#SILK polycule

[chimerical-daydreams]

who in the polycule could pull off fishnets, a croptop and a miniskirt all at once?

I think there is only one correct answer.

[denkisauce]

shoutos wedding look from the fire in the mountains series by @ellabesmirched, one of my all time favorite fics <3

i’ve wanted to draw this outfit since i first read the fic literally over 2 years ago :3 i love when authors put detailed descriptions of outfits in their stories!! the highly visual description under the cut ☺️

the description from the fic! if you havent read this fic and you like the idea of todobaku, bakubowl, deconstructing monogamy, enemies to lovers, a rich fantasy world with a lots of magic, plot, angst prince shouto, bakugou character study etcetera etcetera, i highly recommend reading it!!!

[whisperingmidnights]

hi angel

I DIDNT KNOW WE WERE STILL DOING NEW YEARS BINGO I THOUGHT I MISSED MY CHANCE

if ur feeling inspired maybe lace for feysand x dove x az? 💋💋

Oh, I have SO MANY PROMPTS in the prompt morgue right now. Maybe we can resurrect a few later. For now, though, you're asking for my favorite polycule.

The gown is simple: a thin sheath constructed from a whisper of black silk and scraps of lace so fine, I'm afraid a wrong breath will destroy it before it can be properly appreciated. If it does happen to survive the trip downstairs, the too-eager hands of my mates will certainly take care of it. I turn in front of the mirror one more time, admiring all the right ways it clings and drapes, perfectly created just for me.

Just as Rhys intended.

I glance back in time to see the black box on the bed vanish. I don't know if I'll ever grow accustomed to his more extravagant gifts, but he does so love to give them. I tug at the pendant resting just beneath my collarbone, a beautiful, dark sapphire encircled by a halo of diamonds, making certain it's centered before I take one more, decisive breath and head downstairs.

The halls are dark, with only the faintest glimmer of golden light guiding my path down to the main sitting area. I spot Feyre first, happily settled on the sofa in paint-stained studio clothes, nursing a glass of dark wine from the continent. Her favorite these days. Rhys swirls his own glass of butterscotch-colored liquor near the fireplace, his jacket abandoned on a chair, and black shirtsleeves rolled up.

They must have had a busy day.

"There she is," Feyre purrs, smiling over the rim of her glass as her eyes sweep over me.

"Welcome home," I greet her with a smile of my own.

"I told you it would be perfect." I roll my eyes at the self-satisfied tone of Rhys's voice, shaking my head as I glance around, searching for the last adult member of our immediate family.

"Your taste is impeccable as ever," Feyre agrees, laughing when I wrinkle my nose at her.

"Oh, don't compliment him, his head will just get bigger."

"It couldn't possibly," she assures me with a wink. Rhys scoffs behind her, taking another sip of his drink before he wanders over.

"Azriel still isn't home?" I ask, trying not to twist the fabric of my dress as our mate inspects my dress. I wonder how much of his exacting eye he picked up from his mother and how much is just him. Approval lights his violet eyes as he lightly runs his knuckles over my exposed back.

"Soon," Rhys says, holding up his glass in offering. My lips part for a sip, but the tilt of his glass is a bit much. Cold liquor spills from the corner of my mouth, but his warm lips are there to chase it, sucking the spiced Autumn brandy from my skin.

"Oh. Delicious." I whisper, lightly rubbing the fine cloth of his shirt between my fingers as his arm wraps around my waist, pulling me against him. It's so easy to go pliant in his arms as those lips trail along my neck. It's not long before a smaller, finer hand finds my chin, angling my face towards Feyre's as she leans in, murmuring, "let me try," before she sweeps the taste from lips with her own.

It's easy to lose myself in them, the way their hands roam over my body, their mouths as hungry for the taste of my skin as I am for theirs. I'll never get enough of them. It could never be enough. But I'm not so lost that I don't notice the sharp scent of chilled mist and rich, musky cedar. The sharp press of cold, hard leather against my back is my only warning before Azriel's hand guides my head back, and he takes a too-brief kiss of his own.

"This is new," he notes with a sharp, possessive smirk, lightly nudging the thin, lace strap further down my shoulder, giving Feyre room to place more warm, unhurried kisses. "It's pretty."

"Pretty," Rhys says with an exasperated glare over my head. "It's exquisite."

Azriel shrugs. "It would look better on the floor."

"We have to eat," I grumble, running my thumb along Rhys's lower lip. Stars dance in his eyes as he catches the digit between his teeth. Shadows swirl around my wrists, slowly guiding them until they're behind my back, trapped against Azriel's leathers as his mouth lowers to my ear.

"Oh, we are, Dove. We're starting with you."

[nb-octopus-writes]

once you're in the hive, the other bees assume you're supposed to be there

[Masterpost]

Summary:

Virgil accidentally gets absorbed by his best friend's brother's polycule.

In his defense, they keep feeding him every time they see him, and Patton's cooking is really good.

Chapter 1: Halloween Party

Wordcount: 1.9K

~

There are a lot of people Virgil doesn't know at this party. Remus is here, somewhere, and Virgil needs to find him again before the party ends, because Remus was his ride and he doesn't want to get left here. Janus is here too though, and Virgil doesn't think Janus would let Remus leave without him, and he's sure Remus wouldn't desert Janus, so he's trying not to worry too much about the fact that he doesn't currently know where Remus is.

But that's it for people Virgil knows, and Remus didn't even bother to introduce him to anyone before fucking off to who knows where, and Virgil’s certainly not going to walk up to a random stranger and introduce himself, so he's currently appreciating the snack table. If he's eating or deliberating on what to eat next, he can't be expected to talk to anybody, right?

“’Scuse me, itsy bitsy,” someone says from behind him, and Virgil turns to see a vaguely familiar man in a dazzling prince costume holding a fresh plate of deviled eggs.

Virgil moves so that the prince dude can set the plate down on a clear spot on the table, and frowns. “I'm taller than you, Princey.”

Prince dude shrugs, plucks one of the eggs up, and takes a large bite. “Lucky you, or we'd've had to ask you to vacate the premises,” he says. “No little spiders allowed, real or fake.”

Which, yeah, now that he's mentioned it, Virgil had noted an extreme lack of spider-themed decorations, which is unusual for Halloween. Usually there'd at least be spiderweb cupcakes, but the cupcakes at this party are mostly cute ghosts.

There's probably a good reason for that, Virgil realizes with a sinking feeling. “Should I change?”

“You got another costume handy, or were you planning on spinning a spider-silk cocoon and metamorphosing into a butterfly?”

Virgil grimaces. “No,” he admits.

Prince Dude considers him. “It's not very realistic,” he says, which is true. Virgil hadn't been going for realism, he'd been going for passable costume I can make on short notice. He's wearing black jeans and a black hoodie, and he'd cut some pool noodles in half and wrapped them in more black cloth and stuck them to his back for the other four legs. It had been a pain to get them to stay in place properly, actually, and he'd ended up sewing their wrappings to the back of his hoodie in order to keep them where he wanted them. He'd been pretty proud of it, given that Remus had dropped “we're going to a costume party at my brother's house” on him like an hour beforehand, but now he's wishing he'd come up with any other idea. He could have put a sheet over his head and been a ghost, or something. Granted, that would have required him to have a sheet that was both white and that he was willing to cut holes in, which he didn't, but still.

Prince Dude continues to quietly scrutinize Virgil, and he wants to squirm under his gaze. Eventually, the guy shrugs and says, “Might be best to ask the scaredy-cat himself. Wait here, I'll be back.” And he saunters off before Virgil can answer.

