#there are people around you who are willing to listen

[deathlygristly]

The spousal person and I chose each other when we were 18. We're 44 and 43 now (I'm seven months older than him which I'm sure scandalizes antis, like I could roll over on my own while he was still a fetus so clearly I am preying on him) and we are still very happily monogamous.

Here's the thing though.

We're both autistic, neither of us grew up religious (well, the spousal person went to Catholic school K-8 but he never believed in it), we both lost a parent before we met (my father died when a month after I turned 7 and his mother died when he was 17, a few months before we met) and on our first date when we were 18 we both agreed that we did not want children and that we cared more about being happy than about outward markers of success and status.

Now 25 years later we don't have kids but we do have a lot of cats, and I often tell him that my dream is for him and the kitties to be happy and he says his is for me and the kitties to be happy. :)

We got married when we were 21, in a drive-thru chapel in Gatlinburg/Pigeon Forge. No rings, no fancy outfits, no guests, nothing like that. Just paperwork and then driving around to the window for the officiant to say the official words, lol. I didn't change my last name.

I've been learning more about autism lately and listening to the Autistic Culture podcast and things, and maybe it's the autism, I don't know. Neither of us really understand conformity or social pressure. Neither of us are real good at socializing long term with other people. We like our routines and our rituals. We're comfortable with each other and very much not comfortable around strangers. Dealing with other people is A Lot for us.

The main thing though is that it was all completely our own choice, from the moment I emailed him and asked if he wanted to hang out without our other friends to now, when I am sitting here with a cat in my lap and he's in the kitchen making a dinner that we both talked about and chose, and then we'll eat it while watching two kdrama episodes that we talked about and chose.

Also I get really confused about things I see on here about marriage and relationships with dudes, because I don't recognize any of what the haters are saying. The spousal person does all the housework except vacuuming. I don't do all the emotional stuff. We take care of each other and support each other. He's really cool and fun and I love him more than the universe and when we're watching a kdrama and something funny happens and he laughs and I look back at him and I hear his laugh and I see his face....it's the most beautiful perfect experience in existence and I want to be near him for always.

But if you didn't choose it, if you felt pressured into it by society or religion or family, if you don't even like the person you're building your life with, if you don't support each other and you don't talk and you don't feel free to be yourself and you're just performing to please some weird external Other....yeah, I can see that being awful.

If what you really want is monogamy and lifelong commitment, you absolutely cannot force it on an unwilling pseudopartner. Domination is not commitment. Abuse is not commitment. Performing to please an external other is not commitment.

To me commitment isn't hard at all. It's the easiest thing in the world. It's just hanging out forever with my most best friend who is also the coolest cutest human to ever exist in all possible realities.

But based on what I've learned about other people since I got internet access...it's not going to be easy if you can't accept yourself for who you are and if you care more about conformity and social status than your own happiness and if you haven't taken responsibility for your own emotions and you aren't willing to work on healing your own trauma.

And if you do work on healing your own trauma and take responsibility for your emotions and get comfortable with who you are and with respecting other people as their own unique self and you find that what you want is polyamory or being single or whatever, go for it! That can be commitment too, to a steady set of multiple partners or to yourself and your own integrity.

I don't know. I think the point is that domination and abuse and forcing others never works and never results in long term happiness, no matter the number of people involved. You gotta respect the autonomous selves of others if you want mature committed relationships, of whatever kind.

Gotta stop here because he says dinner is ready. :)

everybody talks about men in trad marriages having affairs with their secretaries but it’s worth noting a lot of women back then had side pieces too. you can force a woman to submit to you legally but you can never force her to love you or maintain fidelity against her will. you can get rid of no fault divorce and get rid of abortion but you can’t get rid of fun.

[rinsanityy]

phainon is no stranger to being a gentleman. whenever the two of you are spending time with one another, he would always be the one to treat you whether it was to lunch or even shopping in the local market. you'll always find his hand pressed to the small of your back but while weaving through crowds, he's got his arm wrapped around your shoulder in order not to lose you in the mass of people. this man is willing to give you the royalty treatment simply because you deserve it. when phainon finds himself deep in his thoughts, you will always be lingering at the back of his mind, and he unconsciously smiles at the mere thought of you.

despite her heart that had long been frozen, aglaea does not fail in the romance department. if you find yourself in the heroes' bath, she will tend to whatever needs you may have and even accompany you during your stay. if she happens to find the time, she will use it wisely and sew a brand new garment just for you. she has already wrapped it up and will hold onto it until she sees you again. the warmth you give by simply being by her side is so unfamiliar yet it is enough to begin thawing her frosted heart.

for the crown prince of castrum kremnos, mydei isn't exactly known for having a kind nature. regardless of his intimidating appearance, it's quite obvious that the prince has grown to have a soft spot for you. if there is someone causing you trouble, mydei will appear by your side and he's already scared the person off with merely one sentence. sometimes the two of you would engage in playful banter, countering the other’s teasing remark with another. mydei will never succumb to fatigue in the midst of battle for he always reminds himself that you are waiting for him on the other side.

being the first chrysos heir to obtain a titan's coreflame and ascend to that of a demi-god, tribbie finds themselves to be somewhat of a mentor figure towards the others. if they ever find out that you're not feeling well, they will make sure to remind you to always take care of yourself. they are always happy to educate you about various topics as they take joy in being able to talk for hours and having someone listening to them intently. it is only natural for the teacher to worry about their student’s well being, how else will they be able to continue guiding you if you’re not in a stable condition to be guided?

she may have no experience whatsoever about romance but that doesn't mean castorice refuses to try and learn. she takes interest in the things that bring you joy and will remember the smallest and most random things about yourself. although her power restricts herself from making any physical contact with you, castorice makes sure to keep you safe and free from harm's way. each passing moment that she spends with you, castorice cherishes each and every one all the same. the servant of death is no stranger to the inevitable fate that awaits you but she cannot even bring herself to think about that when you were so intertwined in the present.

a genius and a charmer basically sums up the kind of person that anaxa is. he is always amused to see you fascinated whenever he displays the unique magic that he holds. similar to tribbie, he is fond of teaching you things without making you feel dumb. he dislikes whenever you downplay your intelligence and assures you that you're talented and intellectually capable in your own way. anaxa is a firm believer that every little part of your being is fascinating, it makes him inclined to continue finding out more about who you are.

hyacine always finds herself pleased to see how well you respond to her affection. although a little shy at first, she is willing to try different things with you. after a tiring day, hyacine simply wants to lay down on a sturdy branch of a big tree with you beside her, watching the birds soar through the sky while the suns fall and stars rise. the priest does not know what future lies in store but what she does know is that one day, when you two have passed on, you will take to the skies beside one another and soar to the stars.. just like the birds the two of you have watched do all the time.

just like how she has a talent for swiping people's valuables, cipher sure has a talent for stealing your heart. seeing as you're already aware of her skill of sleight, you find yourself wondering which poor citizen she swiped whenever you receive a gift from her. although a thief should never linger too long around their target, cipher cannot refuse any request of physical touch from you. you don’t expect much out of the aftermath of a bad day, at least not until a certain thief shows up at your doorstep and greets you with a flower or two that had been swiped from one of the largest flower fields that amphoreus has to offer.

note: written before version 3.1 therefore some if not most characters are ooc. tribbie’s scenario is purely platonic, otherwise the rest of them can be intepreted as romantic or platonic.

