nanami stilled beside you, shoulders taut, while your eyes sparkled in sync with Gojo’s—matching shades of ‘let’s cause problems on purpose.’

“I am,” Gojo said, beaming.

“I'm the father,” Nanami said at the exact same time, like Darth Vader.

“Tis me,” you added serenely.

Kole’s eye twitched.

“All of us,” you concluded.

Kole stared. “That’s… a joke, right?”

Nanami’s jaw clenched. “No comment.”

“Yes,” you chirped, far too cheerfully. “Totally.”

“Quantum pregnancy, baby,” Gojo added. “Get with the timeline.”

Kole blinked. “What—?”

“She had a hysterectomy,” Gojo offered, like it was a fun fact.

“I regrew her uterus,” Nanami said, calm as if he were discussing rainfall.

Kole didn’t react. Just gave a tiny nod like someone quietly exiting their own body. “That’s not how biology works,” he murmured.

Gojo nodded solemnly. “Medically, no.”

“You’re not doctors… are you?”

“I’m not a doctor,” Nanami clarified, which somehow made it worse.

“I’m a teacher,” Gojo said.

You smiled at Kole. “Medically, yes. But this was a spiritually irresponsible decision.”

“We are not responsible people,” Gojo agreed, biting into a Kikufuku mochi.

Kole blinked at the phone in his hand like it might turn into a gun. “Do you… know what the babies will look like?”

“Both of us,” Gojo said.

“Neither,” Nanami replied.

“They have heterochromia,” you added casually.

“They’re not even born,” Kole muttered.

Gojo pulled out a crumpled Polaroid. “Ultrasound. If you spiritually squint, you can see the eye color.”

“Or if you’re on acid,” you mumbled.

Kole squinted. “Are those… horns?”

“I hope they’re horns,” Gojo said brightly. “Otherwise something’s growing in there that’s not on the baby apps.”

“They have Satoru’s bloodline,” Nanami added. “We’re expecting explosions.”

“Sometimes when I pee, they kick so hard I pass out,” you said, entirely too happy about it.

Gojo cooed as if you hadn’t just casually mentioned unconscious urination but rather announced a promotion. “Aww, baby, you’re stealing my shtick. That’s so romantic, but I’m sorry you feel the need to deflect with humor.” He popped a Mango Cream mochi into your mouth and rubbed your bump with the care of someone feeding a cow—because otherwise, you might bite.

“You’re right, I deserve better.” You chewed thoughtfully and swallowed before turning to bury your face in Nanami’s chest. “Kento, tell me I’m beautiful.”

Nanami let out a deep, long-suffering sigh. His hand settled between your shoulder blades, his thumb moving in slow circles—more instinct than affection at this point. “You’re… hauntingly beautiful,” he muttered, not looking at the camera.

You tilted your head slightly toward Gojo, though you didn’t pull away from Nanami’s chest, smirking against his shirt. “See? My husband’s perfect.”

Gojo gasped. “Why does he get hugs? I’m the one feeding you like my queen!”

Your grin turned sharp. “Because his heartbeat drowns out your voice.”

Nanami, with the reflexes of a married man who’s seen some shit—or more accurately, seen you try worse in public—immediately placed one large palm against your forehead to stop you from motorboating his chest in on camera.

“Not here,” he said.

Kole didn’t blink. Just stared into the lens like it was a confession booth. “Right. So… how does the pregnancy work—”

Gojo clapped him on the back. “Don’t worry about it, champ.”

“The important thing,” you said sweetly, “is we’re a happy, functioning family.”

“Define functioning,” Nanami muttered.

“Define happy,” Gojo added.

Kole’s soul didn’t pack its bags. It just… lay down in traffic. “Are you joking?” he asked, not because he needed an answer—just because it was habit.

“I’m always joking,” Gojo said.

“I’m never joking,” Nanami replied.

“YOU will never know with me,” you said, patting your stomach like a war drum.

Kole adjusted the mic like it was a rosary. “Okay. So. Uh… where did you all meet?”

“Jujutsu Tech,” Gojo and Nanami said in perfect, cult-like sync.

Kole stared. “…Is that a startup?”

Gojo nodded solemnly. “Very underground. No Glassdoor reviews. Also, we fight demons.”

Kole paused, processing that the same way one processes being handed a baby goat at a funeral. “I—I thought you were a CEO?” he asked you, voice flat.

“I am,” you said.

“She’s also our wife. And the company’s primary investor,” Nanami added.

