Today's Document
oozey mess
we're not kids anymore.
#extradirty
Love Begins
Cosimo Galluzzi
JVL
if i look back, i am lost
tumblr dot com
No title available
h
occasionally subtle
izzy's playlists!
pixel skylines
Not today Justin
No title available
Three Goblin Art
Sweet Seals For You, Always
No title available
ojovivo
seen from Türkiye
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Malaysia
seen from Indonesia
seen from Russia
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Lithuania
seen from Portugal
seen from Malaysia
seen from Belgium
seen from United States
seen from Indonesia
seen from Poland
seen from Malaysia
seen from Canada
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Spain
seen from United States
@coliessions
colie's collections compiled
jujustsu kaisen
𖤝 nanami kento
buy yourself flowers
nanami's letter
father's day?
𖤝 gojo satoru
gojo m.d.
missing flowers
with my boyfriend someday
𖤝 geto suguru
i tell everyone i love you
always open for prompts, suggestions, and thoughts through 'lmk 🌺' <33
O-O-O-OBSESSED!
Synopsis. When he’s gonna hit it, he’s gonna hit it till your mind breaks.
Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Ino x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem! reader, dúmbifícation, running from it, cervíx kíssing, matíng presses, PÚSSYDRÚNK JJK MEN, bréeding, GOJO’S POWERS, mentions of kíds, p talking, headIocks, true form Sukuna, dp, spítting, cúmplay, MEAN Geto, breaking the béd, p spánking, marathons, proposals, pet names, swéaring.
A/N. PHEW hoping you have the loveliest week <3
♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - 3 min. 12 secs
“Tch- where the hell do ya think you’re runnin’ off to, doll?”
Toji’s trapping both your droopy ankles with one dextrous set of his thick fingers, dragging you about halfway down the king-sized mattress in an instant. He’s oh-so-greedily pinning them over the curvaceous dip of his deltoids with a mean, sweat-slicked palm, “Don’t tell me yer hah- tapping out after only three minutes?”
Punctuating his filthy push and pull with a few syrupy thwack! thwack! thwacks! of his strawberry-pink tip down your sappy slit. He’s leaving generous wiry ribbons of pre that smudge and smear a pretty lipgloss as you clench.
“N-nooo m’not–” You’re shaking your dizzy head as urgently as you could, huffing at the utter teasing in Toji’s sleazy, dimpled smirk. “I’m just…”
But what could you even say at this point?
“Oh?” Toji’s letting his dark brows scrunch at your hypnotized silence, the way your gaze was practically plastered with little heart-eyes and- Oh. Oh. He can’t help but loosen a breathy snicker as the realization hits. “Already?”
Oikawa tooru mentioned
Puppy Princess - G.S.
Synopsis. A jester marrying a princess? Not even in the most terrible joke. Gojo Satoru has loved you ever since the first time he made you laugh, he’s loved you since you appointed him as your personal jester—and he’s loved you even when your royal engagement was announced. But if only a prince can marry a princess…maybe a jester can wreck it.
Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem!princess!reader, jester!Gojo, royalty AU, forbídden Iove, yearning, PLOT, hurt, best friends to Iovers, betrothaIs (not to Gojo), he’s so siIIy, and so in Iove, sad backstorìes, vìoIence and bIood (not to or from Gojo), rhymes, pranks, Naoya’s awfuI, hidden schemes, makeovers, masquerade baIIs, masks, somewhat CindereIIa-Iike, oraI (fem rec.), tongue f, fìngering, he’s PÚSSYDRÚNK, p taIking, pínching, bíting, spítting, ínappropriate use of the jester hat, he’s FÉRAL, raw, matíng presses, first times (for both), he’s BlG, making it fit, talking you through it, pushing down, dirty taIk, rhymes whilst he’s INSIDE, creampíes, cúmpIay, royal weddings, HAPPY ENDING, pet names, swéaring.
Word count. 16.8k
A/N. TO THE LOVELY BABYGIRLS THAT HAVE BEEN BEEEEGGING FOR THIS TROPE- and inspired by the very talented @/karolineprihodko on Tiktok <33
“A fool may sleep. A fool may sneer. A fool may ask why the princess is crying here?”
It’s so sudden that it stops your tears.
Crouched in a small passageway near the royal court. Between the gleaming armors upon display of Gakuganji the Great and Kashimo the Fierce. For a brief moment of madness; you think you must have imagined the lilting voice—almost melodic. Marvelous.
It’s one of the most beautiful things you’ve ever heard - even more so than the music wafting from the open doors of court, brought by the travelling circus that your palace was entertaining.
And then you’re hearing him again.
“Sob sob sob—for my princess is a crier. Dear Gojo here, shall set Yaga’s stache on fire—!”
That makes you finally lift your head out of your arms, with a laugh that is full-chested and unabashed. For the first time in a long…long time.
“What might your name be?” You ask the boy with the bright blue eyes, and an even brighter smile.
