#body sharing

"You have the power to possess me and take over my body but you don't because you respect me"

because it can lead to

XF transmigating into MBJ's body while MBJ is STILL THERE.

Like, imagine LGJ finally kills him in his attempt number 73527 or smth and in the middle of delivering his "sad announcement" about the "totally misterious" death of his "dearest nephew", and out of the blue (heh, blue) said nephew bursts through the door, alive, kicking and positively FUMING.

Now, nobody notices anything amiss with the ice prince so they cross this incident out as ome of LGJ's sketchy pranks or smth. But LGJ is scared shitless, both because he personally made sure that MBJ was dead dead and because he just KNOWS there is something wrong with his nephew but he just can't put his finger on it...

Meanwhile, XF is bulshitting (& suffering) his way through every interaction while an angry MBJ soul shard is growling at him ans somehow acing it. (MBJ threatens XF to do stuff and XF, scared for both his life and his sanity, complies (XF is pretending that he, the SIMPIEST SIMP TO HAVE EVER SIMPED for MBJ wouldn't absolutely fold like tissue paper even without the threats and that those are the reason he's going along with this despite having no system instead of fucking off to who knows where) (MBJ isnpretending that he has power over XF and that he is able to harm him in order to feel in control while hoping that XF doesn't notice how harmless he actually is) (XF clocked that almost immediately but again, SIMP)).

Nanami Kento was many things - meticulous, professional, and perhaps one of the most composed sorcerers in the Jujutsu world. But now, he was also the unwilling vessel of the King of Curses himself.

It had happened during a routine mission that went sideways. Instead of Yuji Itadori, it was Nanami who found himself consuming Sukuna's fingers in a desperate attempt to prevent them from falling into the wrong hands. And just like that, the most feared entity in jujutsu history took up residence in his meticulously organized mind.

Being married to Nanami was like living with two completely different men. There was my husband - the man who prepared bento boxes with mathematical precision, who ironed his shirts with military-like attention to detail, who made love with controlled passion and whispered "I love you" with heartfelt sincerity.

Then there was Sukuna - the chaotic entity who would sometimes hijack my husband's body at the most inconvenient moments.

"Kento, could you pass the soy sauce?" I asked one evening during dinner.

Nanami reached for it with his usual grace, but halfway there, his hand stopped. A smirk - completely un-Nanami-like - spread across his face.

"Only if you beg for it, little mortal," he said, voice dropping to a sinister tone that sent shivers down my spine.

I sighed, placing my chopsticks down. "Sukuna, give me back my husband."

The smirk widened as Nanami's eyes glowed with that cursed energy. "Your husband? He's taking a little nap. Now, about that begging…"

"SUKUNA, STOP EMBARRASSING ME IN MY OWN HOME!" Nanami's voice screamed internally, though only a slight twitch of his eyebrow gave away the internal struggle.

"Please pass the soy sauce," I said flatly.

"See? Was that so hard?" Sukuna-Nanami slid the bottle across the table with unnecessary flair.

The worst was when Sukuna decided to flirt with me - which happened with alarming frequency.

"I must admit," Sukuna-Nanami said one morning while I was making coffee, "that apron looks much better on you than it would on your husband's boring ass."

"Sukuna, I swear to all that is holy…" I mumbled, pouring coffee into a mug.

"What? Can't a thousand-year-old curse appreciate his vessel's exquisite taste in partners?" He leaned against the counter, striking a pose that was ridiculously un-Nanami-like. "You know, if you'd been around in my prime, I would have made you my queen."

I rolled my eyes. "You would have sacrificed me to gain more power."

"Details, details," he waved dismissively with Nanami's hand.

The internal struggle was always visible if you knew what to look for - the slight tension in Nanami's shoulders, the almost imperceptible clenching of his jaw, the way his breathing would become just a bit too controlled.

"I AM GOING TO EXORCISE YOU SO HARD YOUR ANCESTORS WILL FEEL IT!" Nanami's mental voice thundered.

"Exorcise me? With what? Your spreadsheets?" Sukuna shot back mentally while outwardly winking at me.

My favorite incident happened when we were at a work function for Nanami's day job. Everything was going smoothly until one of Nanami's colleagues made the mistake of complimenting my dress.