“She once bought me a basketball court because I said I liked Space Jam,” Gojo said proudly.

“She also assaulted someone with a frying pan in 2017,” Nanami added.

“That was never proven,” you replied, perfectly calm.

Gojo suddenly perked up and pulled out his phone. “Wanna see our raccoon?”

Kole didn’t flinch. “Sure.”

“He’s albino,” Gojo explained, flipping the screen. “His name’s Feral Rizz.”

“Or Takahashi, the Executive Trash Associate,” Nanami said, like the raccoon had a résumé. “ETA-san, if you will.”

Kole looked at the raccoon in Gucci booties, then back at Gojo. “That tracks.”

“That’s fair,” you agreed.

Gojo grinned, unprompted. “Also—fun fact. She said in a GQ interview she never wanted kids. Publicly. Like, multiple times.”

Kole turned to you. “So… you lied?”

You sipped from your juice box. “Plans change.”

“She also said she hates men, but here we are,” Nanami added.

Gojo, nuzzling into your temple, whispered, “I’m more of a Samoyed than a man. Woof.”

You tried not to smile. You failed.

And Kole clocked it, just barely tilting his head. “Anyway,” he said slowly, like he was now just interviewing the concept of fate. “Thanks for your time—”

“Wait,” Gojo chirped. “Ask us about the 3AM Test!”

“Or the bounty,” you added, tone far too cheerful.

“Or my Domain Expansion,” Nanami offered, like he was requesting a war crimes tribunal.

Kole gave you all a long look. “Right. So, you’re telling me you’re pregnant with twins from two different men after a hysterectomy because one of them regrew your uterus, and you all fight demons for an underground startup that doesn’t exist online?”

“Yes,” the three of you said, in sync.

Silence.

Kole blinked between you, waiting for someone to laugh. No one did. “Got it.”

Then, with the quiet dignity of a man clocking out of his last day on Earth, he continued. “Well, definitely not the weirdest thing I’ve heard this week.”

Gojo spoke up again. “Aren’t you gonna ask about the drama?”

Kole paused. “…The what?”

Nanami sighed like he’d aged ten years. “Don’t.”

Gojo leaned in, whispering excitedly. “Did you know she was attacked by a mob when our marriage leaked?”

Your smile turned scalpel-sharp, smug. “And I still rescued my raccoon in the process.”

Nanami closed his eyes. “Please stop talking. That night still gives me PTSD.”

Kole didn’t move as the video ended. Just turned off the mic and deadpanned, “I’m gonna tag this ‘educational.’” Then walked off without a goodbye.

Gojo watched him go. “Aww. He didn’t even get to the juicy stuff.”

Nanami rubbed his temples like this was a weekly occurrence. “You just told a civilian about cursed energy.”

“He’s gonna assume it’s a kink thing,” Gojo shrugged.

You waddled forward, unbothered. “He’s not wrong.”

Gojo slung an arm around your shoulders. “That went well.”

Nanami exhaled like the last thread of his soul had snapped. “I need a drink.”

You whirled. “Wow. The double standards in this marriage are astronomical.”

Then, without waiting for an answer, you stormed ahead, hips swaying with righteous fury.

“What? Wait—come back—I wasn’t actually going to drink! I’ll wait till you can!” Nanami called, hurrying after you like a guilty golden retriever—well, he was a stoic one anyway, with golden hair to prove it.

Gojo just dragged you closer to him, smug. “See? He’s not perfect. We deserve better.”

And miles away, in the comments section of Tokyo Sims: Shibuya Polycule…

@BodySnatcherSupreme: This cannot be real.

@FatherFigureNotFound: WAIT, THAT WAS THE CEO WHO SAID SHE HATED MEN IN 2018??? BABE WHAT.

@Kaori_MyChildNotSpecial: I think I just watched three war criminals gaslight an interviewer into an aneurysm.

@KenjakuMindGamesDLC: No, but fr who tf is Feral Rizz and why does he have a verified account and an IMDb page?

A/N: Update: Kole has quit TikTok and enrolled in a seminary. Gojo wants to duet the video with fan edits of your wedding. Nanami is drinking soda water and whispering, “It’s not real, it’s not real.” And you? You’ve just posted a passive-aggressive memo on LinkedIn about the “importance of NDAs in poly marriages.” Anyway. This is now a one-shot series called “You Shouldn’t Have Asked.” More episodes soon. possibly involving a raccoon-exclusive red carpet event. Pray for Kole.

Main Series [Tumblr/Ao3]

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Beta - @blackrimmedrose

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