©rinsanityy 2025 do not plagiarize or repost my content.

[undercvrfan444]

Shy!reader who wears a different uniform skirt in order to get Bully!Satoru’s attention and it works a little too well. He starts flipping up the back of her skirt when he walks past her to ruffle her feathers a bit. (he might have snuck a picture of two of what you looked like under that fabric.)

Bully!Satoru who continues to write you small notes and slip them in your bag but they’ve become nastier than before. Having things written on them like

“What a shame it would be for those pretty panties to be torn open with my cock stuffing your pussy to the brim.”

or

“Don’t you know prancing around in short skirts is just an invitation for me to do whatever I want to you?”

Bully!Satoru who continues tripping you when walking in the halls. This time though, it’s because he wants to press his hard erection into the plush feeling of your ass. He’ll lean down innocently so people don’t suspect him, “been thinkin’ of that gooey cunt all day bunny.”

Bully!Satoru who comes over occasionally to “help with homework” and always starts the session off with bruising the back of your throat so you can barely speak the next day.

This way he can purr nasty nothings into your ear and all you’re able to do is listen and take it.

Bully!Satoru who steals your lunch forcing you to come crying to him. “Beg me real nicely bunny, and i’ll give your lunch back.” But when you embarrass yourself by begging him kindly he gives you the box back to find it’s been eaten leaving you hungry and disappointed.

Bully!Satoru who is called out all the time for somehow finding a way to talk about you to his friends. Suguru teases you about it too when he can!

“So you’re the pretty little thing Satoru is hung up on?”

Two dark eyes rake over the little uniform that adorned your body. “He wasn’t lying about you.” And with that Suguru walked off, simply leaving you with a dumbfounded look.

Shy!Reader who stops Satoru in the hallway the next time you see him with an aggravated expression on your face. Your arms crossed tightly over your chest as you pushed a hard finger into the man’s chest. “What did you say about me to Suguru?”

Satoru’s shocked face pulls into a coy smile, eyes narrowing so he can lean into your space. “Why? I didn’t tell him anything that wasn’t true.”

“What did you say Satoru!”

Hearing his name on your lips sends shivers down his spine, loving how upset you were. His voice dropped lower, seeing how many people were turning heads to see where the commotion sourced from.

His lips graze the thin skin of your ear. “I told him how good your pussy feels around my dick. Told him about the way your face would scrunch up when you were about to c-“

A sharp *Slap!* echoed between you. Tears pour from your eyes at the embarrassment, angry at the misogynistic things Satoru said about you. It was hard to think of all the things you’ve done with Satoru knowing he must’ve told Suguru at some point. It felt invasive.

Bully!Satoru who felt like shit after you left. He couldn’t peel his eyes away from your back as you hurried out of school, away from the staring eyes. He knew he fucked up bad when you refused to answer his texts over the next few days, leaving him either on read or delivered.

He couldn’t stand the distance any longer. Saturday finally rolled around after you missed two days of school. The two days that you were gone felt like hell to him, whispers about what might’ve happened to make you slap him caused a certain edge to stick around. Satoru made his way to your house, knocking softly on the front door hoping you would listen to what he had to say. He could hear your feet pad up to the door watching the knob turn softly.

“Satoru?”

“Hi bunny,” his words are sugary sweet. You’ve never seen such an apologetic expression on Satoru’s face and honestly it was shocking to see him so flustered.

Shy!Reader who lets the Satoru into your house, reluctant yet willing to hear what he has to say. Truthfully you miss the handsome boy more than you’d like to admit despite him embarrassing you.

Bully!Satoru who follows you up to your room, pulling you against his chest with an “ompf!” the second he heard your door close. He’d never tell anyone this, but seeing you so angry with him ate him alive. At first he thought it was cute! The little attitude you wore was adorable until it morphed into stomach-churning disappointment aimed towards Satoru.

“I’m so sorry bunny, I had no idea it would bother you so much that I said those things to Suguru about us. The last thing I want is for you to think all I want you for is some stupid shit, let me make it up to you.” Softly his fingers curl into the smooth fabric of your shirt attempting to squish you further into him.

Silence fills the room like a thick blanket. Your heart beat rapidly against Satoru’s own; thoughts running wild while his expensive cologne wafted in your senses.

“It’s okay ‘toru.” slivers off of your lips before you can think.

Bully!Satoru who spends the rest of his day with you. First going to watch whatever movie you want to, buying every snack he could possibly think of even if you didn’t eat it just because he can.

You wanted to walk in the park? done.

Go browse a book store? he bought everything you touched.

Tired of being social? Satoru walked you home as he listened to you talk passionately about the description of your new books.

Bully!Satoru who begs for forgiveness through pulling your panties to the side and pressing sloppy kisses to your pretty cunt. Respectful pecks turn into haughty thrusts of his tongue, pushing your sticky walls apart. His moans tickle your thighs fervently while you squeeze his shoulders attempting to ease the building pressure in your lower belly. Satoru was a man after all, and he knew the cherry on top to his apology would be eating your pussy until slick dripped down his face.

Shy!Reader whose head was so fuzzy from the multiple orgasms, you let Satoru guide you into bed as the sun set. Once he’d finally cleaned up there was no stopping the rain of smooth kisses on your face. “I love you, bunny.”

“I love you to ‘toru.”

[richarlotte]

Dating Opinion?

If you want to keep a romantic relationship, you have to be able to keep friendships and platonic relationships. People date people with support circles; they date people who have friends; they date people who go to events; people like people who are well rounded, and your relationships will be better if you make a point of having a life outside of your romantic life. 

If your boyfriend is the most interesting thing about you, you are doing something wrong. You need to have interests of your own, a job of your own, a life of your own, and things going on that are only for you. Let me ask you this: if you tie your happiness to one person and center your whole life around them, what will you do and who will you be if things don’t work out?

You also need to take your time getting to know people and not leap into things with them because you’re lonely or you want to be able to say you have a boyfriend. It would suck to wake up next to somebody in bed one day and think to yourself, “I don’t know this person at all,” and have to go through the process of unpacking your real feelings towards someone who you loved at one point but feels like a stranger now. 

Dating and keeping relationships also aren’t easy; I’ll be the first to tell you that it can be total nonsense at times, but if you’re willing to put the work in and make an effort to communicate with your partner, things get better. I would not be where I am today if I didn’t make efforts to communicate with my partner, listen to him, and keep his feelings and experiences in mind too. 

