#if my life is just going to continue being pain | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

strzxrin · 2 days ago

Note

Leo and Rowan with a female reader who is a virgin and wants to lose her virginity, but the boys keep manipulating her, saying that other guys won't treat her as well as they do, and she ends up trusting her childhood friends for this, so the task is given to the boys 😏

. . . she says she trusts me with her life !

in which . . . they told you to trust them for the most important moment in your life.

cw. fem!reader, overstimulation, being called a ‘good girl’, corruption (taking your virginity), dual penetration

pairings . lèo jaccoud x fem!reader x rowan collins

demon x reader , angel x reader , roommates x reader , childhood best friends x reader

notes . this was yummy to write. but on an honest note, good luck to yalls pussies 😇😇 this took me much longer to write tho.. my bad gang. writer's block is ass

masterlist . character wiki

“i don’t understand why you’re so adamant about wanting to lose your virginity, ma chérie” lèo sighs, shaking his head as he watches you cross your arms and in a way, throwing a bit of a tantrum about this — at least in his eyes he thinks about that. he glances at rowan who is just as tired of this as he was.

“especially to some random bloke you matched on that stupid dating app,” rowan continued as you groaned and hid your face for a moment. “you shouldn’t take your virginity for granted. leave it for someone special in your life” like them.

“plus, you never know, that man could just use you for your body and you probably wouldn’t be having the time of your life with it” lèo scoffs as you finally put your hands away from your face.

“it’s not my fault that there’s no one who wants to date me. i want to experience the dating scene and i want to try it out, to see what’s so good about sex. can’t a girl dream?” you huffed out defensively as the two of them just looked at each other and then at you once more.

to be fair, they were the ones that are the reason why you aren’t dating anyone. they can’t help it! you are theirs since the moment the three of you met all those years ago. the two of them can’t let you go, and they for sure aren’t going to let some random guy who isn’t worth your time steal you away from them.

“if you’re so desperate, then let us do it,” lèo suggested, which made both yours and rowan’s eyes bulge out from the sockets. “i know for sure we can make you feel better than anyone could possibly do.” you were at a loss for words because frankly you didn’t think that he would even suggest that.

“what? what are you talking about, you guys don’t like me that way do you?” you asked as the both of them stayed silent before lèo spoke up once more “regardless if we like you or not, you were going to practically sell yourself to another guy, someone who you don’t even know, and won’t even have a connection with. at the very least, if you’re so desperate to lose your virginity, do it with people you know,”

rowan slowly started to nod his head in agreement with lèo, agreeing with the demon about this whole ordeal. though, he won’t outrightly say it. but still, the other makes a very good point.

“but won’t it be awkward if it’s with you guys?” you weren’t necessarily pushing the idea away — not because you were desperate to get your virginity taken so you settled for the only people there is, but because well, you always had a crush on both of them. you just wanted to gain some experience before you could even make a move so that at the very least, they won’t get disappointed by your lack of experience.

“i’d rather go through the pain of awkwardness than to know that you slept with a stranger on the internet” rowan finally says as lèo smiled and nodded at his words. you stood there awkwardly before sighing, finally giving into their whims.

“fine, but i’m going to smack you both if the sex isn’t good.”

but why is it that when you said that, the two of them had a certain glint in their eyes and almost a joyous look to have you agree on fucking them? well, you were about to know the reason why.

it was lèo who made the first move, gently pulling you from your standing position and down onto his lap as he made you look at him. “do you even know how to kiss, ma chérie?” he teased as you found yourself feeling flustered at the question. “hey now, it’s not my fault i have zero dating experience!” you say as the other chuckles softly.

to be fair, even both of them are virgins. they’ve been stuck to your side like glue, and refused to even fuck anyone else just because they don’t want to cheat on you. however it just felt like something in their bloodline on how they knew how to do these things. at least for lèo that is. rowan reads about it, and well, lèo teaches him about it too.

still, the demon can’t really help but smile at your words, humming “then i’ll teach you” he whispers, tilting your chin upwards so that you could actually look at him. you knew that he was always gorgeous but seeing him this close made your head spin a little bit. “open your mouth.. mhm, just like that, good girl” he whispers and you find yourself feeling flushed by the way he spoke to you.

he leaned in close to you and kissed you softly. he took it slowly guiding you through the process before he glided his tongue to your bottom lip and you opened your mouth slightly to let him enter. that’s when you feel his hand held onto your waist to pull you closer and keep you steady. the kiss was breathtaking and heady, and you couldn’t stop yourself from making noises to which he drank it in all the same way.

the kiss lasts for a minute, or maybe two? you can’t seem to tell with how light headed you felt. you gently gripped his shoulders, wanting to pull away to breathe and lèo reluctantly obliged. “you doing alright?” he asks, his breath a little hard as you nodded “uh.. yeah.. just needed a moment to breathe”

rowan, who was watching all of this happening, looked with a dazed expression before coming closer. your back now pressed against his body as he hummed. “while you take your breather, let me continue to make you feel good, alright?” he whispers into your ear as he leaned and kissed your neck ever so gently. it was a little ticklish at the start, but the way his lips moved and nibble ever so gently it made it obvious he was testing the waters and teasing all at once.

“r-rowan..” you whimpered as he hummed in response, littering your neck with kisses as his hands moved downwards, his hands cupping your breasts gently. “ah-! i.. i never realised your hands were big,” you commented shyly. his hands were large enough to cup your breasts entirely, and you hear a soft chuckle from the demon. “he really does have big hands, doesn’t he, ma chérie”

you felt a little embarrassed since you’re practically sandwiched in between both of them, but all those thoughts left when the angel nibbled a rather sensitive part which made you squirm and moan at the same time. “ah~ so that’s where your sweet spot is,” lèo cooed before the hand that was on your chin made you look up at him “let me continue where i left off,” he whispers and he goes back to kissing you.

it wasn’t long before your hand had gripped onto his shirt to stabilise yourself while you were getting attacked with kisses. you feel rowan’s hands slipping underneath your shirt and pulled down your bra slightly so that he could actually feel you in his hands. his fingers felt cold and your nipples started to form stiff peaks which made the angel muse softly “excited already, aren’t you, darling?” he purred in your ears.

the one hand that was on your waist started to get a little impatient which made lèo pull away from the kiss to take off your shirt. with just one hand, he unclasped your bra and marveled at the sight of your breasts “well aren’t you just a pretty girl, hm?” you flush at his words before you felt his lips now going over to your breasts. rowan chuckles softly and lets go of one breast to tilt your chin upwards so that he could lean down and kiss you.

the demon began by kissing gently before his tongue swirled around your nipple, latching on it to make some marks that left you squirming on his lap and moaning into rowan’s lips. he alternates between the two breasts, making sure they get equal love and one of his hands went down to your skirt, lifting it up just gently so that he could play with your inner thigh. he could feel the heat and he shuddered a bit.

“are you wet already, ma amour?” he chuckled, his fingers teased their way to your panties, circling around your wet spot as you gripped tighter on his shirt. “you’re so cute, don’t you know?” he began to rub in slow gentle circles around your clothed nub and you squirmed even more.

rowan pulled away from the kiss and hummed “you like what he’s doing to you, sweetheart?” he asks as you nodded shyly. you let out a gasp when you felt your panties moved to the side and warm fingers slowly stroking up and down your slit. “l-lèo!” you whimpered out as the other let out a hum and watched you as he licked your nipple. “tell him what you want, sweetheart. use your words like a big girl,” rowan whispers as you feel your mind spin even more.

“p-please..”

“please what?”

“please.. please put it in–!” you gasp as you feel lèo’s fingers slipping into your slit. “shh.. relax, ( name ).. you’re tight right now” you nodded, trying to calm yourself down, but it felt really good. the demon’s fingers were bigger than yours, so even with two, you already felt more stretched compared to whenever you masturbated.

“you’re squeezing onto my fingers, does it feel that good, hm?” you nodded before you felt some fingers at your lips too. you looked to see rowan smiling. “you shouldn’t forget me either” you parted your mouth and without thinking, you started to suck which made him let out a groan. “looks like your pretty lips do know other tricks,” rowan muses.

you felt another finger slip into your cunt and you moaned around rowan’s fingers. “shh, it’s okay.. you can take it. i know you can, princess” and that was when lèo decided to use his thumb to rub your clit. you squirmed, the sensation was overwhelming you and the demon hummed. the both of them continued to take it slowly with you, and it wasn’t long until lèo finally found your g-spot.

your eyes rolled back and you tightened up around him again which made him hum “so that’s where your g-spot is,” he coos softly. and without a doubt, he changed the pace. his fingers began to hit your g-spot with every thrust and you began to drool around rowan’s fingers. it wasn’t long until you reached your orgasm, and lèo lets you ride it through before he continued.

“waitwaitwait–!” your words were muffled by rowan’s fingers but it could still be heard of course “we need to stretch you out, princess..” lèo murmured. but really, he just wanted to see you be a sobbing mess before he pushes his dick into you. you listened to his words, nodding, but with every thrust, you feel your mind slowly dumbing out at the stimulation.

was it three times already? you can’t tell. all you hear is both of their belts being taken off. you come out of your haze with a shudder as you felt your pussy juices being used as lube for both of their cocks. “wha.. i thought..”

“we both, want to take your virginity, sweetheart.” rowan says. your cunt has been loosening up with every orgasm you have, and you felt both of their tips rubbing against your entrance. “so, we have to share it, like always” the angel purred and your eyes widened. “that’s.. that’s not going to fit” you tried to reason with them.

“shh.. it’s fine.. we’ll make it fit. you trust us, don’t you, princess?”

you were swayed, but you nodded and you felt them both slowly entering your poor weeping cunt. you let out a little scream at the pain in the beginning but they both stopped to make sure you were alright. and when you were, they started to move in sync. you felt too full, it was too big and your mind felt numb.

“let go, sweetheart” rowan grunts softly. “let us take care of you.. just like we always had.”

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nanamineedstherapy · 3 days ago

Text

Chapter 2 - The Symphony of Stress-Relief

Previous Chapter 1 - The Symphony of Spite (Tumblr/Ao3)

A/N: Welcome, unfortunate souls, to The Symphony of Stress, aka corporate warfare with bonus smut, rare pairs, & questionable HR decisions. ⚠️ Warnings: ⚠️ ☕ Corporate Hellscape (accurate) 🔥 Petty Revenge (satisfying) 💼 Office Politics (violent) 🛑 HR Violations (constant) 🍷 Smut (rare pairs, unexpected bottoms, & pure nonsense) I swear I started this as a simple office AU, but then Gojo happened. Now we have mafia-tier HR, workplace sabotage, and the most chaotic company retreat in history. This fic is either the peak of my writing career or a cry for help. Do I regret it? No. Do I fear what I’ve created? Absolutely. 🚨 Engagement Bribe 🚨 Comment, or HR will personally schedule you for a mandatory compliance seminar hosted by Sukuna. (It’s just him insulting you for two hours.) Now, onto the madness.

Nanami was pissed off. Sukuna was enraged.

