#jjk reverse harem

[hinakazino]

Royal Reverse Harem Plot Idea???

A little idea popped into my head...

Imagine being transferred into your favorite novel as the villainess. You'd only seen a couple official cover arts of her, and she shares the same name whilst also looking similar to you. So it is just completely crazy but not uncalled for, that no one can tell anything's changed.

You're betrothed to Gojo Satoru, crown prince of the Jujutsu Empire but of course he hates your guts. It's not like you can even blame him because from what you read. The villainess had basically bullied the female lead every chance she got and even tried to have her killed off.

You know that the villainess dies in the original plot, but you don't want to. What do you do then? You do your very best to right your wrongs and end up gaining an air of respect after a month or so. Alongside that, you try to stay on Satoru's good side out of everything because in the end of the plot he is the one who gets you killed.

(He hires Toji to take you out of course.) Nothing seems to be working however, so you soon decide on a divorce. As the villainess you do come from a high ranking noble family anyway so it shouldn't be hard to stay alive.

OR, that is what you thought before you realized another issue that soon became evident a year later. Despite all your effort to avoid all the 2nd male leads and important characters to the plot, it was like they were drawn to you.

At first you were fine with it because it meant that you wouldn't be forced into marriage so quickly. Your noble family unfortunately was big on arranged marriages but your "affairs" seemed to throw them off guard.

The big issue was that eventually these important characters grew an obsessive, almost Yandere-like love for you. Which you only began to notice too late, and rejection was not available.

The worst of them all? Sukuna Ryomen. Emperor of the Empire of Curses, Gojo Satoru's sworn enemy, and the only other being on this planet that can be called his equal.

You had to deal with others too of course, everyone seemed to have their own red flags. Choso would consistently stalk you, Toji didn't like the idea of you going outside, Yuki always wanted to be near you, Gojo was beginning to guilt trip you, Shoko believed you'd be safest with her, and Geto had attempted to kidnap you. The rest? You weren't fully sure.

All you did know was that out of everyone, Sukuna Ryomen was clearly the craziest because he succeeded in kidnapping you. Now you're known as the damsel in distress stolen to another kingdom, with a reward amount higher than anyone can count issued by the crown prince himself.

Next: 1

© 2024 by Hinakazino, do not translate/edit/claim or use my work in any form.

[lillianawayne99]

CastAway Chapter 24

Pairing: Gojo, Itadori, Sukuna, Nanami X OC

Genre: Action Romance

Word Count: 2.6

Warnings: Teacher-Student relationship, canon with a twist, reverse harem, smut, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, violence, major character death, smut chapters will have specific warnings

Synopsis: Calliope, a wolf in sheep's clothing, enrolls at Jujutsu Tech to protect herself from a world she's never seen before. In her efforts to stay alive, she finds relationships that could mend her soul or tear her apart.

Previous Chapter // CastAway // Masterlist

Twisting as I fell, I managed to land on all fours only to get kicked in the ribs. The force of the kick sent me onto my back. Luckily, I was able to see Sukuna aim for my head and managed to roll out of the way, scrambling back to my feet.

Fueled by pain, frustration, and rage, I somehow managed to tap into the lighter half of my power. Shifting to the side to avoid Sukuna’s next punch, I funneled all my strength into my fist and hit him in the chest with a blinding flash of white light.

My feet were rooted to the ground as I watched in horror while he flew backwards. 

The sound of him crashing into a tree snapped me out of my daze. My feet moved before I knew what I was doing, or where I was going. The seconds it took me to reach him felt like hours as I watched him crumple to the ground. 

His body laid nearly flat on the ground, his shoulders leaned against the tree he hit with his head slumped forward. My hands instinctively flew to his chest, feeling him over for damage. He grasped my arms, using me to steady himself as he adjusted to rest against the tree in a more comfortable position.

“Good one, little mouse,” Sukuna groaned. 

I woke from the series of dreams with a jolt and a gasp, my hand flying to my chest above my racing heart. My sudden movement must have woken Yuuji, he rolled onto his side to wrap his arm across my chest. When I took a steadying breath and turned to face him, it was Sukuna looking at me with concern in his four red eyes.

“What’s wrong, pet?” He asked while pulling me closer. 

Glancing over his shoulder to see Gojo had already left for the day, I relaxed into his arms and pressed my head to his chest. “Bad dreams.”

Sukuna tightened his hold on me, tucking my head under his chin. His fingers gently ran along the length of my spine. When he reached the small of my back, he retraced his movements. 

Lying in his arms, all I could think about was my conversation with Getou and the questions I was left with. Was he right when he said Sukuna wanted me to be his queen? Would he, did he, listen to me? He promised to protect me until he was whole, but it was impossible for Getou to know that.

When he made the promise, I thought it was a trick. I was certain he’d try to kill me again the moment the promise was fulfilled, but now, I wasn’t so sure. He hadn’t said a cruel word nor raised a hand against me since, apart from our sparring match. Even then, I could tell he was holding back. 

He riled me up and gave me a challenge, but I never felt malicious intent from him. It didn’t feel as if he was holding back due to the promise. It seemed like he genuinely didn’t want to see me hurt. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Sukuna’s question pulled me from my thoughts, back to the present.

I shifted to look up into his eyes. They were pulled together slightly. As I considered his question, he gently brushed my hair out of my face.

“Do you love me?” I blurted out without thinking.

He froze, his fingers in my hair and red eyes trained on my face. After a few moments, he blinked and dropped his hand to my shoulder. 

“I don’t know what love feels like,” He admitted. Noticing my expression fall and gaze drop to his chest, he cupped my chin and turned me to face him again. “But, your description the other day … it fits.”

His hand brushed along my neck to my shoulder, down my arm, to grasp my hand and place it over his heart. I could faintly feel it beating steadily under our hands. 

“Sukuna-”

“Be with me.” He interrupted before I could say anything else. His eyes burned with determination, and a decision he wasn’t sure about until now. “Join me, and stay by my side. Be mine.”

“Sukuna, I-”

“I know you care for Yuuji and Gojo, I’m not asking you to leave them.” Rough, calloused fingers caressed my cheek before settling under my chin, keeping my gaze locked on his. 

“Then, what are you asking?” I gazed up at him as he opened his mouth to speak, wondering if Getou was right.

A sharp, quick knock at the front door interrupted him. It was Ijichi, here to collect Yuuji and I for the day. Sukuna glared at the bedroom door before sighing and pressing a kiss to my forehead.

“We’ll talk about this later,” He murmured, his body stiffening.

Back in control of his body, Yuuji squeezed me tightly, comfortingly, before letting go and getting out of bed. The two of us rushed to get ready, eating quickly, before leaving with Ijichi.

I tried to listen as he explained what we were doing today, but all I could focus on was how it seemed Getou was right about Sukuna. He did a terrible job of showing it, but the curse cared about me, in his own way. 

As we drove through the city, an unmistakable, cold heaviness hung in the air. It grew stronger as Ijichi drove.

“Stop the car!” I shouted, jerking forward until my head was between the front seats.

“What?” Ijichi glanced over at me, starting to tremble from my outburst. “Here?”

“Yes, here! Do you remember what happened the last time you didn’t stop fast enough?” I demanded, preparing to hit the brakes myself.

“I remember,” He answered warily, slowing down and bringing the car to the curb.

The moment the car was stopped, I jumped out and bolted, following the cursed energy. What was a special grade doing in the middle of the city? Why were we investigating a high school student with a special grade on the loose? Had anyone been dispatched to exorcise it? 

Hoping I would run into a first or special grade sorcerer, I stopped in the middle of an alleyway. The cursed energy was coming from below my feet. With a muttered swear, I searched the ground until I found a manhole nearby and lowered myself into the sewers.

Once my feet touched the ground, I reached for my power and cautiously made my way through the tunnels. Following the trail of cursed energy, I heard the fight before I saw it. It felt like an eternity as I watched the fight, waiting for an opening. I stayed close behind them, but far enough they didn’t seem to notice me.

Nanami was facing off with a humanoid, scarred curse with long, blue hair and mismatched eyes. He wielded a short, wide sword wrapped in a white and black cloth while the curse manipulated its shape. 

Mahito effortlessly elongated his arms to attack Nanami, then shortened them back to normal to block the sorcerer’s attacks. Finally having a moment when he was distracted, I darted in. Reaching for my power, I didn’t have time to care which side I pulled from.

As Mahito held Nanami’s sword in one hand and went to attack with the other, I jumped forward and grabbed his outstretched arm. Using my momentum, I pulled him with me as I dropped back to the ground. The moment my feet hit the ground, I twisted his arm and punched him square in the chest, a wave of pure energy crashing into the curse.

His face contorted into surprised pain before he quickly regained control of himself, his lips curling into a curious, malicious grin. As his skin started to move under my hand, I quickly let go and jumped backwards. I was aware of my soul, but unsure if I could protect it against his technique. 

Glancing behind the curse to see Nanami picking up his weapon, I carefully moved around Mahito. As I shifted closer to Nanami, I watched him check his watch out of the corner of my eye.

“Davis-chan,” He addressed me with an annoyed huff. When I glanced at him with a nod, he placed his sword in the waistband of his pants and moved to remove his tie as his cursed energy began to increase. “Unfortunately, I’m going into overtime now. Let’s end this quickly.”

“Hm,” I grunted back in agreement. I didn't want to be here much longer either.

He offered me a quick, supportive nod then we moved. While I attacked Mahito directly, encasing my hands in cursed energy, Nanami darted toward the wall. Mahito seemed interested in what Nanami was doing, but focused on me the second I entered his range. 

Exchanging blows with Mahito was difficult and exhausting. Due to his youth, feints worked well against him at first. He didn’t understand how to read my body language past where I led him. And yet, I had to be more vigilant each time he responded with an attack of his own. 

With every punch, dodge, and swing, I goaded him toward Nanami. When a loud bang and following crash resounded toward Mahito, he glanced toward the noise. Using the opening, I funneled my cursed energy to my fists and socked him in the jaw. His attention diverted, I kept him in place until darting away at the last second.

As rubble filled with cursed energy fell onto the curse, Nanami appeared at my side. Panting, I looked up at him to see a hint of appreciation and concern behind his glasses. With a short nod and tilt of his head, he led me out of the sewers. 

I walked a few steps behind him, keeping an eye on the darkness behind us. I couldn’t feel Mahito’s cursed energy following us, but I didn’t want to risk the curse sneaking up on us. After another glance back, I nearly walked into Nanami. 

He stared down at me, his stoic expression impossible to read. Brown eyes darted behind me before his lips pursed slightly. When he reached for my hand, I noticed red staining his shirt. 

Swatting his hand away, I felt my face contort into concern as I grabbed his jacket and pulled him to the side. He huffed and tried to push my hands away, but I forced them into his jacket. Grabbing his sides, I felt the warm slickness of his blood seeping through his clothes.

“Davis-chan,” There was a warning in his tone, but I ignored it as I felt his torso over for other injuries. After a few moments, he grasped my wrists and pushed them away. “I’m fine.”

“You’re bleeding!” I snapped back, glaring up at him, but I knew he could see my worry with the way his expression softened. 

“Come on, we need to get out of here.” He gently let go of me, placing a hand on the back of my arm. 

With a soft huff, I stepped forward, away from the curse and back toward the light outside. Wiping the blood on my hands onto my skirt, I pretended not to notice how Nanami slowed to match my pace. Every time I cast a glance behind us, the back of his hand brushed against mine. 

Annoyed with how deep into the tunnels we’d gone and sore my muscles had gotten, I groaned quietly and rolled my shoulders. Normal fights took a lot out of you, but using cursed energy was worse. It usually took a bit before the adrenaline wore off, but I could already feel the fatigue slipping in. 

“We’re almost there,” Nanami interrupted my sudden irritability, his tone gentle as he wrapped his hand around mine. 

Unsure if the gesture was his way of offering support, keeping me on my feet, or for his own wants, I hesitated for a moment before wrapping my fingers around his hand. As we walked, I realized I didn’t care about his intentions. It was one of the few times I easily accepted it when someone offered me affection for the first time.

With his warm, calloused fingers dwarfing my hand, the rest of the walk into a store’s bathroom didn’t feel as long. When I slipped into the family bathroom behind him, he merely glanced at me while I locked the door.

Not wanting to waste energy trying to convince me to leave, Nanami quickly discarded his jacket and shirt onto the sink. The only reaction he gave his injury was a quiet hiss as the cut stretched with his movements. 

“Let me see,” I demanded, my feet carrying me forward as I reached for him.

“I’ve got it,” He dismissed, brushing my hands away. 

As he turned to face me, I noticed how close I’d gotten to him. Pushing away my doubts about following him into the bathroom, I glared up at him and refused to move.

“I’m sure you do, but I can help.” Ignoring the way he raised his brow at me, I looked back at the blood running down his side. 

Reaching for him again, I swatted his hands away as he tried to push me away. Quickly realizing I wouldn’t back down, Nanami leaned back on the sink while I assessed the damage. It was fairly deep and I was exhausted from the fight, but I was determined to prove my worth to him.

Placing my hands on his skin, I gently held the sides of the cut together and closed my eyes. With a deep breath, I first felt for my own power then reached out around us. Grasping every living thing - bugs, animals, people - near us, I pulled their energy into myself then poured it into Nanami through my hands.

He grunted and flinched as I worked, but stayed still. The heat from his gaze burned into my head as I healed him. Using the energy around us, I forced his muscles, veins, nerves, and skin back together. 

Once I was finished, I let out a relieved, tired sigh, and released my power. Swaying slightly from the exertion, I looked up as he gently grasped my arms. He’d taken his glasses off at some point, letting me easily see something in his eyes for the first time.

He was relaxed yet tense at the same time. His expression was soft, gentle, but reserved. His warm, brown eyes shone with understanding, respect, and hint of reverence. It was almost like he was thinking about worshiping me. 

One of his hands shifted to my waist while the other gently ran up my arm to cup my chin. With his thumb on my cheek, slowly moving back and forth, he tilted his head in thought.

“You didn’t use a cursed technique to heal me,” His words were phrased as a statement, but there was a question in his tone.

“No, I didn’t,” I responded calmly, resisting the urge to close my eyes and lean into his touch.

“I didn’t believe Gojo-san when he told me what you were.” Noticing the beginnings of annoyance in my eyes, Nanami reassuringly squeezed my waist. “But he wasn’t lying, or exaggerating, was he?”

I slowly shook my head, unintentionally shaking off his hand. Nanami nodded back and dropped his hand to my shoulder. He looked over my head, processing what had happened. 

“We should get cleaned off,” I stated the obvious in an attempt to break the moment, but he didn’t move. 

As if my voice had brought him out of a daze, Nanami’s eyes slowly shifted back down to me. His grip tightened, but not nearly enough to be uncomfortable. I could see he was still thinking about something, but I couldn’t tell what.

“We should,” He agreed, but it didn’t sound like he’d fully processed my words.

“Nan-” I moved to let go of where my hands had fallen to rest on his sides, but froze when his lips landed on mine.

Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! © LillianaWayne - all rights reserved. Do not copy, modify, repost, or share on other platforms without my express, written permission.

[kikyoupdates]

Otherworldly Attraction ⭑˚🔮⭑ 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑢𝑒

yandere!jjk x f!reader

yandere, reverse harem, isekai, jujutsu kaisen x fem!reader, slowburn, slowburn yandere

You don't know how or why, but you've been isekai'd into the world of Jujutsu Kaisen. Although your first instinct is to stay away from the plot, you've been blessed with an abnormal amount of cursed energy, and for better or worse, you find yourself sucked into the storyline. You decide that you may as well use your newfound powers for the greater good, and if you're lucky, you might succeed in rewriting some of the characters' fates. But it turns out that your presence in this world is an even bigger deal than you first thought, and soon, everyone wants to make you theirs.

story masterlist | next

What the actual fuck.

You blink, absolutely dumbfounded. There’s some kind of grotesque, insect-like creature in front of you, buzzing obnoxiously as it flaps its wings. It bears the appearance of a fly, at least somewhat, but it’s much bigger than a normal fly, and its face looks like it came straight out of a low-budget horror movie. 

The point is, it’s not normal. It's not the kind of thing you’ve ever seen before. At the very least, not in real life. 

And yet, you’re the only one who seems to notice it.

“...I keep telling you, it’s weird,” a girl mumbles, scratching her neck impatiently. “I can’t get rid of it. There’s this chill that follows me around no matter where I go, and my shoulders feel weirdly heavy lately. I even went to a chiropractor to see if it would help. I feel so gross these days.” 

The fly-like creature is hovering closely above the girl, a disturbing smile plastered across its already unattractive face. It’s literally right next to her, and not only her, but the other girls that are gathered around. They’re all just talking like nothing’s even going on. Completely blind to the abnormal presence that lurks nearby. 

You’re the only one who can see that yucky-looking thing. How does that make any sense? How is it even possible for something like that to exist in real life? 

Actually… where are you right now? 

Once again, you blink. Something utterly strange is happening. The last thing you remember is going to bed, in your perfectly ordinary bedroom, so how in the world did you wake up in the middle of what appears to be a field? 

You’re at a school, by the looks of things. But certainly not the school you’re used to attending. It seems like you’re even wearing some unfamiliar uniform, and it would make sense for this to be a dream, but by all accounts, it’s way too realistic. 

Pinching your cheek doesn’t help. The scenery refuses to change, and sure enough, the creature is still hanging above that girl. It even lets out a shrill, high-pitched laugh (which she of course doesn’t hear), almost as if it’s taunting her.

You’re not sure what you should be doing right now. This is all one hell of a mindfuck, if you’re being honest. But that creature can’t be good news, and even though you’re admittedly pretty scared, it seems like you’re the only one who can see it. You’re the only one who even realizes it’s here. 

Swallowing your apprehension, you take a deep breath and approach. 

“Excuse me…?”

You call out to the group of girls. There’s no easy way to break this to them. How do you bring up the fact that there’s some weird creature in the vicinity? If they can’t see it, there’s no reason they’ll even believe you. They’ll probably just think you’re crazy or something. 

As it so happens, though, you aren’t required to recount some absurd, seemingly nonsensical tale. 

You’ve barely taken two steps forward when all of a sudden, the creature sharply turns its head in your direction. 

And then it screams. 

Just like its laugh, the sound is high-pitched and wholly unpleasant. You’re not even sure what prompted that kind of reaction, since it seemed pretty chill up until this point, but now, it’s trembling like a leaf in the wind. 

You’re worried that you might have triggered it somehow, and that it’s going to attack you, but that doesn’t happen either. It turns out that the scream it just let out wasn’t one of aggression, but rather, fear. 

So, it flies off before you can get any closer, and the girl who was complaining until just a few moments ago suddenly blinks, expression brightening.

“Whoa, wait,” she mumbles in disbelief. “It’s… it’s gone. I think I feel better now. No way. It’s actually gone! I thought it would never end!”

“Are you sure it wasn’t just all in your head?” one of the other girls frowns, visibly unconvinced. She then turns towards you. “Oh. Sorry, were you talking to us just now? I didn’t really hear what you said.” 