Last, but not least, a lot of hypergamy spaces encourage codependency, push women to rely on their partners prematurely, and don’t push the value of being able to communicate. If you truly care for someone and value what you have with them, it’s only natural to be willing to sit down and address any questions, concerns, or problems in your relationship without getting angry or upset or falling to pieces.

[lucygraysboy]

“yeah? thank you! i mean, that’s a very useful skill, you know? if you know how to knit, you can always knit yourself a sweater or a scarf or a blanket, and stay warm throughout winter and out on the prairie when the nights get cold,” the cowboy muses, not even trying to hide his excitement and straight up beaming at the kind songstress. he already knows she’s a great student, highly intelligent and curious, but he wonders what kind of teacher she is — patient and kind, is his bet, but it will be fun to swap places and see. “you’re bein’ way too sweet, lucy gray. that means a lot, comin’ from a girl as smart as yourself.” blushing when he realizes she remembers little details about him, his heart skipping a beat. how adorable is that? means she truly cares about him and listens to what he has to say. “you think so, too?” his features light up all at once, feeling as though they’re connected by some invisible string, sharing thoughts. not many people are fascinated by poems. not everyone can read to begin with, let alone understand the meaning of poetry. lucy gray is just so extraordinary. “oh, right! resistin’ arrest! one of my many talents. changin’ names, that’s another one,” he laughs, nodding in agreement, amusement brimming in his eyes. “well, first of all, i prefer the word strong-willed, sounds more like a compliment than an insult. but i was a very stubborn child, wouldn’t listen to no one but my ma. always bossed my little brother around, but that was just ‘cause i wanted to take care of him best i could.” mr. antrim couldn’t even dream of telling him what to do, stopped trying after a few attempts. “kind of, yeah. i like to get things done my own way, but… i would never try to boss you, lucy gray. you’re my partner, a lot smarter than me. i’ll listen to you.” god, he despises men who try to rule over women and vows to never become one of them. 

“no, not yet.” the cowboy shakes his head, frowning briefly but the sound of lucy gray’s laugh is enough to have him smiling again. “but she could have, alright? bet she wanted to, just didn’t want to get on your bad side.” he explains awkwardly, looking over his shoulder and finding the goat still glaring at him menacingly. she hates him. maybe no amount of dandelions will change it. “i ain’t ever milkin’ her.” he’ll shovel horse shit for hours, but he won’t get anywhere near that grass-munching demon. his fingers curling around lucy gray’s, feeling safe enough to triumphantly stick his tongue out at shamus. “thank you for savin’ me.” running to the safety of the porch, billy can’t refrain from laughing, squeezing his friend’s hand and letting her be the hero while he’s clearly the damsel in distress. jesse would be laughing his ass off if he could see him now. “alright, that’s a lot of taters.” he picks up a small kitchen knife before taking the potatoes from her, he’s just waiting for her to grab some carrots, lingering in the threshold.

“oh, i’d love to.” that comes as a sweet, endearing little surprise that he wants to learn how to knit. voice chipper because she’d love to be his teacher in showing him how to knit, that’d be fun and he’d learn something knowledgeable. “i remember you sayin’ you liked poetry. people who like to read, are always people who are smart. and that proves it.” smiling widely, going around with a sense of pride for him for some reasoning. above getting in all this trouble, he seems to have his head on right. she’s always proud of people who seem down to earth and smart— mentally and emotionally. especially young fellows, since tender-hearted and smart ones doesn’t come often. “and that’s right, poems are a lot like that. i find it fascinatin’ you’ve pointed that out.” brunette tells him, endearment staying etched softly across her olive visage. “i can tell you’re stubborn in resistin’ arrest,” words amusingly spoken, “but i don’t know in what else.” he’s been pretty lenient with her, but she has only known him for two days now. “you’re sayin’ you’re bossy? well, you met your match, you won’t boss me. i’m bossi-er.” lucy gray playfully adds, clearly— with her deep stubbornness.

turning to check his reaction, it doesn’t fail to have her belly laughing, giggles pouring out of her. never going to get this image of what she sees out of her head now, the way he looks so panicked and then takes off so quick from the barn to come to her for safety. “what is it, darlin’? did she already get you on the rear end?” more laughter spilling over, hand reaching out to take hold of his. “i’ll save you, don’t worry.“ pulling him the rest of the way to the porch, running them to it like shamus is so terrifying. she’s just a tender soul, even though she could bite him— but lucy gray’s sure she’d have to feel provoked. laughing all the way into the house, she lets his hand go once she pushes open the screen door and leads them to the potato box in the kitchen. opening the lid, digging in, scooping out a few and placing some into his hands while her face still hurts with amusement after playing little goat tricks on him.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Excuse me, do you have any posts on writing well written female characters/protagonists?

Writing Notes: Female Characters

Conducting research through observation – including self-observation – is the very first step in creating memorable women characters.

We observe the women in our lives. We watch and learn, noticing how they engage relationally with family, friends, colleagues, and strangers.

Creating memorable women characters is much like developing memorable relationships. The only way to have meaningful relationships is to be real:

Be willing to share.

Be honest.

Listen with an open heart.

Love without judgment.

This is all very easy to say and much harder to do.

But it’s what’s necessary if we want to have rewarding and lasting friendships and partnerships. And the same is true if we want our female characters to connect with audiences.

Let your female characters speak to other female characters about something that matters. In doing so, you will make women and girls visible.

Here are a few questions you should ask yourself before writing from a woman’s perspective:

Why are you assigning a female gender to this character?

Are you just doing it to show how cool and hip and progressive you are?

Are you writing a biting, sardonic social commentary?

Do you want to create a realistic portrait of a woman?

Is there an added level of symbolism to your gender choice?

Let the answers to these questions dictate how you assign gender to all of your characters, not just the female ones.

Using men and women to foil each other can create an delightful dynamic in your story, as long as you avoid stereotypes. Here’s a list of stereotypes:

The delicate flower. She barely talks above a whisper, she’s sad, so terribly sad, suffering from the pain of a mysterious past.

The femme fatale. She’s a sexpot, only wears skin-tight clothes, and has a gun with your name on it.

The crazy girlfriend. She’s also got a gun.

The stay at home wife. She’s wholesome, virtuous, and dependant. Her only will for living is to be a wife and a mom.

The career driven. She’s cold-hearted and she wears designer shoes.

The most beautiful girl in the world. She’s so beautiful that she doesn’t even know it, but every other woman around her hates her.

Stereotypes make a character fall flat.

They deflate what could be an interesting character.

Refer to the Bechdel Test. By no means is this “the end all and be all,” however the test is useful in determining whether you story supports two active female characters who aren’t solely wrapped up in a guy and/or his journey. A story passes the Bechdel Test if it has:

two named female characters

who talk to each other

about something other than a man.

The tool is a great reminder that females, even in a love story, can discuss other matters that don’t include a man or romance.

There is no formula for creating complex female characters.

For that matter, there’s no such thing as a step-by-step approach to crafting compelling stories with complicated characters of any gender.