For lack of anything better to do, Virgil picks up a deviled egg and shoves the whole thing in his mouth. It's really tasty, actually, and now he's wishing he'd taken smaller bites rather than horking it down in one.

Virgil had thought that Princey was just being mean with the “scaredy-cat” thing, but the guy he's talking to now actually is dressed as a calico cat. Prince Dude points back at Virgil, and Mister Calico Cat glances in his direction, then turns back to Princey. Virgil can't hear what they're saying, but he supposes Prince Dude must've asked Calico if Virgil’s costume was too creepy crawly scary.

They talk for way longer than Virgil had expected, and he can't tell if Calico's response was more like “No, he's fine,” or more along the lines of “Yes, that's terrifying, please have him removed immediately from my sight and also my home.”

He occupies himself with another deviled egg. If he's going to get kicked out, he might as well enjoy some more of this tasty food first.

Oh, fuck. Remus.

Remus isn't going to want to leave early just to take Virgil home, and Virgil still doesn't know where he even is! Fuck!

Well, Remus could have warned him not to be a spider, so if Virgil gets kicked out of the party it'll be at least partly Remus's fault. Virgil doesn't know anybody here, but Remus knows at least half these people, and if Calico’s spider aversion is enough that there are no spider-themed decorations in the house on Halloween, that sounds like the kind of thing Remus would know about.

Granted, Remus revels in being gross and annoying, but still! He's not a total dick. He should have told Virgil.

Fucker.

Calico vanishes into the other room, and Prince Dude comes back over to Virgil. He doesn't look like he's about to kick Virgil to the curb, at least. Virgil braces himself anyway.

“Good news!” Princey says with a grin. “Li’l Mister Muffet says you don't look like a creepy crawly death dealer and he doesn't have the urge to remove you with arson!”

Virgil blinks. “...gooood?” he says slowly. He hadn't even considered kill it with fire being a potential response to his costume. That would have been worse than just getting kicked out of the party, actually.

“Honestly you're much more Doc Ock in silhouette, Spider-Man,” Princey continues. “That helps a lot.”

Virgil glances back at where Prince Dude and Calico had been chatting. “So he didn't leave the room because he can't stand the sight of me?” he asks anyway.

“Nah, he wanted to make another plate of horse devours,” Princey says, reaching past Virgil to grab a cupcake off the table. This one has a little frosting bat.

“A plate of what?” Virgil says, because surely he didn't hear that right.

“Little snacks,” Prince Dude clarifies instead of repeating himself. “Our fridge is crammed with delicious bits and bobs. It's been so hard to resist the temptation to eat them before the party.” He bites appreciatively into his cupcake, then adds with his mouth full, “You'd think he wouldn't notice what with how much he made, but nooo, sneak one chocolate covered cherry before party time and it's a lengthy scolding for you!” Princey sighs dramatically, then cheerfully devours the rest of his cupcake.

“...hors d'oeuvres?” Virgil says hesitantly.

“Yeah, a couple ordervs of deviled eggs, cheese and crackers, and those scrumptious little pinwheel things,” Princey says. Virgil’s not sure if Princey actually doesn't know how hors d'oeuvres is pronounced, or if he's messing with him, but then Princey gives him a mischievous grin that one, confirms that yes, Princey does know what he's doing, and two, is so familiar that it freezes Virgil in place as the pieces click together in his brain.

The lack of a mustache makes Prince Dude's face look different, and so does the way he did his makeup, and he carries himself differently, but it's undeniable all the same: Virgil knows that grin.

This is Remus's twin brother.

Now that he's connected the dots (you haven't connected shit) the family resemblance is clear even to Virgil’s honestly rather faceblind eyes.

This is Remus's brother, and it's his house they're partying at.

… Virgil doesn't remember the guy's name.

Fuck, he should've made sure he at least knew who the party hosts were, especially the one related to his mischief goblin of a best friend.

Well he can't exactly ask now, can he?

“Also like, five types of cupcakes,” Princey continues, oblivious to Virgil’s inner turmoil. “Seriously, have you tried the cupcakes? Chef Boiardelightful made multiple separate batches of different flavors, from scratch. And they're all delicious!”

Virgil smirks. “And did you try to snitch them before the party too?”

Princey gasps theatrically, pressing a hand to his chest. “How could you accuse me of such a thing!?” he protests with exactly as much dramatic emotion as Virgil would expect from Remus's twin. “For your information, I did not! I merely sampled a portion of the batter left on the spatula after the cupcakes had gone into the oven. Also some of the frosting.”

“He means that he licked the bowls clean,” says a new voice, and Virgil does not jump out of his skin, thank you very much. And even if he did jolt a little, it's nothing to the startled squawk Princey emits.

Calico's back, holding a platter of little finger sandwiches on toothpicks. He offers them up to Virgil, who takes one. “Thanks.”

“No worries, kiddo!” Calico says cheerfully, and puts the rest of the platter down on the snack table. Princey plucks up two sandwiches by their toothpicks, and gets a stern look in response. “Make sure to leave some for the guests,” Calico scolds.

“My delightful and beloved Patissier,” Princey says, cupping Calico's face gently with his free hand. “I assure you that each of our guests could have a heaping plateful of food and we would still have leftovers until next Tuesday. No-one will be going home hungry.”

It really is an impressive spread. Everything Virgil’s tried has been really good. Remus really could have played up the ‘free food’ angle more when trying to convince Virgil to come. If he'd known the food would be this good, then overriding his usual party-related reservations—it's gonna be loud, there will be a lot of people, I don't know anybody, etc—would have been a lot easier. Then again, Virgil probably wouldn't have believed him. He'd mostly been expecting pizza and cheap beer, honestly, not– not homemade delicacies.

The tiny sandwich Calico gave him is lightly toasted, with some kind of sliced-meat-and-cream-cheese filling, and a little green leafy garnish on top. It definitely looks much fancier than most things Virgil eats, and he can understand why Calico doesn't want Princey to eat them all. That probably took a decent amount of effort. He almost feels bad eating it himself, except that Calico had offered it to him specifically, and it would probably be more rude at this point to not eat it.

“Are you sure my costume is okay?” Virgil asks, interrupting the minor squabble Princey and Calico had fallen into.

“Oh, yes, you're fine,” Calico assures him. “Trust me, if you were pinging my brain as an actual spider I wouldn't be in the room right now, let alone standing next to you.”

“Really, cause most cats I know would eat a spider soon as look at it,” Virgil quips, and is rewarded with Calico laughing.

“That wouldn't be very good host-ly of me, now would it?” he says. “I would never eat a guest!”

“Not unless they're a reptile with scallions,” Princey teases, and Calico flushes.

“Hey!” he protests, swatting Princey's shoulder with one hand and trying to cover his extremely red face with the other. Virgil wonders what the reference was, exactly, but doesn't think it's his place to ask. It seems rather personal, from how hard Calico is blushing.