“Uh.” 

You’re not sure what to say. The whole reason you came over was so you could warn them about that weird creature, but it disappeared in the blink of an eye. It screamed right as it saw your face—which is kind of offensive, honestly—and then it flew off like no one’s business. 

A bit hesitant, you try asking, “Sorry if this sounds weird, but where are we right now?” 

Now it’s their turn to look dumbfounded. You can only imagine how visceral their reaction would have been if you’d actually brought up the weird fly creature. 

“What do you mean where are we? We’re… at school, where else?” 

The girl gestures all around her, as if it should be obvious. Granted, you deduced as much, but that wasn’t really what you were asking. All of this is just so ridiculous. How in the world does a person manage to go to sleep in their own room and wake up someplace they’ve never been before?

The group decides to walk away, probably because you weirded them out with your stupid question, and you can even hear them whispering amongst themselves. 

“Why’d she even ask that all of a sudden…?” 

“I don’t know. She transferred here just recently, right? Maybe she’s still getting used to things. It was kind of weird, though.” 

They keep talking about it as they leave, probably not realizing you can still hear them. Whatever. You’ve got bigger fish to fry right now. As things stand, you woke up god-knows-where, and you just saw some freakish creature a second ago, so you’re starting to worry that you might be going insane. 

The only explanation is that this has to be some kind of dream. A lucid dream, perhaps? That’s what they call these kinds of things, right?

This is way too freaky, though. Can I make myself wake up? I really don’t like this. It gives me the creeps. 

You desperately try to force yourself awake, but regretfully, it doesn’t work. And you’re not even given much time to speculate on the issue any further. 

A soccer ball comes flying at you and hits you right in the face.

It hurts. It hurts like fucking hell. In fact, it hurts so much that you’re knocked flat onto your back, groaning as you cradle your poor nose, which feels like it’s just been split open. 

“...holy shit, are you okay?!” 

You can hear a student running towards you, but since you’re lying on your back convinced you’re about to die, you don’t pay it much mind. The immense amount of pain you’re feeling is absurd. Even for a lucid dream, isn’t this too much?

However, things are only about to get weirder. 

Like way, way weirder. 

“I’m so sorry!” the same student apologizes. It’s a boy, by the sounds of it, and you hear him drop to his knees beside you. “I swear I wasn’t even trying to kick the ball that hard! I barely even used any force!”

From afar, another student chimes in. “Even when you hold back, you’re way too strong, Itadori! Is she dead? You killed her, didn’t you?”

Did he just say… Itadori? 

For just a moment, the pain subsides, and clarity overtakes your features. You manage to squint your eyes open and find a boy staring down at you. A boy with bright brown eyes, and spiky pink hair styled in an undercut. 

A boy that you’ve most definitely seen before. 

Your jaw drops open. There’s just no way. This is… Itadori Yuji? The protagonist of Jujutsu Kaisen? A fictional series, which, by definition, means he doesn’t actually exist? 

Yet here he is, fussing over you and looking immeasurably guilty for having just kicked a soccer ball in your face. And even though you keep trying to tell yourself that this is a dream, it’s getting harder and harder to deny. The sensations you feel—the pain, the confusion, and the excited fluttering in your chest—are impossible to ignore.

It all makes sense now. That weird creature you saw earlier was a cursed spirit. That explains why those girls didn’t even notice it. Ordinary humans normally can’t perceive curses. Most of the time, they’re completely unaware of their existence.

You realize how utterly absurd this is. People don’t just wake up and find themselves sucked into their favorite anime. No matter how badly some fans might wish for it, this kind of thing just doesn’t happen.

Or at least, it’s not supposed to.

“Wait, your—your nose is bleeding!” Itadori exclaims. “I need to get you to the infirmary! Can you walk? Or should I carry you?” 

He appears frantic, which of course he is, since he’s a good guy. He’s the kind of guy who always cares about others. A guy with a big heart, a friendly demeanor, and a penchant for justice. Truly, the perfect protagonist. 

…so, is this seriously happening right now?

“I-I’m fine,” you try to insist. “I just… need a moment. And then I’ll be okay.” 

Itadori seems entirely unconvinced, so you suspect your nose is probably bleeding even more than you fear. Right now, you honestly couldn’t care less, though. Your heart is pounding relentlessly. The excitement and awe you feel can’t even be put into words.

“I’ll take you to the infirmary,” Itadori says again. He resists the urge to outright pick you up into his arms, and after a moment’s pause, he offers you his hand instead. “Here. Try standing up. If not, I’ll carry you there, okay?” 

It’s difficult just to form a response. You’re overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of his presence. The fact that you’re face to face with someone you never thought you’d be able to see in person, let alone speak to. 

But even if it seems hard to believe, even if it makes you want to question your sanity, this is real. This is actually happening. 

And so, you take his hand—changing the course of your life as you know it. 

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[littleemissperfecttt]

Who kissed F/n!? Wait... We are moving in together!??

Summary: You are a very beautiful girl who was forced to marry not one, not two but FIVE men in order to preserve your clans bloodline. How will the marriage workout? Will the five men get along? Will you have a happy life with them?

<<Previous Series Masterlist Next>>

Chapter 1

The kiss was rough. The person slid his tongue inside my mouth exploring every inch inside. I tried pushing him away but he just grabbed my arm and pinned it above my head

While his other hand was exploring the curves of my body, he groped my ass making me gasp

Fuck i was already wet and he didn't even do anything. Tho i didn't know who it was I knew it was one of the hot men sitting here waiting for me. Fuck these hot men and my hormones. I was so touch starved and my wettness was the result of the slightest touch

Mentally I wanted the earth to open up and swallow me right there before i could do anything the person was pulled off of me

I opened my eyes and looked at the person... It was sukuna who had pounced at me and toji and geto were the ones who pushed him off of me

"What the fuck are you doing??" Toji yelled

"She's supposed to be my wife I wanted to taste her what's your issue??" Sukuna replied

"Sorry to tell you this buddy but she's going to be our wife too" Geto said irritated

Sukuna just 'tsked' and looked away

"Aye~~ you took her first kiss from us" Gojo whines

"She's right here be respectful guys!" Nanami said obviously irritated

Someone grabbed my hand and kissed my knuckles "sorry about them I am toji"

I blushed slightly "I am f/n" I smiled

"You are really pretty" Gojo said leaning forward scanning my face "oh I am Gojo Satoru!!" He was excited

"I am Geto Suguru" he smiled

"Nanami kento"

"Tch Ryomen Sukuna" he looked away

"Well umm nice to meet you all" backing up a bit "why don't we sit??" I pulled my hand from toji and walked to sit on the couch feeling uncomfortable because of the incident and their sharp gaze at me. I gulped before I sat cool and composed

They glared at eachother but gojo and geto were fast. They sandwiched me in between them. The other three glared at them but settled a minute later

"This is really awkward.." i said looking down and rubbed my arm

"We know and we are going to work on this" Toji said. I was surprised he was the one who said it and not nanami who looked more gentlemenly and respectful than him

"I know it will take a lot of time for both you and us to get used to this adjustment but we can work it out... If you want to tho..." Nanami said

"Yes I want to work things out before anything happens" I looked down remembering my mother's words

-

F/n marriage is sacred. Do you know why?? It's because two souls meet each other not just for heirs for their feelings as well. They accept each other as they are and correct each other when one does wrong. You will find out when you get married honey but I need you to know this... Communication is important for any relationship to prevail remember that my sweet girl

-

I looked down composing my feelings

"It's overwhelming for all of us especially you since we found out they didn't let you breathe for a second after what happened" Geto said trying not to mention the massacar

I nodded my head "I would like some time it's has been pretty emotional and the higher ups have not let me feel my feelings" i confessed

Toji nodded his head at me

"F/n-chan~~ i want to tell you that we can't postpone the wedding the higher ups are really eager on this but we can work on these things after marriage too.... So to get a start on this new life i bought a mansion where we can all Live together!!" Gojo's voice went from serious to cheerful in seconds

Nanami sighed "we can work this out.. and for the first time I agree with gojo let's live together so we can see how our future looks like"

"I agree with Gojo too" i smiled "i look forward to getting to know all of you"

"Don't get so excited little bird" it was sukuna "you have to make sure you treat all of us equally in all the matters"

Though he was rude but he was right I had to make sure i treated all of them equally no biasness no favouritism it's going to be tough

"Don't look like that we haven't even started anything yet" toji smirked

I rolled my eyes and looked at Gojo "my things are already packed I can go to your mansion today and stay the night"

It was not the excitement that made me say that but the fear of staying at the hotel. Many clans were going to send their men at me to.... Let's not think about that...

"Oh~ then let's all move in today" gojo said excitedly I smiled at him and excused myself out

I sighed leaving them in the room this is going to be a joy ride

The men pov-

The girl was really really pretty in their eyes and strong too. They could feel her cursed energy and knew how strong she was

"She's strong" it was Sukuna that broke the silence "even with the kind face she puts out she's strong"

All of them nodded in agreement

Toji glared at sukuna "you shouldn't have pounced on her like a prey you moron!!"

Sukuna rolled his eyes "we were all picked to make heirs and i thought she was thinking the same too so i pounced on her I don't regret it though her curves were wild"

Everyone else gritted their teeth "you are not pouncing on her till she's comfortable okay??" Geto glared at him

"And why is that??"

"Because shes going through so much already and you will just make it worse. I hate the fact that the higher ups objectified her so much"

"Me too i hated it, poor girl lost her entire clan two weeks ago and now this" Gojo was serious this time

Sukuna was excited to touch you again while the other men were jealous that he got to do such a thing

They knew doing it would be wrong but they wanted to taste you anyway just as sukuna had done

F/n pov-

A day later...

I moved all of my stuff to gojo's/our future mansion after I met them. I was kind of relieved that I was getting my own room

I am now sitting on my bed processing all the stuff that has happened in the past week

My clans slaughter

Me losing my family

My father sacrificing himself

The higher ups demand

My marriage to 5 men... Very attractive men

All of this was so crazy and I didn't have anyone to talk to which makes me feel so lonely. I wish my mother was here with me to tell me i was going to be okay, that everything will be alright...

I sighed and wiped the tears that were falling and looked around. My room was huge it was a whole apartment on its own with a huge closet filled with different clothes and a very huge bathroom. The bathtub was like a hotspring

Gojo Satoru was very rich and wanted to show me this was nothing for his range

I was minding my own business sitting in the bay window of my room looking outside when someone knocked the door

"Come in"

I looked at the door waiting for the person to get in. Nanami opened the door and walked towards me

"Hey..." I smiled

"Hi..." He had his sotic expression now a little more serious than usual

"Come sit down" I patted a seat next to me

He hesitantly sat down next to me

"You needed something from me??"

"I wanted to know how you truly felt about this....arrangement" he asked

"Oh umm i don't know what to say"

"You can be truthful to me (f/n)"

"I am terrified..." I looked down fidgeting my fingers "i never thought I would get married this early... I didn't even get the chance to say no to it the higher ups decided everything on their own..." Nanami didn't say anything but nodded understanding

"What about us?? How do you feel about us??" He asked

"I am scared I guess especially since sukuna kissed me even without knowing my name or asking my permission" I sighed "i didn't think I would ever get married because of giving someone a heir. My mother told me that marriage is not only about sex or heir it's about two souls finding each other and loving each other's flaws i have always wanted a marriage like that...Now I don't think it's possible" i looked out the window

"Why do you think it's not possible?? I know you are getting married to 5 men but trust me we will try our best to make you feel safe and at home... It will take time of course, not everything comes our way immediately just because we asked for it" he continued "as for sukuna he has understood his mistake i know he won't say it in words but he WILL make sure you are safe and comfortable here"

Tears ran down my face this is the talk i have been waiting for with all the 5 of them now since nanami has told me what they all think I can never be more happier. I sniffled "Thank you for telling me that... I wanted this place to feel like home... A home can't be built without me feeling safe here thank you for making me feel safe" i hugged him slightly unsure if he would hug me back

To my surprise he did hug me back "of course i would tell you that, a husbands duty is to make sure you feel safe and comfortable wherever you are i am sure the other four would do the same even if it isn't with words" he smiled "i will leave you to whatever you are doing... We are preparing lunch, join us later"

He kissed my cheek softly and walked out giving me privacy

Nanami pov-

As soon as I got out of f/n's room I caught the other 4 men who were obviously eavesdropping our conversation. I raised my eyebrows at them, they all looked at sukuna

"Tch fine it was my fault she felt unsafe as i said before i didn't know she was like this. I thought she was a power hungry whore like any other women" sukuna said not meeting anyone's eyes

"Me too i thought she was a whore as well since she didn't protest against the higher ups" geto said

"Of course she wouldn't have said anything her clan was just slaughtered and they used her in this weak emotional state to say yes to this arrangement" toji said and we all nodded knowing he was right

"So who wants to cook~~ me and suguru can't~~ if we do the whole kitchen will be on fire" gojo sang

All of us looked at each other and knew one thing we didn't know how to cook

"let's order something then" geto said and we all nodded in agreement

"I will go ask what f/n-chan wants to have" gojo ran inside the room without knocking "this idiot" toji said and geto followed along gojo and entered the room

It was an awkward silence "we all should talk shouldn't we?? With her I mean" toji asked, me and sukuna nodded

"Let's go to the dining room and sit" i suggested they agreed so we went down to the dining room and sat

We talked about our mission and how much we hate the higher ups

Gojo pov-

As soon as geto said we should order something I knew I wanted to talk to f/n because I have never talked to her obviously the waiting room didn't count

So i told them i would ask her what she wanted and entered her room. She was sitting by the bay window writing something in a book which I presume to be her journal

"F/n-chan~~" i sat next to her as suguru entered the room as well. He approached us and sat beside me facing her

"We are ordering food what do you want to eat??" I asked her

She gave me a smile "i would like some burrito Gojo-san"

I gasped dramatically "Gojo-san?? F/n chan you can call me Satoru! You don't have to be this formal with me"

"Yes, you can call me Suguru too we want to make sure you feel comfortable here since this is what our lives are going to be" Suguru smiled at her

"sure Ge-Suguru and Satoru"

Her voice was soft and soothing I felt as though I could listen to her talk all day long "okay we will order you your burrito come join us in the dining room!! The other three are there as well" I said smiling

"sure I will" she smiled and stood up waiting for us to go with her

(Timeskip brought to you by a very tired author)

F/n pov-

The lunch was pretty awkward I could feel all their eyes on me watching my every move. Toji reassured me that no one would do anything without my permission even after marriage and that we will be working on our communication skills

Sukuna gave me his meal i think this was his way of apologizing he didn't know how to use his words so he gave me something of his

Right now I am heating our dinner. Nanami went to his office while toji and sukuna were practicing their combat skills on one another in the combat yard

I felt someone back hug me which made me flinch "it's me f/n-chan~~" Satoru sang which made me giggle

It was his way of appreciating me. Physical touch was his love language

He put his head on my head observing what I was doing while suguru leaned against the counter

Satoru started rubbing his hands on my waist after I didn't protest he put it inside of the shirt I was wearing rubbing my skin

To be shameless I liked this feeling so i leaned back- closer to him. I turned the stove off and turned to him

"Satoru...."

"I know we said we wouldn't do anything to you... But i-we want to make you feel good.." Satoru said

I felt his very hard bulge pressing my thigh

"We won't fuck... We will just make you feel good f/n" suguru said

Masterlist Next Chapter>>

[yuwuta]

bunny megumi except he’s bratty and annoying and he knows it and he likes it and somehow he ends up being the one to put a collar on you, leopard yuuta who’s normally anxious around people but he just melts into your touch and moves with a surprising amount of confidence and fluidity when he fucks you, puppy yuuji except he’s not really puppy because he lift probably four times his weight and throws you around like it’s nothing and he’s actually a little scary on the wrong days, but he definitely does bark. snow leopard satoru who knows he’s pretty and rare and people love him but it sounds sooo much better when he gets you to tell him that he’s pretty and you love him and wanna keep him, and back to megumi because while i’m here i have to mention wolf megumi and for the longest time you swear he’s a cat or a lynx hybrid because he’s sly like one and he preens and prods around you like one, but it definitely shows in the way he likes to bite and scent you and call you his mate when he’s about to cum. or whatever. if you even care

[missmilkie]

JJK Various x fem!Reader

You can tell I’ve been watching too much of The Apothecary Diaries…

wc: 900

Being the daughter of the emperor wasn’t supposed to mean much. It didn’t matter that you were his firstborn, you were still female. As soon as a boy was born, he would be named the heir. And if the emperor failed to produce a male child before his death, then his surviving younger brother would take up the mantle of emperor. Except that’s not what happened.

Your uncle, the emperor’s brother, fell ill and died after several months of treatment. In that time, one of the emperor’s consorts finally gave birth to a male child. He wouldn’t live past the age of three.

So when your father died, he had no son and no brother to inherit the crown. Instead of him naming a high ranking official to be his successor, he decreed that you would be the next emperor. You were his favorite daughter, born to his favorite consort, the empress. In a lot of ways you were much like your father, well versed in the theatre of politics, highly educated, and levelheaded. It wasn’t a bad move to put you in charge. Your father believed you capable of running an empire. But you were still a woman. You were allowed to become the emperor on one condition: that you produced a male heir to take your place as soon as he was of age.

Now, you never expected to become emperor, nor did you really want to. But it was your father’s dying wish. He was good to you, treated you as an equal. Surely you could run the empire for a few decades.

Immediately after your coronation, you were presented with options for the imperial harem. Important families were nominating their sons to father the next emperor. You had to choose carefully.

Satoru Gojo, the gorgeous heir to House Gojo. His family was powerful and a big supporter of you becoming emperor, so you had to thank them. Satoru had the attitude of a consort, he was beautiful and a little dramatic.

Suguru Geto was an official who climbed the social ladder. He was known to be incredibly brilliant. Suguru knew how to maintain balance, which would be important for a harem.

Kento Nanami, another official not from any prominent family. He’s also quite talented, and would make a good advisor.

Choso Kamo from House Kamo was a political move. He was said to be beautiful as well, but he didn’t have much ambition.

Ryomen Sukuna was an incredible warrior. He’d earned many merits through battle, so making him a consort was fitting.

And Toji Zenin was from House Zenin. He wasn’t from the main branch like his cousin, Naoya. You just knew Naoya was a massive prick and Toji’s older brother was already married, so you had to choose him.

The six men moved into the palace, each having their own separate areas. You made a schedule to visit one a day every day of the week except one day. That was your you time.

You approached Satoru’s quarters wearing fine purple clothes.

“I’m so glad you came, Emperor~”

“Are these quarters satisfactory? Do let me know if you need anything.”

“Yes, I’m quite comfortable~”

His charm was undeniable. That night you only played chess with him and had tea. Satoru was skilled in strategy games.

You visited Choso in deep red.

“You look beautiful, Emperor.” Choso blushed, a pretty sight with his pale complexion.

“Thank you. You’re every bit as handsome as they say you are.”