But we can begin to intentionally reflect on how we think about gender representation in film, television, literature, and other media.

We can think about the people we love and consider how the screen stories they see will impact their lives, today and in the years to come. We all want our loved ones to feel confident and empowered and inspired.

We’ve recommended films, television shows, and books to our family and friends not only because we think they’ll enjoy them, but also because we think the stories will in some way be helpful to them. Our stories can help.

They can make viewers/readers laugh when they feel down. They can help them process their feelings and experiences, escape into a fantasy, or visualize possibilities for their future. The benefits of screen storytelling are limitless.

And if we populate our stories with characters that represent all of humanity, in all its complexity … who knows? Maybe someday this conversation will be outdated and unnecessary.

STRONG CHARACTERS. Come in all shapes, sizes, and genders. Every creator has a different idea of how strength is expressed, but there are a few ways to ensure your audience understands the type of character you’ve created when your focus is on writing a strong female character.

Writing Tips: Strong Female Characters

Creating strong female characters is the same process as creating strong characters in general—they need backstory, motivation, and depth in order to cultivate a three-dimensional profile that makes them feel like believable, real people. Here are some ways to write strong female characters:

Give her complex emotions. Vulnerability and emotional depth are important characteristics for good characters of any gender. A strong woman shouldn’t be written as a one-dimensional trope—she can be a stoic warrior who cries when her best friend dies, or a sweet kindergarten teacher who boxes to deal with her rage. People are complicated and often unpredictable, so giving your female character the same complex range of emotions you yourself experience as a human being is a good way to start writing stronger characters.

Give her multiple kinds of strength. Physical strength isn’t everything—even the most hulking adversary can be taken down by smart, tactical fighting—and a female lead doesn’t have to be a bodybuilder or professional athlete in order to be strong. There are different types of strength that female characters exert. They can have confidence, wit, and mental fortitude. They can be brilliant scientists who stand up for themselves when no one else will listen. They can be stay-at-home mothers who won’t tolerate their spouse leaving a mess. Female characters have their own strong opinions and morality and aren’t just generalized for being women.

Give her female allies. Sometimes writers try to make a female character appear stronger by turning her into a “tomboy” who only has male friends. However, your female protagonist can just as easily draw strength from the women who surround her. Giving your female lead character female friends can help her feel more like a real-life person.

Give her more than her looks. Describe the way your female protagonist looks in a way that informs who she is. Does she have a defining physical feature that is integral to the storyline? Does her body language denote a particular personality trait? Brainstorm ways to avoid or subvert clichés (“she was pretty but didn’t know it”), which can weaken an audience’s first impression of your character.

Characteristics of Strong Female Characters

Strong female characters can encompass many different types of women, with varying opinions on what is considered “strong.” In order to write strong female characters, old tropes and stereotypes (like the damsel in distress or the nagging wife) should be avoided, as they can be detrimental to how your female character is viewed as a whole. If you’re looking to write a strong female character, check out some common characteristics below:

She has her own opinions. A strong female lead will listen to her own instincts and make her own decisions based on her own value system (even villains have their reasons for their choices). She’ll make mistakes, but she’ll always try to learn from them. A strong character isn’t immune to influence, but they have their own thoughts and feelings about their world and the things that happen within it.

She is her own person. Strong female characters don’t all have to be single, independent women. They can be in relationships and care about their partners without being weak or codependent. However, a strong female character has her own identity and trajectory that she follows, as well as her own ambitions and goals outside of her relationship with another person.

She has flaws. Strong female characters have struggles and flaws just like everyone else, but what makes them strong is how they deal with their shortcomings. Even the strongest characters have weaknesses, but that’s what humanizes them and makes them relatable to audiences.

She’s tough in her own right. What makes a female “tough?” The term is subjective. Is toughness just a character’s ability to physically bring down foes? Or can it be her ability to think fast under pressure or negotiate with powerful figures? A stay-at-home mother can be just as tough as a soldier—a woman’s role does not necessarily dictate who she is as a person.

Give her conflicting personality traits. Conflicting personality traits make a character interesting. Balance traditionally feminine and masculine character traits, as well as give your characters several flaws and strengths. Conflicting character traits not only make your female character three-dimensional but also provide for interesting internal or interpersonal conflicts in your story. You can imagine characteristics—positive, negative, or neutral—in pairs of opposites, such as:

Bookish & arrogant

Gossipy & trustworthy

Pensive & uninhibited

Kind & tactless

Empathetic & selfish

Examples of Strong Female Characters

Strong female characters are not flawless and unemotional—they’re complicated, just like everyone else. Authors, along with screenwriters for TV shows and film, have portrayed a great number of strong female protagonists in a variety of roles. Here are a few that are especially memorable:

Buffy Summers: Buffy the Vampire Slayer is a powerful heroine with awesome fighting skills who can be both tough—even when chasing a love interest—and empathetic—even towards those who have wronged her. She is a three-dimensional character, and she always tries to do the right thing.

Ellen Ripley: Sigourney Weaver plays alien-fighting heroine Ellen Ripley in the film Alien. Ellen Ripley is straightforward, physically strong, and a smart main character—but she also has strong maternal instincts that sometimes drive her decisions. All of those traits coexist with one another without lessening the strength of her character.

Katniss Everdeen: In Suzanne Collins’ The Hunger Games, Katniss is a young woman living in a dystopian world, who volunteers her own life in order to protect her younger sister. While sometimes impulsive and susceptible to the manipulations of others, Katniss grows throughout her story arc, becoming a skilled warrior who makes sacrifices to keep the ones she loves from harm. Although she has love interests, most of her decisions are based on survival and not romance—because as long as she’s alive, she can keep her family safe.

Sources: 1 2 3 4 5 ⚜ More: References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

Here are some notes and tips I compiled from various sources. It's interesting to see where the authors' advice overlap. Choose which ones work best for your specific story. Hope this helps with your writing!

[stupidlittlespirit]

random thought.. but do you think Ford would be open to having a partner who isn't very book smart.. I think about this a lot because I'm not nearly as intelligent as he is,, (i'm sure most of us aren't but..)

..like I'm smart in some things but I never was an academic god yannow. I was in special classes all through out school because I learn slower than most people LOL, do NOT ask me to do long division. I STILL COUNT ON MY FINGERS AND TOES FOR SIMPLE EQUATIONS LMFAOOO

anyway

I think there should be more x reader fics about Ford and a not so smart reader (not saying you should be the one to write it obviously, i'm just throwing my opinion out to the world anonymously)

I feel like I see so many fics about the reader being his lab assistant with like 4 freaking PHDS or whatever, and I just feel so disconnected to the story when I read those because like, that's not me AT ALL.

(no shade to freaks of a feather btw, I LOVE THAT ONE ACTUALLY.)

idk. sorry. i'm just rambling to you now, I just mainly wanted to hear what you thought about my first question since ur like a ford pines pro or whateva. :-)

This is actually why I made the MTB AU.