"Thank you," I said with a polite smile.

"Thank you? Is that all?" Sukuna suddenly took over, turning to face the startled colleague with predatory intensity. "This dress would look even better on our bedroom floor. Which, by the way, has much better company than this boring corporate event."

The poor man's face turned five shades of red as Nanami's colleagues stared in disbelief.

I grabbed Sukuna-Nanami's arm. "Honey, I think you need some fresh air."

"Only if you come with me," he purred, completely disregarding the fact that we were in public.

Later that night, as we lay in bed, the real Nanami resurfaced, looking exhausted.

"I am so sorry," he said, rubbing his temples. "I'm trying to keep him contained, but he's… persistent."

I kissed his cheek. "It's not your fault. Besides, it's not every day a girl gets flirted with by the King of Curses using her husband's body."

Nanami groaned. "That's not reassuring."

"It's a little funny though," I admitted with a grin.

He sighed, pulling me close. "Just promise me something?"

"What?"

"If he ever tries to… you know… in my body…"

"I'll make sure to remind him that he's a guest in your body and should behave accordingly," I said, trying not to laugh.

"Thank you," Nanami said, relief evident in his voice. "I love you."

"I love you too, Kento," I replied, snuggling closer. "And you too, Sukuna, stop listening to our private conversations!"

A low chuckle echoed in Nanami's chest. "Can't help it. Your thoughts are particularly entertaining when you think I'm not paying attention."

Nanami's eye twitched. "I'm going to kill him."

"You can't kill what's already dead," I reminded him.

"Then I'm going to find a way to exorcise him into a teapot and donate him to a thrift store," Nanami grumbled.

Sukuna's laughter grew louder. "A teapot? How insulting. If I'm going to be trapped in kitchenware, it should at least be something more dignified. Like a wine opener."

"Go to sleep, both of you," I said, closing my eyes.

Life with Nanami and his unwanted passenger was certainly never boring.

The contrast between my two husbands became most apparent when Nanami tried to be romantic. It was like watching a carefully constructed building being repeatedly demolished by a sledgehammer-wielding maniac.

For our anniversary, Nanami had planned the perfect evening. He'd booked a table at an exclusive restaurant, bought me a pearl necklace, and even practiced a few romantic phrases he'd found in a book titled "The Art of Sensual Communication."

"You look… luminous tonight," he said as we sat across from each other, his voice slightly strained as he tried to sound natural.

"Thank you, Kento. You look quite handsome yourself," I replied, genuinely touched by his effort.

As he reached across the table to take my hand, his expression suddenly changed. The gentle warmth in his eyes was replaced by predatory hunger.

"Luminous? LUMINOUS?" Sukuna-Nanami's voice boomed, causing nearby diners to turn their heads. "That's the best you can come up with? Let me show you how it's done."

He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a low growl. "You look like you'd taste absolutely divine wrapped around my—"

"SUKUNA, SHUT UP!" Nanami's mental voice screamed.

"—finger. What were you thinking?" Sukuna finished with a wicked grin, completely ignoring my husband's internal panic.

I sighed, taking a sip of wine. "We're in public, Sukuna."

"Public, private, what's the difference?" Sukuna-Nanami shrugged, leaning back in his chair with a smirk. "The human obsession with context is so tiresome."

The necklace incident was even more memorable. As Nanami presented the small velvet box to me after dinner, Sukuna immediately chimed in.

"Jewelry? How uninspired," he scoffed internally. "You know what she really wants? Something that vibrates."

"Sukuna, I swear to all that is—" Nanami began, but it was too late.

Sukuna had taken control mid-gift presentation. "While pearls are nice," he said, examining the necklace with critical eyes, "they're not nearly as fun as the remote-controlled ones I was considering."

My face burned. "Remote-controlled what?"

"The panties, obviously," Sukuna-Nanami said with an eye roll. "Imagine the fun we could have at your next work function. One little button press and—"

"THAT'S ENOUGH!" Nanami somehow managed to regain control, looking absolutely mortified. "I apologize. He has no boundaries."

"No kidding," I muttered, though I couldn't help but be slightly amused.

The shopping trips were a special kind of torture for Nanami. His idea of the perfect gift for me was a first edition book or a spa package. Sukuna had other ideas.