“He made my life hell!” Thrust.

“Screwed up every project I handed him.” Thrust.

“Humiliated me in front of clients and the entire goddamn office.” Thrust.

“Gave me so much stress that teenagers ask if I need help crossing the street.” Thrust.

“For five fucking years, and I kept him around because I didn’t want him to be homeless!” Nanami snarled, his grip tightening as he let out a string of curses that sounded way too professional, even in rage.

“Forget about Gojo.” Sukuna grumbled, dragging a frustrated hand through his hair. “How do I murder Hiromi and get away with it? He’s a particularly painful ulcer I can’t get rid of. And so is Shoko.”

"Short answer? You can’t,” Nanami exhaled, sharp and exhausted. “People will notice if they go missing. Handle it internally.”

“How though? The vuvuzela stopped being useful. They just talk over it now.”

“You figure something out—I don’t know!” Nanami snapped.

Tension crackled between them, frustration bleeding into every movement, every breath. They were exhausted. The weight of the company, the stress of incompetence at every level, the sheer audacity of their enemies—it was driving them both insane.

And you?

You choked out a sound—something between a moan and a gasp.

They both froze.

Sukuna let out a sharp exhale, his fingers flexing against your throat, and Nanami groaned, his grip tightening as he thrust forward again, harder this time.

Your vision blurred.

Nanami gritted his teeth, pushing deeper, as though willing every frustration he had into his movements. “This is the only part of my day that makes sense anymore.”

Sukuna’s hand curled under your jaw, tilting your head just enough to meet his gaze while you choked on his cock. His lips curled into something dangerous, something possessive. “Tch. At least someone listens when I talk.”

The room smelled like sweat, frustration, and corporate resentment. Their voices, filled with irritation, tangled in your ears, vibrating against your skin.

“We should fire Geto.” Nanami muttered suddenly, voice gruff, low, full of something that wasn’t entirely directed at you.

You felt Sukuna still.

“…Elaborate?” Sukuna’s voice was dangerous. Thoughtful. Almost intrigued.

“Think about it,” Nanami continued, his hands digging into your hips as he moved again, more fluid this time, his frustration turning into something deeper, something satisfying. “If we fire Geto, Gojo’s life will fall apart. His only lifeline in this company is a man who hates him. What happens when that’s gone?”

Sukuna’s sharp laugh sent a shiver down your spine. “That’s evil.”

Nanami hummed, satisfied. “Finally, you’re catching up.”

Sukuna’s fingers tightened against your jaw. “You hear that, sweetheart?” His voice was low, teasing. “This is why he’s the CFO.”

Your head spun.

And they were still talking about work.

Still fuming over business deals and incompetence.

Still plotting the ruin of their enemies.

And somehow, in all of it, they never stopped paying attention to you.

Nanami was dangerously close to snapping. Sukuna already had as he came in your mouth. “Swallow.”

You did.

“Good fucking,” came the praise as he positioned himself in a way that now you were lying on his chest as Nanami continued to give you backshots.

You were trapped in the middle of it, heat pressing against your skin, their rage fueling every sharp movement, every frustrated groan.

“She had the audacity—” Thrust.

“To ask for a RAISE.” Thrust.

“A RAISE, Ryomen.” Thrust. “After filing three HR complaints against me in one month.” Thrust.

Nanami exhaled through gritted teeth. “Who, exactly, does Mei Mei think she is?”

Sukuna let out a sharp breath, adjusting his grip. “A fucking problem. That’s what she is.”

"She knows she’s untouchable because HR babies her. She can’t get fired unless she physically assaults someone in broad daylight.” Nanami groaned, tipping his head back in frustration. “And even then, I guarantee HR would find a reason to keep her just like they did when she tried to assault Ino.”

Sukuna scoffed, angling your hips to take Nanami deeper, making you moan loudly. “If we can’t fire her, can we at least ruin her life?”

Nanami let out a dark chuckle. “See, this is the kind of thinking I respect.”

You whimpered, fingers tightening in Sukuna’s hair.

Neither of them paused.

Nanami’s grip on your waist tightened. “Give her the Nishimiya authors.”

Sukuna stilled for half a second—then let out a sharp laugh, filthy and cruel. “Oh, you’re a fucking monster.”

Nanami smirked. “She’ll drown in that workload. But she won’t be able to complain without admitting she’s in over her head. Either she handles it—or HR will finally have a reason to let her go.”

Sukuna hummed, satisfied. “And if she somehow pulls through?”

Nanami thrust deeper, slower, making your breath stutter. “Then at least she’ll be too fucking exhausted to bother us.”

Sukuna laughed again, breathless, rubbing his hand down your spine. “Brutal.”

You felt insanely hot, trapped between them, drowning in their sharp words, their executive-level scheming, their singular focus that never wavered.

They were venting, plotting, and orchestrating workplace sabotage—while using you to take the edge off.

Sukuna pressed his forehead against yours, kissing you sweetly. “You're our best stress relief, you know that?”

Nanami groaned, gripping your throat gently, his lips brushing against your hair as he muttered, “You deserve every fucking thing, darling.”

---

Across the city, Shoko stormed into Hiromi’s home office, twisting the lock behind her as her heels clicked against the marble flooring like the ticking of a corporate doomsday clock. Her jaw was tight, and the sheer venom in her eyes could have killed a lesser man.

Without a word, she shoved Hiromi back against his mahogany desk, and snapped, “Eat me out or I’ll strangle Sukuna with my own two hands.”

Hiromi, who had just removed his reading glasses, didn’t even blink.

Instead, he simply exhaled through his nose—the same damn perfectly arched nose that made most of the legal interns question their life choices—and set down his pen.

Then he smiled—slow, dangerous, understanding. “I will,” he murmured, voice deep and steady as he unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt. “But if you still want to strangle him after, I’ll help.”

That was all the confirmation she needed.

And just like that, Chief Human Resources Officer Ieiri Shoko and Chief Legal Officer Higuruma Hiromi—the two deadliest entities in the entire company—began planning Sukuna’s demise.

Hiromi—the composed, infuriatingly collected man—simply loosened his tie, shrugged off his suit jacket, and let her push him down on his knees as he began unbuttoning her pants.

The heavy weight of his mahogany desk pressed into her spine, hands effortlessly sliding her waistband down. His breath was warm against her skin, slow and controlled, because, of course, Hiromi didn’t rush anything.

Shoko, however, was done waiting.

“I mean it,” she gritted out, her fingers tangling in his thick, dark hair. “He’s…” sharp inhale “…a menace. I had to rewrite the entire handbook because of him.”

Hiromi hummed in acknowledgment, his obscenely attractive nose trailing down her stomach, brushing against her heat like he knew exactly what kind of reaction it would pull from her.

Shoko’s breath hitched.

“I had to add… a clause… about vuvuzelas in professional settings, Hiromi.”

Hiromi didn’t stop, didn’t react—just exhaled slowly against her clit.

Shoko groaned. “He tried to claim hand-to-hand combat as a valid team-building exercise. Kusakabe already hates everyone—he almost committed a homicide in a board meeting because of him.”

Hiromi sighed, long, suffering, and dragged his obnoxiously perfect nose up, pressing it against her clit like it was a legal strategy he was about to tear apart in court.

Shoko’s breath caught.

Hiromi pressed an open-mouthed kiss against her, his tongue flicking out just enough to make her whole body tremble.

Shoko fisted his hair. “And he submitted an expense report for a f—fuck—flamethrower.”

Hiromi still didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. His response came in the form of a slow, calculated stroke of his tongue, combined with his dangerously sharp nose pressing against her clit, rubbing in small, insufferably perfect circles.

Shoko’s thighs tensed, and fingers twitched, barely resisting the urge to yank him closer. “I’m gonna kill him,” she gritted out.

Hiromi’s tongue flicked against her, slow, deliberate, like he was waiting for her to elaborate. He arched a brow. Acknowledgment.

Shoko exhaled shakily. “The HR department stopped trying to fine him, Hiromi. Do you know how bad that is? That means we’ve given up. We’re just letting him be a workplace hazard now.”

Hiromi—without missing a beat, because of course he was still multitasking like the overachieving lawyer he was—arched a brow and traced slow, devastating circles against her clit with his thumb.

Shoko’s breath hitched.

“The last time HR gave up on someone,” she panted, fingers tightening in his hair, “we—ah—sent out a fucking memo—”

Hiromi was barely listening now, his sharp lawyer brain entirely focused on making her fall apart.

He knew she wasn’t done venting. Knew she needed this stress burned out of her system before she threw a letter opener at Sukuna’s head in the break room.

And he was nothing if not supportive.

So, he took his time.

A slow, lazy drag of his tongue and a press of his nose made her thighs twitch. Then let out a low, nearly bored hum as she tried to keep speaking.

“He stole my fucking Montblanc laptop bag. The one you got me from Belgium, Hiro,” she gasped, her head tilting back against his desk.

Hiromi—who had already accepted that Ryomen Sukuna existed purely to piss him off—blinked once.

She knew what that meant.

Noted.

“I—” Shoko inhaled heavily. “I filed a goddamn internal complaint with COO and he wrote back, ‘We understand your frustration, but Dr. Ieiri, let's embrace the cheos.’” She had a PhD in HR.

Hiromi blinked twice.

Disapproval.

Shoko was half a second from continuing her tirade—really, she was—until Hiromi arched his nose against her just right and—

Her words died in her throat.

A low, unfiltered moan slipped past her lips.

Hiromi let out a small, self-satisfied sound. His fingers dug into her thighs, firm but not urgent, like he had all the time in the world.

And Shoko—brilliant, smart, no-nonsense Shoko—could do nothing but let her head fall back against his desk as he silenced every thought in her head.

Which was probably for the best, because across his desk, her phone buzzed.

She didn’t hear it.

But Hiromi did.

And because he was a masochist who cared about work-life balance, he moved his mouth away just long enough to reach for it.

The name on the screen made him still.

Nobara.

He picked up, dragging the back of his hand across his mouth as he answered with a smooth, utterly unaffected voice.

"Yes?"

A sharp teenage voice snapped back, "Mom, where's Mom?"

Hiromi glanced at the desk—at Shoko, who was currently too busy falling apart on his fingers to answer.

He sighed, adjusting the phone against his shoulder as he resumed his previous task.

"She's busy," he said simply.

Nobara groaned in frustration. "Well, tell her I need to see her—ugh, whatever, Dad, just tell her to call me back!"

And then she hung up.

Shoko barely registered what just happened.

He threw away the phone and got back between his wife’s legs. Then he dragged his tongue lower, lower, before pressing his perfectly arched nose right back against her clit.

Shoko shuddered—but she wasn’t done talking.

“He’s too powerful.” Her fingers tightened in his hair, but Hiromi didn’t flinch. “The only reason his bullshit makes sense to anyone is because Geto translates it into actual strategy.”

Hiromi hummed again, this time in calculated approval.

Shoko’s breath hitched as she came with a shudder. “So we remove Geto.”