It's like breakfast in bed
── off the record ၇୧
꒰ summary ꒱ when a misunderstanding leaves your family convinced you’re bringing a plus one to your cousin’s wedding in Japan, the last person you expect to volunteer for the role is your infuriatingly observant intern, Satoru. it’s supposed to be temporary. professional. strictly off the record. but with your mother already sold on the idea of your mystery boyfriend, and Satoru proving far too good at the role, pretending starts to feel a little too dangerous. also, why is your “intern” secretly the heir to gojo corporation?!
꒰ tags/warnings ꒱ fake dating ⚹︎ undercover ceo! satoru ⚹︎ accountant! reader ⚹︎ satoru is 29, reader is 26 ⚹︎ lots of family pressure. reader has a complicated relationship with her mom ⚹︎ forced proximity ⚹︎ one bed trope ⚹︎ slow burn ⚹︎ mutual pining ⚹︎ wedding chaos ⚹︎ angst and fluff ⚹︎ some suggestive content but no explicit smut ⚹︎
꒰ authors note ꒱ hi cuties! this is a commission piece, and it is about 12k total. this first part is just shy of 6k and the second part will be out next week. i hope you enjoy 🫶🏻 (art by @/hanamin_0123 on x)
"Oi. Boss lady."
“No.”
One problem at a time, and the spreadsheet in front of you wins by default. Because Column F is wrong. It’s been wrong for forty fucking minutes, and if it stays wrong for forty seconds longer, you may actually die here at your desk — hunched over, half-blind, and found by Shoko on a Monday morning with your face pressed into a pivot table like a cautionary tale.
"But… you don't even know what I was gonna—"
"—the answer is no, Satoru."
Unlike the human embodiment of a headache currently lingering on the other side of your desk, the spreadsheet in front of you is at least pretending to be important.
The chair beneath him creaks, and then comes the silence you know too well. It’s the one that comes right before he decides to be a problem on purpose. Attention is gasoline and Satoru is, structurally, a fire hazard. Still, your eyes flick up, and—
"No fair…” he huffs, that ridiculous pout tugging at his lips. “You didn't even let me finish the question."
CAPABLE OF LOVE
Whether or not they meant to hurt you by saying it, they did. By the time they caught on, you were already changing to someone out of reach.
𝓬haracters: Sanji, ASL brothers, Shanks
tags: Angst & Comfort, some established relationship, accidental injury, WCI spoilers, no use of y/n, she/her pronouns.
song: capable of love - pinkpantheress
SANJI isn’t cruel because he stopped loving you, he’s cruel because he’s trying to. He truly believes pushing you away is the only way to protect you.
Even the day you needed his reassurance most.
“Don’t look at me like that.” He bit out, stepping his way into the carriage that took him to the humiliation of a marriage he didn’t even want.
“I was never going to choose you.”
Sanji is the man who worships the ground you walk on. The one who lights up just because you’re in the room. So why was he being like this?
The line between black and white became such a blur in your teary eyes. You’d straightened your back, fixed on anything but his face. “Understood.”
That’s the moment he’d realize he went too far, even if it was to keep you away. Because in the world he gets out of this alive, how could it possibly go back the way it was.
In short, it didn’t.
You fought just as hard as everyone else bringing him back, but you acknowledged him differently. No more soft glances across the table. No more eyes lingering when he smiles. No more quiet conversations you had with him in the kitchen.
Sanji can survive rejection.
He cannot survive being treated like he’s nothing special to you, he was barely clinging on from just a week of your silence.
—
You’re alone in the kitchen, cutting fruit. Not because you need to. Just because you don’t want to sit out there with everyone else, it was too cold, a bit too warm as well.
The knife presses into the peel of the orange, juice on your fingers.
Footsteps.
“..You’re going to cut yourself holding it like that,” he says softly, a hand gripping the edge of the counter near you, but never too close. "I’ll cut the rest, ma chérie."
“I’m fine.” You said, numb.
The knife slips, just like he said.
You hiss under your breath as the blade grazes your finger, blood trickling down your wrist. His hand wraps around your wrist instinctively, stopping the bleeding with a cloth he had.
“I told you,” he breathes, but his voice cracks around the word. “Your hands are too precious.”
You try to pull back, but he doesn’t let you.
"I'm fine." You tried again, but it was even less convincing than the first.
His heartbeat is fast, it’s the longest interaction you guys had. “Look at me.” he whispers into your ear, you felt your whole body shiver. “You can’t keep ignoring me like this.”
“Yes I can.” And you could, but you sadly weren’t so simple.
You try not to look at him, but it’s hard not to see straight when he’s the one holding you. When you looked up finally, you notice how his composure was gone, no elegance left. Your hand trembles against him.
“I thought if you hated me, you’d stay away. You’d be safe.” His thumb presses lightly over your knuckles. He already explained this before, the first day even.
“But that also meant you stopped loving me,” he continues, voice rough. You didn’t have the heart to correct him. “And I don’t know how to breathe when you do that.”
Tears formed in his eyes before yours, you could hear it in the way he breathed.
“I need you to look at me again,” he whimpers, a choke at the end. “Even if you’re angry. Even if you hit me. Just don’t treat me like I’m nothing.”
That’s his real fear.
