#fem!Japan

[putagal]

random nyos (+ bel) bc i wanted to draw girls <3

[empressjadeleah]

Twitter GoddessJadeLeah follow please

[mullermilkshake]

Satoru takes out the trash.

MINORS DNI - Tags: Yakuza AU, graphic depictions of violence, murder, head smashing, references to Fem! reader

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“Didn’t I tell you that I’d burn your world if you ever crossed me? I distinctly remember sayin’ that.”

Satoru had a fist full of the man’s hair who had long since gone quiet and limp. His face was beyond recognisable and it still wasn’t enough.

A tip of the man’s pinkie wasn’t enough. But Satoru let him cut it off anyway.

“Huh?! You gonna answer me, or do I need to keep smashing your face into this wall? It’s not like it’s goin’ anywhere and I have all night.”

"Uh, sir?"

"What?" Satoru pulled away, dropping the man onto the floor along with his scattered teeth.

"The first Chairman's on the phone, he's requiring your presence."

What did that old bastard want now? Satoru had just come from a meeting with that shithead and not to mention, he was already late getting back to see you.

Satoru pulled out a crisp fresh handkerchief and wiped his bloodied hands on it, discarding it over the man without a care. He hadn't moved or breathed for that matter so it was probable he was dead now.

"Can it wait? I have plans, I'm seeing him tomorrow anyway."

Ichiji didn't know what to say, looking both ways out of the pay phone entryway like like a little rabbit. "Uh..."

"Gimme the phone," Satoru wandered over and took it from him, leaning against the glass with about as much interest as the dead man on the floor. "You wanted me, Chairman?"

"I'm meeting with the lieutenants and unfortunately for me, you're one of them. Get your ass to headquarters, you have an hour."

Sukuna put down the phone before he could even respond with something snarky or an ideal comeback that would have made him curse over the phone.

"Shit..."

Satoru stepped out and adjusted the open collar of his shirt, smoothed down the sides of his hair as took out a cigarette from his suit jacket pocket.

"Clean this up, and take this," he tossed a set of keys from his pocket to which Ichiji barely caught, "Go to my girls apartment and take her some flowers, tell her I'll be late and that I'll make it up to her... somehow- don't repeat that last part."

"Yes sir- right away sir."

Satoru left the Ichiji to clean up his mess as per usual, he wandered the street with his hands lazily tucked into his pockets. The buildings were lit up with neon like they had caught fire, the sunset leaving the sky whilst the streets never slept.

It wouldn't take long to get back to headquarters, but Satoru would leave it up to a taxi on the other side of the district to get him there.

If Sukuna wanted him there in sixty minutes, he'd damn well make sure he'd get there in sixty one, just to piss him off.

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[mizusnose]

Hii!! I love ur writings AND UR ART TOO! I have a req 😈

Mizu meeting reader who has heterochromia!

And I miss you on a train, I miss you in the morning

Been missing Japan tons recently so this one’ll be set in modern day Tokyo. Here is a list of translated terms/phrases:

Gouchyui kudasai. Abunai desu kara.. : Please be careful, since it’s dangerous

Keigo: super politeful form of words/grammar.

Gaikokujin: foreigner.

daijoubu desu: It’s okay/I’m fine. In this situation, can also mean: I’m okay (without it)

arigatou gozaimasu: thank you (very much)

samu—!: cold/chilly. it’s actually 寒い (samui), but ppl shorten it in daily conversation by dropping the i.

arigatou: thanks, more familiar.

ohayo: good morning

Summary: A meet-cute in a train car leads to an unlikely friendship that blooms into something more. Discussion of beauty standards in Japan. Insecurities are discussed. Tons of flirting, some heavy petting.

SFW, some nudity but nothing blatantly sexual.

— — —

The first time you saw her, it had been on your morning commute to work. The autumn weather muted that far underground. The wind from departing and arriving trains was the only thing that would create a breeze in the otherwise stagnant air.

She was easy to notice.

Her height forced her to duck under the hanging advertisements with a practiced ease, neck long and slender. A white turtleneck against thin golden chains peeked out from her indigo jacket, spots of sunlight soaked into the snow.

And her eyes—a frozen-over ocean in the middle of the Marunouchu line, an early morning in winter. You breathed and suddenly it was the dead of winter in Sendai and the birds fluttered away up above you.

It’d only been a second, a millisecond, the flutter of a bird’s feather. Then she was gone. Her dark hair a shadowing eclipse against the sharp of her chin, the red of her nose—her eyes.

The train ride went uninterrupted. A jingle, shuffling, and then you were on your way to work. You didn’t quite notice though. Your breath a bleary thing in your ballooned-out chest. Belly wide and searching. An open mouth, fanged and hungry.