…maybe he'll ask Remus later if he knows what the story there is.

~~~~

Chapter 2: The Morning After

[nanamineedstherapy]

Gojo Satoru’s Public Display of Wife Theft

F!Pregnant Reader x Gojo Satoru x Nanami Kento

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

A/N: This fic contains horticultural crimes, public indecency, and the emotional collapse of a man who just wanted his compost bins rotated correctly. Approach with caution and lemon water. Songs can be switched for whatever you feel would be appropriate.

Gojo Satoru leaned against the marble railing like he was posing for a cologne ad called Chaos, by Dior. Loose white shirt open to the third button, hair swept back by wind or ego—probably both. He watched you with a smirk that hovered just south of dangerous.

You stretched slowly. Purposefully. Back arched, spine poised like modesty was a myth you’d never subscribed to. The hem of your silk lounge set inched up your thigh—Gojo’s gaze followed it like prey. He whistled low.

You blew a kiss at his jaw, just enough to make him twitch.

With a muted groan, he tugged you into his lap as he sat back on the garden bench. One leg draped lazily across the stone, the other hanging down. You straddled him, silk brushing against linen. His fingers sank into your waist.

You giggled, nuzzling your nose against his cheek like a kitten trying to get adopted.

He blushed.

And that was the bait—because Gojo didn’t blush unless he had an audience. A very specific one. A blond man in linen slacks with a spreadsheet for a soul and a headache in his brow.

Nanami hadn’t looked yet.

So Gojo escalated.

His hands slid up your thighs, slow enough to measure time by. A chuckle, soft and smug, vibrated against your chest. “Sweetheart, you’re too cute. Don’t make me melt like this. I’ve got a rep to protect, y’know?”

You scoffed, slipping your hands under his shirt to rest against the flat of his stomach. “Please. Your students already know you’re insane.”

He laughed. “Fair. We’re a little unhinged.”

Nanami Kento stood at the edge of the south garden, beneath the pergola, arms crossed, sleeves rolled to the elbow, gold watch flashing like judgment under the sun. His hair was perfectly parted. His patience, not so much—hanging by a thread thinner than moss silk. He was scolding the head gardener over mulch ratios like he was running a hedge fund, not horticulture. The man was sweating—not from guilt, but because Nanami’s rage was quiet. Surgical. He didn’t yell. He corrected.

“…And if anyone uses pesticide within three meters of the vanilla orchid bed again, I will personally—”

The staff nodded like saints, not one daring to mention that their employer’s shirt was halfway to indecent or that his voice dipped into something almost intimate when discussing soil pH. Because just behind him—strategically obscured by floral trellises—your bare legs were wrapped around Gojo’s waist like an ancient curse.

“Sweetheart,” Gojo murmured, nuzzling your neck with a grin that was boyish and vile. “You know me too well. You’re right—I do like it when you’re wild. Keeps things interesting. And damn, you’re sexy when you’re about to get us caught.”

You laughed—low, dangerous—as your hand wandered under his shirt. “You protect everyone. I protect you, Toru.”

He pulled you closer, one hand low on your back, thumb just beneath your waistband. “That’s right, sweetheart. I protect the world—but you, my darling, you protect me. You’re my personal guardian angel.”

You cupped his cheek with both hands, smearing your gloss on his skin just to piss off Nanami later.

Gojo’s fingers slid under the hem of your blouse like it was muscle memory. “You love us a lot, don’t you?”

“I do,” you whispered, lips brushing his jaw. “Always will. And if I don’t—then I’m dead. RIP, lol.”

He chuckled, leaning his forehead to yours. “Exactly. So no dying allowed, okay? You have to stick around for me.”

“You too.”

His voice dropped. “Of course. You’re stuck with me forever.” A pause, then that grin—feral, sweet. “Because I have no intention of letting you go.”

Then he kissed you—slow, warm, and wildly inappropriate for a home with windows.

Your hands found his ass, unapologetic.

From the front of the garden, Nanami’s voice faltered. “…and that is why we rotate the compost by season. Because if—”

His eyes flicked. His jaw tightened. He didn’t speak of it. Wouldn’t give you the satisfaction.

But he knew.

Gojo smirked. “You get excited over such small things, baby.”

You pressed your lips to his. “I get excited over you, Toru.”

Gojo’s laugh rang like a wind chime in a storm. “Sweetheart, you have no idea what you do to me. You’re the tease that turned the strongest into a devout.”

You leaned in close, your breath brushing his ear. “Strongest, huh? Then why are you wet from just a little friction, baby?”

His breath hitched. “Because, sweetheart, you’re one hell of a tease. And when you’re this close—” his fingers dipped lower, “—I can’t help it.”

You and Gojo were sitting a distance away on the sun-warmed patio couch, technically out of earshot, definitely not out of all the gardeners line of sight. Gojo’s shirt was halfway unbuttoned, your ass grinding slowly over his lap like sin.

There was a lemonade on the table. It was untouched. The real thirst was elsewhere.

Gojo glanced at Nanami. “He’s tense,” he murmured, voice a low purr. “You think it’s because of the irrigation issues? Or because I said I’d eat you out on the kitchen island this morning?”

You leaned forward, slowly, letting your robe slip just enough for the silk of your skirt to cling like a second skin. Your lips grazed Gojo’s jaw. “He hasn’t looked away once.”

Gojo’s smile curled like smoke. “He’s pretending he doesn’t see us. You know what that means?”

You hummed, kissing just beneath his ear.

Gojo turned toward you fully, fingers brushing your cheek like you were something sacred. “You know, you always get so bratty when you're bored. It’s adorable.”

“Bratty?” you echoed. “You’re the one moaning at every little touch. I just breathe near your collarbone, and you get all squirmy, baby boy.”

He chuckled, low and hot. “Sweetheart, you're dangerously close to finding out what happens when I stop being soft.” His hand slid along your thigh, thumb stroking slow, teasing circles.

Behind Gojo’s shoulder, Nanami cleared his throat. Loudly.

Still mid-lecture. His jaw clenched.

He was trying so hard not to acknowledge you. But his knuckles tightened on the garden knife.

You’d seen that twitch before. The one that always came just before he snapped his pen in half and dragged you both to the nearest private room for a conversation in adult language.

Gojo smirked. “I think he’s cracking.”

Nanami’s pen broke.

The staff flinched.

Nanami didn’t even look down. He just turned, slowly, and met Gojo’s eyes with the heat of a dying star.

“Excuse me,” he said coolly to the gardeners, voice like polished yellow sapphire. “I need to discipline two feral animals before they make my backyard the next site of a zoning violation.”

And just like that, the gardening staff collectively found urgent tasks elsewhere.

Gojo’s grin stretched. “Told you he’d break.”

You palmed him. “I think I deserve a reward for good behavior.”

Gojo breathed in your hair, deeply. “You haven’t even started behaving.”

You reached up and whispered against Gojo’s lips. “Tell me what song you’d fuck me to in front of him.”

Gojo’s voice dropped. “Earned It. Because I know you love when I act like you don’t deserve me, even though I’d let you ruin my whole life.”

You pulled back, your face twisting in mock disgust. “God, no. That’s so shallow. You’re not a fuckboy. Or... whatever that is.”

He laughed. “Then pick for me, sweetheart,” he challenged, eyes gleaming.

“Losing Dogs by Mitski,” you decided without hesitation. “Or if we’re going sexy? Trance with I Know layered under it. And when you’re pissed—”

“Infinity Funk.” He finished for you, grinning. “You love me feral.”

“I like you alive more,” you corrected.

But his forehead was already resting against yours, voice dropping. “I love you,” he whispered. “You always know what to say to make me feel good.”

“Fine. Your song’s Losing Dogs,” you teased, pushing your thumb into his mouth.

“Depressing,” he murmured, licking your thumb, slowly.

“You asked.” You took your thumb back—and licked it yourself.

His eyes darkened as he stared at your mouth. “And when I’m in your bed?”

“Then it’s just your heartbeat,” you said, tone shifting to breathy, “and that sinful breathing you do... that drives me insane.”