You chatted with Choso over tea. Despite his antisocial attitude he was skilled in the art of conversation.

Indigo was the color you wore to see Toji.

“Good evening.” His voice was gruff.

“Is everything to your liking?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Let me know if you need anything.”

Toji was a bit harder to talk to until one of his attendants suggested you dance while he plays an instrument. Toji was known for being a skilled dancer.

Once you’d visited the consorts from the big three families, you met the other three. Sukuna also had a good attitude for a consort. He would’ve got down to business right away, but you just wanted to have dinner with him. You had requested his favorite foods be prepared.

Suguru had a beautiful face and gorgeous long hair, but the body of a warrior. You asked him to play instruments for you when you visited him, and he happily obliged. He was a good choice for the harem, he knew how to act.

Finally you met Kento. You spent your visit chatting over a few drinks. He was a reasonable, rational man. Another good call on your part.

You spent the first two or three months just trying to get to know your consorts. While they were there for the purpose of producing heirs, you still wanted them to be treated well and enjoy themselves.

The consorts were also able to interact with each other. Satoru and Suguru were quick friends, while Sukuna and Toji butt heads with Satoru.

You had been the emperor for four months and still showed no signs of pregnancy. Your council didn’t know you hadn’t touched any of the consorts. They suspected it as you never spent a night with any of the men. You figured you might as well start trying. Being emperor was a lot, this was your way to get it over with. But were you really ready to have a baby?

[cheeby]

The weight of what comes next

read chapter 1 here

content: a multi-part isekai story. reader is aware of the plot, and every minor character is aged up. Jujutsu high is now the University of Jujutsu.

18+, eventual smut

Chapter 2-

“You’re coming with me.” He states plainly, leaving no room for argument.

“With you? What? No!” You blurt. You know exactly where he plans to take you, Jujutsu High. You’re too old to be stuck in high school again, and the thought of learning alongside a bunch of 15 year olds? Mortifying! Plus, you didn't actually intend to get involved with the plot of Jujutsu Kaisen. You’ve seen the show. You don’t want to die! You were sort of just banking on the hope that you’d stay out of trouble until you somehow… made your way back into your own world?

But Nanami’s tone is unyielding, and you know that this gorgeous hunk of a man always gets his way. Wait, gorgeous hunk of a man? Who thinks like that? Stop being so weird! Focus! “Like I said earlier, it’s not safe for you here.” Nanami says, his voice softening, but still remaining quite firm. “If you come with me, I can ensure you’ll be protected against those curses you’ve been seeing. If not, out here, its a free-for-all. If someone worse than me comes along, I can’t guarantee they won’t drag you along with them regardless.”

You hesitate. There’s not much you can do, admittedly. What other choice do you really have? You know you’d be earning some sort of money, working on missions at Jujutsu High, but seriously... you’re too old for high school again. Those were easily the worst years of your life, and you don’t want to relive even a moment of it, whether or not you'd be studying with the plebs from your old high school. But, you also know you can't let much on about knowing about Jujutsu High... You sigh, resigning yourself to fate.

“Okay, fine..” You mutter, casting your gaze away from Nanami, staring at the ground like a scolded child. Nanami nods curtly, before taking a step back and making a call to someone, ordering a car to your location. After hanging up, he turns to you. “What’s your name?” He asks. Oh, right. You haven't even introduced yourself! “Oh! My name is (Y/N) (L/N)!” You say quickly, feeling a blush creeping up to your ears. He nods, studying you. “Well then, (L/N), thank you for trusting me. A car will be here shortly, to take you somewhere where you'll be kept safe.” He says. “I'm Nanami Kento, a grade 1 sorcerer.” He says, a hint of pride in his voice with the last part.

“Oh, uh, you don’t have to call me (L/N),” you try explaining, waving your hands. You’re not originally from Japan, and in your home country its uncommon to be called by your last name, so you’re not used to it. “You can just call me (Y/N)!” You insist.

He raises a brow. “Not from Japan, huh?” He quietly remarks, before nodding. “Alright, (Y/N) then.” Before either of you can say much more, a sleek black sedan pulls into the street you’re waiting on. You squint. Is that.. Ijichi? It is! Wow, he looks exactly like he does in the anime! Whereas Nanami looks impossibly better in real life, Ijichi… well he’s just Ijichi. Nanami opens the back door for you. You slide in, and he closes the door before returning to the front of the car to sit in the passenger seat. The drive to Jujutsu High is fairly quiet, save for Nanami and Ijichi talking amongst themselves occasionally. They don’t even try to hide the fact they’re talking about you. Meanwhile, you’re glued to the window, drinking in the sights of Tokyo in front of you. You’ve never been before, being a broke university student, but you’ve always wanted to. Everything seems sleek and modern, and even though you live in a major city for university, Tokyo just seems even bigger, and more shiny. You watch as the scenery changes from high glass clad skyscrapers to dense viridian forestry. Eventually, you pull into what you think is the grounds of Jujutsu High. There are large ancient looking temple buildings surrounding you, and your excitement turns into awe. The architecture is totally neat!

The car pulls stops in front of a sprawling, temple-like building. Nanami gets out first, and opens your door, ever the gentleman. “Well, (Y/N), welcome to the University of Jujutsu.” He says, gesturing ahead. University of Jujutsu? Huh? You were 100% sure in the anime it was a high school… unless this building is something else? No, it couldn’t possibly be, it looked exactly like what Jujutsu High did in the anime… this stuff was really messing with your head now. Pulling yourself out of your thoughts, you get out of the car and look ahead at the building in front of you.

You feel a sudden gust of wind, and standing before you now is a familiar white haired man with a blindfold on. His smile feels almost too wide to be genuine.

“Woah, Nanami, you’re right— She is totally weird!” The white haired man exclaims. But you can barely register what he’s saying. GOJO?! The Satoru Gojo is standing in front of you, in the flesh? All 6’3 of him? There’s no way! “Go- I mean, its nice to meet you!” You blabber, catching yourself before you say his name. This seems to be a theme, you think. “I’m (Y/N) (L/N), but please just call me (Y/N)!” You say, reaching a hand out stupidly.

He makes a point of tilting his head down—to look?— at your hand, before taking it in his own and shaking it. “Satoru Gojo. But you already seem to know that, hm?” His grin is positively Cheshire-like. Your eyes widen. “Y-yes! Nanami mentioned you in the car..” You lie hastily. You weren’t actually sure if Nanami had said anything about Gojo, you were too busy staring at his chiselled face to pay attention, but he probably did… right? Nanami grunts in affirmation, confirming your statement. Phew! That was close.

Gojo hums in reply, not totally convinced, but choosing to let it slide. “Sooo, a little birdie told me you’ve been causing quite the stir.” What? Quite the stir? Not really, you think. It was really just one cursed spirit lunging at you.. but whatever. You stay silent, letting him continue.

“I wouldn’t say that,” Nanami interjects. “But I began tailing her after running into her for the first time. Then, a cursed spirit attacked her, but she dodged with.. inhumane speed. She claims not to know about cursed energy, but no ordinary human moves like that. And surely, you can see that energy radiating off of her?”

Gojo tilts his head, playful smile faltering and being replaced by a more serious expression. It suits him, you think, in your fangirl daze.

“Nanami, come with me. You,” He says, then turning to face you. "Ijichi will take you inside.” 

Before you can protest, Ijichi steps out of the car, gesturing politely at you to follow him. You glance back at Gojo and Nanami as they walk off, feeling like you’re about to be thrust into something far bigger than you ever wanted to be a part of.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Gojo leads Nanami into an empty room and closes the door behind them. Turning to Nanami, he speaks in a low voice. “No, I can’t.. see her energy.” He admits, quietly.

Nanami’s face pales. “What? That can't be possible.” Gojo nods, frowning. “No, seriously. I can absolutely feel her energy, its thick, and foggy, almost. But I can't see it. She looks as if she’s got absolutely no cursed energy whatsoever. I can’t make sense of it.”

“Is it possible she’s concealing it?” Nanami asks.

“Maybe.” Gojo replies, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “And if that’s the case, she’s incredibly powerful, and knows a lot more than what she’s letting on. We couldn’t afford to let her slip through our fingers. Buuut…” He trails off, his lips curling into a small smirk. “She doesn’t strike me as cunning enough for that. At least, not yet. Still, no way of knowing for sure.” 

Nanami sighs, crossing his arms. “She seems about Fushiguro’s age. Should we enrol her?”

Gojo tilts his head, considering.

“It’s risky. If she does turn out to be dangerous, Megumi could be in some serious danger. Not that he can't handle himself, but the boy is an idiot sometimes.” Gojo chuckles. “But, it seems like the best idea. We can't just babysit her all the time, and at least if she’s in the school, Yaga will also be able to keep an eye on her.” “And the higher-ups?” Nanami asks, his tone cautious. “Absolutely not.” Gojo’s grin returns. “They’ll lose their minds if they become aware of her. Her energy isn’t like anything I’ve ever felt, and that’s bound to scare those old fucks.” He snickers. Nanami nods, reluctantly agreeing. “We’ll pitch it to Yaga, then. He’d obviously want some sort of interview with her though, which is tricky. So far, I think she’s just got… good reflexes?”

“Hm…” Gojo hums thoughtfully. “Well, her energy signature speaks for itself. I’m sure Yaga will get it, when he sees it for himself.”

∘₊✧─────���✧₊∘

Meanwhile, Ijichi leads you to a large room with plush sofas. You take a seat, unsure if you should say anything to him. You decide not to, in the end. Ijichi similarly doesn’t say anything to you, and the silence stretches uncomfortably. You feel too awkward to pull out your phone—it seems rude— so you’re left with nothing but your thoughts and boredom.

Finally, after what feels like forever, Nanami and Gojo return. Gojo claps his hands together, with that signature grin back on his face. “Good news, kid!” He exclaims, grinning like a kid. “You’re being admitted to our university!”

“What?” You sputter, at a loss for words. You didnt want to stay here! Sure, you enjoyed jujutsu kaisen as an anime, all the guys were hot, and the plot was cool and every fight scene was totally badass. But you knew you weren’t cut out for this. Being a sorcerer? You get winded walking up one flight of stairs!

“It’s the best possible outcome.” Nanami says, in that resolute tone of his. “You’ll attend an interview shortly, but we’ve already sorted it all out, you’ll be enrolled for certain here. There’s currently.. only one other first year student, but we anticipate more students that will join as the year goes on.” He says. Your eyes widen. Is he talking about.. Megumi? Wait, so does this mean that he’s your age here? Before you can ask anything, Gojo grabs your arm and whisks you away. You manage to wave goodbye at Ijichi and Nanami. Gojo leads you through a maze of corridors before stopping in front of two large ornate doors.

“The interview room. Or, technically, just principal Yaga’s office.” He grins at you. “Just remember kid, be yourself!” and with that, he pushes open the doors and ushers you inside. You blink, adjusting to the darkness in here. You see Yaga, sitting at the far end of the room, surrounded by his puppets. He doesn’t even look up, just continuing on his current project, making a cute pink bunny.

“You’re right, Gojo. Her cursed energy is something completely else.” Yaga says, his voice gruff. Finally, he looks up to meet your gaze. “Principal Yaga,” He introduces himself. “Nice to meet you, (Y/N).”

You open and close your mouth, stupidly. It figures that he would already know your name, if Gojo’s mentioned you. “You’ve had no prior training as a sorcerer?” He asks.

You shake your head quickly. “No, sir.” “How long have you been able to see curses?” He presses.

“Uh… only recently, honestly.” You decide to tell the truth. You had literally started seeing them today, but saying that feels like a bad idea, so you leave it vague.

Yaga nods thoughtfully. “Usually, there is an initiation battle for new students, but as far as I’m aware, you don’t know how to properly activate your cursed technique or manipulate your cursed energy, correct?” He asks.

“Yes, sir, I think so.” you reply nervously.

Yaga studies you for a moment, then nods.

“No matter, we’ll help you. Welcome to the University of Jujutsu. You’ll be starting lessons on Monday. You will stay in the dormitories, and Gojo will brief you on the rest of the things you’ll need to know.”

“Thank you, Principal Yaga!” You manage.

Yaga dismisses you with a wave, and you exit the room with Gojo, who’s been uncharacteristically quiet. He looks deep in thought. “Well,” he finally mutters. “that was the quickest and most underwhelming interview ever.”

He shakes his head. "I'll show you to your room. There's currently only one other first-year student, like Nanami said earlier. Your room will be next to his."

As Gojo leads you through the corridors once more, you hear the sound of footsteps echoing down the hallway you’re in. Gojo glances over his shoulder, a grin forming on his face. “Oh, speak of the devil. Here’s that fellow first-year buddy,” Gojo chuckles. “Megumi! C’mon over!”

¤━━━¤°¤━━━¤°¤━━━¤°¤━━━¤

Thank you for reading! i'll be updating every wednesday. this chapter was a lil slow paced i admit, but only to add in a solid structure so the future chapters make more sense. see you next week!

[nanamineedstherapy]

Third Wheeling Your Own Marriage

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

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. Chapter Summary: You’re a tech trillionaire, seven months pregnant, and stuck in a poly marriage with two emotionally stunted sorcerers—one of whom bakes stress mochi and the other files legal threats like love letters. You just wanted a family. What you got instead was Vogue, trauma-induced threesomes, a raccoon with Dior contracts, and men who learn about perineal tearing at 2 AM. A/N: ✨ You ever wanted to be pregnant with twins after a hysterectomy while also dodging Anna Wintour, managing a trillion-dollar empire, and navigating your husbands’ emotional affair with each other? Yeah, me neither. But the story wanted it. Expect chaotic slow burns, serious emotional reparations, hyper-specific domestic rituals, unfiltered girl group chats, sexy but sad kitchen scenes, and Keji the butler who probably has an MI6 file. Thank you for reading. Please scream in the comments like you're being emotionally waterboarded by Nanami’s voice and Gojo’s TikTok crimes.Tags: Soft!Gojo, DILF!Nanami, Crack Treated Seriously, Found Family But They're The Ones Who Need Finding, Soft Horror, Late-Stage Capitalism Wives, Trillionaire Wife AU, Special Grade Parenting Simulator, Canon Typical Gojo Satoru Delusions, Nanami Kento is So Tired Please Let Him Rest, Post-Hysterectomy Pregnancy, Cursed Pregnancy (Literally), Feral Albino Raccoon Content, Vogue Feature, Fashion as Warfare, Stress Baking, Baby Monitor Angst, Domestic Violence (Emotional, Not Physical).

Previous Chapter 21 (alt ending 2.12) - What the Living Do - Part 2 - (Tumblr/Ao3)

Chapter 22 (alt ending 2.13) - Things Broken Are Still Yours - Part 1

Threatening Anna Wintour (Mixed POVs)

Vogue Tokyo, penthouse suite.

It smelled like eucalyptus, high-budget anxiety, and the ghost of someone who wore Tom Ford Noir de Noir in the elevator but didn’t survive the meeting.

Anna Wintour didn’t come to people. But she’d come to you.

They’d transported you like a biohazard asset—elegantly. Not a wheelchair. That would photograph poorly if someone breached security. You were reclined in a Scandinavian birthing lounger, the kind designed for rich Northern European women who wanted to feel everything and regret it later.

You were seven months pregnant. And nothing about your body felt yours anymore.

Anna didn’t look at you. Not at first.

She greeted Gojo Satoru like he was a charismatic cult leader meeting a failed actor who still believed in him.

Hugged Nanami Kento with one arm and no warmth—like one might greet a lawyer they’d once lost a case to.

Then she sat opposite you in that ridiculous Eero Aarnio-inspired chair—white, sculptural, and deeply unserious—her sunglasses still on, and began the polite version of We own the narrative now.

Nanami stood behind you in soft Loro Piana—a Toxic Hunter green pullover, black slacks, and leather-soled house loafers that whispered wealth. One hand rested on your chair. The other in his pocket—calm, but not idle. He was a quiet cabin in an oncoming storm. Everything about him screamed, I’m not the villain… but I’m also not here to save you.

You wore a matte black floor-length dress—long sleeves, no shape. A silent fuck-you to the maternity-core fantasy they wanted to plaster across headlines.

Gojo sat on the frog-meets-chanel-shaped chair beside you, in black Zegna pants and an Electric Sapphire Brunello hoodie that probably cost more than a Tokyo apartment. His hand rested lightly against your thigh. No jokes. No idiocy. Stillness, like he was waiting for someone to earn his violence.

Anna noticed. Of course she did. She noticed everything.

“I’m only here,” she said, crossing her legs like this was her suite and not yours, “because the investor asked. He’s expressed very specific interest in your company’s direction. And in you.”

You blinked. Once. It tracked. The same egotistical ghost your CHRO had been dodging for weeks.

This wasn’t about interest. This was power. He’d asked. The kind of ask that came with stock manipulation, press suppression, and enough shadow influence to derail stealth mergers. You hadn’t met him. You hadn’t spoken.

When he tried bypassing your CHRO, Nanami had declined the meeting six times.

Gojo had declined it seven. And threatened legal obliteration.

He’d suggested this to your CHRO. Just one sit-down. One Vogue feature. One moment of softness. No war stories. No origin trauma. Just… you.

Nanami leaned in, voice even, “Who is it?”

Anna smiled faintly. “He’s anonymous. Which is why he’s powerful. But he’s not the problem.”

Gojo looked up. Still as a blade. “Then what is?”

Anna looked at you. For the first time. Like you were both capital and contagion. “You are,” she said. “You’re the story. You disappeared mid-IPO. Rejected venture capital. Kept your life private for years. And now—this.”

Her eyes flicked to your stomach, but only for a second.

You didn’t flinch. “I’m not a phoenix. I don’t rise. I crawl.” Like Lucifer—and I bite when touched—was the part you omitted from speaking aloud.

Anna’s lips tilted. She liked that. “Your husband told me that if we frame you as unstable, he’ll make Vogue disappear.”

Gojo perked up. “He meant that literally, by the way.”

She didn’t laugh. “He also said if we imply she’s softened—he’ll leak many celebrities homes’ raw footage.”

Nanami’s hand flexed on the chair. “And if you mention this pregnancy—”

“You’ll ‘regret it.’ Yes.” She continued, sighing. “Your legal team is relentless. And correct.”

She wasn’t wrong. Between your CHRO and Higuruma, Vogue Tokyo would be litigated into a cautionary tale. Especially in Asia, where Vogue was desperate to be taken seriously. Japan had resisted them. Only India and Korea gave them partial legitimacy.

You didn’t want this. You’d said so. Clearly. Interviews at home were something you’d avoided like the bubonic plague before.

Gojo touched your hand. His palm was warm. Too warm.

You looked at him. “You’re feverish.”

He didn’t answer. Just smiled—too many teeth. Like if he blinked, he’d bleed.

Anna broke the silence. “We’ll spin it properly. But you need to fly in after a week of the interview air date. For one conversation with him. One hour. The investor has made it clear he wants it in person.”

“No,” Gojo snapped immediately.

Nanami was already shaking his head.

Your hand tightened around Gojo’s as you took a measured exhale; your ribs hurt. “I can’t fly. I’m high-risk.”