The next time you see her, it’s in the dead of night. The last train barely caught. Your mini skirt pressed against your bare thigh and the seat. Make-up dark and hair wild in the nearly empty train car. Winter’s fist had started to close around the Tokyo metropolitan area and the nights became a sharp kind of cold. You felt frozen in your seat.

She’d been sitting there, right across from you in the middle of the row of empty seats. Straight tapered office pants meeting her oxford shoes, that same indigo jacket, golden chains glinting in the glow of the moving lights outside. Her glasses caught in the passing stations, a muted orange that blocked the blue of her eyes.

You stared, entranced. You knew it was rude, but the image she made against the smeared nighttime Ginza scenery made you hold your breath, amazed. The last time you’d seen her, it was too quick. Barely a snapshot of a second. So you drank your fill, greedy and tipsy. The train shifted on the tracks and you both leaned into the bend, your bodies in line.

You distantly wonder if she’s willingly not paying attention to you after the doors automatically open and close following two stops. She hasn’t looked up once from her book, her fingertips a dull pink against the English title.

You want to put them in your mouth—a wild thought that conjures itself in your bleary mind.

When she finally does look up, her eyes greet your own and holds—a challenge. Her dark eyebrows furrow: anger. She observes you closer, focusing on your eyes.

You blush, and quickly look away.

You know she’s seen them: your eyes. People usually narrow their own eyes at you after realizing, and yet—hers shift when you meet them again. There’s no longer a scowl, her eyebrows rise instead, lips parted. A question, a surprise, Intrigue.

Oh, you think, oh.

Your chest buzzes and you wonder if your lipstick is still intact. If your eyeliner hasn’t been smudged. If you still look desirable.

There’s no one else but you two, so you quirk an eyebrow, satisfied to see her flush and look away. The cut of her jaw hidden by her short dark hair.

Her wired earbuds follow, they press against her chin and her hair, and you wonder what she’s listening to. If she can hear your breath quicken, heart rate spiked.

The train doors open at your stop and your stomach flips when she stands as well. Her head ducks underneath an advertisement about train manners, and she waits for you to stumble out first. You feel her hands around the air of your body, the pressure of the feeling against your waist. She doesn’t touch, but you wish she had.

“Gouchyui kudasai. Abunai desu kara..” She mutters down to the ground after you’ve both swiped out of the station. Keigo and all.

Her hair flutters in the tunnel wind, grey eye bags and pink cheekbones that make you wonder what her job is. You settle your miniskirt and nod quickly. The glow of the FamilyMart shines on you both, a play, an experiment.

Yet, as she turns to leave, you feel like it’s gone interrupted. Your story, and hers.

“I’ve! um—I’ve seen you around”

She stops, doesn’t turn around. You continue in clunky Japanese. The alcohol settling deeper in your belly, confidence rising in your throat,

“Are you free for lunch or dinner or..”

She freezes—and you feel like you’ve misread the entire situation, but as she turns back around, she nods. A jerky thing that heats up your face.

Her necklace glints in the nearby streetlights as she puts her Line info into your contacts. Her hand encompasses all of your phone, fingers long and palm wide. You ache at the sight.

“Mizu?” Your fingernails brush the character she’s entered after she hands it back to you: 水. Mizu, mizu mizu.

“Mn. My parent’s..Gaikokujin. Thought it sounded pretty.” She looks embarrassed, her short cut hair brushing her jaw, her ears. Yet, her eyes stay on yours. A lull.

“It is.” You swallow around your words. Greet her with your own gaze, a smile.

She doesn’t trust you to walk home in your stumbling state, so she guides you into the FamilyMart nearby.

She grabs a water bottle for you, a hot milk tea for herself. Like this, in the fluorescent light, she’s taller than the aisles and towers above you. Her nape meets her neck and the hair is shaved there. Short—like a boy’s. You want to touch the skin there, just below it.

She pays despite your assurance that you can pay for yourself.

“‘ts only 120 yen.” is what she says, turns to the cashier and waves away a bag, daijoubu desu, collects the receipt and turns to leave, arigatou gozaimasu. A barely there bow, the receipt crushed in her palm, and then you’re both outside in the softly falling snow.

She opens the bottled water for you and you hiss after you take it: samu—!

She chuckles, watches you take the lip of the bottle into your mouth: tracks your throat as you swallow. You feel like you’re burning up inside your chest and finish half the bottle in one go.

“Do you live far?”

“Just past the next streetlight. I’ll be okay, promise.”

She looks unsure. It’s not windy, but strands of her hair push against her face. She presses it away. Behind her ear that has a stud in the soft flesh of her lobe. You follow the movement in your tipsy state. Watch it glimmer in the night.

“Let’s meet again soon, then.” Her hand gestures to your bare legs, eyes averted and away—flushed, “Stay warm.”

She presses the hot milk tea into your hands. Swaps it out for your water bottle. It sloshes against the plastic when she meets your gaze. She’s inspecting you. Tracing the outline of your face, your eyes. Your fingertips welcome the warmth, and you open your mouth to thank her: arigatou

“Get home safe.” Her hands brush your own, and she grins at the touch, slow and soft.