I do appreciate the fics with Reader being attached to Ford in an academic setting but I am not that kind of person and I cannot see myself being smart in that way, personally. I like to learn etc but I'm not very academically inclined and I could NOT put up with the shit that man would run me through in that scenario. One smart word and I'm beating his ass.

So, I made MTB because I wanted Reader to be a bit more down to Earth (idk if that's the right phrasing?) and for them to be able to exist without competing with Ford. I felt like a lot of fics wanted the Reader to keep up with/out pace Ford intellectually and I'll die before I'm caught competing with a man, I'll tell you that much for free sfkjhsa

Absolutely NO shade to the fics in which this is the case, though, because there are still plenty of those ones that I enjoy!!!! It's just that when it comes to my own stuff, I'm more inclined to want to read as accurate to myself as possible and I don't have those kinds of talents. I'm not that kind of guy. Again, doesn't mean it's bad, I'm not saying that, I'm just saying I do not have the facilities for that LMAO

I love science and studies and all of that, but it can be fun to balance out Ford's intelligence with emotional stuff and make use of his personality beyond his academic capabilities. You don't need to compete with a partner, you make up their other half. So whatever he's bad at, you make up for and vice versa.

I don't think Ford would require a partner to be super 'intelligent'/book smart/theory smart. He'd be happy if you were, but he'd be equally as happy if you were just willing to listen to him yap about his smart stuff and cheer him on with it all. When he's older, he tells us himself that he's grown to value love and compassion and common sense equally with theory/book intelligence, and that he's a fool for ever thinking differently.

Sure, if you were unkind and rude and purposefully obtuse with no intention of learning and growing, he probably wouldn't like that very much, but he's not going to think less of someone he loves just because they're not hitting triple digits on the IQ chart. He loves his brother and Stan isn't up there in that regard, yknow?

Intelligence doesn't revolve around a singular type of definition. Intelligence exists in many forms. Just because you aren't 'book smart', it doesn't mean you're 'dumb' or anything, it just means your talent lies in something else. You could be very emotionally intelligent, or creative, or funny or kind or sweet or whatever example you want.

I think that's what matters to him in the end.

[treatbuckywkisses]

SHES BAAAAAAACK !!!!!!!!!!!!!

I appreciate your angst so much more when you give me a happy ending🥹 IM SELFISH OK. this was sooooooo lovely😭

The thing about Bucky Barnes was, well, he’s kind of an asshole. I'm listening 🎧 

You were finishing up a game of beer pong where you and Bucky absolutely dominated, and as you sank the last cup, he picked you up, swinging you around before setting you back on your feet. The thing is, he didn’t really let you go. You stood there, in the middle of a crowded party, with his arms around you and it was like everyone else disappeared. oh I'm weak. absolute knee buckling

There was a moment of silence on the other end, then a sigh. oh im nauseous tiffany. 

He sounded so sincere, and he was your best friend, so you took a deep breath and sighed, accepting the fact that if you wanted Bucky in your life, this was just something you would have to deal with. :( this sucks LMAO this is such a real and unfortunate feeling that youve perfectly pictured into my brain ft bucky :(

You wanted to argue, to scream, to make him feel bad about choosing her over you, but hadn’t he already? So instead, you mumbled a quiet agreement and hung up, not wanting to talk to him any longer. Already, it felt like the beginning of the end. im throwing up currently

You sat down at his table, no longer interested in placid excuses and apologies, and asked him point blank what was going on. YA GOOD FOR YOU BABE 

You nodded, grabbing your coffee as you stood up, and headed for the door. If he was willing to let your friendship go, then you weren’t going to fight him on it. So you left, face heated with embarrassment and tears threatening to spill over. nooooooo:( i know a place we can take dot 😈 this is so beautifully depressing:( 

Adjusting to a life without Bucky was weird, you had to admit, but you did it anyway. The first few weeks were the hardest, when he was the first person you wanted to text during any occasion, but eventually that muscle memory faded until you were reaching out to the people who actually valued you in their life. EVENTUALLY THAT MUSCLE MEMORY FADED UNTIL THAT MUSCLE MEMORY FADED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! bc you never had to THINK with bucky everything was instinctual I'm SPEECHLESS YOU COME HERE AND KISS ME ON THE MOUTH 🙀

You supposed it was kind of funny, in that asshole way of his, and you stared at the message for another moment before responding. OH 🥲🥹 

YOUR BUCKY GET OUT

He wrapped you in his arms as he stood in front of you, and it all felt so heartbreakingly familiar you gave in immediately, all the tension leaking from your body at the feeling Bucky gave you. he's home🥺

It was electric. Never had a kiss from someone else ever lit a fire inside you the way one from Bucky did. It started off slow, searching, a chance to reacquaint yourselves. But the second Bucky’s hand reached to tangle in your hair, everything shifted. the build up is phenomenal 🤤🤤

All it took was a soft whisper of come on, baby and a crook of Bucky’s fingers and you were falling apart, the intensity of your orgasm whipping through you, and as you floated back down to your senses, Bucky was still going. i am FERAL for this 

“I missed you so much.” You didn’t respond for a moment, but you lifted your head to meet Bucky’s eyes. In them lay the sincerity of his words, vulnerable now that they weren’t being said in the heat of the moment. :( soft baby omwgskdhjs 

genuinely i don't know how you hated the smut bc it was so passionate:( and it really said a lot for them i think. a moment of deep connection to further solidify what they were feeling together🥺 I hope this helps you see that🫶🏻 never doubt yourself baby you're amazing!!!!

the art of missing someone

summary: bucky barnes was a lot, but he would always be yours

pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader

word count: 3.2k

warnings: brief college then modern au, little bit of angst, don't ask if this is based off personal experience i will cry, smut (MINORS DNI!) [unprotected sex, oral (f receiving)], confessions, idk man i'm just here

a/n: first fic of 2025!! this was a bitch and i still lowkey hate it but it is what it is

main masterlist - i no longer have a taglist but you can follow @theafterglowlibrary for updates!

The thing about Bucky Barnes was, well, he’s kind of an asshole.

In a funny way, really, but an asshole through and through and, for some reason, that did it for you.

It did it for you so much, in fact, that you had been going in circles with him for years now. You met him originally at a party in college; you didn’t know anyone except for your roommate, Natasha, and she introduced you. You immediately gravitated towards him, with his quick wit and sharp opinions, you felt like you could talk to him about anything. He kept close to you the entire night, getting more touchy as the evening dragged on, until the tipping point came.

You were finishing up a game of beer pong where you and Bucky absolutely dominated, and as you sank the last cup, he picked you up, swinging you around before setting you back on your feet. The thing is, he didn’t really let you go. You stood there, in the middle of a crowded party, with his arms around you and it was like everyone else disappeared.

Searching your eyes for permission, he bent his head down and his lips met yours and that was really the beginning of it all. It was unlike any kiss you had ever had, sweet but a little desperate and you craved more.