"This bookstore is so boring," Sukuna complained internally as Nanami browsed through a collection of poetry. "You know what's more romantic than words written by dead guys? Me. Naked. In your bed."

"We are not getting my wife a nude photograph of yourself using my body," Nanami replied through clenched teeth.

"Why not? It's a gift that keeps on giving," Sukuna shot back. "Plus, I look fantastic. Better than you, that's for sure."

As Nanami approached the checkout with a carefully selected book, Sukuna suddenly seized control, turning him around and marching purposefully toward the lingerie section.

"What are you doing?" Nanami demanded internally.

"Getting her something she'll actually appreciate," Sukuna-Nanami replied, his eyes scanning the racks of lacy undergarments. "Ah, perfect. The crotchless ones."

The poor sales associate looked like she wanted the floor to swallow her whole as Sukuna-Nanami held up a scandalously small piece of red lace.

"Can you imagine this?" he asked me, completely ignoring Nanami's internal meltdown. "Though I suppose it's just an appetizer until I can get you out of it entirely."

"I think the book is lovely," I said quickly, grabbing Nanami's arm and practically dragging him away.

"You're no fun," Sukuna grumbled as Nanami regained control.

Mornings were always an adventure. I never knew which version of my husband I'd wake up to.

Some days, it would be Nanami, gently brushing hair from my face and pressing soft kisses to my forehead. "Good morning, my love. Did you sleep well?"

Other mornings, I'd open my eyes to find Sukuna-Nanami already awake, watching me with an intensity that was both flattering and slightly terrifying.

"Morning," he'd say, voice husky with sleep. "I had the most interesting dream about you. It involved very little clothing and a lot of—"

"Good morning to you too, Sukuna," I'd interrupt, rolling away before things could escalate.

The funniest incident happened when we were visiting my parents for the weekend. Nanami was trying to make a good impression, helping my mom in the kitchen and discussing business with my dad.

Everything was going perfectly until my dad made a joke about Nanami being lucky to have me.

"You have no idea," Sukuna suddenly said, causing everyone to pause. "She's absolutely insatiable. Last night—"

"SUKUNA, I WILL FIND A WAY TO DESTROY YOU EVEN IF IT MEANS DESTROYING MYSELF IN THE PROCESS!" Nanami mentally screamed as he fought to regain control.

"—she made the most amazing lasagna I've ever tasted," Sukuna-Nanami finished smoothly, though the wicked glint in his eyes told me he'd been about to say something much worse.

My parents exchanged uncomfortable glances as Nanami finally wrestled control back, his face pale.

"I apologize. Sometimes I… say things without thinking," he stammered.

That night, as we lay in my childhood bed, Nanami was unusually quiet.

"I'm sorry," he finally said. "I know this isn't what you signed up for."

I turned to face him, tracing the line of his jaw. "It's definitely not conventional, but it's never boring."

"He really thinks you'd prefer his approach to romance," Nanami admitted with a sigh. "The crude comments, the inappropriate gifts… he genuinely believes that's what women want."

"Maybe some women do," I said thoughtfully. "But I married you, Kento. The man who plans romantic dinners and buys me books and somehow manages to be sexy without being vulgar."

A slow smile spread across his face. "Really?"

"Really," I confirmed, leaning in to kiss him. "Though I wouldn't mind seeing what you look like in those crotchless panties."

Nanami's eyes widened in horror as Sukuna's laughter echoed in his mind. "SEE? I TOLD YOU SHE'D LIKE THEM!"

"Go to sleep, Sukuna," Nanami mumbled, though he was smiling as he pulled me closer. ----

Living with Sukuna was like having a time-traveling misogynist from the Heian period as a roommate. His views on women were so archaic they were almost impressive in their sheer wrongness.

"Woman, bring me sake," Sukuna-Nanami demanded one evening, slumping onto the sofa after a long day of being a menace to society.

I didn't even look up from my book. "The sake is in the kitchen. You have legs. Use them."

He blinked, genuinely confused. "But… you're the woman."

"And you're the one with the working limbs," I replied calmly. "Get it yourself or don't drink. Your choice."

Sukuna stared at me as if I'd just suggested he try to fly. The internal battle was visible - the slight twitch of Nanami's jaw, the way his fingers curled into fists.