A taxi’s unoccupied sign blinks on in the dark nearby. The rush of the trains sound behind you, a car drives by.

She leaves then, and you watch her go. Her shoulders sharp in the cold night. The snow falls on you but the unopened milk tea burns and you think of her again and again. Even after you turn and walk away too.

The walk back is slippery and when you get home, your phone sits content in your pocket. You smile, a big happy thing. Her name sits in your mouth, and you think: Mizu, mizu, mizu. As if your lips would forget in the morning.

—

You go out for dinner later in the week.

Mizu is shy. She jokes only after you’ve both ordered a round of sapporo, her flush an insistent thing. Her neck is long and you watch as it reddens through the night. The glow of the shop the only thing keeping your hands to yourself.

The conversation flows steadily. Like two lifelong friends. The banter is easy, and the flirting easier. You notice Mizu’s steady gaze on you and you smile to welcome it. A flower unfurling in the sun.

You both promise to do it again afterwards. Mizu’s hands linger on yours when you leave, and the touch sinks into you, a slow gulp of water against your throat.

It’s breathless and exciting, being with Mizu. She texts you ohayo’s and brushes your hair out of your face, stands close in the train, and slips her hand into yours when she walks you back home after your fifth date. The first night you spend together, her thumb slips against your cheekbones and she smiles,

“You are so beautiful.”

She kisses you and your body and your thighs. She fucks you the way she had promised over texts late at night. Kisses your eyelids afterwards, a love that blooms between you both.

“Did you ever get bullied about it?” She asks one morning.

You’re both naked, the sunshine glinting on the sheets and into the kitchen where you’re making coffee. The question is asked unsure, a train passes by in the distance.

“I did. Not too much, but yeah.”

“Me too.” Mizu shoves on her shirt, a button down that she leaves open, the space between her breasts littered in marks, “Kids can be mean.”

You nod, tilting your head to the side when Mizu comes up behind you and kisses your throat. The muscle in your shoulder. Your back: the bone there.

“You’re stunning.” She whispers. Moves her hands up your body, a warmth that stirs between your legs, “Fuck what anyone says—kids especially.”

You laugh, twisting around to face Mizu. Her eyes meet your own, a clash of colors and you let her gaze win. You tuck your face into her neck and blow a raspberry to the skin there.

“It’s not so bad now. Usually, people just think I forgot to put in my other contact.” Mizu huffs, lets her hands wander lower, “The plus side is that I got a hot girlfriend out of it.”

You pull back and peck Mizu’s unassuming lips. She stutters around the sudden labeling, and you smile to let her know it’s okay. It’s okay.

You spend the day together, a lazy Sunday. And when you see the scene you both make in the bathroom mirror after a shower you flush at it all: Mizu, naked, her eyes boring into you and tracing the lines of your body. And you, the color of your eyes, each a separate hue. Yet, the love inside them the same and as blatant as ever.

“You’re beautiful.” You say, grabbing Mizu and kissing her. Pushing her bangs away from her eyes, hand settling on her back. There’s a freckle there you’d kissed earlier. You press into it.

Mizu chuckles, finds your lips and pulls away to whisper into the opening of your mouth. A secret, a wish, a promise.

You keep every single one.

———

Haha, so I really just miss FamilyMart and affordable food and the stellar Japanese public transportation so here this is. Didn’t specify reader’s eye color so you can imagine whatever colors you want—including your own!

title inspired by about you by the 1975

[leafington]

𝙜𝙚𝙩 𝙖 𝙝𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙘𝙪𝙩! 𝙘𝙪𝙩, 𝙘𝙪𝙩, 𝙘𝙪𝙩! - kento n.

content warning !! - blackfem!reader, nanami's charisma being sky high, culture shock (on nanami's end), fluff, not proofread, self-inserted barber experience (i get my lineups at home), ib an ugly fucking picture of the back of nanamis head and his barber clearly needs to be fired.

It's pushing thirty minutes that you've been gawking at the back of your husband's head. When he first got home and threw his stuff where they belonged, you knew something was wrong. You, as the supportive wife you are, came to his aid and stepped back seeing his grumpy expression.

"Be honest, how bad is it?"

Nanami did not want an honest answer because he's locked himself in the bathroom ever since because of the 'Who the fuck did your hair?' that escaped faster than your brain could register. You didn't mean it in a bad way, you were just upset due to some unlicensed prick who ruined your man's hair.

Uneven, cut horribly wrong, hairline crooked, he practically came home a different man and not in the good way. "Baby, it'll grow back." You console him, scrunching your face. He's never had a problem with his stylist until today, what made today different? Nanami shrugs off your hand originally positioned in his hair, his tone sour. "Not in three days time. How am I supposed to go to work like this?" You would call him dramatic but if you were in his shoes, you'd be mad too.