He stared at you like you’d stopped his heart. Like the love was going to break him apart.

You grinned. “You’re the only one my lame flirting works on.”

“And you say that like it's a bad thing. I'm glad it works on me, sweetheart,” he whispered. “I don't want anyone else's flirting to work on me. Just yours. Only yours. Always yours.”

Then came the cough.

Low.

Unamused.

Fatherly.

Nanami had finally arrived.

He stood behind Gojo; the gardening staff wisely dismissed.

His expression was blank.

Dangerously blank.

“Are you two finished?”

Gojo turned slowly, still holding you against him. “Oh hey, Kento. Fancy seeing you here.”

Nanami’s gaze swept over the kiss-swollen lips, the rumpled silk, the posture that was anything but... “You’re worse than teenagers.”

You smiled up at him. “We missed you.”

Gojo smirked. “Yeah, Daddy. We missed you.”

Nanami’s brow twitched.

He stepped forward, ready to deliver the lecture of a lifetime.

But Gojo caught his wrist.

You slid off his lap and tugged Nanami closer by the belt loop.

Once he was seated on the bench, you straddled him smoothly, like this was always the plan.

“We were trying to get your attention, Ken,” you purred, guiding his hand to your hip. “You’re always so focused on everyone else. We got jealous.”

Nanami blinked. “You—what?”

“Shh.” Gojo kissed the side of his neck. “You talk too much.”

And that was the last coherent sentence for ten minutes.

Nanami was supposed to scold.

He was supposed to reestablish control.

But somehow—somehow—he ended up bent slightly over the edge of the koi pond wall, breathing hard, his composure shattered.

Gojo bit his shoulder, laughing softly, while you whispered sin into his ear.

Then you kissed up the ridges of his spine, your fingers dancing along the edge of his waistband. “You were saying something about compost cycles, darling?”

Gojo grinned, lips close to his ear. “Something about proper rotation?”

Nanami grunted. “I hate you both.”

“You love us,” you said sweetly, palming him through his trousers.

“I do,” he groaned. “God help me, I do.”

Then kissed you.

From the kitchen window, Angela dropped a spoon. “They’re feral again.

---

A/N: Nanami deserved better. But you deserved to ride him like a rented horse. If you laughed, screamed, or mourned Angela’s lost spoon, leave a comment. Tumblr lurkers: I see you. Say something before Nanami files an HR complaint against me personally.

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

Next Chapter - Polycule's aftercare rituals - [Tumblr/Ao3]

All Works Masterlist

[partyof4game]

"Do you hear that? That's the sound of a love-song being written. Whose? I suppose we'll find out..."

Sweets - [they/them, vers] A crafty and curious bard with a gittern, you meet Sweets shortly after registering with the Dungeoneer guild. There's rumors going around about a hero party with two Disciples, which is unusual at best, portending at worst. They want to know everything; who are you? where did you come from? and most importantly, will you be seen in public with them? Sometimes having names in their pocket pays far more than coin ever could...

At first, Sweets can come off as a flippant gossip, but they're a person of many hats, easily changing their temperament and tone to match whoever they're with. Life in Sentari is hard for a bard; between the amount of competition, the condescension of the prim priests of Myrtle, the lack of safe places to sleep, it's not uncommon that many bards travel for both coin and safety... or they learn other, more insidious talents...

Appearance - Standing at 5'5"/165cm, Sweets favors billowing clothes with the occasional interesting cut out (keyhole blouses, tear-drop windows over their thighs), that obfuscate both their body build and possible pockets. They have dark skin, and deep, forest green eyes. More often than not, Sweets will have changed their hair style whenever MC sees them. They're very fashion forward and can be seen with their hair in cornrows, twists, weaves made from dyed Forest Spider silk, and even shaved. They'll comment on how a new hairstyle can confuse people into thinking they're a completely different person, with one simple change.

Combat - Sweets doesn't do dungeons, but they're pretty handy with a stiletto dagger for some of the more unsavory situations they might find themselves in. Sentari isn't as safe as many people like to assume.

Romance - Sweets' romance takes place in Sentari and between dungeons. They consider each moment together precious and focus entirely on their partner whenever they're in town. While Sweets will generally see other people while MC is away, they will agree to monogamy if they're down bad enough and it's something MC needs in a relationship. Their love languages are gift giving/receiving and physical touch.

Romance tropes - wait for me; mutual pining; serenading outside your inn window like a 70's Mexican ranchera drama; possible: open relationship; possible: polycule

**SPOILERY TECHNICAL SIDE OF SWEETS'S CHARACTER**

To keep the Tumblr mostly spoiler free, you can view this section for free on my patreon!

Jem | Vana | Aslo | Linzel | Raena | Sweets | Maymie

[makingfanfictionstosleep]

theirs to share

a/n : jjk characters not mine. contains heavy lemons / mature scenes as the story progresses. reverse harem. femoc x nanami/geto/gojo. jjk alternate au. Wattpad Link : Theirs to Share || Story Masterlist : Jujutsu Kaisen

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ᴍɪɴᴏʀꜱ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛ

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The morning sun filtered gently through the curtains of the dorm common room, golden light casting long shadows across the wood floor. The scent of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the space like a lazy hug, the kind of smell that promised recovery, gossip, and just a little chaos.

You sat cross-legged on the couch, wearing an oversized hoodie and sipping from a chipped mug that said “Curse Killer: Certified”. Your hair was a mess. Your body still sore. But your heart? Light.

Across from you, Shoko plopped into the armchair with an exhale and a fresh pot of coffee in hand. Her under-eyes were slightly smudged, signs of a long night tending to students, but she looked far too amused for someone so sleep-deprived.

Mei Mei joined a second later, brushing silvery strands behind her ear, wrapped in a silk robe she somehow made battle-ready. She sat with the elegance of a queen, setting down her coffee as if she had summoned it from thin air.

“So,” Mei Mei purred, one perfectly arched brow raised.

“You coming home to three extremely hot, extremely jealous men, and letting Nanami rub your shoulders while the other two watch? Bold move.”

You blinked innocently. “I was sore. Nanami offered.”

“Mmm,” Shoko hummed around her mug. “That wasn’t the only thing sore by the time he was done with you, huh?”

You choked on your coffee.

“Shoko!” you gasped, laughing, cheeks already warm.

She just grinned, completely unbothered. “Don’t act innocent. I’ve seen the way Gojo pouts when you call Nanami first.”

“And Geto,” Mei Mei added, swirling her coffee lazily, “looks like he wouldn’t mind watching the three of you tangled up like a curse in a cage.”

You spluttered again, clutching your mug like a lifeline. “I—You guys are awful.”

“No,” Shoko smirked, “we’re realists. And we know you.”

Just then, your phone buzzed on the coffee table. You glanced at it and grinned. “Speaking of pure-hearted souls—”

You tapped the screen.

Utahime’s sleepy face filled the video call, wrapped in blankets, her hair mussed, clearly still in bed.

“H-hello?” she blinked, then yawned. “What time is it?”

“Time to talk about our favorite love triangle. Or is it a square now?” Mei Mei asked, leaning closer to the screen.

Utahime’s face went crimson in real-time.

“W-what?!”

“Our girl here,” Shoko chimed in, nudging you with her foot, “came back to three men basically tripping over each other to take care of her. She let Nanami give her a massage while the other two were ready to combust.”

“Shoko—!” you groaned.

“And now Geto’s in his emotionally awakened polycule era,” Mei Mei added, sipping daintily.

Utahime gasped. “Wait—do they all know?!”

“Oh, sweetie,” Mei Mei purred, “they don’t have to. The tension could curse an entire prefecture.”

“Stop it—!” you laughed, hiding your burning face in your sleeves.

Utahime tugged her blanket higher over her mouth, trying to hide her blush. “I-I wouldn’t know how to handle one of them, let alone three!”

“I’ll make you a how-to guide,” Shoko deadpanned.