Hiromi finally pulled away, licking his lips, and pressed a kiss to her belly as he stared up at her with the patience of a man who had been planning murder long before this conversation started.

Shoko’s chest heaved.

Hiromi stood wiping her down with wet tissues from his desk.

“How?”

Shoko grinned, fixing her pants.

Firing Geto was impossible—on paper. He was competent. Too competent. He single-handedly turned Sukuna’s most brain-dead ideas into actual, viable strategies. If they got rid of him, Sukuna would collapse under the weight of his own stupidity.

But you didn’t fire people because they were bad at their jobs.

No, no, no.

You fired them because it was inconvenient for them to stay.

Shoko took a long drag from the cigarette Hiromi had lit for them to share, an infrequent habit. “We start by leaking a rumor.”

Hiromi tapped his finger against his chin. “Geto has worked late every night this quarter. That means overtime claims.”

Shoko grinned. “Which means expense fraud.”

Hiromi exhaled through his nose, amused. “Not illegal. But inconvenient.”

“Exactly.”

Shoko flicked the ashes of her cigarette into a tray and handed it back to Hiromi. “We’ll put him in charge of a diversity and inclusion project.”

Hiromi took a contemplative puff.

Then he smirked.

“That’s good.”

Shoko laughed. “It’s HR-approved corporate warfare. He can’t quit without looking like an asshole, and he can’t survive without running himself into the ground.”

Hiromi let out a low hum, something dark and knowing.

The plan was perfect.

And across the city, Sukuna—completely oblivious to the incoming HR-sanctioned murder attempt—continued to be the worst employee known to mankind.

---

On another side of town, Gojo was causing marital problems between high school sweethearts without even being there.

Ino's hands were seizing Suguru's hips, his fingers digging deep into the flesh as he pulled him closer.

Geto was seething. His entire body burned with frustration, his muscles taut as if he were holding himself together with a thin string. The fury had nowhere to go—nowhere, except the way his nails bit into Ino's back and took every inch his husband shoved into him.

"That bastard," Geto snarled, his nails digging into the mattress, his voice muffled but dripping with venom. "Five years, Ino. Five fucking years of doing the work of two people while that absolute waste of oxygen paraded around as an incompetent EA and a crybaby—"

Ino slammed into Geto, their bodies crashing together in a frenzy of angry sex. "Forget about Gojo for now, Suguru," Ino growled, his eyes blazing with intensity. "I don’t want to talk about work or hear another’s name on your lips when I’m the one making love to you."

He punctuated his order by yanking him back onto his horsecock so hard that the air left Geto’s lungs in a choked moan.

"So shut up," Ino growled, his fingers digging into Geto’s princess waist, bruising.

But Geto didn’t shut up.

Geto cried out, his eyes watering from Ino’s aggressive thrusts. "Don’t worry about him like that, baby. I genuinely hate him," he mumbled, his eyes flashing with fury. "I hate him so much; I want to eradicate his trust fund ass bloodline."

Ino's hand moved to tug at Geto's hair, while his other hand’s nails bit into his ass as he pulled him back onto his length. "That's not what I want to hear."

Geto's face twisted in a mixture of anger and pleasure. "Ta...Tacco," he stuttered.

But the nickname wasn't enough for Ino.

"He—he made me believe I was losing my mind,” Geto continued, his voice raw, breaking between every ruthless thrust. “That idiotic imbecile.”

Ino’s jaw gritted. The way Geto was clenching around him was driving him insane, but this wasn’t working.

He wanted Geto to break, wanted him to be writhing for him, moaning for him, screaming his name.

Not fucking Gojo’s.

So he changed tactics.

With zero warning, Ino slid out, flipped Geto onto his stomach, and pinned him down with one hand between his shoulder blades.

Geto barely had time to register it before Ino was slamming back into him, his grip tightening in his hair, forcing his head up.

“Say my name, Suguru!”

Geto gasped, his fingers twisting in the sheets, his back arching involuntarily as Ino pressed his chest against his spine, heat, muscle, and dominance.

But Geto was still fucking talking about Gojo.

"Do you know what it’s like to realize your entire career is a goddamn lie?” he snarled. “That you’re being played by an idiot with the attention span of a goldfish?”

Ino exhaled through his nose, frustrated.

Then he grabbed Geto’s jaw, forced his head back by yanking at his hair, and bit down on the side of his throat, hard.

Geto whined.

“Fuck,” Ino murmured, voice like gravel. "You’re still thinking about him? Fine—"

He pulled back just enough to wrap his hand around Geto’s throat, applying pressure—not enough to cut off his air completely, but enough to make Geto’s thighs tremble.

"You will say my name, Suguru," Ino whispered, dangerous, demanding, dripping with dominance.

"Or I’ll stop. Right now."

Geto whined.

That finally got his attention.

There was a beat—one second, two—then Geto arched back against Ino’s chest, shaking, wrecked, and screamed,

"INO!"

Ino smirked, victorious.

And then he fucked him into the mattress like he was proving a point.

---

The next morning, Geto arrived at work to find his email mysteriously stopped working, and the entire schedule disappeared. His desk was moved two floors down to an abandoned cubicle near the janitor’s closet.

He had sixteen new interns waiting for him with zero instructions.

His new title?

"Director of Internal Equity Initiatives & Community Synergy."

An email from HR in his new inbox. “We’d love to see you take a more hands-on leadership role in this space.”

It took him six seconds to realize Gojo had played him.

And standing in the doorway, sipping a venti caramel macchiato, was Gojo Satoru.

Smiling.

“Hey, champ. Looks like you got a big boy job now. Good for you.”

Geto nearly committed a felony.

By 9:15 AM, Sukuna stormed into his office.

“What the fuck is this?”

Geto exhaled, rubbing his temples. “…They promoted me sideways.”

Sukuna blinked. “The fuck does that mean?”

Geto leaned back in his chair. “It means… I have less power, more responsibility, and a workload so impossible that I’ll either burn out or quit.”

Sukuna stared at him, nostrils flared and fingers twitching.

He should have been the one to get him fired, for Nanami.

Then he turned on his heel, stormed out of the office, and screamed, “HIGURUMAAAAA!”

---

Shoko sat across from Hiromi, feet kicked up on his desk, filing her nails.

Hiromi calmly checked his watch, then winked at Shoko.

Shoko smirked. “He got the email.”

Victory.

Just then, his phone buzzed.

He glanced at the screen. His lips twitched—only slightly—as he read the caller ID.

He put it on speaker.

“Dad,” her teenage voice came through the speaker, sharp and impatient. “Where’s Mom? I need to talk to her.”

Shoko glanced up from her nails. “I’m right here, brat.”

Nobara sighed loudly into the phone. “Of course, you’re in Dad’s office. You two are always together.”

Shoko groaned. “Yeah, and?”

Nobara groaned back. “I need to stay over at Maki’s tonight.”

Hiromi hummed. “If Toji knows, then it’s fine.”

“He does. Also, tell Mom to stop smoking.”

Shoko smirked. “I make my own rules, baby.”

---

The first sign of catastrophe was the IT memo.

At precisely 9:25 AM, every employee at Kaisen Publishing received an internal email.

Subject: URGENT: NEW SYSTEM UPDATE (MANDATORY)

From: Satoru Gojo, COO

Attachments: [System Update Guide.pdf]

The entire office fell for it.

Nanami clicked the link.

Error 404: Skill Issue flashed across his screen.

Then his calendar turned into a neon green and pink mess labeled ‘Gojovision™’ with every meeting title replaced by:

“Mandatory Meditation with Your Favorite Boss 🥰”

“Lunch with That One Guy You Like But Never Admit (Me)”

“How To Accept That You Will Never Be As Hot As Me”

By 9:30 AM, Shoko, Hiromi, and Geto had barged into IT, demanding answers.

They were met with a lifesize cardboard cutout of Gojo, holding a sign that said:

“Sorry, I am too pretty to deal with your problems. Please cry elsewhere.”

---

The Fall of the Old Guard started.

Nanami’s desk was filled with tiny, laminated copies of Gojo’s employee of the month photo from 2019.

Kusakabe’s mouse was set to “Invert Y-Axis” permanently.

Toji’s office was replaced with an employee yoga room.

Sukuna’s vuvuzela was replaced with one that only played the Teletubbies theme song.

By noon, Hiromi and Shoko had begun plotting war.

Only Wife: We kill him.

Only Hiromi: Don’t use text; we can be tracked if Geto kills him first.

Only Wife: Then we kill him first.

---

In the afternoon, the entire C-Suite was summoned to the boardroom.

Gojo stood at the front, composed, smug, and glowing like he’d just emerged from a ten-day spa retreat in the Maldives.

Then, with unforgivable glee, he said, “Oh, by the way, Suguru? Your resignation letter was accepted. I just forgot to tell you. Pack up by Friday.”

Disarray.

Sukuna threw a chair at him.

Nanami supplied him with more chairs.

Geto went silent—just staring at Gojo like he was trying to manifest his death with sheer force of will.

And Gojo?

He sipped his coffee. Smiled.

And walked out.

By the end of the day, HR had officially surrendered, Sukuna’s war on HR had escalated into an actual HR vs C-Suite Mafia Conflict, and Nanami had developed a twitch in his left eye.

---

By the next working day, no one was safe.

But Gojo wasn’t done.

Oh, no.

Because while Shoko, Hiromi, Nanami, Geto, and Sukuna were easy targets, there were still more names on his list.

And Gojo believed in equal-opportunity vengeance.

As Chief Editorial Officer Haibara’s Executive Assistant, Ino Takuma had a big job. He kept Haibara’s entire schedule running smoothly, coordinated between every department, and ensured that Haibara never had to deal with idiots.

Which was why it was particularly devastating when, on Monday morning, Ino arrived at work and his entire email history along with his scheduled emails was deleted.

Every meeting?

Gone.

Every deadline?

Erased.

Every draft, every document, every client request?

Vanished into the digital void.

Even his backup files had been corrupted.

There was only one email left in his inbox.

From: Satoru Gojo, COO

Subject: 🖤 oopsies 🖤

Body: lmao my bad

Ino stormed into IT foaming at the mouth.

The IT Department, previously unbothered by the company-wide chaos, had finally lost its collective mind.

They pointed to the lifesize cardboard cutout of Gojo, now wearing sunglasses, with a second sign taped to it.

“Too sexy to fix your problems. Try again later.”

---

Ijichi, Shoko’s EA, had somehow avoided the first wave of destruction.

This was unacceptable.

Gojo corrected that mistake immediately.

Step 1: Change all his passwords.

Step 2: Disable his security clearance.

Step 3: Print every single complaint Ijichi ever filed about him (all 276 of them) and mail them back to him.

The cherry on top?

When Ijichi tried to log into the HR database, it redirected him to a singular, unskippable pop-up video.

It was Gojo.

Smiling.

Winking.

And saying, “Sucks to be you, bro.”

Ijichi cried in the break room.

---

Director of Customer Experience, Kusakabe Atsuya, and his EA, Hajime Kashimo, were next.