His grip softens, but he doesn’t let go.
“I love you,” he says, steady now.
A shaky breath was let out, but this time it from you. “I hate you so much.” You breathed, but despite your words your head sinked into his shoulder. “You can be so cruel.”
In other words, I love you too, but I’m still mad.
He brought a hand to your back, hesitating before it settled there permanently.
SABO
The room had settled into an uneasy quiet.
Sabo had work stacked higher than usual, little casualties have been popping up and it’s been taking a toll on the moral of everyone.
You were there anyway, for him.
Your head laid against his desk, watching him with that soft patience he never seemed to earn but always received. When his ink slipped and a word smeared across the page, you let out a quiet laugh, already half stood to fetch him a fresh sheet.
But that was it for him.
“Don’t you have something to do?” He asked, it felt a lot more sharper than anything. He was tired, frayed at the edges. “Instead of hovering around me.”
Ah.
You blinked once, like you hadn’t quite processed it. Then you pushed yourself up slowly from the chair, the echo of it filling the silence. “I.. yeah.” A pause. Breath catching slightly. “I’ll see you around, Sabo.”
The door clicked shut.
At first, he told himself it was better this way, less pressure on both of you.
If anything, he thought it was a good change at first. You began matching him more, the work, the missions, the way you bit your pen when you thought.
You guys began living the same life style, but not in the same life.
When you passed him in corridors, your eyes didn’t linger anymore. No small smile. No teasing remark under your breath.
He started noticing things he hadn’t before.
How often you had been the one pulling him out of his own spiral. How often you had made the room feel less like an office and more like somewhere people could still breathe.
And now you weren’t doing that anymore.
Because of him.
He didn’t look at the chair at first. Because that chair was yours, literally. You brought it in a random day and it never left.
When he finally did, it stood out more than it should have, pulled close to his desk, slightly angled, like it had been part of the room’s routine. Like you had been still here with him.
Not once did he touch it, hoping one day you’d just be there.
And still, he didn’t say it to your face.
—
Koala didn’t bring it up gently, that wasn’t in her nature. She banged the desk, grabbing his attention fast.
He stared, a bit shock.
“Sabo, the girl used to live in your presence.” she scolding pulling his cheek, hard. He whined a bit. “She could barely even joke with you without worrying you’d push her away again!”
His fingers tightened slightly against the paper in his hands, the worst part was this was something he didn’t even think about.
Koala exhaled, softer now but no less firm. “Can’t you see how much she’s doing for you?”
His gaze drifted from her, back to the chair.
—
It took him longer than it should’ve to find you. Not because you were avoiding him, you weren’t. You were exactly where you always were, but still completely different.
When he stepped into the room, you didn’t look up. Not even once.
He brought a chair with him, it scraped across the floor like any wood on wood interaction. You paused for half a second, then kept writing. He brought it closer anyway and sat right beside you.
Then he leaned forward until he could rest his head on his arm against the edge of your desk. That made your pen stop, but you still didn’t look at him. He exhaled through his nose, something almost bitter at himself.
“I keep thinking about that day,” he admitted, eyes fixated on something near your hand. “Your presence was never the problem, I should’ve never made you think it was. If anything, I was.”
Silence stretched again, but he knew you were listening at least. He shifted his body, slower this time, and rested his head fully on your desk. “I don’t want this version of us to be the only one that exists,” he said quietly.
Then, after a breath that sounded rough, “I don't want this to be it.”
Finally, you did look at him, head tilted slightly to his side. Your eyes were much duller now, they looked tired, much more tired than him. He noticed your chapped lips, messy hair, bruised finger. All of his faults.
You saw apologies you never thought could be said through just an expression.
Carefully, he reached up and let his fingers slip into your hair, smoothing the ends. Holding on to you in anyway he can, and you leaned into it, not completely.
Because you were still here.
And this time, he wasn’t going to act like that didn’t matter.
ACE -
You popped up behind Ace with a bright yelp, grabbing both his shoulders hard enough to jolt him forward. He gasped, nearly dropped what he was holding before realizing it was you. “You trying to kill me?”
“Not yet.” You stepped back dramatically, hands on your hips while you turned side to side. “For now, answer me. How do I look?” You asked, looking up with a mischievous grin.
You’d actually tried to impress him. Fixed your hair. Change your outfit. Put effort into it. The kind of effort that makes your stomach twist because you care who’s looking. You cared if he was looking.
Ace blinked, looked once, then again. “It’s.. different.”
Different.. what does that mean?
Silence.
You waited, but nothing followed.
“..Thanks.” You smiled anyway, a tight one that fought to frown. He nodded like he’d done his job, walking away with a silent goodbye.
It was fine, didn’t matter.
You told yourself you can move on, but all you remember that night was scrubbing your face, throwing the clothes, and never considered doing it again for your own sake. Why? Because you cared too much.
The next day, you wore something that didn’t risk that embarrassing pause. It was dull, something you found in the back of the laundry. You didn’t even like how it looked.
And when the days followed, you began expressing that same color.
Ace didn’t even think anything about it, he didn’t mind as long as you were comfortable. He thought you were, he really did.