“Please don’t,” Utahime squeaked.

“ One: Let Nanami touch your sore spots while the other two watch and seethe—” Shoko continued.

“STOP IT!!” you wailed, laughing so hard you nearly dropped your mug.

Mei Mei grinned slyly. “Or… let them take turns.”

Utahime screamed and hung up the call.

The three of you burst into laughter loud enough to wake the dead.

Shoko wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her hoodie. “Oh god, I live for making her explode like that.”

“You’re all evil,” you muttered, face buried in a pillow now.

“And yet,” Mei Mei said, glancing at you with a smirk, “you’re glowing.”

You peeked up at them.

“Do you think it’s… okay? To not choose? What if I want… all three?”

Shoko shrugged. “If they don’t mind? Then I say: live deliciously.”

Mei Mei raised her mug. “To hell with norms. You’re a walking elemental goddess with more power than any of them. If they want you—they can share. Like adults.”

You clinked your mug against theirs, your heart light and laughing and just a little reckless.

For once, being home felt… complete.

Hours later…

The kitchen at Jujutsu High was quiet except for the soft sizzle of food on the stove. Nanami Kento moved with his usual precision—knife chopping in rhythmic clicks, a dish towel over his shoulder, everything clean and organized. He wasn’t cooking for anyone specific. It was just a quiet day, and cooking helped him think.

Nanako peeked her head into the kitchen first, drawn by the smell. “Is that garlic butter?”

Mimiko trailed behind, sniffing the air. “I smell soy glaze too. You’re making real food.”

Nanami glanced over his shoulder. “I’m always making real food.”

The twins giggled.

“You want some?” he asked, already pulling out two more plates. “I made extra.”

They both beamed and settled at the counter, watching him work like it was a live cooking show.

“You didn’t have to,” Mimiko said, kicking her legs under the stool.

“You know you spoil us, right?” Nanako added with a sly smile.

Nanami exhaled through his nose, the tiniest smile on his lips. “It’s not spoiling. I just know growing sorcerers need real meals, not instant noodles.”

The girls exchanged a knowing look. Despite his usual stoic exterior, Nanami had been exceptionally consistent with them ever since they graduated to Class 2. Even if he didn’t say much, he’d bring them little gifts—books, sweets, the occasional pair of fuzzy socks if Mimiko mentioned her feet were cold once during winter. And now here he was again: warm food, careful attention, no questions asked.

As he plated their portions, the twins whispered to each other.

“Reverse harem logic,” Nanako said behind her hand. “Stoic, dependable, cooks like a dream…”

“Soft on the inside, only opens up to one person. Mama’s definitely the FMC,” Mimiko whispered back.

Nanami placed the plates in front of them and raised a brow. “What are you two conspiring about?”

“Nothing,” they chimed in unison, grinning innocently.

He narrowed his eyes a little. “You’ve been reading those young adult novels again, haven’t you?”

“Maybe,” Mimiko sang.

Nanako gave him a cheeky grin. “Don’t worry, you’re definitely a fan favorite.”

Nanami blinked. “I don’t know what that means.”

“You will,” they whispered together.

And as he turned back to the stove with a quiet sigh, they shared another conspiratorial look.

Later, when they left the kitchen with full bellies and warm cheeks, Mimiko nudged Nanako and whispered, “We can definitely start calling him Papa.”

Nanako nodded, very serious. “Only when he’s not around. Yet.”

[emmg]

wip whenever blabla

tagged by my wife @heylittleriotact and tagging back all my other spouses, we're in a polycule now, no you don't get to leave @aldisobey @caffeinatedmunchkin @jainydoe @thepalehorsevictoria

I don't have much else in the works right now, aside from this bit from the next part of Aftertaste, which I’ll probably drop at the end of the week. Just having fun letting Rook terrorize Emmrich, lmfao

****

Why the hell had he worn a cardigan? He tugs at the sleeve, disgusted. Now he just looks like a dejected, albeit expensive, librarian, a man who catalogs sorrows instead of books. Then again, maybe it wasn’t a complete miscalculation. The loose fabric at least conceals the burgeoning evidence of his disastrous self-soothing strategy, which consists of inhaling what feels like half the canapés and mini tarts circulating the room like a locust in designer wool.

The server, a lanky boy with the posture of a wilting houseplant, has begun to orbit the room with increasing evasiveness, his trajectory subtly adjusting each time their eyes meet. No doubt he has taken the cardiganed menace for either a lunatic or a man with intentions. Who could blame him? He had, after all, attempted small talk.

"Are you from here?" he had asked, chewing.

"What are you studying? Ah, architecture, fascinating discipline. The poetry of form, the language of space. So… buildings and such?" Swallowing.

"Theo, you say? A fine name. Stately, even. I once knew a cat named Theo." Fucking Maker. 

Rook, of course, is perfectly at ease. She would fit in anywhere—a sinking ship, an Orlesian ball, a courtroom in which she is quite obviously guilty. Until she speaks, that is, and tells some unfortunate soul to kill themselves or, for variety, go lick an electrical socket (which, functionally, amount to the same thing.)

But she is lovely, so lovely, and loveliness is an all-access pass to the small, effortless miracles of social grace. People forgive beauty before it even has the chance to offend. Her hair, glossy and pale, is woven into a thick braid; her dress, a slip of silk that had cost him far too much, is the kind that suggests an invitation without ever formally extending one. She had thanked him for it in the usual way: by sticking her tongue down his throat. That had been most enjoyable. 

He shifts, catching sight of himself in a tall mirror placed, rather cruelly, beneath the worst lighting imaginable. For a moment, he is arrested by his own reflection, standing there like some weary apparition clutching a champagne flute. The cardigan, he now reasons, was not such a poor choice after all. A forgiving silhouette. He inhales sharply, stomach obliging, fingers smoothing back his hair. Posture, at least, is still under his control. And height—yes, height is a mercy. It distributes excess, conceals indiscretions. He prods a rib, as if checking for damages. 

Maybe Rook has a thing for the distinguished professor who looks like he drinks expensive whiskey while brooding over obscure philosophy aesthetic. Or maybe he’s just drunk and hallucinating entire futures again. Maybe, when the time comes, he will slip that absurdly expensive watch onto her delicate wrist and then sink to his knees in some ridiculous display of devotion before she allows him to fuck her. But not before he spends an equally ridiculous amount of time in front of his mirror at home, confirming that he is, in fact, as "pretty" as she insists. Despite the grey hair. Despite the cardigan. Despite looking like the unfortunate result of a librarian’s indiscretion with a waiter who has already accepted that his tip will be “the pleasure of the job.”

Arms slip around his waist, and in the mirror, he sees Rook pressed against his back, her face flushed, her expression loose with wine and pleasure. Her nails catch on a loose thread of his cardigan, and—because destruction is a compulsion, not a choice—she begins pulling. She is going to ruin it.

"You smell so good," she sighs against him. "This is nice."

"I'm glad you approve," he says, patting her hand where it rests on his abdomen.

She takes another deep inhale. “Like you raw-dogged a Wintersend tree, jerked off with a fistful of basil, and went down on a rosebush as if it was the love of your life who just returned from war.”

So. She’s drunk.

[chimerical-daydreams]

Oh the sand was glorious, now I want to know How does the red of SILK react to/feel about King emotional support sand

OUR emotional support sand 🤝

And Isabeau is too embarrassed to say that he really likes the accent his partners share. So melodic, so nice.

[ranticore]

Two shortwing rival academics and a lil bit about spire culture

The East North Spire (or honestly just 'Spire', people will know what you mean) is the most densely populated location on the planet. It consists of the remains of one of the largest old telecommunications spires on a cliff. The sea around here is shallow and dense with reedbeds which can be used to make building material. Wood (or an alien equivalent) doesn't exist on Siren so reeds make up most permanent and impermanent structures, as well as providing the pulp with which to make paper and the extremely light reedsilk clothing that harpies wear.