Kashimo, already one of the most chaotic employees at Kaisen Publishing, had somehow made the grave mistake of bullying Gojo back when he was ‘just an EA.’

Now?

It was payback.

Step 1: Gojo edited Kusakabe’s Slack contacts so that every time he tried to text Kashimo, it sent a calendar invite for ‘Advanced Handholding Techniques’ with Gojo Satoru.

Step 2: He rerouted Kashimo’s paycheck to a cryptocurrency wallet labeled ‘clownfunds.exe.’

Step 3: He signed Kashimo up for every corporate seminar about ‘Emotional Sensitivity in Leadership.’

By noon, Kashimo had physically launched a printer across the office.

By 3 PM, Kusakabe had locked himself in the storage room, whispering “this isn’t a problem” to himself repeatedly.

---

Gojo’s revenge against Fushiguro Toji, Chief Sales Officer—aka the corporate version of a war criminal—had to be more subtle.

Why?

Because Toji probably had knives.

So, instead of direct sabotage, Gojo planted the seeds of his destruction.

First, he redirected all of Toji’s client emails to spam.

Then, he moved his sales reports into a random, unlabeled folder buried inside a company drive from 2009.

By mid-afternoon, Toji’s office was in flames—figuratively—for now as he ripped through his entire system, trying to find out where the fuck his data went.

And Gojo?

He booked himself a three-week vacation and left them to burn.

---

By the end of the week, Kaisen Publishing had changed.

Ino had developed a jaw tick.

Ijichi was still locked out of HR.

Toji threatened to break Gojo’s legs.

Kashimo was trying to hack his own paycheck.

Nanami was on the verge of actual homicide.

Geto had been moved—again—to office admin.

Sukuna was planning an actual coup.

Kusakabe was in therapy.

Hiromi was thinking of going back to criminal law.

Shoko was openly encouraging physical violence.

---

Somewhere else in the city, you sat in your office, trying not to sigh audibly as your longest-coming patient droned on.

He had been talking for exactly forty-seven minutes without stopping.

For the last five years, he had been trying—desperately—to get closer to a man who refused to notice him. A man who was cold, detached, and frustratingly competent. A man who, despite all of his efforts, remained emotionally unavailable and deeply, deeply unimpressed.

You might have felt bad for him.

But he was here for a reason.

He was Yandere.

And you were getting paid to listen to this bullshit.

You nodded slowly, jotting down notes, making sure to maintain professional neutrality as he continued, oblivious to how completely fucking insane he sounded.

“—and every time I bring him coffee, he sighs like I personally walked into his home and unplugged his WiFi.”

“Mm.”

“—and I memorized all of his favorite foods, but he still calls me a liability and refuses to eat with me in the break room—”

You tapped your pen against the clipboard. “So, it sounds like he’s set very clear boundaries, and you’re—”

“Ignoring them?” The man scoffed, waving a hand dismissively. “No, no, no. I’m just giving him space to realize he actually likes me.”

You stared.

He grinned.

You jotted down ‘delusional.’

Twenty More Minutes of Bullshit Later... “I even started dressing more professionally. You know—less fun, more business. He likes boring people.”

You raised a brow. “And has this change in behavior influenced his perception of you?”

The man hesitated.

Then:

“He yelled at me for messing up a report and called me the single biggest mistake of his career.”

“…Right.” You cleared your throat. “And how did that make you feel?”

He sighed dreamily. “Amazing. He only gets that mad when he really cares, y’know?”

You blinked slowly. “Right.”

You were about to recommend him a 72-hour psychiatric hold when he casually added:

“Oh, and I’m pretty sure he’s married, but I think that’s just one of those silly little obstacles we’ll laugh about later.”

You froze.

“…What?”

He waved a hand again, completely unfazed. “Yeah, yeah, I saw a ring or whatever. But, like, c’mon.” He leaned forward conspiratorially. “Whoever it is? He definitely doesn’t love them as much as he loves me.”

There was a beat of silence.

The patient smiled, oblivious.

“I just know he’s the one for me.”

You stared.

Then exhaled through your nose.

This was going to be a long fucking session.

After some more time, your patient was still talking.

You had long since stopped listening.

The words were flowing out of his mouth like a TED Talk no one paid for, his entire personality seemingly built around his obsessive workplace crush who didn’t notice him.

He drummed his fingers on his knees. “—so obviously, at this point, it’s only a matter of time before he realizes we’re meant to be.”

You hummed noncommittally.

He nodded, satisfied. “You get it. You’re normal.”

Your phone buzzed.

You glanced at the screen.

[Group Chat: ‘Why Is HR Trying to Kill Us’]

Nerd: We need to talk.

Frat Bro: Hilarious sentence considering you literally never want to talk about your little feelings.

Nerd: When were you gonna tell us our son got caught making out at university?

Frat Bro: LMAOOOOO, let’s fucking goooooo!!!

Nerd: And you high-fived him.

Frat Bro: HE’S 19, NANA, RELAX. AT LEAST HE’S NOT A LOSER ANYMORE.

Nerd: This is the third time I’ve had to lecture him about safe sex in a month.

Frat Bro: Oh my fucking god. YOU TALKED TO HIM ABOUT SAFE SEX AGAIN? DO YOU WANT HIM TO DIE OF EMBARRASSMENT?

Nerd: I will not allow my son to be ignorant about protection.

Frat Bro: Bro, we can have other kids; relax; he’s not the last of his bloodline.

Nerd: Stop calling me bro.

Frat Bro: Then stop texting like a middle school guidance counselor.

Nerd: That is what I feel like, considering our son is out here being publicly obscene while his father is high-fiving him for it.

Frat Bro: IT WAS OUTSIDE THE SCHOOL. BIG DIFFERENCE.

Nerd: IT IS NOT.

Frat Bro: Also, Toji was the one who showed up to pick up the other kid.

Nerd: Jesus Christ.

Frat Bro: He looked like he was ready to load a shotgun.

Nerd: He probably was.

Frat Bro: Yuji tried to dab him up.

Nerd: How did that go?

Frat Bro: Toji ignored him and smirked at his kid instead.

Nerd: Good.

Frat Bro: You’re a hater.

Nerd: I will not comment.

Frat Bro: You just did.

Nerd: I refuse to acknowledge your stupidity.

Frat Bro: Guess who he was making out with.

Nerd: Who?

Frat Bro: Megumi.

Nerd: …

Frat Bro: HAHAHAHAHAHHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHA

Nerd: What?!

Frat Bro: TOJI'S OWN SON. LMAOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Nerd: I am going to lie down in traffic.

Frat Bro: We literally work with his dad every day.

Nerd: Yes. And?

Frat Bro: Toji’s kid is making out with our kid. This means we are technically family now.

Nerd: I hate you.

Frat Bro: I love our gay little son.

Nerd: I am blocking you.

You locked your phone before you could scream.

Your patient was still talking.

“…I’m just saying it’s not stalking if you know their entire schedule and occasionally show up at their favorite places before they do.”

You exhaled through your nose. “That's all the time that we have today. Remember to do those breathing exercises and write the unsent letters I told you about.” You told him while politely kicking him out of your office.

This was the worst fucking day of your life.

---

Then it started with a memo.

A crisp white envelope landed on Nanami’s desk at precisely 11:01 AM. The paper was unnervingly smooth, the company seal embossed in blood-red wax.

To: Nanami Kento, CFO

CC: Ryomen Sukuna, CVO

From: HR (The Department of Consequences)

Subject: YOU KNOW WHAT YOU DID.

Nanami sighed. Of course.

He had endured a lifetime of bad decisions, but he knew—deep in his gut—that this was about the kazoo.

Meanwhile, across the office, Sukuna leaned back in his absurdly large chair, tossing the memo over his shoulder like a receipt from a store he planned to burn down later.

“HR finally grew a pair,” he muttered, unimpressed.

Geto, his ever-suffering ex-EA, picked up the discarded letter and skimmed it. His brows furrowed. “They want a ‘mandatory compliance meeting’ with all C-Suite executives. That means you, Nanami, Hiromi, Shoko, Toji, Kusakabe, Haibara, and—” he hesitated.

Sukuna smirked. “Oh, let me guess.”

A loud crash echoed through the hall.

“NANAMIIIIIIIIII!”

Gojo had arrived.

---

The Meeting from Hell (Sponsored by HR)

At precisely noon, the boardroom was filled with an unusual mix of tension, HR vengeance, and coffee that tasted vaguely like regret.

Nanami, Sukuna, Shoko, Toji, Kusakabe, Haibara, Hiromi, and Gojo sat in a semicircle, facing HR’s new Director of Employee Conduct (DEC).

A man none of them had ever seen before.

He wore a perfectly pressed black suit, his ID badge labeled only as "HR"—no last name, no employee code, just HR in bold capital letters. His aura radiated pure, unfiltered administrative menace.

But Sukuna knew who he was.

His annoying half-brother, who’d followed him here too.

Choso.

Gojo, who had already slouched so hard he was practically under the table, raised a hand lazily. “So, what’s this about?”

HR blinked at him slowly, like a lizard assessing prey. Then he reached into his briefcase and pulled out—

A single PowerPoint slide.

One phrase. One sentence. One undeniable truth.

‘THERE ARE NO LAWS THAT PROHIBIT PHYSICAL VIOLENCE AGAINST EXECUTIVES.’

Silence.

Nanami stopped breathing. Sukuna sat up. Shoko took a sip of her coffee, unfazed. Kusakabe looked at the nearest exit. Hiromi took a deep breath. Toji smirked. Haibara’s eyes gleemed.

Gojo?

Gojo laughed.

“Wait, so you’re telling me—” he wheezed, tears forming at the corners of his eyes, “—that we spent years dodging HR complaints, only to find out they could have just punched us?”

HR closed his laptop, his expression blank, voice monotone. “Yes.”

The implications settled in.

Kusakabe, normally composed, whispered, “Oh, fuck.”

Sukuna’s grin stretched wider. “You’re telling me we could have been brawling this whole time?”

HR nodded.

“…No fines?” Nanami asked cautiously, his CFO brain twitching at the mere thought of an unregulated system.

“No paperwork?” Shoko added, hopeful for the first time in years.

“No lawsuits?” Gojo blinked, awestruck.

HR simply stood up, adjusted his tie, and walked around the table. When he reached Sukuna, he leaned down and whispered one word.

“Run.”

Sukuna barely had time to react before Hiromi—buttoned-up, put-together, legally-inclined Hiromi—flipped the fucking table and lunged at him.

---

One hour later, the office was in flames.

Sukuna had fought off three hulking HR representatives using nothing but a vuvuzela and a stapler.

Hiromi was locked in a full judo match with Geto, their fight crashing into the break room, where Geto flung a coffee pot at him like he was reenacting Die Hard.

Nanami, in an unprecedented move, drop-kicked Gojo directly into a vending machine, cracking the glass. Gojo slumped against it, blinking blearily as a Snickers bar fell into his lap.

Ino was booting Toji into a dirty mop bucket, while Haibara was beating the absolute shit out of Kusakabe for teasing Gojo back when he was an EA.