—
Izou started off softly, a genuine worry masked as an innocent question. “What happened to her cute outfits?” He asked, leaning against the wall. “I wanted to learn a thing or two.”
Ace stiffened, then thought about it. Really thought about it, or specifically that day. He remembered the way you’d looked at him, hopeful. Expecting something more than a passing comment.
And yeah. He’d panicked.
Not because you looked bad, because you looked good. It was different in a way that made his brain short circuit and his mouth betray him.
But it was the fact he didn’t correct himself instantly is what brought him here.
He realizes that change you made wasn’t for comfortability, but because Ace was dumb enough to not notice.
That you did it for him.
—
Ace found you later, leaning against the railing, a hint of déjà vu from when you met him here days ago. It took you a second to register him, and even then you were pretty dismissive.
He stood there awkwardly. “That thing you wore the other day.”
You froze but kept your voice low, avoiding that hopefulness in your throat. “Yeah?”
“It wasn’t bad.”
You stared at him, the wind pushing a strands of your hair across your face the longer he waited, he wasn’t even close to grasping how small he might look like right.
"You.." He looked away from you, tapping on the railing with this restless motion. “You looked good.”
That was his honesty, that was his a dirty secret. God he was pathetic.
“I’m not good at pretty words,” he admitted. “But I don’t ever want you thinking I don’t like the way you are. Or the way you try. I..” He swallowed. “I really liked it.”
There it was.
Your smile came easier this time, still small, a little bit hesitant. “Why’d it take so long to say it?”
He gave you a look, accepting every step he was allowed. “I know.” He kicked lightly at the deck, looking at you softly. "My favorite was two weeks ago, definitely that one. I noticed my name on your nails—.”
“Shut up.”
LUFFY -
You used to talk with your whole body. You’d lean into him without thinking, knee knocking his, like you guys were kids again. “But he still lives,” you said chuckling, smiling down at the page. “He’s a pretty tragic character, I didn’t expect it to get so dark.”
You looked up and Luffy wasn’t looking at you.
“Oh,” he muttered. “That’s cool.” The wind filled the silence. You waited for the follow up he’d ask. The confused question. Anything. He sighed, “Ya’ done yet?”
You smiled like your feelings weren’t hurt.
“Yeah, there wasn’t much.” you said, the book closing with a soft thud. He didn’t notice how small you sounded. “I’ll see you later, Luffy.”
That was the last time you went to him with a chapter still warm in your hands.
And he didn’t worry about it.
Luffy didn’t notice absences the way other people did, mainly because you guys were apart of the same crew, so that distance wasn’t much. But, he’d look to his side sometimes, expecting your elbow in his ribs.
He didn’t know why that bothered him, not yet.
—
The ship stopped at a new island for a restock. Luffy walked down the stands, a certain group catching his eye. It was a book promotion, about the one you wouldn’t shut up about.
He tried to remember the last time you wouldn’t shut up about anything.
The last time you’d tugged on his sleeve. The last time you’d sat next to him with that look in your eyes like you were about to explode with something you couldn’t keep in.
Robin watched his expression shift. Watched the confusion settle, then the sadness. “Luffy,” she said carefully, “when’s the last time she talked to you about a book?”
That caught him off guard.
He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
Luffy tried again. “She.. she hasn’t lately.” He stated quietly, and that felt weird to say. You guys talked daily still, that wouldn't change. But it wasn't the same.
Robin tilted her head. “Hasn’t? Or stopped?”
The noise of the market suddenly felt far away.
He replayed it, you on the deck, smiling down at the page. He remembered saying it, but he didn’t remember what your face looked like after.
And that was all it took for him to run back to the ship.
_
He reached the library, breathless by the time he opened the door. You stared at him in disbelief, watching as he stubbornly sat right next to you with his hands in his lap. You pulled the book in your hand closer.
“Something wrong?” You mumbled, each inch you leaned back was an extra two inches he leaned in.
“Tell me about the book.”
You blinked. “What?”
“I want you to ramble to me again.” He whined, a frustrated hand trembling in his lap.
“You were the one who looked bored.” You stated bluntly, ending with a sigh. "You don't have to listen—“
“But I’m not!” He retorted instantly, a slight crack in his voice. “I miss it when you came to me. I know, I struggle to look interested.. and sometimes I get distracted.” He began the useless rambling. “But! But.. I really like when you get excited.”
You both stared at each other for seconds too long. He wasn’t done talking, but he wanted to know if you were still waiting for him. Your gaze softened, feeling a light tremble in your lips.
So he continued.
“I don’t know why.” He frowned, answering the question your face expressed. “But still, I remember things. Like how you like uh.. uhm laya’s..”
“Laios.”
Your favorite, he knew him despite his selective memory.
SHANKS -
“You’re not the only woman in the world.” Shanks gave a low chuckle into his drink like it was nothing worth holding onto.
His shoulder brushed yours on purpose, fingers lazily grazing your hand as if he already expected you not to pull away.
“A man like me can’t be tied down.”
Translating to, he doesn't want anything serious.