Being surrounded by abundant natural resources as well as being an area with relatively mixed water year-round, so good fishing opportunities, the spire was an obvious choice to build on. The structure of the spire is made of woven reed platforms and silk tents attached to the main trunk, but over the years it has grown immensely wide and complex. People might liken its appearance to a giant multicoloured tree if they knew what a tree was. The structure extends down the cliff-face all the way to the water, where it expands into a dense network of docks and pontoons which has become something of a globlal shipping hub.

The spire is mostly famous for its strict occupation-based culture and honorifics system, which I originally scribbled down on a drawing of Qedivar and Terwy in ramble form, but it's important to understand that these names are cultural and geographical so not limited to harpies.

This is the first pass of the naming system so it's likely outdated lol.

Anyway what started as a collection of craft guilds at the spire transformed over centuries into the world's only institute of higher learning. It is mostly a gigantic and deeply bureaucratic university, the headmaster of which is the highest authority in the entire city.

The culture at the spire is loud. Open debate, arguments, and outright fights are encouraged as a way to clear the air and avoid any simmering tension building up between aggrieved parties. Holding a grudge is considered physically bad for your health, worse than any consequences of a heated debate or quick scuffle (drawing blood is where this acceptance of fighting ends, however). The population density is ludicrous, especially in the shortwing bowers where you'd be lucky to have a wingspan's worth of space to yourself, so it's in their best interests to become very good at managing conflict as early as possible. There is no concept of romantic relationships as a separate phenomenon to platonic relationships here and the potential for gigantic nightmarish polycules to develop is almost guaranteed, but a comparatively small societal weight is placed on sex and intimacy, it's just a thing you do with your friends and that's about it, you won't get any institution of marriage though it is possible (rare) for a pair to be exclusive.

There are no blood ties or familial bonds among inhabitants of the spire. There are differing gestation periods & nurseries based on body type, but among the shortwings, who are the most numerous and have very short gestation periods, nursery duty is pretty much like jury duty. Everybody gets called out to the nursery every couple of years to do early infant care, once the birthing parent is no longer needed (at time of weaning usually). The infants are communally raised and when they're old enough to learn they get shuffled immediately off to school where they will remain until age 12 or so when they pick their main topic of study, or a craft apprenticeship. Then their fellow students or guild masters are considered to be their true families.

The culture is frequently xenophobic against basically everyone else; it's got Big City disease where everyone living outside may as well not exist, and other places are far less important. Particular negative consideration is given to people from the Western continent who are thought of as just inherently dumber for not having any great institutions of learning, with the notable exception of the visored harpies. There's also a strongly ableist element in the spire, those not considered smart enough or not fit enough to work a craft are practically second class citizens.

Qedivar and Amivar (-var suffix indicating a scholar working on a theory) share a bower, they're on-again-off-again frenemies due to the fact that the two of them are working on very different theories on the origin of people. Amivar has proposed a theory of evolution, which is partially wrong where the humans are concerned (as they were intentionally designed but have experienced natural selection since) and correct for all other life on Siren (which did evolve), and Qedivar believes the Precursors were similar to gods who magicked the entire planet into being and then populated it with distinct groups of people. Both theories have some merit but really all they've achieved is endless debates and fights, until a particularly harsh defeat at Qedivar's grant application causes our pal Qedivar to decide to set out to prove his theory right by any means necessary, with a budget of almost zero.

While Qedivar travels to the Western continent to learn the heretical truth (which is that he was wrong and they're all just Human aliens), Amivar stays behind. He continues his work, but when the ministry of knowledge at the spire comes knocking to demand to know Qedivar's whereabouts, he's faced with a tough choice - sell Qedivar out and reveal his location, thus potentially getting a really nice research grant in return for his evolution theory which has proven very unpopular, or cover for him and, in doing so, implicitly accept the unacceptable truth of what his colleague has uncovered. I had a lot of fun thinking over Amivar and his actions in these circumstances, in a situation where where so much hinges on pride and self-advocacy... a look at the guy who has to stay behind and deal with the consequences of someone else's grand adventure (as well as the ministry of knowledge threatening to disappear him).

[deezneezz]

I think I saw you tweet about jamil/malleus once upon a time… what are your thoughts on leona/jamil/malleus (either polycule or love triangle uwu)

OKAY, I HAVE THOUGHT ABT THIS ACTUALLY.

It was mostly in light of Malleus kind of being quite taken with Jamil in a few events? Like how he looked at Jamil during his silk hometown event, the nightmare before christmas scene (on jp) where malleus talks about how good Jamil looks in his suit, and the new year event where he gasses up Jamil a lot after working together into a win against heartslabyul.

I thought about how if anyone would get Leona off his ass to make work of whatever is going on between him and Jamil, it's the potential loss to Malleus 😂 Like.. literally anything but the lizard getting to Jamil before him, right?

So I could see it as a love triangle first and foremost, but perhaps if they are able to share enough......... (who are we kidding, they would kill eachother)

[tortor-sauce]

18+ POST LOOK AWAY 👹🔞 if you’re not 18+ PLEASE DNI with this post!! 👹🔞

(sketch and drabble and headcanons)

(jel/reth/oc stuff)

GO AWAY LOOK AWAY!!!!! IM WARNING YOU 🔪

SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP I CANT EVEN TAG THIS I DONT EVEN WANT PEOPLE TO SEE BUT I HAVE TO SHOW SOMEONE AND TALK ABOUT IT OR I’LL EXPLODE!!!!

i’m too shy to share the whole picture IM SORRY—i just wanted to capture a few headcanons into a single shamelessly horny drawing of the three of them together. also, my thoughts are completely unorganized and this post is mostly just me rambling!

small disclaimer, if you don’t agree with or like my headcanons, that’s totally valid but please don’t tell me so 🙇 i kindly ask you just move on from this post. thank you!

okay. so i feel like both reth and jel are service tops HEAR ME OUT—like, they’re both just a couple of pathetic lover boys who are so head over heels in love with you. the fact they practically always gift you something when you flirt with them in-game (jel gifting silk and reth gifting soup) i feel is their attempts at spoiling you and taking care of you in their own way. they just want to see you happy and make you cum your brains out a thousand times until you can’t think straight anymore 🥺

and in general, i feel jel would love to shower you in compliments and words of praise and practically worship your body. while i feel reth is the type to show you how he feels and relish in watching you come undone with him. but personally 👉👈 i feel jel and reth align more closely as switches because they’re both so.. so soft and need to be spoiled and loved so deeply (no innuendo intended)