It became a thing, after that. You would see Bucky at a party, make nice for a few hours, then end up in a closet or empty bedroom making out until someone came to find you.

But more than that, Bucky became your friend. He was who you talked to in your darkest moments, who you sent stupid videos to, everything, and you liked it like that.

That is, until everything got turned on its head.

It happened right after graduation. You had just moved into your own apartment and were waiting for Bucky to come over for movie night. You hadn’t seen each other in a few weeks, the communication very much lacking, but you figured it was just a busy time for both of you and once you got settled, everything would be fine.

That is, until you got a phone call as you closed the microwave door and started the popcorn. Immediately seeing Bucky’s name, you wiped your hands and answered.

“Hey, you almost here?”

There was a moment of silence on the other end, then a sigh.

“I- I don’t know how to say this,” Bucky started, and you found yourself growing nervous. There was nothing you and Bucky couldn’t talk about. Well, almost nothing. “Me and Dot, well, we’ve been talking and…”

His voice trailed off, the line going quiet again. But you were going to make him say it.

“We’re getting back together. She really wants to make it work this time.”

And there it was. Dot was Bucky’s on again-off again for the last several years, stretching back to before you even knew him, and it was a sore spot in your friendship. They had mostly been “off” in the time you’d known him, save for a few memorable occasions where she wormed her way back into his life for a couple weeks just to break his heart all over again. It was safe to say she was not your favorite person, and you certainly weren’t hers.

“Bucky…” you started, but he cut you off.

“No, I know what you’re thinking.” He actually probably had no clue how evil the thoughts you had were, but you weren’t going to enlighten him. “But it’s serious this time, we’ve been talking since graduation and we’re both ready to give this a real shot, without all the bullshit.”

He sounded so sincere, and he was your best friend, so you took a deep breath and sighed, accepting the fact that if you wanted Bucky in your life, this was just something you would have to deal with.

You could hear his relieved laugh on the other end, and you felt your stomach give an odd lurch, like someone had pulled a carpet out from under you.

“I knew you would understand, thank you.”

“Of course, Buck. Now, what about movie night?”

Another beat of silence, then, just like you knew it would happen:

“I can’t, Dot is coming over.”

You wanted to argue, to scream, to make him feel bad about choosing her over you, but hadn’t he already? So instead, you mumbled a quiet agreement and hung up, not wanting to talk to him any longer. Already, it felt like the beginning of the end.

And you weren’t sure you were ready for that.

-

It didn’t even happen slowly, is the worst part. You didn’t see Bucky that night, or any night for the weeks that followed. It wasn’t until you saw him at the coffee shop by your apartment that you were able to talk to him.

You sat down at his table, no longer interested in placid excuses and apologies, and asked him point blank what was going on.

“I’m just trying to keep Dot happy.”

“By staying away from me?” You were frustrated, sure, but under that really you were just hurt. “Listen, you know I don’t like her, but I would never ask you to choose between us. That’s not fair and if she cared about you like she said she does, then she wouldn’t either.”

“It’s not like that!” His voice was raising, just a little, so you knew he was just being defensive. He must have heard it too because he cleared his throat, voicing going back to normal. “I just don’t want to cause any problems.”

You nodded, grabbing your coffee as you stood up, and headed for the door. If he was willing to let your friendship go, then you weren’t going to fight him on it. So you left, face heated with embarrassment and tears threatening to spill over.

As you passed the threshold to the coffee shop back onto the sidewalk, you pulled your headphones on, ignoring the bustle of the city and Bucky still watching you leave through the window.

-

Adjusting to a life without Bucky was weird, you had to admit, but you did it anyway. The first few weeks were the hardest, when he was the first person you wanted to text during any occasion, but eventually that muscle memory faded until you were reaching out to the people who actually valued you in their life. 

Almost a year passed, and you moved on in all the ways you could. You heard Bucky moved back across the river to Brooklyn and that was about all you knew; your friends avoided the mention of even his name if they could help it, even though you knew at the very least Steve and Natasha still talked to him.

You just hoped he was happy, no matter what he was doing.

It was a cold January night when the notification came through. Wanda had recently convinced you to get on a dating app, even though you were perfectly content being single, thank you, but you had to admit the attention didn’t hurt.

You weren’t expecting much when your phone chimed and you unlocked it without even looking at the notification. Which is how you came face to face with Bucky’s Hinge profile, and a message attached to a picture of you that you knew he had taken saying: hey, you look familiar.

Was that really how he was going to make amends, on a dating app?

You supposed it was kind of funny, in that asshole way of his, and you stared at the message for another moment before responding.

oh, i know you?

if you want to

And, well, that was the thing. You did want to. No matter what he did, no matter how much he hurt you, he was still your best friend. Your Bucky.

Instead of answering, you pulled up a contact you hadn’t opened in months and pressed call. It rang one time before a familiar voice flooded the other end.

“Hey, stranger.”

“Hey, Buck.”

It was a healthy conversation, if you were being honest. Bucky apologized, told you he and Dot were done for good this time and, against your better judgment, you accepted it. You talked for hours after that, catching up on life and reminiscing on old memories, until you checked the time.

“Shit, it’s late,” you said as you put the phone back to your ear. “Almost midnight.”

And then, the words you dreaded but wanted desperately.

“Come over.”

“To Brooklyn? Buck I can’t take the subway this late.”

“I’ll pay for your Uber. Just come over.” You could hear the words he wanted to say, the ones on the tip of his tongue that he just wouldn’t force out.

“Well, I did miss you.” You tried to press it, to make him say it, but he only hummed on the other end.

“So is that a yes?”

You looked down at yourself, cozied up in sweatpants and a hoodie that you were almost entirely sure was Bucky’s, and sighed.

“Yes.”

“Perfect, your Uber will be there in 8 minutes.”

You didn’t have time to wonder how he got your new address - probably one of your mutual friends, maybe he had been keeping more tabs on you than you had on him - and shot up from the couch. With no time to change, you headed to the bathroom and brushed your teeth before taming your hair in the best way you could. As you were stuffing some clothes in an overnight bag - just in case, you told yourself - your phone chimed with a text from Bucky that your Uber had arrived. 

In a whirlwind, you rushed to the car where the driver seemed very put off at having to wait a whole 90 seconds for you to walk four flights of stairs, and slid in.

The whole ride there you were nervous. The thing with Bucky was, despite many drunken hookups, you’d never actually had sex. You weren’t really sure why, just that it had never happened and you had been grateful for it in the long run. You weren’t even sure if it would happen tonight, if he still wanted you like that. Even with all your talking and catching up, you hadn’t been brave enough to ask what this meant.

At nearly 1am, your Uber pulled up outside a beautiful Brooklyn brownstone and, there on the front porch, stood Bucky.

He wrapped you in his arms as he stood in front of you, and it all felt so heartbreakingly familiar you gave in immediately, all the tension leaking from your body at the feeling Bucky gave you. 