“We’ll charter the top floor of St. Teresa’s. ICU on standby. Gyno from Zurich. Midwives from Seoul. We’ve already pulled schedules.”

Nanami’s voice was low, conversational. “You’re pushing too hard and in the wrong direction. Besides, she requires specific kinds of specialists to treat her, not anything remotely related to hippie-core. You simply can’t bribe a uterus to behave.”

Anna took off her sunglasses, a sign of trust from a woman as guarded about her intentions as her. “We never said your team couldn’t accompany her. However, your wife is worth trillions. Tech, patents, AI, blockchain logistics, cross-cultural branding, medical gaming. She’s half-myth, half-corporate witch. Do you know what the investor said to me?”

You didn’t move. “What?”

“That if she walked into his boardroom, the entire stock exchange of at least seventeen nations with ultimate deterrents would follow.”

Silence. Dense. Even Takahashi, curled at your feet with a hot water bottle strapped to his belly like he too had pregnancy cramps, stilled. You kept stroking his head. For you, not him.

What did he mean by “nations with ultimate deterrents”?

Not superpowers—too broad. Not G20—too sterile. Deterrent. A boardroom euphemism, polished smooth for recording devices. But in this world, only one deterrent moves markets without saying its name.

Nuclear states.

The investor hadn’t misspoken; he’d done his research.

He’d chosen the phrase like a man laying down a card face-up, watching who flinched. Seventeen stock exchanges, each tied to a silent arsenal. And his wife was the spark that could make them follow.

Anna knew. Of course she knew. That’s why she’d said it.

Gojo’s grip tightened on your hand. Not at the threat. At the gall.

He had clocked it in, then spoke finally. “You don’t know what she’s carrying.”

His kids could alone level nations even if they weren’t strong enough yet, but Gojo knew where they would be with proper training.

It wasn’t a warning. It wasn’t even about the twins.

A distraction. They knew twins were a footnote. The real payload was the implication that she—that you—could wield nations like a currency. And Anna Wintour’s little interview? Just the actual footnote.

Anna smiled. “No. I don’t. But I suspect.”

She didn’t confirm. Just raised her wine.

Then, a folder, tapped against the table. “We run the piece next week. After the interview. The investor will be watching. So will others. If you decline—Vogue withdraws. International perception matters.”

Gojo’s grip on your hand turned bone-white.

Anna stood.

As she passed, she murmured, “You’ll be styled in obsidian mesh and digital lace. The throne’s already on set.”

Gojo stood slowly. Eyes on her back. “If she breathes near her—”

“She won’t,” Nanami said, already moving to your side. “But the investor already is.”

You were going to be eight months pregnant and airborne—against medical advice, against common sense, against the wishes of two special-grade men whose capacity for mercy shortened the more they loved you.

---

It was raining, not dramatically—just enough to make the city blur. The sort of evening where car lights smudged against windows, and even skyscrapers seemed quieter than usual. Somewhere in one of the penthouses Gojo had bought on impulse but now called home, the kind with smart glass and Scandinavian furniture you pretended to like, two men sat on a couch they’d once ruined during a particularly aggressive argument. One had removed his sunglasses. The other hadn’t taken off his shoes. Both were watching you on the baby monitor.

You were asleep, curled around a pregnancy body pillow that Gojo had dubbed “Side Piece #3,” one hand resting protectively over the rise of your belly. Even your breathing had started to sound different.

Gojo’s thumb hovered over the screen. “She sighed in her sleep again.”

Nanami didn’t look. “Was it that sigh again?”

Gojo cracked half a smile. “Yeah.”

Another silence. Not the comfortable kind. The heavy, scraping kind. 

Gojo shifted, knuckles resting against his jaw. “I read the whole group chat again.”

Nanami’s brow twitched.

“All of it.”

“Of course you did.”

Gojo’s voice dropped. “She didn’t reply to a single message.”

“No. She didn’t.”

“She was gone. Three months pregnant and gone. And we didn’t even know.”

Nanami nodded slowly, jaw tight.

There it was. Finally. The shame.

The silence sat longer this time, like a ghost refusing to be exorcised. You were right: they had emotionally cheated. You were there, in the house, in their bed. And somehow, they’d only had eyes for each other—twin suns orbiting a shared trauma neither could name aloud. Suguru had been dead for years, but after that mission, the echoes had come back louder.

Gojo had barely come home after the Parade of the Hundred Demons. Nanami knew why. He’d simply let the man into his bed. Let him bleed. Let him stay.

Nanami finally spoke. “She was there. We weren’t.”

Gojo swallowed. “She was wearing my hoodie. I didn’t even look at her. Just walked past. Like she wasn’t—”

“You were grieving.”

“So were you.”

“We grieved with each other,” Nanami said softly. “When we should have grieved with her.”

Gojo’s throat worked. “Do you think we ever made her feel like a prop? Like the soft thing we came home to when we needed comfort?”

“She was already CEO when we met her,” Nanami said. “She was never the soft thing.”

Gojo laughed. It wasn’t happy. “She cried over melted ice cream last week. I had to bribe a 24-hour store to make a delivery.”

“She said my name in her sleep last night.”

“She said mine two days ago.”

They looked at each other.

“Do you think she has a favorite?” Gojo thought aloud.

“If you ask her,” Nanami murmured, “you’ll die.”

Gojo leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees, as if that could hold him up. “Kento, I keep thinking about that picture.”

Nanami frowned. “What picture?”

“From week one,” Gojo said. “You took that blurry one of her asleep with her hand on the bump. I keep going back to it. That’s when it started. The forgetting.”

Nanami closed his eyes. “You’re wrong. It started before that. We just didn’t see it.”

They sat in it for a long time—the rot they’d let spread through the foundation. What started as space turned to absence. What started as unspoken grief became willful blindness. You had carried their children alone for months while they built a shrine of guilt around each other.

“I miss flirting with you,” Gojo said suddenly.

Nanami looked at him, trying to understand what he meant.

“Proper flirting. Like when we’d argue over who gets to take her out on Fridays and then kiss behind her back.”

“She always knew.”

Gojo smirked. “Of course. She tracked our locations for sport.”

A flicker of something lighter passed between them.

“You think she still thinks about leaving?”

“She does, but she won’t say it out loud.”

Gojo exhaled. “We deserve it.”

Nanami looked away. “She told Shoko if we did it again, she’s walking. And taking the raccoon.”

“Not Takahashi!”

Nanami gave a rare half-smile. “You should start packing.”

A door creaked. They both froze.

You stepped into view, barefoot. Dressed in one of Nanami’s old button-downs and Gojo’s oversized silk robe, your belly leading before you like a slow tide. The silk clung to your hips, sheer in the hallway light, glistening faintly with sweat. Gojo looked like he’d seen God, and she was angry.

“Can one of you get me ice cream?” you asked, stifling a yawn.

Gojo shot up, halfway into a sprint. “I’ll get it—”

“No.” Your voice was soft but anchored. Not brittle. Not hormonal. Just firm. And exhausted.

You walked in and lowered yourself between them on the couch with a maternal grunt. They parted for you like you were some kind of holy disturbance, a tsunami who sometimes wore a sundress. Nanami steadied you as you shifted, his hand gentle on your elbow. Gojo placed a cushion behind your back without being told.

You sighed. “I want to talk.”

Nanami stopped breathing.

You let your head fall back against the couch. The strain on your face had been carefully concealed for weeks now, but tonight you didn’t have the energy to wear grace like a mask. Not after the Braxton Hicks contractions earlier. Not after the quiet, the kind that felt like goodbye before anything was gone. You weren’t stupid; you knew there was a clear chance of you not making it out of the delivery room, so you did what you thought was right.

“I never had a problem with you two loving each other,” you began, voice low. No accusations. Just the kind of sadness that settles when anger has long since burnt itself out. “But I’m not a side quest. You can’t forget me just because the main plot hurts.”

Gojo opened his mouth.

“No interruptions.” You weren’t harsh. Just done performing softness for men who could weaponize it.

Nanami’s hand found yours. You let him hold it. His fingers were cold.

“I don’t know what went wrong with you two,” you said, eyes closed. “I don’t even want the full story anymore. But I’ve decided to forgive you both. This time.”

Gojo leaned forward slightly, his knuckles white against his thighs. Nanami had stopped blinking.

“But if it happens again,” you said. “I walk. No theatrics. No beatdowns. No chasing me across countries. No trying to get custody of Takahashi or the twins.” That was in no particular order but Takahashi too was in therapy because of you. “Just a clean, well-lit courtroom. And a legal notice. Understood?”

They nodded. Like men before a firing squad.

“And you’re both still going to jail,” you added.

Gojo blinked. “Like actual—”

“You hurt people,” you said. “My people. My staff. They did nothing wrong but follow my instructions. I already filed the report with Higuruma. He’s reviewing sentencing options.”

Nanami didn’t speak. His hand tightened around yours.

Gojo looked down like he was trying not to get hard.

“That being said,” you exhaled, massaging your belly, “we hope to shorten it with more community service, hefty fines, public statements, etc. But I’m not taking liability for either of you; I have my children to think of now.”

They didn’t argue. Gojo even looked weirdly aroused.

And then you finished, casually, “Now someone please rub my feet.”

Nanami was on the floor in seconds, pulling your ankle into his lap. Gojo pressed a kiss to your temple as if it might buy him time. You didn’t stop him. But you didn’t lean in, either.

“You’re glowing,” he whispered.

“I’m sweaty,” you replied.

“I like it.”

Nanami rolled his eyes. “You would.”

But the words didn’t have teeth. Not now.

Not when Gojo was watching Nanami like he was seventeen again, bruised and brilliant, a private heartbreak in a boy with starched cuffs. Not when Nanami didn’t flinch under the gaze. Not when your pregnancy had rewired the gravitational laws in the room—and they were both finally aware they orbited you, not each other.

You felt it. That tension. That fear. The emotional minefield they hadn’t crossed in months. Not since they found out you had left.

And yet.

You looked at them. Tired. Full. Knowing. “I never minded when you kissed him,” you said softly.

Nanami’s thumb stilled on your ankle. Gojo looked at you, unsure.

“But I do mind being forgotten.”

You leaned back, gave them space to absorb it.

Gojo reached out first. Not to you. To Nanami. His hand hovered a second—then cupped Nanami’s jaw, thumb brushing across the bristle of stubble like muscle memory.

Nanami didn’t flinch. He just met Gojo’s eyes. And didn’t look away.

The kiss was slow. Chaste. Familiar. Like a song sung half-asleep, a language they hadn’t used in months.

You watched them and smiled. Hormones singing. Heart heavy and full,  with your hand on your stomach, the twins rolling restlessly beneath your palm.

Then your hormones took over.

“Okay, now kiss me,” you demanded.

They didn’t hesitate.

Gojo kissed you first, full of heat and guilt and aching want. Nanami kissed your neck, reverent and slow. Hands under the shirt, over your hips, under your belly, like he was trying to memorize the geography of what his betrayal almost cost.

Your fingers tangled in white hair and blond curls, anchoring them both to the present.

Then—

Gojo’s hand dipped low.

Nanami’s mouth traced your collarbone.

Both froze.

“Wait—” Gojo pulled back, breath hitching.

“We can’t—” Nanami’s hand stilled on your thigh.

You groaned. “I’m not going to break.”

Nanami backed off like a chastised schoolboy. “It’s not about that.”

“Yeah,” Gojo whispered, face half-buried in your shoulder. “We’re… trying to be better.”

“Cowards.”

“Responsible cowards,” Gojo corrected.

Nanami resumed rubbing your feet. Gojo fetched the damn ice cream. The night softened.

And maybe it wasn’t everything.

But maybe—for now—it was enough.

And maybe that was okay.

For now.

---

Penthouse’s Rooftop Garden

The next week, Nanami Kento, recently reinstated at what Vogue’s fact-checkers were still calling a private school for gifted children, sat by the glass railings of their Tokyo penthouse’s rooftop garden, sleeves rolled to the forearms. One hand gripped the lacquered handle of a faux katana—merch from a feudal-Japan RPG that your company had released years ago. It was the very game he had adored for years, the one he had been searching for at the gaming convention the day he first laid eyes on you, and, because of him, so had Gojo. Now, the katana rested under the table, mostly forgotten, as the woman on the call droned on, giving him a migraine.

Anna Wintour, live on screen, sipped something white-gold and expensive in a room that looked like it had air conditioning just for the scent of influence.

You were reclined nearby on the velveteen chaise Gojo had dragged out for you earlier, Takahashi draped dramatically over your belly like a sentient handbag. The silk Oh-my-God-Officer-what-do-you-mean-my-husband-is-dead robe sloped off one shoulder. Pregnancy had added gravity to your body and an unnatural calm to your eyes. You looked like a Bond villain with an MBA and a third-trimester spine problem, like you’d hacked capitalism from the inside, and now you were quietly bleeding under it.

Gojo was stress baking mochi, covered in flour, wearing an apron that said, “UNSUBMISSIVE. UNBOTHERED. UNHOLY.”

Anna spoke first. Her tone was as smooth as her sunglasses were sharp. “I want to clarify something upfront. This feature is a strategic rehabilitation piece. Not an exposé. That said, public curiosity is high. Understandably.”

Nanami leaned back, the movement deliberate, rolling his shoulders just enough to stretch the fabric of his tailored shirt across his chest. He adjusted his glasses with one hand—slow, like he knew she was watching—the other still resting on the katana under the table. “She’s on bed rest and carrying twins. She’s also medicated for pain, uncomfortable, and under enough scrutiny to make a lesser person collapse.” A pause, just long enough to let the threat linger. “If your article so much as implies she fabricated this pregnancy, violated her feminist values, or traded innovation for domesticity, I’ll ensure Vogue's reputation takes the fall.”

Anna smiled like she’d just been insulted in an exotic dialect. A flicker of amusement, then control. “She told The Verge four years ago she’d never have children. She referenced a hysterectomy.”

“She wasn’t lying.”

A measured pause. Even Gojo, rustling behind the outdoor island, stilled.

Anna's smile tightened. “So it’s true.”

You stared at Nanami. He didn’t meet your gaze, but you knew he felt it: Don’t confirm we’re sorcerers to Anna Wintour. Not even by omission.

Nanami inhaled, deep and deliberate, like he was calculating oxygen’s morality. His thumb traced the edge of his glasses—a calculated distraction. “She experienced severe medical trauma. That’s not public property.”

Anna gave a slight nod. “I agree. But Vogue isn’t the Daily Mail. We don’t chase gossip—we follow narrative arcs. And right now, your wife’s storyline is complicated. Disappearing before your... incident at her HQ, halting her IPO, rejecting activist investors, and refusing to explain the foundation shifts such as two new CEOs. It all adds up.”

Gojo peeked, dusted in rice flour like a cursed pastry. “Tell her—”

“Go back to your mochi.”

He huffed and retreated. The mixing bowl was suspiciously the size of a small basin.

Nanami’s voice returned, low and smooth, like a blade sliding back into its sheath. “What’s the real aim of this feature?”

Anna didn’t miss a beat. “There’s a new investor involved; they asked us to take this up—our angle is redemption through disruption. Your wife’s silence has created a vacuum. We’ll shape it. Focus on her achievements. The tech empire. The pregnancy struggles. The speculation about paternity. The... affiliations.”

Nanami’s tone dropped, but his posture stayed relaxed, one arm draped over the back of his chair like he owned the frame. “If you bring up yakuza or military clearance, I’ll litigate.”

Anna waved one hand. “Please. You’re not ex-military. And your husband isn’t just a teacher.”

You blinked. Nanami stilled—but only for a second. Then he smirked, slow and knowing, like he’d been waiting for this. “How’d you find out?”

Anna remained unbothered, “Because your wife once locked herself in a marble guest bathroom at the Cannes afterparty while drunk and laughing, and your husband levitated the broken door off its hinges when other celebrities tried helping. The mirror caught it.” She rested her chin on her fingers, barely a movement, before delivering the final blow. “Unpublished. For now.”

You groaned. “It was my dress. And they were insufferable.”

Anna smiled faintly. “We didn’t publish it. Yet. I consider that a favor.”

“Blackmail,” Nanami corrected, rolling the word off his tongue like a sip of expensive whiskey.

“Semantics.”

Then, pivoting with surgical precision, she continued, “Fine. Vogue will soften the pregnancy coverage. But we want Gojo Satoru’s first exclusive—shirtless and singing on a white piano—for a hybrid editorial-music video ad for Calvin Klein.”

Nanami didn’t blink. “Done.”

Anna’s brow lifted. “That was fast.”

“You were going to ask anyway.”

“Touché.” She tilted her glass. “And Kento—may I call you Kento?”

“No.”

She smiled, barely. “Well, you’ll be in the video too. Tailored suit. Stoic seduction. Women adore you. My assistant has a shrine.”

Nanami pinched the bridge of his nose, but there was no real irritation—just the faintest curl of amusement at the corner of his mouth. “God help us.”

“I already did,” Anna replied. “We’ll send a pre-list of questions. You’ll find them balanced: less fertility, more innovation. More her. It’s about time she was seen for what she built.”

Nanami’s eyes flicked towards you, just for a split second—a silent check-in. You gave a small nod. He caught it, like always.

“Include her tech patents,” he said. “The NFT architecture. Seoul’s gaming rehab center. The scholarships for women in STEM. And the wildlife conservation grants.”

Anna observed him. “Are you in PR... or just married to her?”

“Yes,” he said simply, the word dripping with smug finality.

You smiled, eyes lidded. Gojo returned, bowl in hand, and without hesitation dropped his head onto your chest, face first into cleavage like a man breathing his last. You ran a hand through his hair.

Anna didn’t comment. Only noted, “She’ll be styled by Olivier Rousteing. The theme is Queen of Code. There will be a throne.”

You picked up a mochi and lobbed it at Nanami. He didn’t flinch. His ratio blades sliced it mid-air, neatly plating it beside him, all off-camera.

“My wife requests Iris van Herpen,” he said calmly.

Anna’s eyes flicked upward. “She can have both. Fashion is war. I enjoy battle.”

Gojo, from your chest, mumbled, “Do I get a throne?”

Anna smiled without showing teeth. “We’ll see.”

An hour later, Nanami had more beef with Anna.

Anna sat in a chair that cost more than a suburban divorce settlement, her posture flawless, her gaze unreadable. The air between them was charged, still—like the moment before a lightning strike.

Nanami exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders back just enough to make his shirt strain at the seams. His voice was low, deliberate, a velvet-wrapped threat. “Anna. We agreed. No invasive questions about the pregnancy. No speculative eugenics. No trauma exploitation. Not even subtext.”

Anna flipped through a spread, unfazed. “Kento, breathe. Just send over the revision request, and we'll talk.”

Nanami’s fingers drummed once against the table—a controlled show of impatience. “If you frame her as unstable, I will frame your investors for insider trading.”

Anna didn’t blink. “Possessive for a polycule.”

Nanami smirked, slow and knowing, like he’d already won. “I’m a husband. Possession is romantic when it’s honest.”