with that said, i think jel is a more intimate and passionate lover while reth is a bit more unhinged and rough. that’s not to say jel doesn’t have his sadistic bouts. i feel it stems directly from his obsessive nature and grows into a desire to watch you submit to him and his whims, sort of in a controlling way. but it makes him so happy when you do. the need to know you belong to him, both your heart and body, is honestly really important to him. i actually feel he has control issues due to a number of reasons but that’s a different discussion—💀 and he rewards you so thoroughly for showing him how much you love him. god, the aftercare? he’s so gentle and attentive and treats you like the most precious thing he’s ever held.

more on reth, while not as sadistic, i feel he’s still plenty controlling when he wants to be. the poor man has hardly any control in his day-to-day life and the fact you allow him an ounce of control? over your body of all things? yeah, that shit drives him mad (positive). gets a bit carried away and leaves marks on your body, hickeys, scratches, bruises, the like. but hey, at least it’s a pretty reminder of how much fun you had together. plus, if anyone sees they’ll know you belong to him. but he definitely teases you about it the following days by making sly comments and even running his fingers over the more sensitive marks.

so, in my polycule i envision moments where two will actively spoil the other. so for instance like when maddox and reth want to spoil jel and shower him in the love and affection he deserves, he gets all shy and blushy but relishes in the moment. he pays them back tenfold once they’re finished, but not that same night. maddox and reth make sure he’s completely worn out so he’ll finally get some damn sleep for once. reth is the same in that regard; he gets all shy and blushy but he enjoys being spoiled for once. not having to care about anything or anyone else and focus fully on himself and his pleasure. and the two know this and want to show him how loved he is. lowkey i imagine jel bringing him to tears, crying tears of pleasure and from overstimulation but that may be a personal thing of mine. 💀 and as for maddox? they both know exactly which buttons to push. i imagine them sort of egging each other along. i mentioned earlier i think jel has a sadistic side to him, well i think the same of reth albeit not nearly as prominent. like, the fact he teases and flirts so much could be for a number of reasons, but how lovely it would be if it were only to watch their reactions each time. with that said, maddox happens to be very reactive and discovering that fact in bed, like, awakens something inside of him to tease more, to push as much as maddox will allow him. and yes, he notices the way jel reacts to it too. it only makes him want to tease him for the fact as well 🥴 WHICH is why i drew him with that expression LMAO normally i would’ve imagined him with a much softer and kinder expression but i think he’s quick to lose himself in the throes of pleasure which causes him to act a bit selfish at times. but like i said, i see him as a service top so really his ‘selfish’ moments are him just spoiling maddie and jel and showering their bodies with so much love and attention.

i have so many more thoughts but this post is getting long and i’m getting embarrassed so i’ll stop there for now.

IF YOU READ THIS IM SORRY LOL BUT THANK YOU FOR INDULGING ME///////

[anjelicawrites]

🍬 for OG!Polycule Aemond 

🍉 for OG!Polycule Osferth

🍦for War Boys Polycule Tom Bennett

🥝 for Cringefail Throuple Michael Gavey

NSFW and 18+only please!

Warnings: a super quick reference to Aemond's assault, punishment kink, tying up kink, bimbofication kink, strength kink.

🍬 Kinks your character would not participate in? Name the kink. For OG!Polycule Aemond. Tying up. In a nutshell being unable to move because there's something or someone stopping him (the woman who assaulted him kept him still using her weight. Even after all this time it is a huge trigger for him). Be it hands on his wrists or even soft, silk scarves, he couldn't manage. He is willing to keep himself immobile, grab the headboard, for example, but he needs to know that the second he needs to move, he can.

🍉 What’s your character’s favorite kink? For OG!Polycule Osferth. Punishment. Most of the times dishing it out with his hands or using some proxy (like a paddle, for instance); he's not averse to deny his lover(s) something, like orgasms for a set period of time. He wouldn't be a good Catholic boy if he denied he liked being punished within a inch of his life, though!

🍦 Kinks your character would participate in? Name the kink. For War Boys Polycule Tom Bennett. He would love to partake in a bimbo housewife scenario with reader. He loves they're smart, smarter than he is actually, and always opinionated, sometimes he would like to be in charge though, to see how it would be like to be the one wearing the pants in the relationship. He wouldn't like it to be 24/7, simply every once in a while.

🥝 Your character’s most private sexual fantasy? Or describe yours and my muse will weight in on if they would participate. For Cringefail Throuple Michael Gavey. Being manhandled. He gets an instant erection whenever Billy uses his strength to simply move him around/fold him in the position he prefers. He never voices it because he feels like it is demeaning for his intelligence: to be moved like a piece of furniture! But he can't help the way his body reacts and the pleasure he derives from it.

[noxstell]

Card Life Stages / Reproduction

Cards are simultaneous hermaphrodites, each individual able to act as a gestator and inseminator. Autogamy is possible, but is usually frowned upon.  They are K-selected, caring for their young until maturity. They also lay eggs in clutches of 1 to 4, although 1 or 2 is more common. Cards undergo complete metamorphosis, having 4 major life stages: egg, larva, pupa, and imago. Notably, Card larvae have a more insectoid appearance. They also produce a silk-like substance which when fully matured, can form a cocoon around themselves, eventually becoming their imago form which lasts the rest of their lives.

(the line on the right is about as tall as a fully grown card on all fours.)

cultural info below

Monogamy is rare in Card society, most relationships consisting of 3 to 6 individuals. Although, sometimes, there are even more. Each Card chooses whether or not they want to have a child, and the entire household shares responsibility in raising each child. Some families make the distinction between their birth parents and care takers, while most others don’t see the point in doing so. Since each Card in a polycule can lay up to 4 eggs, their families can get quite large. This usually affects how a relationship is perceived, as higher class individuals can afford their families more easily. Some families, however, may choose only one individual to have children, limiting overpopulation which is quite prevalent in more advanced communities. Once of age, a Card is expected to go be in a relationship and move out with them. This is usually rushed, even if they are not ready for it, a common problem amongst young adults.

Being unisex, Cards don’t conceptualize sexuality or gender like humans. They do, however, have a rough equivalent to lgbtq culture, it consisting of asexual, aromantic, or monogomous individuals. People who fall into this category are usually called Ieki.

[nanamineedstherapy]

The Holy Trinity of Chaos, Capitalism, & Cunnilingus

F!Pregnant Reader x Gojo Satoru x Nanami Kento

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

A/N: Quarter 2 is here, and the wife has returned to power. I hope you have liability insurance for your soul. (Also, HR says we’re not legally allowed to call the koi pond "the Divorce Arc Memorial Site" anymore.)

🕯️ THE DOMESTIC DISTURBANCE DIGEST - Q12

🗒️ Compiled by Those Paid to Pretend This is Normal™

⚠️ HR UPDATE:

Posted discreetly next to the kombucha tap.

As of this quarter, The Household has officially returned to DEFCON 1 Horny.

Staff are reminded not to interrupt private time in the solarium, sauna, gym, wine cellar, north-west reading turret, gaming vault, massage wing, or the stables.

Reminder: The polycule is closed. No entry. No exceptions.

(Even if you have cheekbones and a tragic backstory. We don’t care.)

✨ The Royals Are Back In Heat Harmony™

After a tense time that had even the koi pond whispering “divorce arc,” the holy triad of chaos, capitalism, and cunnilingus has officially realigned.

The wife is no longer wandering the hallways alone at 2 AM like a barefoot ghost, overthinking about fiscal cliffs and cheating.

Her husbands are back. Both of them.

And they are eating. Each other. Constantly.

No one’s entirely sure what went down in Bora Bora, but we suspect it involved:

A waterproof spreader bar.