The words should’ve been light, it was a joke after all. But every joke had an underlining truth, like when he said it to you. You stared at him for a second too long, jaw locking as you forced out a scoff. “I’m not trying to tie you down.”
You pushed back from the table. The chair scraped. “I’m going to the ship.”
He didn’t say anything, eyes lashes fluttering as he watch you slowly leave through the door.
After that, nothing changed for him for the following month. It looked like that at least.
You stopped letting him touch you, everytime he nuzzled your face, wrap his hands around your waist, you would brush him off. He would flirt with you at times, and you stared at him in silence until it got too awkward- and so on.
All the dumb shit you used to put up with all because you liked him.
And it got to him.
Shanks brushed a finger against the table, a long strained groan leaving his lips. He misses you, but in a weird way where you were there, but just not his to take. He didn’t notice what changed, not yet.
He laughed at that thought, not even realizing no other woman besides you has been in his mind for as long as this, as desperately as this.
“Shanks.”
He jumped out of thought, slowly turning around to face Beckman. “..yes?”
“Quite frankly we don’t care about your woman life. It’s not our business.” He was honest, brutally honest, and somehow the emperor knew what was coming already. “But don’t be surprised when you treat the girl like a one night stand and she doesn’t put up with you.”
Shank’s blinked, mouth slightly parting with nothing coming out.
“I wouldn’t—” But he did, that’s exactly what it sounded like that night. He swallowed whatever spot was in his mouth. “She doesn’t want me.”
Excuses.
“She did want you, Shank’s.” He huffed, light frustration in the tone of his voice, translating it from a womanizer to a yearner. “So do something about it, yeah?”
—
You were sitting on a crate, head tipped back toward the sky, pretending you weren’t waiting for anything. He stopped behind you, far from silently.
You finally looked up, meeting a sullen look in his eyes, it looked like regret. “Captain?”
“I haven’t had a one night stand in weeks.” He whispered, like he was trying to joke and failed halfway through.
Huh.
You only chuckled, the one people force. “A fuck isn’t happening,” you said sharply, standing up. “Nice try, though.”
“What? No.” He stepped forward too fast. “That’s not what I meant.”
You blinked, a part of you shaken from his rare honesty. Or rather you were afraid of it. “Then what was it?”
“I’m sorry.”
Your hands tightened at your sides, you knew exactly where this was coming from, and you weren’t ready for it.
“I miss when you looked at me, not like others.” He exhaled, annoyed with himself. “I like when it’s just us, I don’t care what you call it, or what it was. I just..”
He stopped, but he was already too far in.
“I want you close,” he said instead, simpler. “Not like everyone else.”
But nothing was matching up with what he’s said already.
“I thought I couldn’t tie you down.” You breathed, a hitch in your throat.
How gazed softened, finding somewhere to leave his hands that wasn’t on you, he landed on his belt. It wouldn't be necessary though. “I was wrong—“
Your hand lifted before you could think, pressing against his mouth to stop him from saying something else that would undo you.
Shank’s eyes deepened, unexpectedly, he caught your wrist.
He held it there, slowly kissing your palm with a softness you didn’t know he had in himself. It was something he’d been trying not to do for a long time.
“I’ll make it right,” he said against your hand, voice low.
You didn’t forgive him, but you didn’t walk away either. And he made sure you’d never regret that decision of letting him closer again.
A/N: I hope everyone saw that dungeon meshi sneak and started cheering like how I did. Thank u for readinggg this was actually really fun to write
Ah shit, here we go again...
WE CAN'T BE BLAMED WHEN THEY KEEP BAITING
He’s not jealous.
Gojo Satoru does not get jealous.
Never.
No, he is not seething that his baby refuses to say dada.
“dada.”
“mama!”
“no. dada.”
“..mama!”
A vein pops in his forehead. His gut is bubbling with the same green churning ooze that always overflows when his wife haggles with a vendor among the farmers markets and their eyes drift down too low.
“…dada.” He attempts again.
“..mama!”
He droops his head against her chubby tummy. Immediately, her pudgy potato hands come to grip at his hair, cooing happily at his warmth.
“I’ve fed you the same banana puree for months.” Satoru murmurs.
“I change your diapers eight times a day. Eight.”
“I adjust your blankie too many times every night because you hate it when it covers your face.”
“I gave you my last strawberry edition mochi yesterday. And you still won’t say dada.” He’s begging at this point. He lifts his head up to peer at her big doe eyes, only to melt again when he’s met with the exact same eyes that he fell in love with many moons ago. He lets out a droopy sigh, before blowing a small raspberry on her chubby tummy, eliciting a happy squeal from her.
And to further make him grumpy, you casually pad in from the other room to visit the duo- an innocent smile etched on your face, unaware of your husband’s inner turmoils. As soon as your slippers cross the boarders of the nursery, she’s zoom-crawling towards you with a speed akin to a little ant finding a crumb.
Satoru bangs his head against the play mats, “Autocracy wins again.”
Yes, he is indeed jealous.
“Draw your favorite character with your problems” ok sukuna king of curses can you overcome studying for a managerial accounting final ?