She sipped her drink, watching him over the rim. “Fine. We’ll pivot. Patents. Valuation. The cyber fund. But.”

“But?” Nanami echoed, tilting his head just so—a challenge, an invitation.

“I want something entertaining.”

“No.”

A heavy silence.

Anna looked up, her gaze sharpening. “I know you're not teachers. I know about the school.”

Nanami’s pulse flickered once—just enough to betray surprise, not enough to concede.

“And you haven’t published it… why?”

Anna smiled like a glacier—slow and inevitable. “Because your wife is the best narrative I’ve seen in decades. And I don’t ruin great stories, Kento. I style them.”

Gojo clapped, his grin wide and wicked as he materialized behind Nanami, draping himself over the back of his chair like a mischievous shadow. “See? She’s a strong woman with god-tier instincts!” His voice was bright, teasing, but his fingers curled possessively into Nanami’s shoulder—a silent claim.

Anna raised her glass, her smile razor-thin. “And now she’s a Vogue cover. And you—Satoru—are my Bi Kanye.”

Nanami closed his eyes, his jaw tightening—the only sign of his exasperation. “I need a drink.”

Gojo was already pouring, his movements fluid, effortless, like he’d been waiting for this moment. He leaned in, pressing the glass into Nanami’s hand with a flourish, his lips brushing the shell of his ear as he whispered, “Relax, Kento. You’re way hotter when you’re not scowling.”

Nanami didn’t dignify that with a response, but the corner of his mouth twitched—just once.

---

The next day, the kitchen smelled like sugar and heat.

You were elbow-deep in almond paste, condensed milk, and chopped cashews—hair tied back with one of Gojo’s discarded blindfolds, Nanami’s white tee stretched over your third-trimester belly like it was one wrong inhale away from giving up. Your back ached. Your ankles were cursing your lineage. But your mind—surprisingly—was calm.

Nanami stood behind you. Not nearby. Not adjacent.

On you.

Like a perfectly tailored cashmere trench coat designed by a pervert with a domesticity kink.

His hands bracketed your hips with a steadiness that had nothing to do with innocence—thumbs tracing small, absent-minded circles along the slopes of your belly. His chin rested in the curve of your neck like it had always been meant to live there. Like he’d bought property and filed taxes.

“I told you not to stand so close,” you muttered, struggling to stir the mixture again.

“You told me not to distract you,” he said, voice close and deep. “I’ve been still for ten minutes.”

“You’re breathing on my neck.”

“I love your neck.”

You huffed. “Kento. The marzipan is melting.”

He kissed your shoulder like it was a confession, soft and reverent. Like he’d overheard you once say you liked being touched while cooking and filed it under “How to Win Her in Three Acts.”

“I’ll replace the marzipan. And the chef. And the kitchen, if necessary.”

Behind you, the staff tensed, pretending to be invisible, as if they didn’t exist at all. You didn’t turn to look; you could feel their atoms nervously rearranging.

“Kento,” you warned, voice low and amused, sharp enough that only he could hear, “if you start grinding on my ass or grope my boobs again while I’m pouring hot caramelized sugar, I will tip it directly into your bougie coffee grinder.”

“You won’t,” he murmured and pressed a kiss just beneath your ear. “You’re too invested in the chemical balance of the sweet.”

God, he still remembered. Still knew you. Where to touch. When to press. How to lift.

“…Ugh. You're lucky you’re right.”

His chuckle was indecent, especially coming from someone with his hair disheveled and glasses tossed somewhere near the milk powder tin. His Slipknot tee clung to him like sin. His hands slid under your belly and lifted—just enough to ease the weight off your back. Your knees nearly buckled from the sheer relief of it. You tried to focus, but his body heat….. and goddamn spine pain relief.

You might have moaned. Accidentally. If not for the presence of the staff, who looked two seconds from asking the gods for a transfer.

"You're unfair like this. Kono karada, kanpeki da," he murmured in half-Japanese, voice low and worshipful. (This body… it’s perfect.)

You leaned back into him, lazy. “Flattery won’t get you more sweets.”

“I wasn’t aiming for that.” He nipped your shoulder. “Though I wouldn’t say no to a taste.”

His hand slid under your shirt—where you’d stopped wearing a bra at home out of protest and biology.

He’d asked for these sweets—nostalgia, maybe. Or a way to touch you without Gojo taking the opportunity from him. Maybe it was that. Or maybe Nanami just missed you. The ‘you’ that wasn’t hidden behind a swollen belly and swollen feet. The ‘you’ that could still hold him back. The ‘you’ he’d been trying to make up lost time with—because time didn’t wait, and neither did you. Also, because even if just for today, Gojo’s natural musk made you gag while Nanami’s soothed, and he wanted to take advantage of that.

You were about to elbow him. (Gently, maybe)—when the kitchen door slammed open like a shōjo anime villain’s entrance cue.

“GUESS WHO GOT SENT A KITCHEN APPLIANCE,” Gojo bellowed, bursting in like he’d been ejected from a game show hosted by Satan. “AND THREE DIFFERENT PREGNANCY BRAND DEALS, INCLUDING A SKINCARE KIT THAT SMELLS LIKE MELON-CUCUMBER BUT FEELS LIKE FOREPLAY.”

He spun in place, the camera trained exclusively on himself.

“VLOG UPDATE: My pregnant gamer wife is groping my emotionally constipated husband again while I slave away for content!”

In his other hand? A gleaming white and gold monstrosity.

You froze.

Nanami froze.

The staff froze.

It looked like a toilet seat. A slow-close culinary nightmare. Possibly cursed.

“It’s a slow cooker-slash-baby bottle sterilizer. Multi-use. Passive income, baby!”

“Shut up. I told you not to bring a camera into the kitchen.” Nanami hissed, still wrapped around you like a disgruntled orange housecat.

“We don’t need toilet money!” You yelled, horrified.

“You can’t tell me what to do in MY house,” Gojo grinned, flipping the camera toward the slow cooker. “This looks like something Utahime would cook in.”

Nobody, literally nobody, knew who Utahime was except Nanami. And even he didn’t know why Gojo had been beefing with her since high school.

“GOJO,” you snapped, “I’m literally making food. What part of this feels sanitary to you?!”

“You’re glowing.” He zoomed in on your face. “Pregnancy suits you. Soft demon queen energy. Nanamin, look at her; don’t you wanna cry?”

“I cry because of you often, but not today.”

Gojo wheezed. Almost dropped the camera.

You raised the tray of sweets. “If you don’t leave, I will make you eat the sugarless batch I ruined.”

Gojo gasped. “That’s an act of war.”

“Then declare war, coward.”

Nanami’s grip didn’t budge. “She’s not bluffing, Satoru.”

“TRAITOR!” Gojo shrieked. “You heard it here, folks! My husband has betrayed me! My wife is threatened by my glow-up!”

“You stole my essence toner, Satoru!”

“Technically, you said you didn’t like the scent!”

“THAT DOESN’T MEAN IT’S YOURS.”

The camera stuck to Gojo’s chest probably caught everything: the PR box. The slow cooker that looked like a glorified bidet. You, glowing with rage and glucose. Nanami, still somehow hot despite being halfway to homicide.

“GET. IT. OUT,” you hissed, whisk in hand like a weapon.

“Kore wa slow cooker to yobenai. Kusottare,” Nanami muttered darkly, gripping your waist harder like only he was allowed to wreck your blood pressure. (You can’t call this a slow cooker. Goddamn piece of shit.)

He only cursed in Japanese when genuinely pissed.

Which was hot.

Unfortunately.

Gojo gasped. “Did he just call me stupid?!”

You leaned your weight into Nanami’s hold, wiped flour off your nose, and patted your belly with a flour-covered hand. “No, baby. He called you a piece of shit.”

Meanwhile, online:

@TojisUnwashedTesticles: The way you can HEAR the sexual tension in every Nanami insult is my Roman Empire.

@IhateMonkeys: Why Gojo got a toilet-seat-looking slow cooker. Who approved this collab?

@ExorcistMommyUtahime: Obsessed with the fact that we still don’t know what their jobs are. He’s either a war criminal or a Sagittarius.

@SugurusGhostBabyDaddy: Nanami saying “kusottare” on live was more erotic than my first kiss.

@meGAYmi: Not Nanami’s voice sending me into ovulation. Who’s the real influencer here?

@GetouComeBackHome: Gojo’s still my man, but I would commit war crimes for their wife. Real recognizes real.

@TojisCarSeat: Bro, wtf was that toilet seat thing? Also, the soft moan at 3:12 was illegal.

@NanamisBallSweat: DID Y’ALL HEAR THE OTHER TWO YELLING IN DIFFERENT LANGUAGES LMAO I NEED THEM TO ADOPT ME!

@SukunasButtholeMoss: I just KNOW the wife’s cooking hits harder than generational trauma. Also, pls drop the skincare link.

Group Chat: Wife Support Network 💅

(Inc: You, Shoko, Maya, CHRO)

Perpetually Horny: He did the thing.

Cuntiest Bitch Alive: Define “the thing.”

Perpetually Horny: He stood behind me while I was cooking, hand on my hip, breathing on my neck, and said, “careful with the knife,” like he was narrating a crime documentary.

Postmortem Baddie: Oh no.

HR Baddie: Girl, you’re in danger. and also pregnant. and also a slut. I respect you, bbgirl.

---

In the nights, your husbands had daily crises.

Group Chat: Dad Crimes 💀 (Anon)

Daddy: Okay. Real talk. I just read seven articles on perineal tearing.

Father Time: …Why?

Daddy: Because Google is a curse, and I hate myself.

Father Time: Hmm.

Daddy: They use words like “second-degree” and “episiotomy” like it’s NBD.

Father Time: I know.

Daddy: Do you?? Because I just learned the pelvic floor can detach—

Father Time: Satoru, breathe.

Daddy: I AM. BUT SHE WON’T BE.

Father Time: …I read about hemorrhage risks.

Daddy: Oh god.

Father Time: 500ml is considered “normal” blood loss.

Daddy: That’s a wine bottle.

Father Time: Yes.

Daddy: …Do you need a hug?

Father Time: Desperately.

Daddy: What if she hates us after? Like, hormonally?

Father Time: She already hates us.

Daddy: Fair. But what if it’s biological hate?

Father Time: Then we’ll deserve it.

Daddy: …What if the babies are ugly?

Father Time: Statistically unlikely, you are in the mix.

Daddy: But what if—

Father Time: Then we’ll lie.

Daddy: …I looked up “husband stitches.”

Father Time: Jesus.

Daddy: I need bleach for all my six eyes.

Father Time: Bleach isn’t strong enough.

Daddy: …We’re gonna fuck this up, huh?

Father Time: Absolutely.

Daddy: But we’ll try not to?

Father Time: Every day.

Daddy: …Still kinda wanna put my head between her thighs and scream.

Father Time: …Same.

Daddy: KENTO—

Father Time: IT’S A STRESS RESPONSE.

(Silence for 3 minutes.)

Father Time: …We should sleep.

Daddy: Yeah.

Father Time: …She’s gonna be okay.

Daddy: Yeah.

Father Time: …We’re gonna be okay.

Daddy: …Yeah.

(Seen 2:17 AM.)

---

Originally intended as a pre-check for the official Vogue feature. No one expected it to be this… unhinged.

Excerpt from ELITE SPACES:

Inside the Homes of Asia’s Top One Percent

Interview with Keji, Private Butler to the Mysterious Tech Trillionaire CEO and Her Infamous Husbands.

Author: [Redacted]

Published: [Also Redacted, Sorry]

Name: Keji

Position: Executive Domestic Operations Coordinator (EDOC)

Note: Yes, it does sound like idiocy. No, that is not a coincidence.

Background: Swiss-born. Paris-educated. Former sommelier. Allegedly descended from a Russian assassin who once seduced a queen. Once seen in the background of a leaked MI6 photo with a sword cane and a monocle. May or may not have ghostwritten an erotic thriller under a pen name. Refuses to comment on whether he's killed someone with a dessert fork. Keeps bees. Wears gloves indoors. No known last name.

Q: So, Mr. Keji, how would you describe the household dynamic?

He inhaled slowly, like he was about to lie in court, sipped something that smelled like fermented moss.

Keji: Imagine if Versailles was rebuilt inside a startup’s panic room, then placed in the care of two emotionally unstable Greek deities and one visibly exhausted, visibly pregnant tech CEO who once told Jeff Bezos to “shut up before I code your face off the planet.” That is this household.

We operate on a rotating military-meets-baking-show schedule. Each of her cravings triggers a protocol.

‘Operation Mango Sorbet’ means no one sleeps until the croquembouche at 2 AM is conquered. ‘Emergency Tiramisu’ means Nanami-san cried watching a raccoon video, and now we’re flying in mascarpone from Italy. ‘Code Coconut Milk’ means I have approximately seven minutes to physically remove Gojo-san from the slow cooker aisle in Don Quijote before he livestreams something federal.

Q: And the husbands? Gojo Satoru and Nanami Kento?

Keji’s left eye twitched like it had seen battle. Possibly an actual battle. He adjusted his gloves with quiet menace. His cufflinks gleam—gold, understated. There’s something engraved inside one of them. We don’t ask what.

Keji: Gojo-san is what happens when charisma gets radiation poisoning—what you might call in English a nuclear serotonin event, completely devoid of any concept of self-preservation. He owns 57 robes, none of which close. Once, he brought home a horse “for the vibes.” He hosts unsanctioned cooking shows in our kitchen, Unholy Bake-Off, where he once filmed me screaming about soufflé temperatures and titled it “#ButlerBreakdown.” It trended in thirteen countries and now has merch. And yet, he massages her ankles himself, without being asked, says that she doesn’t like people touching her.

Nanami-san, on the other hand, is… different. Surgical. Lethal. Picture a repressed samurai with a spreadsheet kink. He has strong opinions on napkin folds and stock investments, and he refers to almond milk as “the coward’s dairy.” He cross-references the madame’s dietary needs with biomedical journals. I once caught him reorganizing the spice rack while listening to lo-fi Debussy, sharpening knives for relaxation—or perhaps for revenge. He once dismissed a pastry chef for using vanilla essence instead of extract. I have witnessed him button her coat like a man affixing armor, and it haunts me. I envy it.

Q: What about your employer? The CEO. The wife. What is she like?

A rare pause. Then the kind of smile you give just before throwing a Molotov cocktail into Parliament, the kind that said, “I have watched this woman argue down billionaires while wearing a robe that says, ‘Your dad calls me daddy too.’”

Keji: She is elegance duct-taped to vengeance, tiptoeing through marble hallways with glitter on her cheekbone and war in her bones. Once, she coded an entire anti-fraud protocol while in the midst of a panic attack, making tech bros cry in three languages.

She is brilliant. Brutal. Terrifyingly kind. She codes as if she’s committing arson, soft-launching billion-dollar projects in pajamas. Once, she silenced an entire all-male panel with a single raised eyebrow and the phrase, “Sweetheart, your critical thinking skills are showing.”

She is effortlessly ruthless, yet her kindness feels surgical. She once tipped a barista enough to pay off his student loans.

Above all, she is tired. Carrying twins while managing a trillion-dollar empire and two emotionally unstable men is less “dream wife aesthetic” and more seasonal demonic possession.

And yes, she once tried to deep-fry a coconut because “it felt like a vibe.” We do not speak of that day.

Q: It sounds chaotic. Is it… dangerous?

He leaned forward. The air changed—subtle, but enough that our photographer stopped chewing.

Keji: I cannot confirm the existence of a panic bunker disguised as a wine cellar. Nor the armored stroller Gojo-san commissioned.

What I can say is:

Every room has a safe word.

The koi pond has a kill count.

Nanami-san once barricaded the breakfast nook because the yogurt was “emotionally compromised.”

Also, Gojo-san has a drone. He calls it his son. It lives in the chandelier.

The interviewer did not ask him to elaborate.

Q: And yet… you seem attached.

Keji: Attachment is inevitable when you live in the eye of a domestic hurricane. Fondness would be too gentle a word; we are bound—not by contract, but by proximity, consequence, and survival.

When Gojo-san is quiet, we brace for planetary events and back up the servers. When Nanami-san kneels beside her with a warm towel, we pretend not to notice his hands shake, and when he sighs, we check the news.

And when she smiles at them—just smiles—we pretend not to hear the security wards sensors hum, or when she hums while eating peaches, the air fills with the scent of victory. And sometimes—home.

This house is not built on affection; it’s built on rituals, in-jokes, and midnight grilled cheese sandwiches alongside knife block negotiations.

It is absurd. Infuriating. Sacred.

Love here is not soft; it’s tactical, armored. It’s a siege, an ecosystem, a magnetic field that bends reality around itself.

And still—they chose it. All three of them. And somehow… us, too. And people like that—people at the top? Gods? They rarely choose.

The interviewer is even more confused now.

Q: What would the public be most surprised to learn about them?

He glanced toward the distant hallway. They swear they hear Gojo cackling and a teacup shattering. Then Nanami’s voice, low and deadly: “That was Noritake. You absolute cretin.”

Keji: That they are trying.

Beyond the wealth, beyond the performance art of existing in this tax bracket—they are trying. All three of them.

Behind the absurdity, beneath the myth, there is something profoundly human.

Even if Gojo-san is currently holding the baby monitor like a microphone and singing lullabies in autotune.

Q: Final question-is this a cult?

He tilted his head like a Renaissance painting. Smiled with the calculated joy of a man who owns a vault.

Keji: That question has been forwarded to legal.

(He could answer it. He just didn’t want to.)

[END OF TRANSCRIPT]

[Note: Since its publication, this feature has been reprinted in three languages and has inspired a popular cosplay café in Harajuku. Keji has trended twice on X.com—once for rescuing a fainting pastry chef mid-scone and again for scowling during an Oscars pre-show. The baby monitor now boasts 800K followers on TikTok, while the koi pond has been verified on Instagram and even has its own NFT. And yes, the raccoon now models for Dior, too.]

---

Group Chat: Wife Support Network 💅

(Inc: You, Shoko, Maya, CHRO)

Pinned Message by HR Baddie:

💀Reminder: Maya says NO SEX during therapy.

🚨Shoko is new; do NOT corrupt her.

👩🏽‍💼I’ve already filled out the annulment forms.

They’re waiting in my Google Drive. Just say the word.

Perpetually Horny: He showed up in a wig.

Postmortem Baddie: …Why?

Perpetually Horny: Said it was to “disguise” himself. From what? Unknown. Possibly shame.

HR Baddie: There is no disguise strong enough to hide that man’s decisions.

Perpetually Horny: Then he pulled out sunglasses. Put them on. Looked me dead in the eyes and said, “You don’t know me.”

Cuntiest Bitch Alive: He’s unraveling. You’re not bonding. You’re supervising a psychotic break.

---

//Playlist

The house was too quiet when one was alone in it. It was strange.

No Gojo tripping alarms. No Takahashi scaling furniture like a cocaine-fueled raccoon elf. Just the hum of your customized HVAC system and the subtle bass line from your phone.