“Hey,” he said softly into your hair. “Come on in.”

Bucky’s house was so far from his old college apartment it was frightening, yet it couldn’t have felt more like Bucky. More like home. 

You took in your surroundings, shelves of books and vintage furniture and warm tones, it was almost like stepping back into your own place, the aesthetics were so similar. That was the funny feeling in your chest, you were sure.

Eventually, you ended up on Bucky’s couch with some superhero movie on, not really watching it but still grateful for its background noise to fill the room with each lull in the conversation. Not that there were many, one thing that came easy with Bucky had always been talking - although neither of you did much of that when it really mattered; you figured you could put that out of your mind for now. 

Over the course of the movie, you and Bucky shifted closer together until your thighs were pressed flush and you could feel the air from each of his exaggerated hand movements. It wasn’t until a wayward wave nearly grazed your nose that you truly realized how close you had become, and the sight of Bucky’s eyes shifting subtly to your lips has your self restraint at an all time low.

Fuck it, you thought. You had wanted this for so long, but you also knew you could live without Bucky if everything went tits up. It was a sad thought, that, but you couldn’t let this opportunity go. With every bit of courage you had, you let your hand float up to cup Bucky’s cheek, eyes searching for any sort of hesitation. When you found none, you leaned forward to close the admittedly small gap between your lips.

It was electric. Never had a kiss from someone else ever lit a fire inside you the way one from Bucky did. It started off slow, searching, a chance to reacquaint yourselves. But the second Bucky’s hand reached to tangle in your hair, everything shifted. 

Suddenly you were pulled in Bucky’s lap, legs straddling his, lips desperate for a taste of what you’d missed for so long. It was everything you hadn’t let yourself wish for, and you had a feeling you weren’t going to be missing it again anytime soon.

It wasn’t until your shirts were on the floor and Bucky was making quick work of your clasped bra that you thought maybe it would be smart to just slow down. Just for a second, just to get your bearings. 

An honest to god whine fell from his lips as you pulled back, stopping his hands from undressing you any further. 

“Buck,” you whispered, forehead pressed to his, hands cupping his face as if he was something precious. Though you supposed he was, to you at least. “What’s going on?”

“I just…” His voice trailed off, obviously unsure of himself even though this at least was familiar territory. What was to come next, however, was not. “I can’t go another day without making you mine.”

Your core tightened at the words, vivid memories of what Bucky’s hands and mouth could do; fantasies of what else he could do invaded as well as suddenly talking didn’t seem like a priority anymore. 

“Take me to bed.” And that was all he needed. 

Bucky scooped you up bridal style, carrying you across the threshold of his bedroom and laying you gently on his bed. Your eyes darted around, wanting more of snippets of the life Bucky had built here, but you were quickly distracted by his body covering yours, the weight of him pressed between your thighs was comforting and intoxicating. 

Bucky’s touch proved even more distracting as he shed you of your bra, mouth immediately latching to one nipple, the little nips and sucks enough to drive you crazy on their own, while his hands pinched at the other. He continued his assault until you were dizzy with want, then he trailed down your body with his mouth, not leaving an inch of skin undiscovered until he reached the waistband of your sweatpants.

He pulled them down just an inch, then his eyes shot up to meet yours at the discovery. 

“No underwear?” His voice was deep, husky, almost fucked out if you really thought about it. It was a thrill that your hold on him was so tight that just the thought of you without underwear was enough to leave him reeling just a little bit. 

You batted your eyes innocently. “Someone didn’t give me much warning about my Uber, I apologize.”

The giggle in your voice suggested the insincerity of your apology, but it didn’t deter Bucky as he pulled your pants from your body, mouth and hands still exploring. 

His fingers traced unknown patterns along your inner thighs, gently pushing them apart until you were fully exposed to him. You felt nervous all of a sudden, like you had never been in this position before. You had, of course, but never sober, and never with Bucky looking at you so attentively - like he was going to eat you alive. 

It was intense, having Bucky’s eyes bore into you as he lowered his mouth to your core, starting with gentle kitten licks until your hips were bucking, searching for more friction. One of his hands pinned your hips to the bed, while the other slipped through your folds, spreading spit and slick, before he slipped one inside of you. Then two, then three, until you were begging for release.

All it took was a soft whisper of come on, baby and a crook of Bucky’s fingers and you were falling apart, the intensity of your orgasm whipping through you, and as you floated back down to your senses, Bucky was still going. 

It was feverish, like he couldn’t get enough of your pleasure, and each twitch and moan encouraged him until your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him away from your spent body.

He let out a protest, but you silenced it by pressing your lips to his, moaning at the taste of yourself as his tongue pressed into your mouth. You were lost in the sensation, letting yourself be manhandled until you were once again in Bucky’s lap. Sometime while you had been transported to another planet, his pants had been shed and you were oh so close to getting everything you ever wanted. 

With your mouth still pressed to his, you rolled your hips, feeling the weight of him sliding along you. You kept at it, teasing and grinding until he thrust his hips and there it was; one slight adjustment and the feeling of Bucky stretching you out to was more overwhelming than you could have imagined.

Your hips stilled, as did Bucky’s, letting you adjust to him until you pressed a chaste kiss to his lips, your way of telling him that you were okay, that he could move.

His thrusts started slowly, letting you feel every inch of him until you were begging for more. When his hands stopped roaming to grip your hips tightly, you knew you were done for.

Bucky held you in place, his hips snapping up to fuck into you and all you could do was hold on for the ride. 

You were so overwhelmed you almost missed Bucky’s words, mixed in with his moans, but once you caught them, they were as clear as day:

I missed you.

Over and over, Bucky was repeating the words, interspersed with groans and heavy panting, but your heart restricted regardless 

He missed you. Bucky missed you.

With your thoughts such a jumbled mess, reveling in the fact that this was really happening, your orgasm snuck up on you. One second you were floating on the high of Bucky and the next you were crashing, falling, and he was right there to catch you as you came down.

His hips slowed, stuttering as he spilled into you with one final thrust.

For a moment, the world around you didn’t exist. All there was was this moment, with Bucky’s arms around you and your head buried in his shoulder. Everything came back at once: your harsh breaths, the noise of the TV far away in the living room, and Bucky’s hushed whispers as he held you.

“I missed you so much.” You didn’t respond for a moment, but you lifted your head to meet Bucky’s eyes. In them lay the sincerity of his words, vulnerable now that they weren’t being said in the heat of the moment.

“I missed you too, Buck.”