Kashimo had also shown up. Apparently, he’d gotten wind that Choso had rejected his PTO request to attend the world’s largest electric eel race. "It’s historical, you bastard!" Kashimo screamed as he launched himself across the room.

And Shoko?

Shoko stood in the middle of it all, watching the chaos unfold like she was watching a National Geographic documentary. She took a slow sip of her coffee and muttered,

“Finally, some real corporate reform.”

Then her own EA, Ijichi, showed up with a mop.

Shoko was surprised.

But the mop broke on impact.

Ijichi ran when Shoko put her cup down and smiled, cracking her knuckles.

---

Two Weeks Later, Jujutsu Corp. Was Different.

HR had installed ‘Employee Fight Nights.’

Disputes were now settled with bare fists.

Productivity skyrocketed.

Nanami had never been happier. He showed up to work early. He smiled—smiled—during meetings. He bought a new tie.

Gojo still sucked at his job, but now he had an incentive. If he failed too hard, he got thrown into the supply closet with only stale granola bars that tasted like cardboard and an unplugged landline.

Sukuna?

He thrived.

He was made for lawless corporate bloodsport.

And the HR department?

They finally got their revenge.

Order was restored.

The Symphony of Spite played on.

---

“WHO LET SUKUNA PLAN THIS?”

That was the first thing Nanami yelled as he stepped off the private jet onto the absurdly luxurious beach resort that Sukuna had somehow gaslit the board into approving.

The accommodations were individually staffed villas with ocean views.

The corporate expense budget had been thrown out the window.

The alcohol budget was bigger than the seminar budget.

Hiromi, Shoko, and Nanami all looked like they were considering a lawsuit.

Sukuna, sipping a frozen margarita, smirked. "Relax. It's all-expenses-paid. Enjoy it."

Nanami twitched. "Paid by who, Ryomen?"

"The company."

"Oh my god."

Gojo, who was already wearing sunglasses and a Gucci floral shirt, threw an arm around Sukuna and grinned. “Now, now. Let’s just enjoy the beach, Nanamin.”

"You’re a criminal."

Sukuna just laughed.

Yuji, excited to go to the beach, froze mid-step when he saw the last person he expected to see.

Megumi.

Making direct eye contact. Also frozen.

Maki, standing next to Megumi, squinted. “Wait.”

Nobara, standing next to Yuji, grinned like a demon.

“You two are here.”

Yuji blinked. “You’re here too??”

Megumi exhaled through his nose like a disappointed father. “Why are you here?”

“My parents’ work retreat.”

“MY parent’s work retreat.”

Silence.

The realization hit them all at once.

Their parents all worked together.

And then Yuta appeared, holding hands with Inumaki.

And then Ino and Geto showed up, hand in hand, deep in a heated debate over which SPF level was best for their adopted son Yuta’s sensitive skin.

And then Haibara walked over, sunglasses perched on his nose and a piña colada in hand, waving at them like a laid-back uncle at a barbecue. He ruffled Inumaki’s hair affectionately, a warm smile on his face. “Don’t forget to hydrate, buddy! And no energy drinks don’t count,” he called out, reminding everyone that he was always looking out for his adopted son.

The kids all collectively realized that their entire social circle was connected through some corporate nightmare.

Nobara, smirking, leaned on Maki’s shoulder. “Oh, this is gonna be fun.”

Ijichi did not want to be here.

He had already endured HR vs. C-Suite bloodshed, Gojo’s return from the underworld, and being locked out of his own system for three weeks.

But this?

This was worse.

Because this company retreat was nothing more than a week-long circus of corporate war crimes disguised as team bonding.

And somehow, HR had scheduled him for mandatory paddleboarding lessons with Kashimo.

Kashimo.

The one employee most likely to get them both killed in international waters.

He sat stiffly on the sand, watching as Kashimo flipped a paddle upside-down and used it as a microphone.

“This is bullshit,” Kashimo muttered, adjusting his sunglasses. “I was lied to. I thought we were gonna drink on a yacht."

"You could just do the activity," Ijichi gritted out.

"You could just not be a virgin," Kashimo shot back.

Ijichi considered throwing himself into the ocean.

You had had enough.

You had been ignoring it, trying to give your patient the benefit of the doubt.

But now that you watched Gojo laugh too loudly over a cocktail with Nanami, his sunglasses sliding down his nose, it clicked.

Your stomach dropped.

Sukuna was talking.

You weren’t listening.

Because it hit you all at once.

The man he had been talking about for five years—

The stoic, serious, emotionally unavailable, overworked executive—

The one he had been relentlessly pursuing for five fucking years—

—was your husband.

And Gojo had been lying about his workplace THE ENTIRE TIME!

You stood up, ready to throw hands.

“Oh? Are we finally doing this?” Gojo grinned, sliding his sunglasses down. “I was wondering when you’d figure it out.”

Before you could deck him, Haibara materialized out of nowhere.

"Satoru, baby no."

You froze.

Everyone froze.

Because Haibara—calm, nice, smiling Haibara—just wrapped an arm around Gojo’s waist and kissed his cheek.

Gojo grinned.

“Oh, right. Did I forget to mention? This is my boyfriend.”

The entire company retreat fell into silence.

Sukuna, sipping a cocktail, whispered, “Holy shit! I did not see that coming.”

Nanami removed his glasses and rubbed his temples.

Toji and Kusakabe cackled.

And you?

You sat back down.

You were going to need another drink.

Inumaki and Yuta had been in the pool for six hours.

They had witnessed everything.

Kashimo being thrown into the ocean by Sukuna.

Nanami having a mid-life crisis after seeing Yuji and Megumi together.

Toji and Kusakabe sneaking into a beach hut for two hours.

Gojo pulling an entire wine bottle out of nowhere and drunkenly making out with Haibara.

Megumi watched Yuji dive into the sand and sighed. “You’re so stupid.”

Then Nanami got a sunburn despite reapplying SPF 50 every hour.

Nobara challenged Maki to a tequila shot contest. Maki won and carried Nobara’s passed-out ass to bed.

While Nobara’s parents—Hiromi and Shoko—got day drunk and talked shit about Sukuna for three straight hours.

Geto threatened to sue Choso.

Gojo let Choso punch him in the face.

Ino defended his husband’s honor.

You helped Ino by punching Gojo.

Haibara appeared out of nowhere again to knock you out.

Ijichi hid under a flipped boat.

Yuta adjusted his sunglasses. “So…”

Inumaki, floating on a pool noodle, exhaled through his nose.

“…Your dad and my dad work together.”

“Yes.”

“…And your dad is fucking his CEO, while my dads hate your future stepdad.”

“Mhm.”

“…And we’re just supposed to pretend like this is normal?”

Inumaki shrugged.

Yuta groaned. “I want a refund.”

“We didn’t pay.”

Choso hated everyone.

Especially Kashimo.

Which was unfortunate because he was currently fucking him.

This was never supposed to happen.

HR was supposed to remain neutral.

HR was supposed to enforce the rules.

Not bend Kashimo over a company-paid resort bed and remind him why fighting HR was a mistake.

Kashimo, breathless, his hair completely ruined, grinned up at him like a complete menace.

“That’s all you got?”

Choso narrowed his eyes. “Shut up.”

He flipped Kashimo over.

HR was going to be compromised forever.

So it was HR vs. Kashimo, except HR is sleeping with him now.

By the next morning, Choso filed an official resignation letter.

It was denied immediately.

Kashimo signed it for him and then threw it into the bonfire.

HR was never recovering.

And neither was this company.

On returning day, the company jet was dead silent.

Nobody spoke. Nobody could speak. The air was thick with regret, hangovers, and the faint, lingering scent of bad decisions.

Nanami had not spoken a single word in three hours.

His shoes were gone.

His shirt was unbuttoned.

His soul had left his body.

Next to him, Sukuna was unconscious, head tilted back, drooling slightly onto his designer shirt. His sunglasses were still on, but his entire aura screamed, ‘I have been humbled.’

Toji and Kusakabe refused to make eye contact.

Nobody knew what happened between them on the last night.

Nobody wanted to know.

Geto and Ino, meanwhile, were inhaling sushi like they had survived a natural disaster and not a hangover.

Geto still had sand in his hair.

Ino was wearing a completely different slipper than any he’d owned.

They were each giving the other the better sushi.

Shoko and Hiromi, however, were unbothered.

They were annoying the shit out of Nobara and Maki by planning their wedding five years in advance.

“I think we should do two honeymoons.”

“Why? Are we planning to kill someone on the first one?”

“Shoko!”

“Fine. But I get to pick the murder weapon for our anniversary.”

Nobara, who had not stopped rolling her eyes for an hour, turned to Maki. “Trade parents with me. I’m begging you.”

Maki, scrolling on her phone, didn’t even glance up. “I’d rather fight God.” She would not give Toji up, not even for Mother Shoko.

Meanwhile in the back, Yuji was cuddling Megumi, half-asleep and murmuring nonsense.

Megumi, however, was staring dramatically out the window like he was in a mid-2000s emo music video.

Was he thinking about life?

Was he contemplating his future?

Was he wondering how his dad and his boyfriend’s dads worked together in a company that allowed Gojo to exist?

Nobody knew.

Yuta, sitting nearby, was applying sheet masks with Inumaki.

“You should use the hydrating one.”

“I should?”

“No, seriously, your pores are stressed.”

“Yours would be too if Gojo was to become your stepdad.”

“Toge, for the love of god, just—sit still—”

And then there was Kashimo & Choso.

Kashimo had fallen off his seat.

He was snoring loudly.

His shirt was missing.

He had somehow ended up in Gojo’s limited edition Gucci slides.

His hair was in his mouth.

Next to him, Choso was attempting to guest star in Megumi’s sad music video.

He had a perfectly timed melancholic stare.

He had a half-drunk mimosa in hand.

He looked like he was contemplating the meaning of life, the fall of capitalism, and why the fuck he was fucking Kashimo.

Gojo, meanwhile, was the only one having a good time.

He was fully refreshed.

He had zero regrets.

He was actively making things worse.

With a shit-eating grin, Gojo was typing ‘LET’S DO THIS AGAIN!’ into the company Slack.

He was practically in Haibara’s lap, who was leaving very visible hickeys on his neck like he was trying to mark his territory but knew peeing wasn’t an option.

Sukuna, who had just woken himself up with a snort, squinted blearily at them.

“…Is this workplace harassment?”

“No, this is my boyfriend, Yu.”

Nanami, still dead inside and contemplating his life decisions, muttered, “Did not expect Haibara to be into idiots.”

He sighed and continued. “Well, I’m into one too, so I guess that makes me a hypocrite.” He glanced over at Sukuna, who was falling back asleep with his eyes wide open, looking like a horror movie character caught in a perpetual state of shock. “Great, now I’m married to a zombie too.”

Gojo gasped. Not sure from the fact that he did not expect Nanami to be married to Sukuna of all people or from Haibara twisting his nipples through his shirt under the blanket he was dragging him under.

You leaned back in your seat, exhaled deeply, and closed your eyes.