The place was holding its breath—not the serene quiet of peace, but the tense stillness of anticipation, like the air before a typhoon or a brewing scandal. You lay on your side in the living room, legs swaddled in soft blankets, and your belly curved like a little hill beneath your compression t-shirt, one of Gojo's old ones that carried the faint scent of vanilla protein powder and ego. Beside you sat Nanami—your moral compass, turned corporate spouse, turned war tactician—his presence a steadying force in the charged atmosphere.

His shirt was untucked.

Untucked.

A sin against his own meticulously tailored existence, the fabric rumpled where it draped over his shoulders. His hair, usually swept back with military precision, fell loose over his forehead, still damp from the shower. Clinging to him was a distinctive fragrance—a bright burst of bergamot that gave way to a subtle heart of aromatic herbs and spice, finally settling into the warm, domestic allure of rich sandalwood, accented with delicate hints of vetiver and leather.

His palm pressed firmly against the small of your back, fingers working slow, deliberate circles into the ache there.

You arched into his touch, a soft sigh escaping you.

Nanami exhaled through his nose—that familiar, long-suffering sound—but his fingers didn’t stop.

"You’re thinking too loud," you murmured.

His thumb stilled. Then, with the same precision he used to dismantle curses, he leaned down and pressed his lips to the curve of your shoulder.

"And you," he said, voice low, "are taking up too much space on the couch."

You chuckled, breathless, and he continued rubbing soothing circles on your back.

You scrolled, thumb-flicking TikToks into oblivion. The content was random—working mom hacks, edits of Gojo with audios that should have been illegal, a raccoon trying lemon for the first time (you immediately sent that to Haibara), a 45-second thirst trap of Nanami in a fitted suit set to “Need Someone Older,” even though he was younger than Gojo.

You didn’t flinch as Nanami shifted his weight on the couch, lying down behind you. He lifted your head and rested it on his bicep, while his other hand settled on your stomach—warm, gentle, and ridiculously steady.

You tilted your head and smiled at him without looking up from the screen.

He leaned in, resting his chin on top of your head.

The next video: a girl screaming, “My husband said he’s gonna ‘watch the baby’ and then fell asleep in the car with it on his chest for two hours! THAT’S NOT WATCHING, THAT’S BEING FURNITURE!!”

Nanami hummed low. “That’ll be Satoru.”

You chuckled.

“Speaking of,” he said, his voice smooth as the lighting in the ridiculous house, “once the twins are here, he'll do all the diaper changes for night feeds.”

“Both?”

“I'm not wasting energy at 3 A.M. on swaddling accidents.”

You smiled again—short, sleepy.

He continued like he’d been rehearsing it in his mind for days, polishing the worry with every repeat: “They’ll probably show early signs. With his blood and mine… I’m concerned.”

You barely looked up, thumbing past a TikTok of someone giving birth to a literal ice cube while moaning in ASMR. Nanami didn’t flinch. He was numb to internet absurdity now. That was progress.

“If they inherit a domain expansion before five,” he said, low and deliberate, “they could fracture reality. And I don’t want you to feel like they are—” He stopped, jaw working. “—not human.”

You let your head tilt against his arm—broad, warm, real—and your phone, still in hand. The silence wasn’t avoidance. It was strategy.

“They won’t be,” you said at last, your voice quiet but firm, like a verdict. “They’ll be worse. Stronger. Stranger. They’ll scare people. Maybe even us.”

That made his brow twitch.

“But they’ll be ours.” You adjusted slightly, his arm tightening instinctively. “And you’re not just a sorcerer, Kento. You’re their dad. You’re the reason they’ll know how to look someone in the eye when they apologize. The reason they’ll know when to draw the line, and when to forgive.”

He didn’t breathe, not really.

“And when they ask why they don’t fit in, why the world looks at them like a weapon someone forgot to leash, you’ll tell them their fathers rewrote the rules of jujutsu society just to make it back in time for dinner. That you both bled for their bedtime. That you both stayed. That even if the world calls them curses, this family won’t. And even if they go astray, we’ll gently course-correct them early on.”

You turned your head slightly, enough to look at him, eyes soft but unsparing. “You keep trying to say the right thing like it’s a math problem. But you don’t need to calculate love, Kento. You are the proof.”

The air shifted. His exhale was less a release, more an alignment. The fear didn’t leave. It just... made room. Found a place to settle beside you on the couch.

“I never say it right,” he admitted, voice gravel-low, a whisper carved into marble.

“I know.” You smiled and breathed him in like he was the only air left in the penthouse suite. “You don’t have to. I’m fluent in Kento.”

Your gaze went back to your phone.

Nanami hated himself even more for betraying you and taking away your smile.

This time, the TikTok was of Chef Ranveer Brar in a five-star rooftop kitchen, plating momos on hand-thrown ceramic while monsoon winds brushed against the open glass doors. You could smell the steam through the screen—chili oil glistening like lacquer, the hiss of the pan lost beneath the elegant chaos of servers speaking French-accented Hindi.

You exhaled sharply. Nanami's arm was across your belly, skin to skin, and your fingers clutched his forearm like you were holding yourself back from teleporting to Mumbai and strong-arming the chef.

You didn’t even realize you'd whispered it: “I’d let that man ruin my life for those momos.”

Nanami hummed, noncommittal. His thumb absently stroked your hip. “He’d have to get past me first.”

“Then you make me momos.”

“I’m not a five-star chef.”

“No,” you said, turning towards him. “You’re better.” You’re mine.

Nanami narrowed his eyes. “You want that?”

You nodded. “I’ve seen this momo recipe on my feed for days. And you know it isn't available on any of the delivery apps here—trust me, I checked. Japan doesn't do momos.”

He scoffed softly. “Because we have gyoza. We don't need oily flour pockets with—”

You looked up at him and gave him the look.

The puppy dog look.

The one you hadn’t used since that week he slept with Gojo.

He sighed fondly and started to rise.

You tugged his sleeve.

“Don’t go,” you said. “Yell at someone else to make it. Play the rich husband card. I want you. Not just the food.”

If Nanami Kento were a commodity, he would have devalued right there—softening, melting.

“…Fine. I’ll call the prenatal chef,” he muttered. “But I’m going to have to give feedback if it’s not authentic.”

“That’s not feedback,” you smirked. “That’s a scathing TED Talk.”

He ran his fingers through your hair, resting his chin back on your head as you both watched the screen. Now it displayed a Gojo thirst edit featuring old college footage that your PR team, under the guidance of the CHRO, had strategically leaked, accompanied by the haunting melody of "Brat."

Nanami squinted at the screen. “That’s the night he blew up a power grid that supplied three blocks while trying to cook takoyaki.”

You grinned. “Yeah. And now he’s trying to change the whole Jujutsu Society.”

Nanami nodded, deadpan. “And still can’t make rice without YouTube.”

“That’s an act, and you know it. He knows if he cooks too well, he might become the designated chef.”

Nanami chuckled lowly.

You felt the tension bleeding off his skin.

“You’re doing that thing,” you mumbled, eyes still on the screen. “Where you don’t speak, but your thoughts are screaming about Satoru.”

He exhaled. “He’s going to burn himself out.”

You tilted your head, letting it fall lightly against his chest.

“He’s not just the head of the Gojo clan now,” Nanami continued, his tone too even to be casual. “But taking over the entire Jujutsu Society? That’s war. And I don’t mean metaphorically. We’ve already gotten two assassination warnings this week.”

“He’s just pretending it’s a new video game expansion pack,” you said, lips twitching.

Nanami snorted—bless the man, that was his version of laughing. “He told me yesterday he was going to name his first decree ‘Patch 1.0: No More Stupid Elders.’ And the second one was just—’Sex for everyone except Haibara.’”

You chuckled, easing back as his hand shifted up, now tracing gentle circles into the tense arch of your waist. “He’s going to say something insane like 'Executive Order: Bring back the Meiji era and put me in a top hat.'”

Nanami muttered, “He already asked me to look into sourcing a silk cravat.”

A pause. Then both of you exhaled. Together. In sync, like the old days before the world decided your marriage should come with dead bodies and surveillance drones.

“Do you ever think,” you began slowly, “we’re not built for raising whatever demonic gods we created in my uterus?”

Nanami stiffened slightly. “They’re not even born yet,” he said, “and they’ve already fractured the Ratio within my domain. I didn’t even know that was possible.”

You blinked. “Is that bad?”

“It’s… unprecedented. Like if someone sneezed in Gojo’s domain and it triggered another Big Bang.”

“Okay,” you said, “so our babies are nukes.”

“Nuclear metaphysical anomalies, yes.”

You turned to look up at him. “Hot.”

His gaze moved to yours, slow and calculating. Then he said, “You know, I’m considering drafting a postnatal battle schedule. Gojo handles diapers. I’ll do the feeding. You’ll direct operations. And I’m getting them into analytics by week three.”

"Are you really going to yell at the baby monitor like a mid-level manager dealing with performance issues?" You licked your lips, your gaze shifting from Nanami's eyes to his lips and back again.

“Of course,” leaning in, Nanami replied, dry as dust on an abandoned altar. “You married me for that.”

You opened your mouth to argue—something stupid and tender, something about how you married him for his soul, not his sarcasm—but the moment shifted before it was born.

The front door hissed open with a scream of cursed energy so thick it shattered the light overhead. A crack, like bone. A flash of power that wasn't yours and never would be.

“BABY, DADDY’S HOME~!”

Gojo’s voice hit the house like a storm siren with a god complex.

Both you and Nanami flinched, muscles tensing. It wasn't fear—never that—but rather the instinctive bracing that women felt when gods returned from war, knowing they weren't allowed to follow them into battle.

Nanami muttered, “God, not now,” but you heard what he meant.

Thank the gods. He's alive.

The door clicked shut. You could breathe again. Your heart tried; your lungs did not.

Gojo stormed in like a one-man apocalypse—blindfold shoved hastily into his coat pocket, dried blood streaking his sleeve (not his, not today). His eyes were exposed, too bright, too blue, too him—maddening and radiant, piercing with the kind of manic aliveness that meant he’d survived whatever he walked away from.

“Did I just hear my beloved spouses tenderly whispering about me behind my back?” he asked, voice pitched somewhere between mock-hurt and delighted. His grin could’ve cut glass, while his hair was even messier than usual, sticking up like static had kissed it, and his whole frame buzzed with restless energy, shoulders coiled tight beneath the silk lining of his coat. “Oh my god, you do care. Nanamin, was that actual concern I heard? Baby,”—he moved with faux horror—“were you about to write me a love letter?”

“Satoru,” you said. “Welcome home.” You sounded calm. You’d had practice.

Because wealth did not make you invincible. Because power in others’ hands was still a collar around your neck. Because your name on Forbes—on the lips of CEOs and senators—meant nothing when you woke to the space in your bed still warm, still bleeding with their absence. No matter how long you’d been with them, no matter how hard you’d tried to accept that your husbands fought and killed for a living to keep the society running normally, it never felt easy knowing that one day even the strongest sorcerer might not return home to you. There might be no ashes for your urns. No shroud. Maybe bone. Maybe a rumor. Maybe silence.

You’d memorized the loss's shape long before it arrived.

You knew what it meant to scream into pillows while PR teams scrubbed blood from the headlines. You had rehearsed the press statement for their deaths. You had drafted their eulogies and cried in the shower to see what your face would look like when it was time. You knew which ring to wear when they brought you the remains—if they brought you anything at all.

The thought of never retrieving his body—their bodies—clawed acid up your throat—the kind you’d drown the world in and still feel nothing.

Maybe it was your fault for loving men with actual substance to them.

You schooled your face. He didn’t need this.

So you smiled.

Because he was home.

Because Nanami was warm beside you.

Because the light had come back on.

Nanami felt your heart stutter; his fingers twitched against your wrist. He always sensed it. But instead of pointing it out, he deadpanned, “I was scheduling your funeral.”

Satoru laughed. Loud. Reckless. Alive.

You smiled. You did not scream.

“I knew it!” Gojo crowed. “I could feel your erotic longing!”

You laughed—too low, too sudden. It bubbled up wrong. Your ribs ached. You leaned into Nanami because the alternative was falling apart.

Gojo launched himself onto the couch like a meteor made of serotonin and aftershocks, snuggling both of you with zero hesitation. “I’m the president of Jujutsu Society and your uterus’s bestie,” he mumbled.

You made a noise halfway between a scoff and a whimper. Nanami didn’t blink.

“I was going to murder you with a spoon,” you whispered, still scrolling through your phone over his head, your fingers trembling slightly.

“Then put me in your will,” Satoru chirped, nuzzling into your neck. “Also, just from my vibes today, I scared so many people off.”

And he said it like it was funny. Like it was a joke. Like the violence hadn’t left a crackdown in the middle of the man you loved. Like he hadn’t just crawled out of someone else’s horror story to come back here and pretend the world still let you have peace, let you have them.

Nanami reached over and jammed a cushion under your feet. “Your vibes have a body count,” he muttered.

“Thank you; that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.” Gojo beamed. “You two are adorable when you worry about me. So sweet. So soft. So married.”

“You were eavesdropping,” Nanami accused.

“I was spiritually observing,” Gojo replied, his arms spreading across the cushions like a glorified golden retriever with war trauma.

“You look awful,” you said, brushing hair from his forehead.

“Thanks, babe. You should have seen the other guys.” Gojo sighed, eyes closing under your touch. “Oh wait—they are all dead.”

Then he looked at Nanami. “You were worried about me? That was so adorable.”

“I was calculating your recovery period post-burnout.”

“Translation: he loves me,” Gojo sang, then nuzzled his head into your chest. “Can I stay here forever?”

Nanami deadpanned, “Only if you eat those nutrition-approved momos I forced our chef to make.”

“What’s a momo?” he asked.

Then, before you could explain, he was asleep—sprawled across you both, childlike, limbs leaden with a fatigue only gods and soldiers knew. You ran your fingers through his hair.

Because this was the bargain you made.

Because rage, this ancient, wore a thousand faces.

Because grief could wait.

Maybe it was the hormones talking, but for now, you kept them warm. Human. Here.

Even if it killed you.

Minutes later, Nanami barked at the chef from the couch, his voice eerily calm and his sleeves rolled up to reveal tense forearms. “No refined flour. Less sodium. Steamed, not pan-fried.”

You snapped photos of a sleeping Gojo with animal filters—frog, rhino, hedgehog—god reduced to emojis. You stifled your giggles as you showed them to Nanami.

Nanami raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You know, if you keep this up, he might actually start believing he’s a frog. But I have to admit, it’s kind of adorable.”

You snorted, “he already knows he’s a frog.”

Your private chef—normally in charge of seasonal menus, imported produce, and at least one suspicious truffle per dish—nodded quickly. The man was sweating like he was facing down a war criminal. “Y-Yes, Nanami-san. Understood. Millet flour for wrappers, ginger infusion, turmeric-base chutney—”

“And more protein in the filling. Mushrooms, paneer, lean chicken, or I’ll have you making fish stock until your bones turn gelatinous. Do I make myself clear?”

“…Crystal.”

“That poor man just wants to make dumplings,” you said.

Nanami rubbed your stomach. “That man tried to feed you refined starches. That’s grounds for execution.”

You laughed—real and warm—and Nanami finally relaxed enough to cup the underside of your belly like he was steadying a priceless sculpture.

"You're radiant today," he sighed, thumb brushing your hipbone. "And I don't mean in the commercial maternity ad way but in "the sort that made emperors kneel" way.”

“Careful,” you hummed. “Talk like that and I might promote you to COO of this marriage.”

“I already am,” he said, arching a brow. “But if I ever had to pick between this household and the Jujutsu Society again—”

“...you are picking me?” You asked, softly mocking.

“I'm picking the twins,” he deadpanned. “They’d unionize if I neglected them.” Then, quietly added, “And yes. You. Always.”

The moment stilled.

You glanced toward the hallway, where Gojo’s shoes were scattered, where the energy had been blinding.

“He’ll exhaust himself.” You didn’t phrase it as a question, your thumb stroking Gojo’s cheek as he slept, his head a dead weight on your arm. Pregnancy made his usual human-weighted-blanket act borderline hazardous; otherwise, he would be trying to bury his face in your chest.

Nanami sighed, one hand settling on Gojo’s head, fingers carding through his stupidly soft hair—anchoring them to this moment, to this room, while Gojo had been trying to dismantle an entire corrupt institution with nothing but charm and casual genocide. “I know. That’s why I’m going with him.”

Your jaw clenched. Hormones turned your voice razor-sharp, but you didn't look up, just kept rubbing Gojo's cheek as he—still asleep—pulled you closer. "So you'll miss the twins' birth?"

His face did something complicated—sadness, regret, guilt, and that infuriating practicality all warring at once. “We won't be away, but if you and the babies are to be kept safe—he is to take over the role—we’d have to rewrite the entire Jujutsu structure. Clan corruption, mission protocol, sorcerer rights. You know what that takes.”

You inhaled deeply. “More blood.”

“And choices we don't want to make.”

Another beat of silence.

“He still sleeps like a kid when he is home,” you murmured. “But he talks in his sleep now.”

Nanami didn’t look surprised. “What does he say?”

“Names. Kids he couldn’t save. You. Me. The twins. Last week he said, ‘Don’t let them be cursed.’”

Nanami flinched, subtle but unmistakable.

You touched his hand, your thumb gliding along the faint scar by his knuckle. He relaxed under your touch the way only Nanami could—like it was the first time someone had ever let him breathe.

“He’s going to take the whole world on his back,” Nanami muttered. “And forget he has a family.”

You nodded, then smirked. “We could bribe him to rest. Offer performance bonuses. Coupons for ‘One Free Pregnant Lap Nap.’”

Nanami actually chuckled, nuzzling his face in your hair. “Do I get one too?”

“No,” you said. “You get quarterly emotional reviews. And a company car if you don't miss any OB appointments.”

His lips brushed your ear, voice rich and teasing, one hand rubbing soothing circles over your stomach and the other still running his nails through Gojo’s hair. “I’d like to renegotiate my benefits.”

“Submit a proposal in writing. Font Garamond. Double spaced. With references.”

Nanami laughed, then glared at any housekeeping staff who dared to look in your direction unnecessarily.

Later that evening, momos arrived. They were mediocre. Nanami chewed them in righteous judgment.

But you didn’t care. Maybe in this reality you understood Savitri.

---

Group Chat: Wife Support Network 💅

Postmortem Baddie: How’s Gojo?

Perpetually Horny: Shoko. I need you to understand what just happened.

Postmortem Baddie: Okay.

Perpetually Horny: He was doing push-ups. SHIRTLESS. And then he had the AUDACITY—to put one hand behind his back.

Postmortem Baddie: No.

Perpetually Horny: YES. And then he started counting. Out loud. "One." "Two." "Three—"

Cuntiest Bitch Alive: That man is the reason I can’t ethically prescribe meds anymore.

Postmortem Baddie: You're being spiritually derailed by pectorals.

HR Baddie: You let him finish the set?? I’d have thrown a Bible at him.