Accounting mentioned
Hello! I was wondering if you could create a scenario with Law, Crocodile, Kid, and more characters of your choice if you want, featuring the one bed hotel trope x fem reader where they end up accidentally cuddling. (I’m a sucker for this trope </3)
I don’t have any specifics for the other characters, but for Crocodile can you include some smut. That man is so fine and so underrated oml
Please, and I love you’re writing so much you’re amazing <33
One Bed
fem!reader
characters: law, crocodile, kid
a/n: sorry for the wait! I tried to make them have all different vibes so control each "tags" + for crocodile I'm not really confident when I write about him so please don't mind if it might be a bit out of character (also I made it suggestive but not smut for that reason)
word count: around 1.3k - 1.5k each
anime m.list || ao3 || ko-fi || requests list
── .✦ Law:
tags: wano arc, fake marriage, undercover, slow burn, tension, awkward romance, humor, close proximity
HELLO
Nerdjo during finals week where he’s studying so much—that it gets to the point where he CAN’T remember his answers. His brain’s too overworked, so what’s one to do? Dive between your Iegs, of course. Nerdjo who studies for finals by Ietting himself reach his peak only if - if - he gets the answer to a question right. Double points if he can come up with the points to an essay question on the spot- that means he gets to stuff his dribbling sap inside. Nerdjo who hates failing, but ironically doesn’t mind when you fail him…because that just means you edge him for the next half an hour until he gets the answer right.
The finals season cope is getting so real...
the pretty one?- zuko tags: arranged marriage
“Zuko?” Your voice is faint from the other side of the heavy wooden doors separating the main bed chamber from the bathing room where Zuko now stands, dressing in his night clothes freshly washed from the day's grime.
He calls back, a soft sound of your name to let you know he has heard, that he isn’t ignoring you or something untoward and tries to hurry, wringing the water from his hair in a way that would have once had his mother scolding him, but he rushes nonetheless, eager to answer your call. Your relationship is still new, the betrothal and subsequent marriage just barely reaching the three-month mark, and it had only been within the last few weeks that you had stopped referring to him as Firelord and opted for a softer, warmer call of his name instead. Zuko does not blame you, though. In all the years he had known of you as the youngest daughter of a nobleman, you had never wanted to be married, never desired a life within the palace walls so much so that you had trained alongside his sister for a brief period as children, had studied history and culture instead of embroidery and floral arrangements, anything that would further seperate you from a version of yourself that could be a wife one day and yet, here you had ended up and you had blamed it entirely on your Firelord.
It had been in passing, an offhand comment made about you to an advisor at the mention of you in a meeting that had nothing to do with the predicament of trying to find Zuko a wife; in fact, the conference was about sending diplomatic officials into the far-reaching water tribes to broker peace and future trade deals. Your name had been suggested as an option, nothing out of the ordinary, your past performance as a diplomat caused no cause for alarm amongst the advisors, but it was Zuko's soft question of you that had the men talking.
"She facilitated the previous negotiations of the eastern earth tribe last year," an advisor pointed a crooked finger at the map, the small village at the edge of the map. "You know her father."
Zuko stared at the map, trying to rack his brain as to who you were. The name was familiar, almost too, but he had yet to place it.
The official gave your family name, and the synapses in the firelord's brain connected.
"The pretty one?" There was no warmth or familiarity in Zuko's tone, only cold, hard facts as he asked.
"I- I believe so," the advisor stammered and clarified. "The youngest."
"Yes, the pretty one." Zuko nodded, rubbing at his jaw as he studied the map, the thought of you flitting from his mind just as quickly as it had appeared, and continued with the meeting, his attention diverted to a farm dispute on the border of his kingdom and while he paid you no mind beyond a wuick thought upon your triumphant return three weeks later, the officials and advisors at his side had not stopped thinking about you and how the firelord had called you pretty.
Zuko regretted telling you that fact. It had meant to be a way to break the tension as you both sat on the edge of his too-big bed on your wedding night, still cloaked in the traditional gowns and jewellery. He thought you might laugh, talk about how funny the situation was, maybe even spare him a glance, and you did, but it was one of fury. Instead of laughing with him, you had raged, turned red in your cheeks as you stripped yourself of your wedding gown, crown thrown at his feet in a huff as you blamed him for your situation, calling him reckless and stupid, that if he had kept his mouth shut, you would not have been tied to a man, tied to the obligation of a firelady. You could live the life you had wanted and worked so hard for. You did not see or speak to him for a week after the revelation, too angry to form coherent sentences that didn't involve some variation of a curse and yet your husband did not push, did not try to initiate contact beyond a simple hello in the morning or goodbye at night, and while that should have irritated you more, fueled your rage into a wildfire, it did the opposite. Your apology came in the form a letter on his pillow nine days after the wedding. A truce, a white flag admists the red of rage.
That had been seven weeks ago. Seven weeks of shared meals and walks through the palace, late night talks, and perhaps too many bottles of fire wine. Seven weeks of your relationship had blossoming from nothing into something one would consider romantic.
Zuko finds you in bed as he finally exits the bathroom, your body sprawled out over silk sheets as your hands rub circles over your lower belly.