"Maybe you could wear a hat? Or like some sort of headband, scarf—" You list, replacing your touch to land on his back. "And is any of that appropriate for a professional workplace?" Shit, you're just making it worse, and the look on your face isn't helping.

Nanami's far more pissed now, you've been staring at it all day. He gets it, his cut is bad. He's beating himself up about it that he let it happen! He tries to forget about it, but suddenly there's a reflection of him everywhere in the house. To make matters significantly unfavorable, Gojo's laughter erupted from his phone later in the evening spouting all sorts of comparisons to his nasty do.

"YOU LOOK LIKE ANGELICA'S DOLL HAHAHAH." His loud exclamation gets cut off by the phone being inable to pick up how hard he's laughing. "STAR TREK CALLED, THEY NEED A NEW CAST MEMBERRR." It was almost sad to watch Nanami try to even muster up the ability to yell at him, Gojo isn't even calling him for his first purpose anymore.

His day has been everything stemming from the word rough. Nanami turned his back away from you like it was your fault (it was) in your shared bed. You tried googling solutions to his problem, nothing came up besides 'Quick tips on hair growth!' and '5 Easy Steps to Obtain Natural Hair Growth!', while drenching his hair in oil might do the trick, it wouldn't save him the embarrassment for his upcoming day at work.

Essentially, you forgot all about it when you opened up social media to mindlessly scroll for a bit. Coincidentally, a post from a close friend came up that showed off a client's hair he did. You liked it and scrolled once more before a thought crossed your mind.

"Ken?" You tap his shoulder lightly. "I think I can fix your..." You eyeball at his head in the dark, questioning if it can even be remotely related to hair. "problem." And you show him the short footage. Nanami skeptically looks between your phone and you, internally wondering if you're being genuine. "With all due respect, I understand you're trying to help, but I do not want that kind of style nor do I think it'll hold seeing as how different our hair textures are." A groan comes out shortly after rolling your eyes. "I'm not suggesting you get waves, Kento. I'm saying I could try to get you a booking there to at least attempt to save your head."

Seconds of silence pass, becoming a minute later, before Nanami heavily sighs and tosses his arm over his head. "And you trust him enough to where I won't end up bald?" He double-checks. "Yes. His wife does my hair for everything and I took my nephew there to get himself straight." Hesitantly, he throws a nod of confirmation, allowing you to message your friend to see if he could squeeze in an emergency booking for Nanami.

You weren't aware that you got a reply until the morning, luckily, your friend agreed to take him in whenever the two of you could come. After getting dressed and cleaning up a little, you shuffled through your purse to make sure you were prepared. Nanami, on the other hand, wore one of your silk pink bonnets on his head to hide the disaster beneath it.

It was a last resort, but whatever kept him satisfied.

The drive there wasn't long in your eyes, but for Nanami it was down right torture. He didn't know these people other than your friend who ran the barber shop, that and he's breaking the universal law of staying loyal to his standard barber—even if he'd never forgive him, he still felt bad. Having parked your car off to the side, your husband stood awkwardly when you tried to drag him inside despite his constant protesting, you had to promise him you'd take him out for bread later, bribing him like a little kid.

"Hey, Y/n! Long time no see." Your friend greets, permitting a side hug as additional welcome. He turns to Nanami wearing what he presumes is your bonnet, and fights off a chuckle. "And you must be her husband?" He goes for a dap, and to your shock, follows through, patting each other on the back. "I am, Y/n speaks quite much and highly of you." He raises an eyebrow at this and mutters something about you and your type for sticks in the mud. "Let's see the damage." The male prompts for Nanami to take the makeshift protectant off.

Collective 'Damn's' and hisses erupt in the small room, your friend even thinning his lips and coughing to hold back a cackle. A few barbers stopped what they were doing or snapped their attention back to their job, even some customers didn't even wanna look.

"Stop it. He's been pissy about it enough." You grimace, and your friend throws an arm around Nanami. "Don't worry, man. You're in good hands." He whisks Nanami off to his chair, grabbing an apron cape to put over him.

You, yourself, worry about Nanami's adaption to this new environment. The constant chatter of controversial topics, sports, things that bother them or don't understand. It's less impressive than sitting at his desk while a scheduled person comes in. From your spot across the room, he was surprisingly doing fine. They kept everything to a minimum seeing as you were present, but Nanami was actually getting along with everyone quite well! He bonded with your friend and his workers, discussions shifting like clockwork, weight lifted off your shoulders at this, feeling comfortable enough to finally acknowledge whatever kept blowing your phone up.

Nanami sat there for no longer than thirty minutes, paying his new friend a large wad and sending him off not only another firm dap but a decent style that didn't make him look dragged through the dirt. "You look good." You smile, running your fingers across his clean-cut gently. "I feel good." He lets you do as you please. "They were awfully talkative, not that it was a bad thing." He admits, slightly shaken from how much speaking he did. "I don't even think you talk that much to me." You tease, now gushing over his much better hairstyle.