That one silk harness Nanami-san pretends he doesn’t like.

Gojo-sama admitting he can’t read a spreadsheet unless it’s tattooed on someone’s ass.

🗨️ STAFF LOUNGE NOTES:

Location: Behind the west greenhouse, 10:41 PM. Cigarettes. Some vape. Mostly trauma.

Employee XZ (resident lesbian, ride-or-die for the wife-san): I knew she was back in her power the moment she told Gojo-sama to shut the fuck up mid-kiss, and he actually did. That man makes jokes at funerals. Now he’s silent and obeying? Mother’s home.

Employee WQ: She was laughing again. That kind of laugh where her head’s thrown back and Gojo-sama’s clinging to her thigh like a Victorian wife. I didn’t even know I missed that sound until I heard it again.

Employee RF: Nanami-san’s glowing. Like, post-colonoscopy clear. No more forehead crease. The ‘please don’t make me spank my husband again on a Tuesday’ energy? Gone.

Employee TJ: She winked at me today and said, ‘I’m back on my bullshit.’ And I swear to God the clouds parted. My knee pain went away. My rent got paid.

Butler (French, ageless): I have seen the Devil. He has blue eyes, a chain collar, and asks for ‘hot lemon tea’ after being gagged with a silk tie that used to belong to Nanami-san. C’est l’amour, I suppose.

📉 The Gay Panic Incident: RIP Ethan

The new hire lasted 48 hours.

Tried to flirt with Nanami-san while wiping down the wine fridge.

Was met with the following:

Nanami-san (voice calm, hand on corkscrew): My husband and I don’t share. We are not open. We are not curious. We are not bored. Leave.

Gojo-sama (two rooms away, reportedly yelled while eating wife-san out): YEAH! THIS HOLE’S CLOSED, BABY!

Yves now works in the other estate.

In Belgium. No forwarding address.

Alone. In a room with no WiFi.

The only employee allowed to leave the estate without a goodbye hug from the raccoon.

The CHRO-san transferred him before the wife even noticed.

No one’s sad.

Employee FT: I’m not saying he was exiled like Cain, but Takahashi did hiss at him and bite his laptop charger.

💎 THE TRIO: BACK IN ROTATION:

🛋️ Domestic Scene, April 18th, 2:12AM

Location: West Hall Lounge, captured via Roomba Cam™ 3.0

The wife-san’s legs draped over Gojo-sama’s lap. She was eating cherries. He was pouting.

Nanami-san walked in shirtless, damp towel on neck, and sipped espresso like it’s whiskey.

Gojo-sama (voice low, needy): Babe. He’s ignoring me again.

Wife (teasing): Maybe if you hadn’t tried to dom him with his own necktie.

Nanami-san (without looking up): It was my tie. He lost the privilege.

Gojo-sama (to wife): You said I could top next time!

Wife (mock-sweet): I also said you had to learn the difference between a safeword and a Spotify password.

Staff note: the safeword was reportedly “Rothschild.”

👀 What We’ve (Accidentally) Seen This Week:

Nanami-san bent over the yacht’s piano. Still wearing cufflinks.

Gojo-sama with a ball gag in his mouth and a jujutsu restructuring document in his lap.

Wife-san in the garden at dusk, wearing nothing but a corset and Gojo-sama’s engagement ring around her neck, muttering, “These peasants really think they could handle a man like him.”

Gojo-sama later found face-down in the koi pond. Blissed out.

Nanami-san smirking.

💬 Employee Quotes of the Quarter:

Employee RX: I don’t need a sex tape. I have PTSD.

Employee RT: They’re like an ecosystem now.

If Gojo-sama’s purring, you know the wife-san just fed him affection.

If Nanami-san’s got a limp, she topped.

If all three are glowing, we stay out of the atrium for 48 hours.

Employee GK: Someone once offered me ten grand to leak footage. I told them I’d rather swallow bleach. I like being alive, employed and not cursed.

💰 WHY WE STAY:

CEO-san gave us all pensions and mental health sabbaticals.

Gojo-sama gave our pets influencer deals.

Nanami-san upgraded our 401ks mid-aftercare once (we know this because he did it naked from his laptop in the hallway).

We get three weeks paid leave every time the trio breaks a bedframe.

We don’t eavesdrop (intentionally).

We do sign four NDAs and receive pensions, bonuses, mental health stipends, a yacht share, and a monthly skincare allowance.

🖼️ Next Quarter Preview:

Gojo-sama accidentally buys a haunted sex mirror on Etsy.

Wife-san bans ghost sex.

Nanami-san starts wearing his glasses again, and the librarian department panics.

Until then:

Keep your shoes polished, your ears covered, and your boundaries high.

Because when you work for a trillionaire, you’re not just a witness; you’re an accomplice.

And that, darling, comes with very good dental.

Respect the wife.

Fear the husbands.

And if you hear moaning after 2 AM, it’s not a poltergeist.

It’s just love.

---

A/N: If you made it this far without requesting hazard pay, congratulations—you have been spiritually promoted. Comment to collect your trauma badge. Ignore me and Nanami will personally audit your soul for tax evasion. (P.P.S. Yves deserved Belgium. Don't @ me.)

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All Works Masterlist

Beta - @blackrimmedrose

[msweebyness]

MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!!

I hope everyone has an amazing holiday! Peace and love!!!!

As a treat, here’s what I HC the Miraculous Akuma and Theater couples got each other!!! @artzychic27 @imsparky2002

Polycule:

(What They Got)

Adrien: A handmade, Ladybug & Chat Noir- themed letterman jacket (Mari), A new case for his keyboard with the logos for each member of Kitty Section (Luka), A boxed set of a manga series she’d showed him that he loved (Fruits Basket, to be precise)(Kagami)

Marinette: A new sewing machine with several custom settings for different techniques (Adrien), A medley of all the compositions he’s written for her, and got it framed (Luka), Several bolts of a luxurious Japanese silk to use for her projects(Kagami)

Luka: Four new guitar picks with miniature logos, one for each of them (Mari), A new electric guitar with a specially designed snake decal (he noticed how much Luka seems to like them) *wink wink* (Adrien), A custom made display case for his guitar pick collection (Kagami)

Kagami: A beautiful red, black and gold, dragon-themed kimono, made by hand (Mari), sketchpads with high-end drawing ink pens (Adrien), a large plushy of Ein from Cowboy Bebop (one of her favorite anime)(Luka)

Alyno:

He Got Her: A video camera in Rena Rouge’s color scheme, with a fox decal that Marinette designed

She Got Him: A new set of luxury headphones with Carapace-inspired patterns (designed by Mari, natch)

Myvan:

He Got Her: A bound book of all the poems and songs he’s written for her.

She Got Him: A new set of drumsticks with one of their names and a symbol (crossed bones for him, a bird for her) carved on each one

JuleRose:

Juleka Got Rose: A special floral perfume she had custom made for her, with a special-designed bottle and scents that represented both of them

Rose Got Juleka: A bracelet with their respective personal Kitty Section logos connected by a crystal heart

Kimdine:

He Got Her: A necklace made of a heart-shaped shell he found on a beach trip, engraved with their names

She Got Him: A set of workout sweats with a personalized logo for him monogrammed on them (Marinette helped her)

NathMarc:

Nath Got Marc: A new notebook with a cover he’d personally sketched and painted, and some new pens

Marc Got Nath: A large, high-quality set of oil pastels and a new sketchbook

Sabrinelmar:

She Got Him: A scrapbook with pictures of all the times they’ve gone to visit one another

He Got Her: Tickets for her to come visit him in New York on Valentines Day (which happened to fall on a Saturday that year.)

Breckvie:

She Got Him: Made a mix of her singing all his favorite songs, and a Texas Flag blanket, made by Marinette

He Got Her: A necklace with an opal nightingale pendant, and some new music composition books

Cand-Yeon:

She Got Him: A basketball autographed by the members of his favorite professional team (your mom having connections can have benefits!)

He Got Her: A bracelet with several cheerleading themed charms, and a center heart with their initials carved

Jessthony:

Jesse Got Anthony: A new leather jacket with a raven decal embroidered on the back (courtesy of Marinette)

Anthony Got Jesse: A weighted quilt, and the patches were playbills of all his favorite shows.

Margo:

She Got Reshma: A cosplay hoodie of Inuyasha’s Robe of the Fire Rat, with a handmade replica of the Kotodama No Nenju.

She Got Lacey: A bag for her rock-climbing gear that she’d decorated herself

Have a very merry Christmas, everybody!!!!