"THE WOMAN IS NOT YOUR SERVANT!" Nanami's mental voice thundered. "WE LIVE IN THE 21ST CENTURY, YOU MEDIEVAL MISOGYNIST!"

"Silence, servant," Sukuna shot back internally. "This is between me and my vessel's wife."

Finally, with a dramatic sigh that could have powered a small village, Sukuna-Nanami stood up and trudged to the kitchen. Five minutes later, I heard a series of crashes followed by cursing.

I found him staring at the rice cooker as if it were some eldritch horror. "This box… it mocks me. It sings its strange song and yet produces no rice."

"You have to add rice and water first," I said, crossing my arms. "And press the cook button."

Sukuna's eyes narrowed. "Are you implying I'm incompetent?"

"I'm stating facts," I replied evenly. "Now, are you going to figure it out or starve?"

Something shifted in his expression. The arrogance was replaced by… interest? As I continued to explain the intricacies of modern appliances, a strange look came over his face - one that Nanami would later identify with horror.

"YOU'RE ENJOYING THIS!" Nanami mentally accused Sukuna.

"Perhaps," Sukuna replied internally, a smirk forming. "There's something… invigorating about being put in one's place by a woman with fire in her eyes."

The messes were legendary. Sukuna would leave his clothes scattered everywhere, dishes piled in the sink, and somehow manage to get crumbs in places I didn't think physically possible.

"If you don't pick up your socks, I'm throwing them out," I warned one morning, pointing to the floor beside the bed where Sukuna-Nanami had discarded three pairs.

"You wouldn't dare," he scoffed.

I picked up the nearest pair. "These are going in the trash right now unless—"

"Fine!" he snapped, but there was an odd excitement in his eyes. "I'll do it. But only because you asked so… passionately."

Nanami was absolutely horrified when he realized Sukuna's particular interest.

"HE GETS AROUSED WHEN YOU YELL AT HIM?" my husband mentally screamed later that day. "THAT'S WHY HE LEAVES MESSAGES AROUND? SO YOU'LL SCOLD HIM?"

"Your wife has a magnificent temper," Sukuna replied dreamily. "The way her eyes flash, the way her voice rises… truly magnificent."

"I'M GOING TO HAVE A HEART ATTACK," Nanami moaned internally.

The children were the best part. My sister's kids absolutely adored Nanami - he was patient, kind, and somehow knew exactly how to fix broken toys and soothe scraped knees.

"Uncle Kento, can you read us the dinosaur book?" five-year-old Maya would ask, climbing onto his lap.

And Nanami would read with perfect expression, doing different voices for each dinosaur, while the children hung on his every word.

Sukuna, on the other hand, was a disaster with kids.

"Small human, cease your incessant noise," Sukuna-Nanami growled when Maya tried to show him her drawing.

Maya put her hands on her hips. "You're mean. Uncle Kento is nice. You're not Uncle Kento."

"Indeed, I am not," Sukuna replied with arrogance. "I am Sukuna, the King of Curses. You will bow before me."

Maya stared at him blankly. "You have something on your face."

Sukuna-Nanami reflexively touched his cheek. "Where?"

"Everywhere," Maya said with the brutal honesty only children possess. "Your face is weird."

Seven-year-old Kenji was even worse. He'd taken to calling Sukuna "Grumpy Face" and had developed a game called "Make the Mean Man Go Away."

"Hey Grumpy Face," Kenji said one visit, waving a toy sword. "I bet you can't beat me. I'm the Super Ninja of Justice!"

Sukuna-Nanami's eyes narrowed. "Child, I have ended dynasties with less effort than it would take to crush you."

"Can't even work the microwave," Kenji shot back, having witnessed Sukuna's struggle with modern technology earlier. "Maya and I saw you. You kept pressing the wrong button and then got mad when it wouldn't heat your noodles."

The internal reaction was priceless.

"THIS INSIGNIFICANT MORTAL…" Sukuna began mentally.

"…is seven years old," Nanami finished. "And he just roasted you better than I ever could."

The turning point came when we visited my friend who had a newborn. Nanami was immediately captivated, gently rocking the baby with a tenderness that made my heart ache.