©2024 leafington dont steal please!! :)

[j0shuamar1lyn]

whatever tf is…

[mistressoftheelderitchwhorehouse]

Hair Thoughts

Chūya would never quite understand all the work you put into your hair. All the wash days, all the standing in the aisle to translate ingredients, and the attempts to learn how to trim your own hair when it became clear getting a cut in Japan for Afro-texture hair was a miracle.

In the end he decided that he loved you, and wanted to make you happy. Somehow that appreciation ended up being shown by a trip to Tokyo on a weekend you both didn't have work. It was shown by an appointment made in secret six months before. It was shown by finding on of the few black hair stylists in Japan.

When everything was said and done he knew you looked beautiful. He knew the hours of research and many a dead end was worth it. He knew that hair was important to you, and that was good enough for him.

[bullet-clubs-bitch]

Bad Girls Club

El Phantasmo X Fem Reader

El Phantasmo Masterlist Main Masterlist

Request by @madhatterbri (I took a twist on your original request. I hope you like it!)

Summary: El Phantasmo is the leader of the biggest club in Japan, Bullet Club. One night he stumbles across a Jazz singer named Y/n at his friend's nightclub in Osaka. El Phantasmo knows better than to think of Y/n in any other way than a Jazz singer. The two of them being together would just put her at risk. Especially with the current war going on with Bullet Club's archenemies The United Empire. But what happens when Y/n calls in the middle of the night saying someone broke into her apartment and needs El Phantasmo's help?

Warnings: Murder, Blood, weapons, gore, etc Word Count: 2.5 K

Being in the baddest club in all of Japan came with a lot of perks but there were a few disadvantages that no one was willing to talk about. The thought of settling down scared me. Having someone so close to you let alone a family puts you at risk. Other gangs could and would use anything against you. I was scared my future children would be used as ransom in an attempt to pay for my crimes. 

Currently the rest of Bullet Club was away partying in one of the biggest night clubs in all of Tokyo. For once I decided to spend Friday night alone and ended up in a Jazz Club in Osaka. The Jazz club was small, it held about 200 people but there were only about 20. A blond girl stood on the stage singing a song I knew would be stuck in my head for the rest of the weekend. “I’m in love with a dying man, I’m in love with a dying man. I’m in love lying in the sand.” The blond girl wore a short black knit dress with long sleeves. The dress ended just below her ass. She paired the dress with black velvet knee high boots. She swayed elegantly to the track. A song she called Kill Kill. “One…Two….Make it fun. Don’t…Trust…Anyone” The words she whispered in the mic spoke to me. Being the leader of the biggest gang in Japan I knew a thing or two about trusting people. I found myself getting lost in her performance. The way she swayed her hips, the way she looked into my eyes so seductively. I feared I was falling for her tricks. As I went to the bar to grab myself another dirty martini, I ran into a good friend of mine who just so happened to own the Jazz Club. “Hey, Phantasmo, how’s it going?” Tony asked, “I’m doing well Tony, how’s the business doing?” I asked him. “It’s a bit slow but going well, as you can see I have a new act. She’s the best I’ve ever had, sings like an angel” “What’s her name, she’s beautiful?” I asked Tony. “Her name is Y/n but I don’t want you getting any ideas. She’s too young for you” he told me. “How old is she?” “21, far too young for you” 

I spoke with Tony a little longer before returning to the private lounge I sat in prior. Tony’s word’s kept replaying in my mind. ‘Don’t get any ideas, she’s too young for you’. Prior to our conversation I wasn’t even thinking about Y/n in that way. I genuinely thought of her as a beautiful young singer. Tony was right, though I didn’t really mind the 15 year age gap going out with Y/n would just put her at risk. I spent the rest of the night enjoying the atmosphere of the club and Y/n’s performance. Before I knew it it was close to 4am and the club was closing. As I began to leave the club Tony came up to me. “Before you go, I want to introduce you to someone. Y/n, this is one of my very good friends El Phantasmo. If you ever need something or find yourself in a sticky situation I want you to give him a call” Tony said. “Hi, I’m Y/n. It’s very nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard alot about you” Y/n said as she reached out her hand to me. I took her hand and instead of shaking it I kissed her knuckles saying “It’s very nice to meet you too. Tony has told me a lot about you as well. You are very talented, did you write all of those songs yourself?” I asked “I’m glad to hear you liked them. I did write and produce them myself” Y/n said blushing. “Like Tony said, if you ever need anything just give me a call. Doesn’t matter the time, place or task I’ll always help out a friend. You better be careful out there Ms. Y/n, there are some real weirdo’s out there” As I said that last sentence to Y/n, I could see the look in her eyes change ever so slightly. Like there was this tension, that she was on edge. Tony had the same look in his eyes. Even with us being friends for over 20 years and him always having such a stone cold expression on his face I always knew when something was up. I mean there had to be or why else would Tony bring Y/n telling her to call me if she was ever in trouble. 