This was, without a doubt, the worst corporate retreat in history.

And next time?

You were faking a medical emergency.

Ijichi wondered why he was still an adult virgin and called back the barista who’d flirt with him daily on his way to work.

---

Bonus

Toji Fushiguro hated authors.

No, scratch that—he hated this author.

"Akutami," he gritted out, struggling to keep his patience intact. "I get it. You're pissed. But Kaisen Publishing has been your home for years. You can't just walk."

"See, Toji, the problem is," they drawled, "I can just walk. My contract is up, and my sales numbers could make any publisher wet their pants. I’m a free agent, baby."

Toji was having a bad fucking day.

“I’m leaving,” Gege added casually, flipping through a heavily annotated manuscript as if Toji wasn’t one bad negotiation away from career ruin.

Toji sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You’re not leaving.”

“I am. Unless…”

Toji narrowed his eyes. “Unless what?”

Gege took a long sip of their coffee. “Unless you convince me otherwise.”

Kusakabe, the Director of Customer Experience (DCE), leaned forward, visibly panicking, trying to salvage the situation. “We need you to stay,” he said, already sweating.

Gege grinned. “Oh? Do you?”

Toji had dealt with nightmare clients before, but this? This was some next-level blackmail.

“Alright, what do you want?” Toji asked, arms crossed.

Gege leaned back in their chair, smirking. “A better contract. No more deadlines.”

Toji laughed. “Yeah, no.”

Gege shrugged. “Alright, then I’m gone.”

Kusakabe leaned in, desperate. “Okay, okay, we can negotiate! What about—uh—a signing tour? Bigger advance? More creative control?”

Gege tapped their chin. “All very tempting.”

Toji sighed, rubbing his temples. “You are so lucky you make us money.”

“Oh, I know.”

"Look," Kusakabe added carefully, "you have creative freedom here. We’ve never censored you."

Gege arched a brow. "No, but you did reject my pitch for a dark BL thriller about two businessmen in a toxic, doomed relationship where one gaslights the other into insanity."

Toji pinched the bridge of his nose. "That was just Satosugu with stock market terminology."

"And?"

"AND?!"

Toji was mere seconds away from hurling a chair when, without warning—

The door swung open with a bang.

And there, framed in the doorway like he owned the place—like he hadn’t just attempted to sabotage the entire company three weeks ago—stood none other than—

Gojo, COO and Certified Workplace Menace.

Right behind him was Haibara, the CEO, exuding his yandere tendencies: unnervingly calm, fiercely devoted, and radiating pure ‘if-you-touch-my-man-I’ll-kill-you’ energy.

Toji's entire body locked up. “Fuck me.” Kusakabe closed his eyes.

"Good morning, peasants," Gojo greeted chirpily.

Toji took a deep breath. "Gojo—"

But Gojo? Gojo ignored him.

Instead, he sauntered in like he was walking down a Parisian runway, immediately throwing an arm over Haibara’s shoulders and dragging him into the corner of the room, whispering something low.

Haibara grinned.

Then? They started making out.

Full. On. Corporate. PDA.

Toji and Kusakabe froze.

Gege? Gege stared, their brain short-circuited.

Eyes wide. Expression blank.

And then, very, very softly, they muttered—

“…Holy shit.”

Toji snapped.

"GOJO, WHAT THE FUCK?!"

Gojo, still half-latched onto Haibara’s neck, turned slightly. "Hm?"

"TAKE IT OUTSIDE!"

Gojo blinked innocently. "What? We’re just showing healthy workplace affection."

"YOU ARE COMMITTING CORPORATE WAR CRIMES."

Kusakabe was already rolling up his sleeves. "I’ll hold him down. You punch."

Haibara, unfazed, stepped in front of Gojo like a human shield while Gojo continued to lick his neck like a Banshee.

"You’ll have to go through me," he said, smiling like a serial killer.

Toji deadpanned. "Man, are you good?"

"No." Haibara grinned wider. "But I love my boyfriend."

Gege had not blinked once.

Toji noticed.

“…What,” he asked suspiciously.

Gege took one slow sip of their coffee and tapped their fingers together like a scheming villain. Then whispered, "I’ve just had a brilliant idea."

Toji’s stomach dropped. "No."

"Yes."

"No."

"YES."

Kusakabe stared. “For what?”

Gege’s eyes gleamed. “For my next book.”

Toji, already furious, turned to Gojo. “Get the fuck out!”

Gojo, ignoring him completely, pulled back from Haibara just enough to grin obnoxiously. “Aww, come on, don’t be jealous, Toji~”

Toji lunged.

Kusakabe grabbed his sleeve. “Toji, please, we need HR clearance before murder—”

Gojo dodged effortlessly. “Damn, man, you’re still this fast? No wonder the ladies love you.”

Haibara, smirking, stepped in front of Gojo again. “If you touch him, I will end your bloodline.”

Toji stopped, considered it.

Then immediately started swinging anyway.

Gege leaned forward, gleeful, deranged, and inspired. "I’ll stay."

Kusakabe perked up. "Really?"

"But—" Gege drawled.

"Oh, for fuck’s sake—" Toji looked ready to retire.

Kusakabe sighed deeply. “What’s your angle here?”

Gege leaned forward, predatory. "I want the exclusive."

"The what now?"

"The Gojo Satoru Interview."

"You’re out of your goddamn mind."

Silence.

Gojo, running a hand through Haibara’s hair, froze. “…Huh?”

Gege set their coffee down. “I have questions.”

Then—

"Absolutely not," Nanami’s voice suddenly rang from the corridor.

Too late. Gege was already opening their notes app.

What had once been a generic publishing drama was now a messy, doomed workplace romance.

And for that? Kaisen Publishing was worth staying for.

Toji’s left eye twitched.

Kusakabe, still rolling up his sleeves, stared between Gojo (the problem) and Gege (the bigger problem).

Meanwhile, in the corner of the room, Gojo was back to kissing Haibara like he had a limited-time coupon for free affection.

Haibara, whose only goal in life was to enable Gojo’s worst decisions, continued to let it happen.

Toji inhaled through his nose.

"No."

Gege, smirking like a villain in the final act, tilted their head. "Oh, but thiccck dick daddy Toji~"

Toji’s soul left his body. "This is unprofessional. I hate it when you do that voice."

"I love it when I do this voice." Gege winked at him.

From the hallway, Nanami—who had been ready to leave, minding his own fucking business—paused mid-step.

Then, slowly, backed up, peering inside the room like someone checking if a murder was in progress. “…Why do I feel like I just walked into a lawsuit?”

Toji didn’t even look at him. "Because you did."

Nanami, already done with this conversation, turned to leave— "Wait!" Gege called. "Would you like to co-author a tell-all book about working with Gojo? You seem like the only boring one here."

Nanami stopped and turned around very, very slowly. "…What?"

Gojo, who had been minding his own business (making out with Haibara), perked up immediately. "Ooooh, memoirs? Nanamin, would you like my high school yearbook photos? I was so hot—like Justin Bieber can’t even compete hot."

"You were an asshole," Geto muttered from the window, where he was eating sushi like a man recovering from a war.

"You can be both."

Toji groaned. "Okay, no one is writing a tell-all book. Nanami, leave."

Nanami didn’t move. "I think I want to stay now."

Toji dragged a hand down his face.

Gege, thrilled, continued. “Okay, final terms: I stay with Kaisen Publishing, but I get an exclusive sit-down interview with your in-house menace. Uncensored. No PR team interference. No board review.”

Toji and Kusakabe shared a long, tired look.

Then, simultaneously, they turned toward Haibara.

Toji sighed. “Can you control him?”

Haibara, still being devoured by Gojo, smirked.

"No."

"FUCK!"

And so, against all logic, ethics, and concerns for public safety, the infamous interview was scheduled.

Nanami, who had decided to stay out of morbid curiosity, was already drafting his resignation letter.

Kusakabe had aged ten years.

Toji was considering faking his own death.

Gojo grinned, pleased with himself. “Oh, don’t worry, Toji. I’ll make sure it’s the most iconic interview of the century.”

Toji exhaled deeply.

"I hope you choke on your own hubris," Nanami sighed.

The location was Kaisen Publishing’s Private Lounge—aka where HR went to cry or hook up with Kashimo.

Toji had one job.

One job.

And that was to make sure Gojo didn’t say anything that could get the company sued, canceled, or worse—put on a ‘business leaders to watch’ list.

This, unfortunately, was an impossible task.

Because Gojo was already seated in the executive lounge, legs kicked up on the coffee table, wearing sunglasses indoors, and sipping a venti caramel frappuccino with extra whipped cream like he was about to bullshit his way through a TED Talk.

Gege sat across from him, recorder on, notebook open, smirk firmly in place.

Kusakabe stood off to the side, clutching a folder labeled ‘Crisis Control Plan.’

Haibara was nearby, sipping a matcha latte, keeping one homicidal eye on Toji and the other adoringly on Gojo.

Nanami, forced to be here as PR supervision—because Yuki was on leave—was already rubbing his temples, searching for an exit.

Cameras started rolling as Gege sat smiling like they weren’t about to ruin their own career. They cleared their throat, pen at the ready. “Alright, Gojo, let’s start simple. How would you describe your leadership style?”

Gojo grinned. “Sexy.”

Toji groaned. “Can we not?”

Kusakabe flipped through his folder. “I don’t have a backup plan for this. Continue.”

Gege nodded, unfazed. “Okay. Sexy. Noted. Now, how do you handle conflict resolution in the workplace?”

Gojo leaned back in his chair, smug. “With love.”

Silence.

Nanami pinched the bridge of his nose. “That’s objectively false.”

“Is it?” Gojo smirked.

“Yes,” Nanami deadpanned.

Toji nodded. “He nearly got into an actual fistfight with Shoko, the CHRO, last week.”

“That was a bonding exercise.”

“That was attempted murder,” Hiromi yelled from the back.

Gege jotted something down. “Okay, so you resolve conflicts with love and/or violence. Got it.”

Haibara smiled proudly.

Ino, Ijichi, Choso, and Kashimo exchanged exhausted glances.

Nanami was texting you about dinner plans like this wasn’t happening.

"Alright, Satoru," Gege continued. "Let’s start with an easy one—what’s your biggest professional regret?"

Gojo leaned back, adjusting his sunglasses. "Not committing tax fraud when I had the chance."

Nanami stared at him.

Gege perked up. "Oh? Elaborate."

Nanami intervened immediately. "Do not elaborate!"

Gojo shrugged. "I just feel like the U.S. government shouldn’t be the only ones allowed to rob people."

Nanami visibly aged five years.

After twenty minutes, Gege continued scribbling more notes. “So, to summarize, you believe—”

Gojo nodded. “That if HR gets to fight employees now, I should get to bring a sword to work.”

Nanami, staring directly into the camera, exhaled slowly. "Gege, I beg of you, move on to the next question."

Gege smirked. "Oh, you’ll love this one. Gojo—who’s the most annoying person you work with?"

Nanami tensed.

Gojo, grinning like a menace, turned to the camera.