"They're so fragile," he whispered, eyes soft with wonder. "So pure."

Sukuna, predictably, had other thoughts. "It's small. It makes noise. What's the appeal?"

"They represent hope," Nanami replied softly, still focused on the baby. "The future. A chance to do better than we did."

Later that night, as we lay in bed, Nanami was unusually thoughtful.

"Have you ever thought about… us having children?" he asked quietly.

I turned to face him. "Have you?"

"All the time," he admitted. "But with Sukuna… is it fair to bring a child into this? To risk him taking over during something important?"

"Hey," I said softly, taking his hand. "We'd figure it out. Together."

Nanami smiled, but it was tinged with sadness. "A child deserves stability. Not a father who might suddenly start talking about how delicious they look."

"CHILDREN ARE MERELY SMALL, NOISY HUMANS," Sukuna interjected. "THOUGH I SUPPOSE HAVING AN HEIR WOULD HAVE ITS ADVANTAGES. SOMEONE TO PASS ON MY LEGACY."

"You're not passing on anything," I said firmly. "And if we ever have kids, you're on diaper duty. All night. Every night."

There was a moment of silence, followed by Sukuna's internal reply: "Diapers? As in… handling human waste?"

"Yep," I confirmed. "With your bare hands."

Another silence, longer this time.

"Perhaps children are not so bad after all," Sukuna conceded. "An heir who could one day dominate you… the thought has merit."

Nanami sighed, pulling me closer. "He's impossible."

"But he's our impossible," I replied, kissing his cheek. "And somehow, that makes it work."

Life with my dual husband was chaotic, often frustrating, but never boring. And somehow, impossibly, it was perfect.

The day Shoko announced she'd found a way to transfer Sukuna to another vessel should have been a celebration. For Nanami, it was. For me, it was complicated. For Sukuna… it was war.

I could feel his rage building inside my husband's body as Shoko explained the procedure. The usually calm exterior of Nanami was barely containing the storm within.

"You think you can remove me?" Sukuna-Nanami's voice was dangerously low, his eyes glowing with that familiar cursed energy. "After everything?"

Shoko remained unfazed. "It's a simple transfer. We have a volunteer vessel lined up. More stable than Yuji, better suited to contain you long-term."

"Stable?" Sukuna laughed, but there was no humor in it. "You know nothing of stability. You know nothing of what I've found here."

The transfer process was scheduled for the following week. That night, as Nanami tried to sleep, Sukuna kept him awake with mental threats.

"I will find her," Sukuna promised darkly. "No matter what body I inhabit, I will find her. I'll haunt her dreams, whisper her name when she's alone, appear in reflections when she least expects it."

"Sukuna, leave her alone," Nanami pleaded mentally. "This is between us."

"Nothing is between us anymore," Sukuna replied. "She's mine. She just doesn't know it yet."

The days before the transfer grew increasingly tense. Sukuna would surface at random moments, his touches more possessive, his words more pointed.

"You'll miss me when I'm gone," he whispered one evening as he traced the line of my jaw with Nanami's finger. "All this precision," he gestured at Nanami's meticulously organized bookshelf, "this order… it's boring. You thrive on chaos. You just won't admit it."

"I love my husband," I said firmly.

"Which one?" Sukuna challenged. "The accountant or the curse? The man who schedules intimacy or the one who can't keep his hands off you?"

The night before the transfer was the worst. Sukuna refused to let Nanami sleep, cycling through threats, promises, and memories he thought would sway me.

"Do you remember the night at the restaurant?" he asked as Nanami's hands gripped mine. "When I told you what I really wanted to do to you under that table? You blushed, but you didn't move away."

"You embarrassed me," I countered.

"Did I?" Sukuna-Nanami leaned closer, his voice dropping to that sinful register. "Or did I excite you? Be honest with yourself, if not with me."

The transfer was more difficult than anyone anticipated. Sukuna fought with everything he had, and the process that should have taken hours stretched into days.

"He's resisting," Shoko explained, wiping sweat from her brow. "It's like he's anchored himself to Nanami. To… you."

I watched as Nanami's body convulsed on the table, tattoos appearing and disappearing as Sukuna fought to maintain control. Part of me felt relief - soon, this would be over. But another part felt something else entirely.