***

It had been about a week since I last went to the Jazz Club and saw Y/n. During that time a lot had happened. The United Empire, the second-largest gang in Japan and our arch-nemesis were on a killing spree. They went around the streets of Tokyo killing for fun. Their murders were not targeted. They were just killing everyday people just because they could. Y/n was always in the back of my mind. My subconscious told me she was at risk. At risk because she worked in one of the busiest Jazz Clubs in Osaka, at risk because we know each other and at risk because of just how dang beautiful she was. The United Empire was known for doing unspeakable things to young women. It makes me sick even thinking about it. Although I am the leader of the biggest Gang of Japan’s history, my number one rule always has and always will be NO women NO children. 

Originally I had planned to visit the Jazz bar this weekend but The United Empire’s tricks had all of my attention. One of our main camps had been compromised. Millions of dollars in cash, weapons and drugs had been stolen. A dozen of my men were killed including one of my best men. I knew war was on the horizon but when the head of one of my best men Gabe arrived at my doorstep I knew the war had just begun. 

Currently I lay in my bed thinking of Bullet Club's next actions. I didn’t want to just kill these men. I wanted them to pay for everything they have done over the years. My thoughts were broken when my phone began to ring. An unknown caller could mean one of two things. I just hoped the sharp pain in my gut was wrong. “Hello?” I said as I answered the phone. I heard nothing on the other line except for the sound of glass breaking. “What do you want, it’s nearly 3 o’clock in the morning. I’m not in the mood for any games” I said annoyed. “Mr. Phantasmo?” A voice whispered on the other line. “Who is this?” I asked “It’s Y/n, I need your help” I felt my heart sink. “Y/n?! Where are you, what’s going on?” I asked in a panic. I could hear her faint sobs on the other line. “I need you to take a deep breath Y/n so I can help you. What’s going on?” I asked, slightly more calm this time. “I think my ex boyfriend and his friends just broke into my apartment. They’re ripping apart the place trying to look for me” My mind was going at a rapid pace, I quickly grabbed my gun and hopped in my truck. “Where are you right now in the apartment?” I asked “I’m hiding in the closet in my office. There is a lock on the inside of the door. They can’t open it from the outside” “I’m coming right now to get you Y/n but I need you to stay on the phone with me okay. Where is your apartment?” “It’s a few blocks north of the Jazz Club. Pink palace apartment complex. It’s on Mabel street, apartment 34A” I could hear the voice of men in the background yelling and breaking everything in their path. “Come on out and play Bunny. You can’t hide forever” said one of the men. The voice sounded so familiar but I couldn't seem to put my finger on the thick British accent. The second I stepped into the apartment complex I knew what I was dealing with. ‘Shit’ I thought to myself. I quickly messaged the boys for back up and carefully sneaked into the apartment. I didn’t even want to think about which one of The United Empire boys was Y/n’s ex. It wasn't even important, what was important was that I found Y/n. 

The apartment was destroyed. Glasses and plates were shattered on the floor. Clothing and drawers were scattered all over the place. Then all of a sudden I felt my body hit the floor hard. “Oi Bruv, what do you think you’re doing here huh?” That voice I had heard earlier was none other than Will Ospreay. Will had tackled me to the floor, I tried to cover my face from his blows but some crept  in. “Where the fuck is Y/n?” I spat at him as I got out of his grip. “Why the fuck do you care Bruv, she’s my girlfriend not yours” he spat back. The two of us fought for what felt like forever, going back and forth with swings at each other. Just then the other members of Bullet Club arrived and had to pry me from Will. David Finlay and Jay White found Y/n while I made sure Will would never mess with her again. I left him in a bloody mess, along with the rest of his men. They were so black and blue not even their own mothers would recognize them. Somewhere missing teeth, I’m pretty sure one of them was dead. 

When I saw Y/n she looked terrified. She had a black eye and a busted lip. I held her tightly in my arms as she began to cry. “Don’t worry love, you're safe now. They can’t hurt you” The car ride home was silent. I thanked the boys for the help and took Y/n back to my house. I called up the maid to make sure one of the guest rooms was prepared with clean sheets and a fresh change of clothes to change into. Along with a hot bath so she could rinse off the blood and dirt that was on her skin. “This is where you live?” Y/n asked as we pulled into the house. A security guard met us at the end of the driveway and opened the large gates so I could drive up to the house. “Yes ma’am, I told her” “Your house is huge” she said. The moment we stepped into the home I introduced her to my maid Mrs. Kim. “Mrs. Kim is going to look after you. She’s already prepared a room, some clean clothes and a bath for you” Y/n looked at me like she was a deer in headlights. “Don’t worry, she’s not going to hurt you” I reassured Y/n. Mrs. Kim had been my maid years before Bullet Club became as big as it is. She was one of the few people in this world I actually trusted. I knew she would take good care of Y/n. “Okay Ms, if you follow me I will show you to your room” Mrs. Kim said with a warm smile on her face. 