"Suguru Geto."

Off-camera, Geto—who was minding his own business (here to send hate to Gojo with his husband Ino), sipping his coffee—froze.

Gege raised a brow. "But—he’s not even an EA anymore."

Gojo laughed. "Oh, I know."

Geto narrowed his eyes. “I will set your office on fire.”

Nanami, fully dead inside, was texting Shoko, begging her to fire him.

Gege continued again, unfazed. “So, Gojo. Tell me, how do you view your role as COO?”

Gojo grinned like he’d been waiting for this. “Oh, simple.” He leaned forward, shades sliding down the bridge of his nose. “I’m the glue that holds this company together.”

Silence.

Then, Kusakabe, Hiromi, and Toji actually laughed out loud.

Geto launched a pen at Gojo’s head while Ino held him back from aiming it right.

Nanami got up to leave.

Haibara kissed Gojo on the cheek.

Taking advantage of the disarray, Kashimo and Choso snuck off to make out while Ijichi started sexting his girl.

Gege was about to ask the next question when—

They saw him.

There, standing in the doorway, arguing with Shoko and looking like he walked out of a villain fashion ad, was—

Ryomen Sukuna.

Gege froze. Their pen dropped.

Toji noticed the shift in energy immediately. “Oh, God no."

Gege, still staring, whispered, “…is that Sukuna?”

Gojo looked over his shoulder and snorted. “Yeah. He’s married to Nanamin.”

Gege’s soul left their body. “You’re lying.”

Gojo grinned. “Nope. Wanna watch them interact?”

Nanami, who had just re-entered the room with a fresh cup of coffee, sighed. “Satoru, don’t.”

Gojo waved Sukuna over anyway.

Ryomen Sukuna—and his nonsensical title, corporate terrorist, HR’s biggest enemy—strolled in, looking bored as hell, completely unaware that Gege was currently having a breakdown over his existence. “What?” he grunted, looking at Gojo.

Gojo pointed at Gege. “Our little gremlin here is a huge fan.”

Gege, who was normally a menace to everyone else, was suddenly flustered. "Holy. Fucking. Shit."

Gojo and Nanami blinked.

Gege lit up like a Christmas tree. "WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN ALL MY LIFE!!"

Sukuna froze.

Gojo frowned. "Wait. What."

Gege was already standing, shaking.

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god. I LOVE YOUR WORK."

Hiromi was completely lost. "Sukuna doesn’t work."

Gege ignored him. “YOU. ARE. INCREDIBLE.”

Sukuna looked deeply concerned. "I literally don’t know who you are."

Gojo, offended as hell, observed, "Hold on. You didn’t react like this for me."

Gege waved a dismissive hand at Gojo. "Gojo, shut up. This is important."

“I—” Gege started, looking at Sukuna. Then paused.

Finally, they managed: "Do you believe in destiny?"

Then, to everyone’s horror, Sukuna smirked. "Are you flirting with me or trying to kill me?"

Gege beamed. "Why not both?"

Toji physically pushed Gege’s recorder off the table. “Okay, NO. We are NOT doing this.”

Gojo, laughing, leaned back. “Oh, this is getting good.”

Nanami stood up immediately. "Alright. This interview is over. Everyone please get back to work."

Gojo laughed. "Are you jealous?"

Nanami, dead inside, took a long sip of coffee. “I regret ever signing my marriage license.”

Gojo grinned. "Can I get a raise before your divorce?"

Nanami asked Hiromi and Shoko, “How do I submit a workplace harassment claim against the COO?”

Sukuna eyed Gege like a particularly annoying ant. "Are you done?"

Gege was absolutely not done.

"Can I write your villain origin story?"

Sukuna sighed. "Stop talking."

Gege scribbled notes. "THAT'S EXACTLY WHAT A VILLAIN WOULD SAY."

Gojo leaned back, smirking. "Looks like I’m not the only one inspiring doomed yaoi."

Geto was on the verge of homicide. “For the last time, that’s not what it’s called.”

And so, the interview ended in absolute failure.

Haibara, completely unbothered, just kissed Gojo again, who giggled like a schoolgirl.

But at least Gege was staying, already outlining their next tragic yaoi novel with Sukuna and a cryptid cat as the main characters.

Yes, they were the cryptid cat.

A/N: There we have it. I have no brain cells left. Gojo has won. HR has collapsed. Nanami is rethinking every life choice. And Choso is sleeping with Kashimo for some reason. I should stop. I should mark this fic Complete. But should I? I leave it in your hands. Drop a comment. Fight in the reblogs. Make HR proud. PS: If you've read this far, you are braver than half this company’s executive board. Now I'm officially out of ideas for this fic so lmk if you get any and help a girl out.

All Works Masterlist

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ayumy1 · 2 days ago

Text

Scored My Heart

Itoshi Sae x Male reader

Synopsis: The reason why Sae gave up his shared dream with Rin was because 'he' scored his heart in a way nobody else could.

Content: Fluff, humour, a tiny bit of angst

wc: 3.2k

Note: This is my first bllk fanfic and reader fanfic. So I apologise in advance for any ooc or weirdness. This is a male reader fanfic for plot purposes, if you don't feel comfortable reading, don't.

There is a language change. The colours will indicate the language:

Spanish | Japanese

Life in Spain was hard for Itoshi Sae. Very hard.

Despite being a step closer to reaching his dream, understanding the coach and his teammates was another matter entirely.

All trainings required a painful amount of scrutinising to understand what was going on. Whether it be what plays to execute to what he wanted to eat at team dinners.

Of course the coach tried to make things a bit easier by using a translation app or using actions instead of words. He obviously didn't want to lose such a promising player due to a lack of hospitality, but the only promising comfort he could provide was to wait for something next week. At least that's what Sae could decipher.

True to his word, something did come the following week. Rather it was not a thing. But a person.

"Y/N L/N, YOU DARE COME LATE AFTER MISSING A WEEK OF TRAINING!" screamed the coach hurling a soccer ball to the newcomer.

"Chill out, coach. I came here as fast as I could." the figure named Y/n L/n dismissively replied as he effortlessly chest trapped the incoming ball.

"Haaah...I'm gonna retire early because of this kid," the coach sighed, "What kind of idiot gets sick in summer?"

"The special kind!" he grinned.

By now everyone had crowded around the boy, either patting him on the back or teasing him mercilessly. Sae could only spectate on the sidelines in slight envy.

It was not long before the coach barked out orders to continue the training exercise, whilst the latecomer began warming up.

"Sae!" the coach waved over, to which he promptly jogged over. "This is Y/n L/n. He knows a bit of Japanese, apparently... Y/n, this is Sae. Don't bite him."

"THAT WAS A ONE TIME THING!!!" exclaimed a blushing Y/n, who recalled the memory with great embarrassment whilst trying to swat his coach away.

Sae could barely understand the conversation and watched the coach walk away, leaving them behind.

"Sorry about that, I promise I don't bite. Trust me. It was a one time thing with some guy who plays soccer. I don't know if you know him, he's kinda famous. But ever since then, coach never lets me live it down..." Y/n rambled on.

Sae just stared. Even if the boy spoke Japanese, he wasn't even sure if he'd catch it all.

"Oh, you don't understand me..." the boy suddenly realised, "Uhh...My name is L/n Y/n. But uh... Y/n okay".

Sae's eyes widened, hearing Japanese in a foreign country felt weirdly comforting. At least there was finally someone he could talk to without fear.

"Itoshi Sae. But Sae's fine." introduced Sae. "I'm a striker, what position do you play?"

"Uhh...(Insert favourite food)." Y/n cluelessly answered, praying that the question was about his favourite food.

Sae burst out laughing. It was the first time he ever laughed since arriving in Spain. Once again, Y/n was flushed in embarrassment. This is was now the second time he messed up an introduction to someone his coach brought.

As soon as Sae caught his breath, he began motioning to himself and an imaginary soccer ball. Before pretending to kick it with precision and power towards an imaginary goal. He then pointed towards Y/n with a questioning face.

"Ah...Same!" Y/n enthusiastically replied.

In the distance, the coach was gathering everyone up for another exercise.

"I should go now. It was nice meeting you." Sae said before running off.

Y/n stared at the retreating figure, he couldn't wait to tell his mum about Sae. Maybe excluding the part about his own poor excuse of Japanese.

"Y/N, QUIT DREAMING AND FINISH YOUR WARM UPS!"

A few months had passed since Sae arrived in Spain. With the help of Spanish classes and Y/n, he'd gradually been able to feel more at ease and understand everyone. As usual training was harsh and the overbearing heat wasn't helping anyone's will to live.

Except for Y/n.

"Hey! Did anyone see that goal just now!" Y/n beamed. He was currently, the only one out on the field, whilst the others took an extended break out of the sun.

"Alright, gather up!" called the coach, "We're ending today's practice here. I don't want any of you getting heatstroke or what not. Make sure to rest and stay hydrated. Understood?"

"Yes, coach."

"Especially you, Y/n! No more soccer today." the coach sternly reaffirmed.

"Hmph, fine." huffed Y/n in a pouty manner.

Everyone slowly trudged towards their bags before biding farewell to each other. Sae was lost at what to so. His routine for the past few months consisted of training, class, eating and sleeping with barely anytime for himself. Noticing his distress, Y/n decided to muster up his courage.

"Sae, wanna come to my house?" Y/n asked. With the help of Sae, Y/n's Japanese had also been improving.

"Sure" replied Sae.

"Cool, you can meet my mum. She's Japanese, so you can actually talk to her!" he exclaimed.

"You're half Japanese?" Sae asked, adjusting to Spanish. He gradually picked up Y/n's speaking habits. Such as using Spanish when he was excited or using Japanese to mess with people or a combination of both if he got too comfortable and lazy. Only when Sae switched languages with him, did Y/n notice.

"Ah, I did it again." Y/n sheepishly smiled. "Yeah, I learnt most of my Japanese from her. I guess I don't really look the part, I probably spend too much time in the sun."

"I though you learnt Japanese from anime." stated Sae, "You're always quoting random lines."

"Shush, only you hear that." Y/n playfully glared as he guided Sae back to his home.

Time seemed to fly as the pair spent time together sharing stories, discussing hobbies and touring the L/n household. Then the topic of family came up.

"I have a brother called Rin. He's gonna be the best striker after me." Sae proudly.

"Wait... you're the best striker after me!"

"Huh, no way! You're behind Rin." retorted Sae.

Before Y/n could argue back, the click of the front door unlocking attracted his attention. He grabbed a Sae by the wrist and rushed to the door.

"Welcome back!"

"I'm back," the female who stepped into the house replied, "Oh, is this Sae-kun you've brought back?"

"Mhm"

"It's nice to meet you, L/n-san." Sae politely greeted.

"Likewise, Sae-kun. I hope Y/n hasn't caused you too much trouble. Would you like to stay for dinner? I can cook Japanese food if you're feeling homesick." she offered. They continued to exchange words in Japanese, leaving a very clueless Y/n to look back and forth.