[nanamineedstherapy]

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

[luminique]

hii hii lumii !! I ADORE your interpretation of lighter so far— I love him smm

anyways, I hope my req is okay but I was wondering if you could do a comfort fic ? maybe reader has been a lil distant lately and just in some feels and he gives them a lil talk after being blown off here and there to find out they were having issues w their mental health and not feeling good enough and maybe he’s caught off guard because reader is usually so out going and always has a smile on their face and to see them feel so small makes him wanna take care of them so much and gives them so much reassurance and gentle kisses and cuddles 👉👈

I hope it’s okay !! I’ve been in the feels lately

hi anonn !! im gonna answer this one first because i've been in the feels too and i think we all deserve some reassurance, especially after all of the sad lighter story.

i don't take lighter for the kind to be too intrusive. that's not to say that he doesn't notice the way you're staring off into the distance, as if always having something on your mind. or the way you left earlier than usual for the SoC's nightly hangouts around the fire. or the way you had just been distancing yourself from him.

maybe you just needed a day, or two, and so he waited. he waited, and waited, but it just seemed like it was getting worse. he was beginning to get anxious, coming up with possibilities and worse case scenarios. even his favorite grape-flavored lollipop couldn't reduce the anxiety that was building up inside of him as he followed after you one night.

he shook off his nerves, spending quite a bit of time at the front door of your lodging while in blazewood. mentally practicing what to say so that he wouldn't make things even worse than they already were. one step, two deep breaths, three knocks on your door. he cleared his voice, usually confident and smooth but now carried a hint of worry in it.

"hey, uh... everything alright?"

you could hear the ruffling of his jacket, the soft metal clinks of his gloves. he didn't dare open the door until you allowed him to, so he waited, just like he always had. "lighter? yeah, everything's fine," was that a slight crack in your voice? no, no, he had to have imagined that. he knew it was wrong but he had waited long enough. he turned the knob, opening the door just a little bit but still not walking in.

"you don't have to tell me everything. just... know that i'll be here, waiting for you." he wasn't the best at comforting, nor was he good at even navigating these sorts of things but at the very least, he wanted you to have the knowledge that you had him. it didn't take long for you to finally get up, opening the door that separated the both of you. you looked so... different. the light absent from your eyes, the edges of your lips normally turned upwards but now they weren't. if he couldn't say what you wanted to hear, maybe you'd understand through his actions.

his arms wrapped around you. squeezing you just a little tighter than usual as he somehow made the both of you waddle backwards into your room. he had kept his gloves in his pants, not wanting to hurt you even more with them. his embrace was a familiar warmth, like the fire during particularly cold nights in the outer ring. you could hear his heart racing, was it from nervousness? anxiety? fear? even he didn't know.

he took this as an opportunity to place soft kisses on the top of your head but then stopped all of a sudden. he turned around to the door and realized that it was still wide open. he kicked it close with his foot, feeling embarrassed at the fact that he had to stop because of something so minor. he wanted you to feel safe, to have privacy, to be able to breathe without others barging in. technically, he had invaded this space of yours but you were slowly melting into him, as if you had been waiting for this too.

every passing second hugging you, kissing you, it made his own worries disappear. he hoped the same for you as you slowly spoke to him about your own problems. as he listened, he'd pause every once in while to give you a deadpan stare. not because he was making fun of you or anything, but it genuinely baffled him how you could say such things about yourself. you felt so insecure about yourself and your image, about being with him, being with the SoC. he had to physically stop himself from just blurting "i love you" every time you said something so degrading.

instead, he chose to wait and listen. his calloused hands gently caressing yours, his lips pressing kisses on the side of your head as you nuzzled into him. he loves you for who you are, the person in front of him, not the image that you had made yourself out to be in your mind. but he waits for you to let it all out before he says anything else. he will wait, he will listen, he will always be there for you.

[the-red-hoodlum]

killing people who don’t get an animals consent before touching them &/or ignore when animals are visibly uncomfortable with being touched.

[misanthropypersonified]

Genuine answer to those last questions?

Create safe spaces

Create spaces that are welcoming to antis (as long as they are polite obvi) and that are respectful of their opinions and views (even if you may disagree)

Those willing to LEARN and UNDERSTAND and CHANGE, will utilise those spaces, and become better, and have a conversion with you, even if they don’t necessarily change their opinions to fully agree with yours or come around quickly, those willing will still listen.

Those who aren’t willing are unfortunately likely to never change

I’m not saying we should give up on those people and never try to change their minds but if the resources and the information and the community is there to help them learn and they chose to stay ignorant, even when you point them in the right direction, are practically doomed to be forever bigoted.

It unfortunate, but it’s the truth

A genuine question for all of my radqueer friends.

Why is it, in your opinion, that anti-radqueers are not open to discussion with us on account of our own Identities?

I find I am having a hard time comprehending it, really. I've seen it for so many years now, with things like DNI's that specifically say we can't talk or interact with them at all and spam reporting or "call-out" posts, but I simply don't understand the logic. Would you not want to discuss a topic about something with the person or people the topic is about? Is it not incredibly biased to not even attempt to see both sides of a story before forming an opinion?

Ex-antis are also welcome to answer, if you had a reason before joining the community. I am simply curious of the reasoning.

Another question on top of this. Perhaps multiple, actually.

How does one do outreach to a community that refuses to learn or listen? How does one try to dispell misinformation when the moment you do, you're accused of being a harasser and breaking DNI's? How do you try to correct something you know is wrong when you are told you cannot even touch the blog of the person spreading such things? How do you get a message out with tags when you're then told you're crosstagging with your informational posts and are told to "stay in your own lane"?

What is one to do?

[ayrennaranaaldmeri]

working on a gifset and can i just say phia saban the ACTRESS THAT YOU ARE:

the sharp fucking turn when he's like wubuwbwu its a lieeee, the withering looks she gave him. it was excellent.

[arolesbianism]

Finally got around to designing this girlie! Her name is Compound, and she’s the leader of a goddess bless party of adventurers! Which is to say she is a huge suck up and absolutely unwilling to acknowledge that she and her party are completely and utterly unqualified for any of the missions they’re being thrown at

[oddogoblino]

Ever get mildly irked at a take on how to respond to something bad only to realize you literally practice it yourself without thinking? Because you learnt from trial and error growing that revenge even on people who abused you just doesn't work and makes you feel stupid and evil?

[badgirlcoven-official]

Thinking about the takes I've seen that act like the Collector is a badly written character because he has a "complete personality shift" between King's Tide and For The Future and it makes me a little crazy cause it's just like... That is quite literally the point just cause you don't like it doesn't mean it's bad writing.

I think it's really well done that we saw the Collector as this intimidating and vengeful figure BECAUSE we only ever saw them from the perspective of people who were either afraid of him or manipulating him and then once we see him from a new perspective it becomes clearer that not only is this a scared child but also that this is an innocent kid who literally just wants to feel accepted and to goof around like yeah we got Belos' propaganda that the Collector was a terrifying/manipulative powerful god-like thing that's only motivated by their own needs and we sort of fell for it just because the other characters all did, they had no reason not to in the context of what they saw

Then we see them from a new perspective and the crux of his character is revealed and we see things from HIS perspective and it doesn't change his actions or what he's said but it recontextualizes what we've seen and heard from them before this point.

Like no the shift in how the Collector is portrayed was done very well imo it's just not done super obviously