Once Mrs. Kim showed Y/n her room and helped her into the tub she returned to me with a concerned look on her face. “Is everything alright, Mrs. Kim?” I asked. “I know I’m not supposed to ask these kinds of questions, sir. But what happened to that poor girl?” she asked with genuine concern. “She has some pretty bad and deep scars and wounds along with some questionable bruising I think you should see.” Truth be told, I didn’t know what happened to Y/n. I’m not sure if I wanted to know what happened to her. “The only thing I know is that she phoned saying her ex-boyfriend and his friends broke into her apartment. She’s a good girl Mrs. Kim, I have no idea how her supposed ex-boyfriend is Will Ospreay” I explained “Her ex-boyfriend is W- oh hi, Ms. Y/n, have you finished your bath” I looked over to see Y/n wrapped in a big white fluffy Gucci robe. “Why don’t I show you your room for the evening”  

Trying to fall asleep was a nightmare. I had so many questions that needed to be answered. How was Y/n involved with The United Empire? Why were they after her? How does her being a singer at Tony's Jazz Club tie into all of this? I thought about giving Tony a call but knew better than to get more people involved in the situation. By now, it was close to 5 o'clock in the morning. It was no use trying to get any rest. I needed to get up in a few hours anyway. An early start would do me well. It would give me some time to wrap my head around everything and plan my next course of action. But just then, I heard a faint knock on my bedroom door. I got up to find Y/n on the other side. “Would it be alright if I spent the night with you? I don’t really want to be alone right now,” Y/n asked. “Of course, darling” I told her, offering her a warm smile. “Thank you, for everything” Y/n said as she climbed into the bed, pulling the large duvet over her. “Anytime, darling. You know I would do anything for you.” The words came out of my mouth so fast I didn’t even have a chance to think about what I was saying before I said it. Before I could say anything I felt Y/n place a delicate kiss on my cheek. “Goodnight,” “Goodnight Y/n” 

Something about this felt so wrong. This shouldn't be happening not with this current war. As much as my mind denied it my heart told me I was falling in love with Y/n. I didn't know what the future would hold. For fucks sake I have Will Osprey's ex-girlfriend cuddled up next to me in bed. The words I mistakenly admitted were true. I really would do anything for her and I mean anything.

[coralcatsea]

@femslashetalia - Free Day

Greece just legalised same-sex marriage, meaning it’s time for lesbian marriages on the island of Lesbos!

[giselleeeeaiiaee]

ִ ࣪ ˖ ࣪ ᨰꫀᥣᥴ᥆ꩇꫀ ! ᰔ ִ ׄ ── .✦

𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐠𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞 ! 𝐈’𝐦 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞.. ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 ༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚ ♠️

[quanxitii]

|-Main Menu-| SATURO ✘ READER

┈➤Nextchapter─────────────୨ৎ───────

- .A Quiet Life. -

Chapter - 1

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★ Story Summary :

╰┈➤ Marrying the strongest shaman in the world had been an unexpected choice—she, an ordinary girl with no powers, and he, a man who stood at the pinnacle of strength, far beyond anyone’s reach… beyond her reach. Just an old acquaintance from a small café he used to frequent, yet fate had led them to an unforeseen life together. But in a world ruled by power, could a simple life like this truly last?

‿︵‿‿︵‿︵‿‿︵‿୨ ୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿‿︵‿

★ Important notes:

JUJUTSUKAISEN ➶Akutame Gege

IN THE HAND OF THE STRONGEST ➶Quanxi

ART CREDIT ➶_3aem

๑ All Rights Reserved

I don't allow the story to be republished or translated I'm getting tired for this please understand the matter, and thank you

‿︵‿‿︵‿︵‿‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿‿︵‿

-Started : March,11th, 2025

-Ended :   Not Finished

‿︵‿‿︵‿︵‿‿︵‿୨ ୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿‿︵‿

-Soft rain pattered against the wide apartment windows, filling the silence of the evening with its gentle rhythm. Seated at the dining table, she wrapped her hands around a warm cup of tea, her eyes fixed on the clock. Twelve fifteen. He was late again. It wasn’t unusual—it had become a pattern in their lives ever since they married three years ago. 

-She rose from her chair and walked to the window, pulling the curtain aside just enough to glance at the quiet street below. Though she had grown accustomed to his absence, her heart still fluttered each time he was late. Was it worry? Or merely a habit ingrained over time? 