When it was finally over, Nanami was exhausted but free. The new vessel was secured, and Sukuna was gone.

Or so we thought.

The first few weeks were blissful. Nanami was himself again - calm, composed, precise. He made love with gentle passion, cooked meals with mathematical precision, and never once threatened to haunt me from beyond the grave.

But I missed the chaos. I missed the unpredictability, the raw desire, the way Sukuna-Nanami's eyes would darken with hunger when I walked into a room.

One evening, as Nanami was organizing our bookshelf for the third time that week, I finally spoke.

"Do you ever miss him?" I asked quietly.

Nanami froze. "Miss who?"

"Sukuna," I said. "Even a little?"

He turned to face me, his expression unreadable. "I miss having my body to myself. I miss not worrying about embarrassing you in public. I miss sleeping through the night."

"I miss the tattoos," I admitted softly. "I miss the messy hair and the rougher touches. I miss the way you'd look at me like I was the only thing in the world that mattered."

Nanami studied me for a long moment, something calculating in his gaze. Then he nodded slowly.

"I see," he said simply.

That night, as we lay in bed, Nanami turned to me with an unusual intensity in his eyes.

"You miss the chaos?" he asked, his voice lower than usual.

I nodded, confused by the sudden change in his demeanor.

"Then let's create our own," he said, before pulling me into a kiss that was anything but controlled.

Nanami's response was to disappear into his study for an hour, emerging with something that made my breath catch.

"Temporary tattoos," he explained, holding up several sheets of intricate black designs. "Medical grade. Safe to use. They'll last about a week."

My eyes widened as I realized what he was suggesting.

"You'd…?"

"If it's what you want," he said simply.

That night changed everything. As Nanami lay beneath me, his chest and arms covered in intricate black tattoos, his hair deliberately mussed, his usual precision replaced by something wilder, I felt a thrill I hadn't realized I'd been missing.

"Better?" he asked, his voice rougher than usual.

I nodded, unable to speak.

As Nanami's hands roamed my body with newfound confidence, as his words grew more daring, as he abandoned his carefully constructed control for something more primal, I realized the truth.

I didn't miss Sukuna. I missed the parts of Nanami that Sukuna had unleashed - the raw desire, the unrestrained passion, the willingness to abandon propriety for pleasure.

And Nanami, being Nanami, had found the perfect solution. Not by inviting chaos back into our lives, but by learning to create his own - on his terms, in his way, with the man I loved all along.

Temporary body-sharing, but specifically in a setting where the ability/abilities needed to make it happen are either rare or not supposed to exist

And the people who know the two sharing a body having to get real cool with some very weird shit real fast

(People who know them well having the shock as they see the body language and speech pattern shift happen in real time as they swap control, people learning to recognize the mixed presentation when they're working together as one, learning to tell at a glance that they're sharing and they won't be showing up individually today, etc.)

Temporarily sharing a body as the only way to keep somebody alive long enough to get medical attention, the scramble tostabilize them when they separate (especially if it means whatever was wrong gets shared between the two when they become two again, and now you're racing to save two lives instead of one but the alternative is one would absolutely have died)

Azune flinched as Bolaire raised his hands to cup the young man’s cheeks, covering both his birthmark and more than one bruise and bloodstain. “You know who I am?” The mask asked. A nod into his hands. “Good. Listen to me carefully, my dear. If you want, I can take it all away for a little while. If you put me on, I will get us both out of here, and you don’t have to see or think about anything. How does that sound?” *** After being kidnapped and held for ransom by one of the city's younger and more reckless thieves guilds, Azune is injured and traumatized to the point where his friends can't rescue him without hurting him worse. Letting Bolaire put him on/putting on the mask lets Hal, Bolaire, and Murray get him out of there, but taking him off again will be a lengthier, and gentler, process.

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Malevolent (Podcast) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: John Doe & Arthur Lester Characters: John Doe (Malevolent), Arthur Lester Additional Tags: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Bickering, Arguing, canon typical arguing, Canon Typical Drama, Bodysharing, Sharing a Body Summary:

Arthur and John have finally gotten a moment of peace, but that doesn't mean everything is always going to plan between them. Especially when it comes to some of the more trivial things...