"Is everything okay?" he asks tentatively, stopping at the edge of the mattress, two fingers tracing the soft material of the bedding. "Do you need me to call someone? Did you eat something bad?"
You open an eye to peer up at him, your mouth pulling into a soft pout. "No."
"No, everything is not okay, or no, you don’t need me to call someone?"
"Both," you groan, shifting to your side, hands clutching at your abdomen.
The silk of your night gown shifts over your body, pulling tight at your hips and thighs, the plushness hidden beneath the thin material on display in such a way that Zuko had to quickly divert his gaze to avoid blushing ten thousand shades of red. You really are pretty.
"Can I ask something of you?" Your voice muffled by the pillow you have buried your face in.
"Anything." Zuko drops to his knees at the edge of the bed, all pretence of the great firelord gone as he reaches a hand out to you, the back of his fingers brushing over your cheek. He feels your skin heat at his touch.
There is a moment of quiet as you gather your courage to ask.
"Can you-" you smile as Zuko pushes hair behind your ear. "The compresses the healers gave me aren't working, and neither are the teas," you rush to explain, rolling onto your back once again. "Can you just hold your hand over my stomach and heat me up, please?"
Zuko blinks, trying to make sense of the request. You are clearly in pain if you required the healers, but not enough to warrant another visit, but you hadn't eaten anything that had made you sick, so what could be causing- oh.
"I'm sorry I've embarrassed you, I'll just visit the-" you begin, rising from the bed, cheeks flushed bright as you notice the hesitation in Zuko.
His hand on your stomach stops you from moving any further.
"It's not embarrassing. I'm your husband," Zuko begins to heat his skin, pressing down on your clothed skin. "This is the least I can do with all the pain you go through."
Heat spreads through his palm and fingers and your body instantly relaxes under his touch, the warmth already easing the pain. A hand reaches out for his other, and you're hauling him up onto the bed, snuggling into his side as you search for more.
Zuko's heart begins to stutter at the closeness. You had never been this close, especially not with the thinness of your night clothes.
"If this is too much, tell me, and we can stop," you whisper against his chest, your lips brushing the exposed skin of his collarbone.
"Not too much." He takes in a staggered breath but shakes his head, free hand coming up to cradle the back of your head, fingers weaving through hair.
"But if it becomes-" you try.
Zuko uses the leverage and tugs your head back, gaze focused on him as he stares down at you.
"It won't."
Your bottom lip quivers and you’re quick to tamp it down with your teeth. He has come to learn that unlike most people when they get sad and their bottom lip wobbles, yours does that when you’re happy too. Just before you’re about to smile and not the kind that you make when you see your friends or are politely addressing someone else but the kind that rarely comes out when you’re emotional, when you’re feeling so happy you feel it leaking into sadness. The first time it had happened Zuko panicked, thinking he had upset you but as you grabbed his face in your too small hands and stroked his cheeks, you explained your strange quirk and how it wasn’t something bad but entirely the opposite.
“You’re doing it again.” He points out, digging his fingers into your scalp.
You hum, eye slipping closed at his ministrations. “Doing what?”
“The happy frown”
“Yeah, well I have my firelord acting as own personal heating bag.” you tease, leaning further into his hand.
Zuko pouts this time. “Firelord?”
Eyes flicker open as you smile up at him, fingers gripping the front of his shirt.
“i have my husband acting as my own personal heating bag. Better?”
“Perfect.”
a/n: first ever zuko fic, wow crazy times around here. idk how to end this i think i wanna write a bigger fic with the dynamics between the two
\( ᐖ)/ heianera!sukuna’s wife has been ignoring him, and he won’t have it
“Has she eaten?”
Uraume stands reverently at Sukuna’s side, flat gaze fixed ahead of them. “No, My lord. She has yet to leave her quarters.”
Sukuna grunts something under his breath, then dismisses his attendant who shuffles across the threshold of the lattice frame doors and disappears past the translucent sheets.
It’s quiet. Especially without your routine complaints or gossip of the shrine’s happenings. His breakfast tastes notably pungent this morning, the fisherman who refused to pay tribute at this month’s offering no longer as appetizing as he looked when he begged for mercy at Sukuna’s feet. Like a petulant child, he pushes his tray away from him and gathers his kimono to hoist himself up.
You haven’t said a word to him in three days. Any longer and the two of you might never speak again.
It’s juvenile—offering your Lord the cold shoulder like some inconsolable child. For fuck’s sake, he’s the strongest sorcerer in history. The undisputed King of Curses. Why is his attention anchored on a mere spiff? A lover’s quarrel?
No. He will sort this once and for all.
You’ve had enough time to sort out your emotions. The two of you will speak again today if he has a say in it. Which he does.
Promptly, he arrives outside your chambers. There’s not a sound coming from inside. For all he knows, you were assassinated in your sleep, stubborn and set on sleeping in separate rooms.
enjin won't let his favorite cleaner escape his sight that easily
a/n: no spoilers, but takes place in the doll festival arc. pure fluff.