-Just as she decided to return to her room, the sound of a key turning in the lock reached her ears. She turned slowly, watching as Gojo Satoru stepped inside, shaking off his umbrella before setting it aside. His white hair was slightly disheveled, and his striking blue eyes carried a hint of exhaustion, despite the ever-present playful smile on his lips. 

"I'm home"

-he said casually, as if his long hours away were of no consequence. 

-She didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she moved toward the kitchen, retrieving a plate she had kept warm for him.

"Did you eat dinner?"

-she asked softly, setting the dish before him. 

"Didn’t have time"

-he replied, pulling out a chair and reaching for a piece of tempura. 

-She watched him in silence, feeling the monotony that had become a defining trait of their marriage. Their relationship was not built on love, yet she couldn’t deny that Gojo, in his own way, was a good man. He never burdened her with anything, never caused trouble. Still, she found it difficult to truly understand him. 

"Why are you staring at me?"

-he asked suddenly, one brow raised in amusement. 

-Her cheeks warmed slightly, and she averted her gaze.

"It’s nothing. Just thinking about something." 

"Hmm… Are you considering filing for divorce, perhaps?"

-he teased, clearly enjoying the idea of provoking her. 

-She responded calmly,

"If that’s what you want, I won’t stop you." 

-He paused mid-bite, then chuckled lightly.

"Ouch, that stings a little. Didn’t expect you to answer like that." 

-She said nothing, merely busying herself with tidying up the dishes, unaware of the thoughtful gaze he cast in her direction. Their marriage had never been one of passion, yet she had always been there—even before their lives became intertwined this way. 

-After a brief silence, Gojo spoke again, his tone more serious this time.

"Have you ever thought about… starting a family?" 

-Her hands stilled, breath hitching slightly as she turned to face him.

"What?" 

-He smiled, but for once, he wasn’t joking.

"I mean, a child. The elders have always pressured me to have an heir, but I never saw it that way. I want a child because I want one, not because it’s expected of me." 

-She stared at him, wide-eyed, uncertain of how to respond. She had never expected this conversation—not now, not ever. Gojo wasn’t the type to reveal his true desires easily, but she could tell that, this time, he meant it. 

"I'm not asking for anything right now,"

-he added, his voice quieter.

"I just wanted you to know." 

-Silence lingered between them before she slowly nodded.

"Alright..." 

-She didn’t say more, yet she couldn't shake the feeling that this moment would mark a turning point in their lives—even if she didn’t know how just yet.

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-Author's Note:

I know this chapter is short, but I really love this writing style and feel that it adds a special touch to the narration. This is the beginning of a new series I’m working on, and I hope you enjoy it and find it as exciting and engaging as I do. Stay tuned for more! well, I've babbled on enough, wishing you all a wonderful day!

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-Hashtags:

#anime #saturo #gojo #saturogojo #gojosaturo #suguru #geto #romance #jjk #jujutsukaisen #gojoxreader #gojosaturoxreader #saturoxreader #animeromance #arrangemarriage #animeworld #annoyingparents #clans #love #marriage #fanfiction #getoxreader #jujutsukaisenxreader #sugurugeto #getoxreader #suguruxreader #fantasy #jujutsu #kaisen #femaleoc #japan #domestic #characterxreader #jjkanime #jjkmanga #lovers #reader #ff #oc jjk #gojousaturoxreader #angst #jjk #ff #socerer #manga #fluff #xreader

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To be continued...

[jurubay]

[mullermilkshake]

The Client list

<- Yakuza AU masterlist

Sukuna has a decision to make

Satoru takes out the trash/Suguru is late for dinner/Kento goes to make first contact

Sukuna holds a clan meeting

Suguru's troubles at the club/A gold band

Bridging the gap (Part of the client list arc)

Stuck boundaries (Part of the client list arc)

If anyone wants to be tagged for this arc, let me know :)

[onabatlle-2]

the suits will be the death of me, via sefutbolfem on twitter and ig story, 31/7/23

[havg02]

Pick a nyotalia character and get their childhood shows

Guess who found this little project that I was going to do until I got too lazy and just left it sitting in my saved files? Meeeeee lol. I thought it'd be fun if I made a game where ppl pick a character and get what childhood shows they'll get but.....Well tbh I won't be finishing it so there won't be part 2s. But at least I'll post what I've done so far! I hope you have fun doing this little game while scrolling past 😆

America

England

France

Korea

Spain

Japan

[slurpieshowdown-ss]

Hetatober 2024

Days 4 & 6: Nyotalia and Asian Country

I was really busy on the fourth, and I'm saving day 5's prompt for a prompt combo, but here's 4 and 6.

I forgot to post it here yesterday. But to anyone who doesn't believe this was done yesterday, I implore you to check r/hetalia (I posted it on time yesterday).

I originally wasn't gonna do a prompt combo for these, but I didn't like my original piece for Nyotalia too much. I'm still gonna post it, just not as my day 4 piece.

(full prompt list under the cut)