Perpetually Horny: I blacked out at “three.” I think I saw God. And she looked disappointed but also smug.

---

Group Chat: Wife Support Network 💅

(Inc: You, Shoko, Maya, CHRO)

Postmortem Baddie: Update?

Perpetually Horny: Gojo bench-pressed me.

Cuntiest Bitch Alive: No.

Perpetually Horny: YES.

Postmortem Baddie: Why?

Perpetually Horny: I said I felt heavy. He PICKED ME UP AND STARTED DOING REPS.

HR Baddie: Your marriage is a gym membership with trauma.

Cuntiest Bitch Alive: Did I not say no sexual contact until you all rebuild emotional regulation?

Perpetually Horny: I asked him to stop. He said, “Relax, sweetheart. This is light work.” Then winked. WINKED.

HR Baddie: I swear to god if you end up in labor because that himbo used you as a dumbbell—

Postmortem Baddie: Satoru pretends to take things lightly. He’s not actually stupid. Also, how’s Nanami doing?

Perpetually Horny: He got back from the gym.

HR Baddie: Say less.

Perpetually Horny: He walked in. Sweat dripping down his neck. Shirt clinging like a threat. And then—He made a sound.

Postmortem Baddie: What kind of sound?

Perpetually Horny: Like a low grunt. Deep. Unholy. A noise from the pre-verbal part of the human soul.

Postmortem Baddie: You’re pregnant because of this exact behavior.

HR Baddie: He’s the reason paternity leave should come with PTSD therapy.

Cuntiest Bitch Alive: So just to be clear—still no sex.

HR Baddie: You married two Greek tragedies and turned them into a gym class.

---

This Is How You Get Twins, Sir

You were trying to find the HDMI cable.

That was it. That was all.

You were not—contrary to Gojo’s paranoid delusion—a flight risk, nor about to “go into premature labor because of HDMI-related rage.” You were simply standing in the media room, side-eyeing a nest of tangled black wires, holding your lower back like a war widow. One hand on your bump. One foot wedged behind a speaker. You were, objectively, suffering.

“Don’t move,” came Gojo’s voice from the hallway, firm in that stupid way that made you want to both listen and rebel out of spite. You didn’t have time to argue. He appeared in the doorway two seconds later, barefoot, towel slung loose around his hips like he’d been summoned straight from a fan edit.

“You’re wet,” you muttered, because your brain short-circuited the second you saw his chest, water glistening like thirst trap lighting.

“I’m damp,” he corrected, smug. “And you’re waddling like a hostile penguin. Sit.”

“I need the HDMI—”

“Sit.”

He closed the space in three strides. His palm was wide, steadying your lower back without asking, and you flinched—not in pain, but at the heat. He smelled like bergamot and shampoo and a man with too many opinions on your rest schedule. And he was looking at you like you were glass. Not fragile, but precious. Expensive. Untouchable unless he earned it.

You gave in with a sigh and let him guide you—gently, carefully—into the big armchair.

“Lean forward,” he said, voice dipping like he knew exactly what he was doing. His hands skimmed the top of your shoulders, then dragged down, kneading through the tension you’d been ignoring for weeks.

His hands were hot. His thumbs knew where to press. You made a noise you instantly regretted. Gojo stilled.

“You okay?”

You cleared your throat. “You're disgusting.”

He leaned in, mouth close to your ear. You could feel the shape of his smile.

“Feel that?” he whispered, taking your hand and pressing it to his chest. His heart was thumping like he’d sprinted across a battlefield. “That’s my heart vibrating. For you.”

You blinked. “You absolute whore.”

“But you know what’s beating harder?” His voice dropped, silk over static. You didn’t answer. You didn’t have to. Your palm was still on his chest. His other hand had dipped lower, spreading wide at the base of your neck like he was mapping out a new territory.

“You’re not allowed to die, y’know,” he murmured. “Ever. You scared the hell out of me.”

You paused. Something in your throat squeezed tight.

“I didn’t die,” you said quietly.

He kissed your temple like it didn’t matter. Like you were alive now, and that was enough.

And then—

Of course—

The door creaked open.

Nanami, hair damp from the rain, holding a tiny blue onesie in one hand, stared at the scene: you half-limp in Gojo’s lap, his mouth too close to your throat, your hands entangled like you were mid-coitus or prayer.

Silence.

Nanami’s brows twitched. “...Is this about the HDMI cable?”

Gojo, unfazed: “No. This is about healing.”

You: “This is how I ended up with twins.”

Nanami sighed. Stepped inside. Dropped the onesie beside you like a gentle verdict. You watched his gaze fall to your belly—round and heavy with movement—and something in his face cracked open.

“It’s so small,” he murmured. You weren’t sure if he meant the onesie or your remaining sense of peace. But he crouched. Rubbed your belly with reverence. Whispered, “Can’t believe they’re almost here.”

His voice was hoarse.

Gojo kissed your shoulder. Nanami kissed your stomach. You closed your eyes.

You were still in pain. Still pissed. Still tired.

But for one second, you felt like a goddess being worshipped by two very emotionally unstable men.

Which, honestly? Fair.

---

Next Chapter 22 (alt ending 2.13) - Things Broken Are Still Yours - Part 2 - (Tumblr/Ao3)

A spin-off Crack series in the same AU - (Tumblr/Ao3)

All Works Masterlist

Beta - @blackrimmedrose

Tag-list = @lady-of-blossoms @stargirl-mayaa @dark-agate @tqd4455 @roscpctals99 @sxlfcxst @se-phi-roth @austisticfreak @helloxkittylo @itoshi-r @kodzukensworld @revolvinggeto @luringfantasy @xx-tazzdevil-xx @unaaasz @thebumbqueen @holylonelyponyeatingmacaroni @whos-ruru @helo1281917

[celestie0]

need to write a hospital au need to write a hospital au need to write a hospital au need to write a hospital au need to write a hospital au need to write a hospital au need to write a hospital au need to write a hospital au need to write a hospital au need to write a hospital au need to write a hospital au need to write a hospital au need to write a hospital au need to write a hospital au

[sadistic-kiss]

🐺House of Alphas🐺

(Jujutsu Kaisen Omegaverse )

Summary: Waking up in a world that was not your own was problematic enough. Being the villainess was another. However, the possessive alphas might take the cake.

Disclaimer: Angsty but I ain’t Gege

Omega!Reader x Alpha!Sukuna x Alpha!Gojo x Alpha!Toji x Alpha!Nanami x Alpha!Getou

Chapter 63: Chi Village

~

...

The further south you went the hotter it became. Soon you were wearing but a bralette and skirt while your alphas went shirtless.

Sometimes you hated how damn attractive they were, especially watching as they set up camp. Nanami found the perfect spot under the shade, away from the burning sun. Your blanket was laid out for you as you sat watching your alphas. Their muscles tensed nicely and any sheen of sweat that glistened upon their skin made your mouth water. Anywhere you moved your gaze you couldn't be free from those sexy beasts so you looked up into the trees, eyeing the lush leaves above.

To be honest you could just go over to either of them and just… grab them- you know they wouldn't mind- hell they would love it. Or you could just call one over. With a snap of your fingers, you could be in lust land. Being devoured beautifully... However, there was a lot that weighed on your mind. Sex was not your only concern. You had to worry about your mission to save the world among other things. The Chi village, Junpei, Mahito, Yuta… Kobeq, Haibara… and many many other things. There was just too much! Who had time to think about hot sexy sweaty alpha knots and cum and-fuck!

“I want to get lunch.” you spoke as you stood swiftly. Your dirty mind is annoying you.

Your alphas looked toward you with raised brows.

Toji looked confused, “If you are hungry princess we can get you food. What do you want?” He questioned as he threw down his tent, not even worried about it anymore…the call of his omega seemingly more important to him.

That damn caring daddy of yours.

You waved your hand at him, “No, I want to do it. It’s hard for me to track things… my nose sucks so I want to get better at it.”

“Why?” Gojo questioned.

Nanami released a light chuckle, “You know our omega likes to do things herself.”

“An omega that hunts.” Getou snorted at the very idea.

“What?” you shrug not knowing why that seemed so far-fetched. Where were all your strong independent omegas?

“Nothing sweetheart, it's cute that you like to do things yourself.”

You felt a little shy now as you shifted in your spot, “Well I think it would be beneficial for me to be a bit independent, even though I love you guys spoiling me I might become rotten.”

“We don't min-.”

“Tch- what? What are we supposed to do if she does everything herself.” Your white-haired alpha frowned. “She won't need us anymore.”

You let out a joyous laugh as you walked to Gojo, “I will always need my alphas, especially my troublemaker.” You kiss his cheek playfully then wave to no one in particular. “Come on time is wasting! Who’s gonna help me?”

“Isn't the answer obvious?” Sukuna sheaths his hunter knife already coming towards you.

“I will go too.” Toji volunteered. “ I got the best sense of smell after all.” he grinned tapping his nose.

Getou mused lightly, twirling his hair around a finger,“ Perhaps I should go so I can be a better hunter juuuuust in case Nanami tries to punish us again.”

Nanami gasped, “That was-”

“I might as well go too!” Gojo huffed cutting the blonde off, “I gotta be a good providing alpha for you!”

“You do provide Satoru!” You roll your eyes amid the conversation.

Your blonde brushed his hands upon his pants, “I will also attend. There's never no room for improvement.”

Sukuna growled, “What the hell are we all going!?”

You brighten up at the idea, ”Wait, that would be good! It would be like a training session!”

“Aawh-” Getou began to groan until you looked toward him. “-whhh I love those. So~ so much fun.” you could tell his earlier comment was said as a joke but you weren't gonna let him take it back!

...

~

*Read More*

[greenday-bingus]

[𝒜𝓇𝓂𝓎 𝒟𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓂𝑒𝓇𝓈] (JJK x Blood User!Reader)

𝟏.𝟑𝐤 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬

(ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ᴘʀᴏᴏꜰ ʀᴇᴀᴅ, ᴡɪʟʟ ɢᴇᴛ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴀᴛ 🫡) ɢᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴏꜰ ꜱᴄʜᴏᴏʟ ꜰᴏʀ ᴀ ᴅᴀʏ? ɢᴏᴊᴏ ꜰɪɴᴀʟʟʏ ʙʀɪɴɢꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ɢᴀɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴛᴏɢᴇᴛʜᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛᴀᴋᴇꜱ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ᴍɪꜱꜱɪᴏɴ

Ch.1 Ch.2 Ch.3 (this is chapter 3 YAHO)

You were walking side by side with Gojo, except you couldn’t remember why. Gojo just knocked on your door saying, “I called you out of school, so you can come with me to Harajuku.” You didn’t question it of course, because even if you did, he probably wouldn’t answer you.

Plus Harajuku is an awesome place to be, and another plus is the fact that the one and only Gojo bought you ice cream.

While walking you were too busy enjoying your ice cream to notice that Megumi was right in front of you with some boy with pink hair, before Gojo pointed them out. “Megumi and Yuji, what a pleasant surprise you guys finally made it!,” Gojo announced happily. Megumi had a sour look on his face, “we’ve been waiting for you Sensei…”

Gojo nudges you on your side and looks at Yuji, “Ah! Whoops, Hi!” you waved at Yuji and quickly introduced yourself. “Oh is this the girl you were talking about Fushiguro?” Yuji recalled. Megumi nodded, “oh cool! Any friends of Fushiguro, are friend of mine! I’m Yuji Itadori, I like women like Jennifer Lawrence!”

You twirled your hair jokingly and gushed, “wow I can’t believe THE Megumi Fushiguro calls me his friend, I think, I think, I think I might-“ you get cut off as Megumi pinches your cheek. “Shut up! You happen to be the only other first year!”

You put your hand up and whispered to Yuji, “we’re totally besties.” Yuji lets out a snicker while Megumi rolls his eyes. As much as Megumi wants to be angry, his cold cold heart warmed a bit. He would never tell that obviously, he wants to be nonchalant.

Yuji looks at you and Megumi up and down, “huh, my uniform looks waaaaay different from yours.”

“Well uniforms can be customized,” you decided to peep in. “

“Well now that you know my new student, we have another one!” Gojo pushes the three of you into a new area, which makes you run into some girl yelling at some talent agent. She had the same uniform as you guys, so she started to make her way over.

“I’m Nobara Kugasaki,” she boldly announces, but then had a disgusted look when she saw Megumi and Yuji. “I’m stuck with boys?” She points to Yuji, “you look like you pick your boogers,” she shifts her eyes to the black haired boy, “and you, you look emo, and you probably act nonchalant to get girls!” Yuji and Megumi looked at each other and started to bicker with Nobara.

You look at your teacher with a concerned look, “so we let them continue, orrrr?” Gojo smirked, “as much as I would like them to keep going, we have places to go.”

When the trio stopped throwing insults at each other, Nobara finally noticed you. She lets out a squeal, “why didn’t nobody tell me there was another girl?!” You giggle a bit seeing her attitude change so quickly, “don’t get your hopes too high she’s only a part time student,” Megumi mumbles out.

Nobara let out a groan, “are you joking me? You’re gonna leave me with these bozo’s?” You held back a giggle seeing her antics, “you’re lucky i’m even a part time student! If it was up to me, I would be at my other school right now, however the big sorcerers have other plans.”

You damned the world for giving you this curse technique. Your spider webs were highly feared and were highly sought for. Your curse technique was very rare, so it came to a surprise when your parents learned you possessed such powers. The people who possessed the power were killed, hence why there’s not many people with the technique.

“Oh c’mon don’t be so pessimistic! You at least have your awesome teacher now!” Gojo wrapped his arm around your shoulder with a cheeky smile. You looked around pretending to be looking for something, “awesome teacher? Where?”

Megumi wanting to get back at Gojo for all the times he made him suffer he decided to join in, “yeah what great teacher? I only see a teacher who abandons his kids to get some mochi.”

“Okay that’s it, we’re leaving we’ve got stuff to do,” Gojo sticks his tongue at his students before using his long legs and disappearing.

-

“Are you kidding me , what the hell is this!?,” Nobara said what was going through everyone’s mind. “Sorry kids, but duty calls, there’s a curse here terrorizing the citizens.” A creepy abandoned building stands before you guys. You could definitely feel the presence of a curse.

You and Megumi glanced at each other then at Gojo. “CRAP I’m totally unprepared, I didn’t even bring my weapon!” you thought to yourself quietly. Until you guys could open your mouth Gojo interrupts the two of you, “Megumi is still recovering from his injury and this kid is here to make sure nothing goes wrong.” He points to you, making you seem like you’re more powerful than what you actually are. “And I already know how good my AWESOME students are, so this is more of a test for you guys!”

Yuji and Nobara groaned, “we can handle ourselves, we’ll be out in no time,” and with that Nobara waved goodbye and went inside. Gojo pulls Yuji to the side to have a small chat and handing him a weapon before pushing him inside the abandoned building.

“This is fun!” you exclaimed happily, you were still eating your ice cream.

“Spoiled,” Megumi scoffs. He wants to punch you for the way you eat your ice cream, you managed to get it in your nose. Normally he could care less, but right now seeing you makes him irritated. You were busy to notice him side eyeing you, he was disgusted.

Megumi takes out a handkerchief and hands it to you without saying a word. “What?”

“You got ice cream on your nose, are you some child?” he sneered. You looked him up and down, you took a finger and wiped ice cream on his nose. He lets out a gasp, he takes some of your ice cream and smears it on your face, which leads you guys to wipe ice cream on each other.

Gojo, who was once lost in his thoughts, notices his students fighting each other. However before he could interject a curse breaks through a window flying right towards his students. You and Megumi see the curse which makes you scream.

Within a matter of seconds it bursts open, (yaho curse guts everywhere!). “Oh man she’s crazy!” Gojo cheered. Nobara comes out with Yuji holding a kid as she scolds him.

She stops in her tracks as she sees you and Megumi completely dirty, “what the hell did you do to her!?”

Megumi raises his eyebrows, “it’s what she did to me!?” You covered your laugh with the back of your palm, you were totally hiding the fact that you had started this ice cream war.

Yuji comes back with his arms crossed behind his head, “i’m hungry, can we go get something to eat? Maybe steak?”

“Steak?” you and Nobara questioned at the same time. “What about sushi?” Nobara suggests.

Yuji gave a sour face, “really? Steak is totally more filling! Megumi, don't you agree?”

“No.” Megumi deadpans.

-

“Guys this is gonna be so fun!” you cheered happily carrying your luggage. “This isn’t supposed to be fun, we’re here on a mission,” Megumi rolled his eyes at you.

“C'mon dude! We get a stay at a cabin, at a farm! With sheep! And all we gotta do is wipe out some dumb curse!” Yujis eyes twinkled. Nobara handed him a bag asking him to carry it for her. “Yeah don’t be so pessimistic!”

The small squad kept hiking through the forest, surrounded by sheep and lambs until a small cabin could be seen. A little lamb happily skipped towards you, you let out a small gasp then went to pet it. “It’s so soft!”

A/n

I’m super sorry guys 🙏 Ive been procrastinating this chapter. School and relationships have been quite hectic, however i have returned. I came up with a new idea for a new jjk story but I remembered I have two other fanfictions to work on 😓 This is also cross posted in archive, but tumblr is getting it first, whenever i post a fanfiction on archive from my phone, it always messes up, so until i can touch my laptop chapters will be posted on here. I’ll try posting the next chapter next week, HOPEFULLY 🤞 if you’re still here, i want to thank you for reading!!! Repost are appreciated and have a good day 👅

Edit 1: I can’t believe I FORGOT THE FIRST PARAGRAPH IM FREAKING CRAZY 😦

[hinakazino]

Royal Reverse Harem, Gojo/Reader

#1 Continuation of the Royal Reverse Harem series! This'll be a mini series, just with interesting scenarios with JJK. <3 Warnings: Obsessive Gojo, mean gojo, toji/reader & gojo/reader.

When you'd first transferred into the novel, you were in a state of shock. The fancy bedroom, the beautiful decor, the utter amount of respect you were given, and the overly expensive food was awesome. Reality didn't really hit you until after a week or so.

You felt so stupid, you had wasted a week doing pretty much nothing except enjoy your new lifestyle. Sure the maids, butlers, and EVERYONE seemed terrified of you but all you really thought about was being nice to change their opinions.

Your idea of "I'll just be good and live my life happily watching my favorite characters" came completely crashing down when Gojo decided to pay you a visit. By now, thankfully you already set in motion your plan to change public opinion but Satoru had other ideas.

Satoru was stunning, a majestic being. He looked like an angel who had been sent from the heavens, sculpted by the gods themselves. His soft white hair and striking blue eyes, and oh goodness, his soft lips. It was a little embarrassing, how much you admired him.

When you first saw him, there was no doubt in your heart why the villainess loved him so much. Satoru was fascinating, not just in his standing but his mere presence demanded respect. You felt the air leave your lungs as you sat at the dinner table.

It was quiet for awhile, which made you feel awkward as Satoru himself was the one who requested your attendance. However, what you didn't know was that Gojo was just as confused with your silence. Normally you'd be speaking to him, in your confident haughty mannerisms.