With the addition of Sae, the home was filled with of laughter. It had been a while since the L/n's were able to accomodate for another.

"Thank you for the dinner, it was delicious." complimented Sae.

"No problem, Sae-kun. You're welcome back anytime." replied the older L/n.

"Sae, you can come over everyday!" Y/n offered, oblivious to what his mother had just said.

"Hahaha...that's just what you mother just said, idiot."

"Oh."

Sae's lungs clawed for air as he hunched over trying keep his composure. He couldn't do it. He couldn't score. The defender's that swarmed like bees were tight knit and unrelenting.

The only reason they won, was because of Y/n's goals again. A goal that soared beautifully in the air with deadly speed, to a place nobody could reach. Everyone could either watch in fear or awe over and over again.

That was true essence of a striker.

"Dammit."

Every opportunity given to him always resulted in passing. It was like it was the only thing he could do.

"Sa-" Y/n hesitated. He knew the frustration of his friend. It had been multiple games since Sae had scored and it was clearly weighing heavily on his mind.

What is the purpose of a striker, if not to score?

It was obvious to everyone that Sae was stressed, tired and most of all homesick. Y/n signalled to the coach before dragging Sae to the locker rooms.

They walked home in silence, hand in hand, with Sae lagging behind a little. It wasn't until after they snacked and showered that Sae began to talk.

"Sorry."

Y/n motioned Sae to sit down and turn around, so he could help dry his hair.

"For what?"

"I failed."

"Huh?" Y/n' questioned, like Sae had three heads, "I thought you were sorry for eating my food."

"I wouldn't apologise for that" Sae quickly replied.

"Hmph, meanie. I was joking." huffed Y/n, "You didn't fail me. You failed yourself...This might be wrong for me to say to a striker, but your assists are amazing! Like better than (Insert team's midfielder), because your passes are like really precise, so they're really easy to kick in the way I want. The ball always goes 'BOOM' when I receive it from you. But from others it's always like 'baaaaam' and there's nothing special behind it. Obviously its different when I move it up the field because then its always a 'BOOM'. If that makes sense...?"

By now, Y/n's hands had already stopped drying Sae's hair were waving around to imitate the sounds he made. He peeked over to see Sae's reaction, expecting joy from the compliment or anger from the insult as a striker. But was shockingly met with a blushing Sae.

"Uh...Sae?"

"You idiot, I can't understand you when you speak so fast in Spanish." he seethed and pushed Y/n's face away. His face clearly counteracted his words laced with annoyance.

"But if you didn't understand, why are you a tomato?" Y/n inched closer to whisper in his ear.

"Shut up!"

"HAHAHA! YOU SWITCHED TO JAPA-GWAH!"

Sae tackled the cackling boy and they wrestled around the room, knocking into the shelf and bed of Y/n's room. It wasn't till a stray soccer ball from an upper shelf smashed into the back Y/n's head, creating a domino effect that unfortunately ended with their foreheads colliding.

"Why on earth do you have a soccer ball on the top shelf?!"

"For moments like these!" Y/n exclaimed, using the opening to capture Sae into a tight hug.

"Hey! Let me go!" Sae yelled, struggling to break free.

"I'll teach you street soccer."

"Huh?"

"I'll teach you street soccer." Y/n repeated.

"I understood the first time, idiot"

"But you said 'huh'"

"How does that even benefit you?" muttered Sae.

"If it means I get you as my partner on the field, I'll do it." stated Y/n with determination.

"...Fine."

"One more thing, you're staying over tonight. There's salted seaweed in the kitchen. No take backsies!"

For the next year, Sae and Y/n trained together to share each others respective techniques and observations.

"I have a terrible self-awareness of whoever's behind me, when I have to trap a high ball mid air." Y/n randomly spilled.

"Don't tell me that, we're probably going to play each other in a warm up match." Sae panicked.

"Good." beamed Y/n, "Then I should learn how to fix it then."

"What if we play each other in the future?"

"Then it'll be even more fun! Just imagine it." Y/n happily replied. "But then again, if you apply for citizenship, we can play on the national team together."

"True. The Japanese team is lukewarm." Sae thoughtfully answered.

"Lukewarm?"

"Shut up." Sae half-heartedly glared, "I can't score when I'm anxious."

"I know." said Y/n, causing Sae to drop his head in disappointment. "Everyone can see your anxiousness on the field, which is why they take advantage of it. You gotta feel the desire to make them tremble under your skill and drop dead as you plow through the enemy territory...and finally score where no one expects!"

"...Did you take that from an anime?" laughed Sae.

"Hey! I was trying to help you and this is the thanks I get?"

After lots of teasing and laughing, they continued to practice diligently at mastering each others style and it was not long until they could show off their practice.

'You're all...lukewarm,' is what Itoshi Sae mindlessly repeated in his head.

A defender approached from his left, causing Sae to pause with the ball on the outside of his right foot. By protecting the ball on the opposite side, he swiftly performed a roulette and by passed them with ease. Another charged directly for him, allowing him to flaunt his speedy double touch.

He was readily approaching the goal, eyes piercing into the soul of the goalkeeper who could only cower in fear and beg for mercy.

This continued for many games, Sae would not only assist the others strikers, but also score himself. This brought great joy to everyone on the team, except for the coach, who was slightly troubled. It was no doubt that he was ecstatic about Sae's growth, but the problem lied in the team composition. If Sae was a striker, he'd need to fuel his ego even more and focus purely on being a scorer. But if he was a midfielder, he'd need to focus on stamina only, creating and executing plays.

Whilst performing both was possible as an attacking midfielder, Sae was registered as a striker and needed to make a decision about his position. No coach would be willing to create a team featuring a player that couldn't pick a position.

"Sae!" the coach called out, to talk privately after another victory.

"Yes, coach?"

"Sae, do you like to score?"

"Yes."

"Then why do you pass?"

Sae hesitated, for he didn't know the answer at first. Initially passing was a way of evading the enemy due to fear. But now, he had grown to overcome that and charged powerfully with a desire to score a goal.

"Because it's just as fun." Sae began.

"Fun?" questioned the coach, motioning him to expand.

"Dribbling past the enemy, only to pass to another," Sae explained, "is like..."

"Tch, you lukewarms. You're not worthy of seeing the full extent of my powers." a voice suddenly filled the silence.

"Y/n, why are you here?" the coach sighed not surprised at all.

"I'm hungry," replied Y/n, "So am I right?"

"Ehh, I don't know?" Sae responded.

The coach exhaled a deep breath, there was no point in shooing Y/n away, he'd most likely find out sooner or later.

"Sae, look up Alvaro Recoba and if you like his play style, then I'll be placing you as an attacking midfielder." the coach announced.

"M-midfielder?" both boys stuttered.

"I can't have you stealing the midfielder's job, if you're a striker." explained the coach, "You'll have to pick."

Sae nodded and allowed Y/n to drag him away.

"Goodnight, boys. Don't sleep too late." the older L/n reminded them before heading off to bed.

"Okay." they replied. Time passed quickly whilst Sae and Y/n were huddled together on Y/n's, watching videos of the Uruguayan midfielder, Alvaro Recoba.

"Woah! Can you do that Sae?" Y/n nudged. The maroon haired boy was unresponsive.

"Uh...Sae?" asked Y/n with concern.

Instead of answering, Sae posed his own question. "Are we still partners, if I become a midfielder?"

His thoughts orbited around his friendship with Y/n and soccer. Would they still have their personal practice time? Would Y/n abandon him to practice on his own? Or even worse, never want to play together anymore?

Y/n sat up straight and grabbed Sae's shoulders firmly to the others surprise. They stared for a while in silence.

"Don't play soccer or be a striker to be partners." Y/n firmly stated. "Never do something like that because it'll only make you empty. Got it?"

"Yeah." replied Sae, he was shocked at his friend's piercing gaze.

"If the only thing that changes is your title, I don't see why we wouldn't be." Y/n began, his seriousness seeping away, "In fact, you'd be my official partner because my goal is just as good as your goal. Without you, I wouldn't have scored in the first place."

Sae just nodded, allowing the words to sink in properly. After watching a few more videos, they retired for the night to their respective beds, or in Sae's case a futon. With his mind at peace, Sae could rest easily, unbeknownst that Y/n's mind was whirling with memories. It was going to be a long night for Y/n, who just gazed at the blank ceiling.

The next morning, Sae woke up well rested to the sound of oil sizzling and smell of miso soup. His friend was messily sprawled in his bed, still snoozing away.

"Good morning, Sae-kun." L/n M/n greeted Sae, who just arrived in the kitchen.

"Good morning L/n-san." replied Sae, who kept insisting to call her L/n-san.

"Is Y/n still asleep?" she asked. It wasn't unusual for him to sleep in, but it was increasingly rare.

"Mhm." Sae hummed as he accepted the plate of fish sprinkled with salted seaweed from her. The table had already been set with cutlery, bowls of miso soup and rice.

They began to converse about daily life, even though they had heard most of it from the yapper, Y/n.

"You're curious about why Y/n told you that, right?" M/n guessed, when she noticed Sae's hesitation after mentioned the conversation that occurred last night.

"A bit." admitted Sae, "But I don't think Y/n's comfortable about it, since it involves his father."

There was no doubt that they both deducted the reason why Y/n was sleeping in this morning.

"You're so patient, Sae-kun." M/n proudly smiled, resting her chin against her palm. "I'll tell you anyways."

"Eh?" Sae's eyes widened in shock.

"You've figured out most of it... and I trust you, Sae-kun." she said knowingly, standing up to grab a photo album off a nearby shelf.

"Y/n learnt soccer from his father at a young age." she began, showing a photo of a young Y/n and a man posing with a soccer ball. As she was flipping through the album, the man had stopped appearing in the photos. "They played everyday, until he passed due to a car accident when Y/n was eight. From then, he played soccer for his father and slowly lost himself. My only regret is isolating myself and not noticing earlier."

An awkward silence settled between them. Sae was at a loss of words, should he share his condolences or had it been too long since it happened? Or would it be better to promise to take care of Y/n?

"Thank you for being his friend." M/n added.

"Thank you for telling me and taking care of Y/n. I'm very grateful to call him my friend and I promise to take care of him." Sae stood up and bowed.

"Now...would you like to see more photos of Y/n?" she smiled sweetly, lightening the mood. She quickly grabbed another album containing embarrassing photos of Y/n such as tripping or being smacked in the face by a ball. Sae could only sweatdrop at the abundance of photos.

"Morn-" Y/n sleepily shuffled into the kitchen, "GAH! WHY ARE YOU LOOKING AT THOSE!"

For the rest of the day, Sae couldn't make direct eye contact with Y/n without the images imprinted into his head from appearing.

Note: Thank you for reading. I hope it was clear to understand. I have plans to make a part 2, which is probably the final chapter.

#ayumy1's works #itoshi sae x reader #itoshi sae #sae x reader #sae x male reader #itoshi sae x male reader #male reader #bllk x reader #Sae itoshi #bllk x male reader #sae itoshi x reader #sae itoshi x male reader #Itoshi sae fluff

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