He couldn't quite understand what was different today, you seemed, nervous? He didn't know, but what he did know was that at the moment he was fed up with your schemes. It was just too bad, he didn't know you weren't the actual villainess!!

"I don't understand why you're so silent, especially when you of all people should know why I'm here," he stated. Oh, now you were panicking, because you honestly had no idea what he was talking about!!

Silence seemed the best choice but this had only angered Satoru more. As the night progressed he had begun shouting at you, violently clattering plates to the floor, and commanding you to simply stay away from him.

It was a traumatizing experience, safe to say, after that Gojo Satoru did not look the same to you. Now whenever he was near you, whether it be just passing by or due to political, social, or marital reasons you tended to shift away whenever possible. Even when you were pressured by your family, which sucked, Gojo wasn't interested anyway so you snuck away most times.

In the end, you decided on a divorce, it was also the best step to ensure you stayed alive, which you asked for two weeks later after your dinner session with him. Satoru, although surprised by your request had asked whether this was a tactic to gain his favor.

"No, I truly want this divorce," you responded quietly, eyes not being able to meet his as you glanced everywhere but forward. You didn't know what to say to him anymore, it was not longer a feeling of awe and captivation anymore with him. Now, you simply wanted to be as far away from him as possible too.

Gojo on the other hand was delighted, had quickly signed the papers, and had pressured his father, the emperor, to confirm it a week later. Everyone was caught off guard by the sudden divorce, and word spread like wildfire.

Can you believe that the crown prince and, well, previous-to-be princess divorced? , I saw it coming from a mile away! That witch would've ruined this empire. , What does this mean, could it be that the rumor of the crown prince having a secret lover is true? Who is it? , Oh, I feel so sad for poor (y/n), she really is a kind woman, have you even spoken to her before?

The last statement made you proud when you heard of it from your lady-in-waitings. At the very least, public opinion had changed for you to some extent. You intended for it to continue turning positive for the better. Now that you stayed with your parents, maybe things wouldn't be so bad.

What you didn't realize was that after 3 months of divorce Gojo was beginning to rethink his choices. Firstly, he was annoyed because despite the divorce being official his father still pestered him on the daily. The truth was evident, the emperor did not approve of a commoner becoming the future empress (that said commoner, the female lead).

The emperor only agreed on this divorce because Gojo did make some sense, and, he didn't want to lose the support of one of the highest nobles in his empire. That being said, he either now expected Satoru to find another noble lady (many available) or crawl back to you (honestly emperor has given up on trying to be civil).

Due to these factors, Satoru has still be thinking of you. However, he wasn't that interested until just about the 2nd month after your divorce with him. See, the reason was that he had eyes on you anyway, his spies in your estate told him anything they deemed necessary. What were you going to do? Go after the female lead again?

It was all too predictable, which was why when Satoru's father yelled at him for not doing anything he was confused. "What is it now father?" he responded, irritated. "YOU FOOL. (Y/N)'S ALREADY COURTING OTHERS, THE ZENIN, SOUND FAMILIAR? Oh.. you're a lost cause now..." his father had responded, tired and exhausted of his son.

That was when Gojo was informed by his spies, that you, in fact, had been in much contact with Toji much recently. Then, when Gojo asked why his men hadn't reported anything, they stated that they had mentioned it once already but nothing important seemed to come up other than you both being acquaintances. Plus, the rumor was everywhere anyway, they'd assumed he'd heard.

Now, Satoru began to watch you more intensively, peaked even higher when at a social party just 2 days later, you were dancing with Toji. Both of you so friendly, even Gojo was dumbfounded as to how. Didn't Toji not like you?

After Toji, there was Geto, Gojo's best friend turned into one of the Empire's sole enemies. A true tragedy that was, and yet, you were spotted with him as part of reports following his activity! Which occurred to everyone considered an enemy of the empire, but you? What were you doing with him?

Then there was the flirting with Choso, and your newfound friendship with Yuki. You were on a roll of drama, being front and center on stage whilst promoting good deals which pleased all classes on the social hierarchy. Gojo was at a loss and at the same time, thrilled? No, maybe jealous, not of you but those associated with you.

He hadn't seen you like that before, you looked genuinely happy now. You were having fun at social gatherings, not having a care in the world. Despite your obvious scandalous behavior, you were no longer committing acts of evil and, no longer glancing at him. Which didn't feel right!!

Gojo Satoru hated to admit it, but if this was another one of your games it was definitely working. Only a couple months after separation, and he was watching your every move. Even beginning to reconsider his choices, thinking how the female lead wasn't as interesting anymore to him.

Sadly, it was a bit too late now but Gojo has decided, he wants to win back your favor. A crown prince, a noble lady previously wed to him, what could potentially go wrong?

© 2024 by Hinakazino, do not translate/edit/claim or use my work in any form.

[lillianawayne99]

CastAway Chapter 22

Pairing: Gojo, Itadori, Sukuna, Nanami X OC

Genre: Action Romance

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: Teacher-Student relationship, canon with a twist, reverse harem, smut, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, violence, major character death, smut chapters will have specific warnings

Synopsis: Calliope, a wolf in sheep's clothing, enrolls at Jujutsu Tech to protect herself from a world she's never seen before. In her efforts to stay alive, she finds relationships that could mend her soul or tear her apart.

Previous Chapter // CastAway // Masterlist

Gojo led Yuuji and I through a series of halls, though they felt more like tunnels, under Jujutsu Tech. I didn’t really understand why we were going to so much trouble to stay out of sight. If Gojo really trusted this person, they could have met us at the safe house.

He still hadn’t told us anything about who we were meeting and why. For once I had joined Yuuji in asking a lot of questions. 

“Who are we meeting?” Yuuji asked.

“Why are you introducing us to someone when we’re supposed to be dead?” I shot at Gojo when he didn’t answer. 

“Why are we meeting them under the school?” Yuuji voiced my concerns.

“We may be underground, but school staff could be down here. It would’ve been safer to meet them at the house.” I added.

Gojo waved us off, tired of us asking one question after another. For the first time, we were getting on his nerves instead of the other way around. “I won’t be able to lead you this time, but don’t worry. I’ve called in a friend you can trust.” 

That was the most we’d been able to get out of him all day, but it didn’t answer any of our questions. I huffed and glared at Gojo, looking past him to Yuuji who shrugged at me. 

Gojo stopped before a large wooden door, pulling it open to show a relatively large room. There was a raised, stone platform with a wooden railing at the far end of the room. On the other side of the platform was a wooden wall with another large door. 

There was a man standing in the middle of the room. His back was turned to us, but I recognized his jacket and hair. It hit me then where we were, what was going on. I’d gotten so accustomed to living in Tokyo with Yuuji and Gojo I’d forgotten what was going on in the story I’d been dropped into. 

Yuuji and I stopped a few feet away from the tall, blonde man. I’d stopped in realization of what was going on, Yuuji seemed to prefer standing next to me than approaching the stranger. Gojo had no such qualms. 

He walked up to Nanami as he turned to face us, wrapping an arm around his friend’s shoulders and holding his other hand out in front of his chest. “This is Nanami Kento, the ex-salaryman jujutsu sorcerer.”

“Please don’t call me that.” Nanami rolled his eyes at Gojo’s antics. 

Gojo continued introducing him, but his words went in one ear and out the other. 

What the fuck had I gotten myself into? It had only been a little over a month since Sukuna killed me and Yuuji, and yet that had been long enough for me to completely forget what we were blindly walking into.

The attack on the school at the exchange event. Getou working with special grades. Who knew what he was planning to join forces with curses? But before that, Mahito. If we were meeting Nanami now, it would only be a few days or weeks before we fought Mahito.

Yuuji almost died in that fight. So did Nanami. How would I factor into this? Would I give us an edge? Or would we all end up in Shoko’s office? Could Mahito’s technique work on me? I could sense my soul, which meant I could protect it, right? Sukuna protected Yuuji’s soul, but Mahito was still able to put holes in him.

“We should greet each other first.” I tuned back into the conversation as Nanami dropped his hands to his sides and bowed slightly at the waist. “Nice to meet you, Itadori-kun and Davis-chan.”

“Oh, yes, nice to meet you too,” Yuuji responded as we mimicked Nanami’s bow. 

As if he noticed my mind was elsewhere, Yuuji brushed the back of his hand against mine. I glanced over at him to see him raise an eyebrow in my direction. My brows furrowed in confusion as I tiled my head slightly, pretending to not know anything. 

“What’s going on with you two?” Nanami’s tone made it obvious he was annoyed we weren’t paying attention to him. “Are you two dating?”

Yuuji and I turned back to Nanami, my lips parted in shock at what he’d asked. I glanced over at Yuuji then back at Nanami and over to Gojo, silently asking our sensei for help. He shook his head at me and chuckled.

“Uh, no?” I answered, looking over at Yuuji again to see a mixture of disappointment and confusion in his cage.

“What?” He asked me, hesitantly wrapping his pointer finger around my pinky.

“Are we?” I asked no one in particular, the question could have been directed at him, Gojo or myself. Unsure how to handle the situation, I intertwined my fingers with Yuuji’s and turned back to Nanami. “We haven’t talked about it yet.”

Nanami didn’t react to my response beyond an almost unnoticeable raise of a brow. “Hmph. Itadori-kun, you asked why I didn’t become a jujutsu sorcerer from the start.”

“Oh, right!” Yuuji sounded excited to finally get back on topic.

“I studied at Jujutsu High, and one thing I learned … is that jujutsu sorcerers are shit!” I couldn’t help but snicker and glance over at Yuuji to see he was reeling from Nanami’s exclamation. “Then I worked at your typical company and one thing I learned is that work is shit!”

“Really?!” Yuuji blurted out, shocked and maybe a little annoyed at Nanami’s words.

“If both are equally shit, I’ll take the one I’m more suited to. That’s the only reason I came back.” Nanami finished his explanation with his arms crossed against his chest. 

“That’s dark.” Yuuji leaned over to whisper in my ear.

“He’s right, though,” I whispered back with a shrug.

“Itadori-kun, please don’t believe I’m of the same mindset as Gojo-san. I do trust and have faith in him, but I do not respect him!” Gojo let out a sharp sound of indignation, but Nanami ignored him. Putting his hands in his pockets, Nanami turned around and walked toward the back of the room as he spoke. “I hate the way the higher-ups do things, but I believe in rules and regulations. This conversation is dragging on.”

Nanami turned back around to look at Yuuji and I. “In short, I don’t recognize either of you as a sorcerer. Even if you do carry the bomb known as Sukuna or are a goddess, please make an effort to prove that you are useful.”

Yuuji bowed his head, his fingers tightening around mine as he considered Nanami’s words. “Lately, I’ve been forced to realize how weak and useless I am. But I’ll become strong. I have to be strong, or I won’t be able to choose how I die.”

I squeezed Yuuji’s hand in support and bowed my head at Nanami while Gojo looked at us proudly. Unsure of what to say, I simply met Nanami’s gaze and hoped my expression reflected my own determination to meet his request. 

“I’ll make you recognize me even without that advice.” Yuuji’s posture straightened as he regained his confidence. “Just give me a bit more time.”

“Say that to the higher-ups, not me.” Nanami dismissed him.

“Oh, right.” Yuuji sounded disappointed, prompting me to offer him a sympathetic and encouraging smile.

“Frankly, I don’t care!” Nanami announced, finally starting to get on Yuuji’s nerves.

“Okay, I get it!” Yuuji snapped back.

After Nanami left, Gojo led Yuuji and I back to the safe house. He was chipper and talkative again, but neither Yuuji or I entertained Gojo’s antics much. Yuuji seemed to be processing Nanami’s advice while I was focused on the days ahead and why I was here. 

The three of us were cleaning up after lunch when there was a knock at the door. Gojo got the door then ushered me and Yuuji out, letting Nanami take over babysitting and training duty for the rest of the day.

Not long after, we arrived at a movie theater. The entrance was blocked off with caution tape while police officers directed foot traffic and kept pedestrians away. Nanami talked to the officers out front then led us into the theater to a section of seats covered in blood and surrounded by more tape. 

While Nanami explained what happened and how to see residuals, I focused my vision and uneasily followed the footprints with my gaze. Anxiety started to build in my chest as I thought about what we’d find at the end of the trail. As if he noticed my unease, Yuuji grabbed my hand and interlaced our fingers. 

When I turned to look at him, he offered me a warm, encouraging smile. Gently tugging on my hand Yuuji led me after Nanami. Ducking under more caution tape, we went down a hallway and up a flight of stairs. Yuuji continued to ask questions, which Nanami politely answered, as we made our way to a roof. 

Stepping outside, Yuuji’s hold on my hand tightened briefly before he let go. While Nanami continued talking, I took in our surroundings. Part of the building continued upwards, a small open storage room set into the building, and an overhang at the door we exited through. 

While Nanami directed Yuuji to fight the cursed human hiding behind the overhang, I turned to see another crouched above the game on the far side of the roof. 

“I’ll take that one,” I muttered at the two men, making my way towards it. 

“If you decide you can’t beat it, please call me.” Nanami nodded at me in confirmation, moving to fight the one in the storage room. 

“Aren’t you taking me a bit too lightly here?” Yuuji grumbled.

Tuning out Nanami and Yuuji’s conversation, I watched and waited for the creature to make the first move. I knew it wasn’t a person, nor alive, any more, but a chill still ran down my spine at the awkward way it moved. 

Its skin had turned a mottled shade of green and yellow, reminiscent of a bruise. Its knees and elbows were bent backwards, hands and feet splayed out. It shuffled toward me on all fours like a crab, but in odd, uncomfortable ways. Rather than speaking nonsense like the other two, it chittered what almost sounded like ‘help me.’

When it finally turned and lunged at me, I stepped to the side, dodging the attack. As it flew past me, I grabbed its arm. Twisting it, I plunged my hand through its chest and pulled out its soul.

A heavy, dark, writing pit formed in my stomach as I let go of the corpse and inspected what I held. Souls were supposed to be perfect spheres. Humans were a mix of black and white while curses were all black. 

This … this was a swirl of shades of grey and misshapen. It looked like someone had failed very badly at making a ball out of clay. It was more of a rounded cylinder with lumps and bumps all over. 

As my unease grew, I silently prayed, ‘Hades, help me. What is happening? Why am I here?’

Turning the soul in my hands, I softly whispered to myself and the gods, “How can a curse do something like this?”

“What is it?” Nanami asked from behind me. 

I’d been so focused, I hadn’t noticed him and Yuuji approach me. Nanami stood behind my right shoulder while Yuuji stood to my side, slightly in front of me.

“I - I don’t know,” I answered, concern and confusion in my voice. “Its soul, I think, but it’s all wrong, discolored and misshapen.”

“It’s not a curse, is it?” Nanami asked, his tone cold and even. Either he was very good at masking his emotions, or he’d already realized what was going on.

“No,” I responded flatly. 

“What?” Yuuji blurted out, shock and concern in his voice. “What do you mean it’s not a curse?”

“They’re human.” My lips flattened and jaw tensed as I looked up at him. “Well, they were before they were cursed.”

“What are you talking about?” Yuuji glanced between Nanami and I, hope we were wrong or lying in his gaze. “Did we just-”

“They were already dead,” I cut Yuuji off before he could spiral into guilt. With a soft sigh, I gazed at him apologetically and shifted so I held the transfigured soul in one hand. 

“Human souls look like this,” I explained while summoning an illusion of a human soul in my free hand. It was a perfect sphere roughly the size of a softball with moving swirls of white and black. It wasn’t perfect, no illusion was, but souls were complicated. Each person’s was different, the ratio of light to dark and the way the two mixed never the same.

“Curses like this,” I continued, changing the color of the orb in my hand until the white was completely overtaken with darkness. After a few seconds, I dropped the illusion and cradled the grey mess in my hands. “But this …”

“Is all kinds of fucked up,” Yuuji offered.

“Yeah,” I confirmed.

Finally crushing the soul, I released it from its pain and hopefully granted the person peace, but I doubted they would find the afterlife. Humans were found by Charon and judged by Hades based on the quality of their souls. These transfigured humans were most likely condemned to eternal nothingness. 

Nanami called another sorcerer to take the transfigured humans’ corpses to Shoko then escorted Yuuji and I home. The walk back to the safe house was quiet, for once. Nanami didn’t try to force conversation. He respected mine and Yuuji’s silence while we processed what happened.

Next Chapter

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© LillianaWayne - all rights reserved. Do not copy, modify, repost, or share on other platforms without my express, written permission.

[kikyoupdates]

⭑˚🔮⭑ yandere!jjk x f!reader

yandere, reverse harem, isekai, jujutsu kaisen x fem!reader, slowburn, slowburn yandere

You don't know how or why, but you've been isekai'd into the world of Jujutsu Kaisen. Although your first instinct is to stay away from the plot, you've been blessed with an abnormal amount of cursed energy, and for better or worse, you find yourself sucked into the storyline. You decide that you may as well use your newfound powers for the greater good, and if you're lucky, you might succeed in rewriting some of the characters' fates. But it turns out that your presence in this world is an even bigger deal than you first thought, and soon, everyone wants to make you theirs.

00 — prologue 01 — budding friendship 02 — a sudden encounter 03 — set in motion 04 — fateful beginning 05 — anomaly 06 — what lies ahead 07 — moving in 08 — the last member 09 — teacher’s pet 10 — facing the future 11 — on the brink of death 12 — claimed 13 — in mourning 14 — entrusted with a secret 15 — long time no see 16 — memories erased 17 — rude intrusion 18 — someone dearly beloved 19 — a happy day 20 — seize the opportunity 21 — best friends 22 — everyone's favorite 23 — hand in hand 24 — foreboding 25 — cursed place

More chapters are available on Quotev and Ao3!

⊱.⋅follow + post notifications on for story update announcements or join the author's discord!⋅.⊰

🔮 main masterlist ♡ oneshot masterlist

[id-rather-be-an-outsider]

Fanboys SMAU Masterlist

summary: y/n is new to Jujutsu University, but she’s not unheard of – she’s an independent artist who went viral as a teen, and opted to try and keep her “normal” life, despite her world growing unimaginably in size. read on to find out how y/n navigates her new social circle and social status as a college student!

a/n: ahhh I’m so excited to start this project! I’ve decided that instead of waiting until I’m done with full stories to post them I’ll just post as needed, and the world has to deal with my inconsistent posting schedules because I am shameless and also Tumblr still gives me broken links, so hopefully I can still edit this :| also, comment below if you’d like to be added to the taglist!

the label • artist catalogue + bonus content

chapter 1: introductions . . . . . released Oct 7 2023

chapter 2: making friends . . . . . released Oct 16 2023

chapter 3: first flame . . . . . released Dec 14 2023

bonus chapter 3.5: tease . . . . . in progress

chapter 4: trust . . . . . in progress

chapter 5: revenge dress . . . . .

chapter 6: conquest . . . . .

bonus chapter 6.5: no title . . . . . 

chapter 7: power couple . . . . .

[vanillawhims]

Suguru Geto