The October air whistled through the throngs of fully costumed people swarming the cobblestone streets.
"Yo, the party's this way! Keep up, would ya?" Enjin puts his palm on your back, making sure you keep up with him.
The lack of chokers provided little relief from your leader's irritating voice.
"I seem to be the only one that remembers our mission—"
You're cut off by your own screech as a masked man flails his pale arms in your face. Had Enjin not held you by your right wrist, you would have cracked the man's face in half.
"IT'S THE DOLL FEST-I-VAAALLLLLL!" August gets so close you can make out his excited eyes behind his sunglasses. "I DIDN'T MAKE ALL THESE FITS SO YOU COULD JUST WORK IN 'EM! GET YOUR GROOVE ON!"
You open your mouth to argue when you promptly shut it just as fast. Having a simple conversation with the Cleaners' wardrobe designer is about as easy as it is to get Enjin to not piss you off.
Your shoulders slump in defeat. There's no chance anyone will stop shopping or gawking at the displays of magic around them. Enjin's stupid grin widens, small dimples indenting the smooth skin of his cheeks.
"You heard the man," Enjin drags you to the next stall. "Let's get our groove on."
"𝑴𝒂𝒚𝒃𝒆 𝒘𝒆'𝒍𝒍 𝒈𝒆𝒕 𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒅 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒅𝒂𝒚 𝒐𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒍𝒍 𝒃𝒆 𝒎𝒚 𝒌𝒊𝒅'𝒔 𝒇𝒂𝒗𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒐𝒕𝒃𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒆𝒓, 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒘𝒉𝒐 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘𝒔."
~ Synopsis: you broke it off with the bllk boys many years ago. But it seems they just won't leave you alone: how else would you justify the fact that your children's favorite football player, out of all players in the world, is your ex?
~ Characters: Meguru Bachira, Sae Itoshi, Michael Kaiser
~ Aged up characters!! They're all around 28-35 here, including you!!
~ A/N: ABSOLUTELY OOC KAISER UGH
~ Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt3
Meguru Bachira
You knew you shouldn't have let your son create a TikTok account.
It didn't look harmful at first. Just a 9 year old who wanted to show off his football skills to the world - and what kind of mother would you be if you didn't support his dream of being a football player?
Haruto loved football. He really did: from the moment he woke up to the moment he fell asleep at night, soccer plagued his thoughts and actions - and you loved it. You were proud of him. He was good - amazing, even. His dribbling skills resembled those of a "Joga bonito", and he played like it was a dance: with passion and ginga and everything that made you remember him.
It hurt at first. You were reluctant on agreeing to sign him up for soccer lessons, but you did anyways, not wanting to let your own silly emotions get in the way of your son's happiness - and you regretted nothing. It made him smile, and you'd do anything in your power to make your Haruto happy.
Looking back, maybe you should've established some limits though.
You remember it clearly: the day he asked you if you could help him create a social media account. You asked what was it for, and he said he wanted to "show his dribbling and his skills to the whole world". You thought hard about it, but ultimately decided that, if you monitored it, there was no reason not to do it.
He began posting. The account grew gradually but significantly - and, by the end of the account's sixth month, he already had 50k followers.
Huh. Maybe your kid was better than you first thought.
He recorded many things. From tutorials to random game highlights to match analysis - the kid clearly had talent.
Recently, though, he started a series of videos that got more views than the other contents on his account.
"Day 5 of showing off my skills until Barcelona FC notices me"
You thought it would lead to nothing, honestly. Not to discourage your own son, but Barcelona was a big team. They probably had many things to do, and watching some random kid's videos was not that important.
But hey, you thought it was cute, so you let him keep posting them.
You couldn't have possibly imagined that on day 57, Barcelona would actually comment.
"Mom!" You heard your son shout from his room while you watched your favorite movie "Mom, mom, mom! Come here!"
"Can't you just shout from there, sweetie?" You really didn't want to go up the stairs right now. You were just so comfortable on the sofa! Was it really a crime to have a lazy day once in a while?
"Barcelona commented on my video!"
Aaand you were up in a moment, blanket thrown across the living room and quickly running to Haruto's room
"What?!"
"Come look!" He gave you the phone and started running laps across the room.
Official_barcelona: Joga bonito🔥🔥👀
You were stunned.
"What the- how did you- why would they-"
"Eeeek isn't this so amazing mom?!" He hugged you "I can't believe it actually worked!"
You started smiling too
"It is, sweetie" you turned off the phone. Then, you kissed your son's forehead, secretly very proud of him "Now, what's the next series you want to record, huh?"
His grin widened (if it was even possible), and he began rocking his feet back and forth, hopeful eyes looking up to you
"I already know what we're gonna do!" He ran to his wardrobe and pulled out a jersey that made your smile instantly drop "'Dribbling until Bachira notices me'! What do you think, mom?"
Oh yeah, forgot to mention. Meguru Bachira, Barcelona's all star player, is your ex. And also your son's favorite football player.
It's not like you actively introduced Haruto to Bachira. He just naturally gravitated towards him, like everything and everyone else seemed to do - like you did, too, in the past.
Your relationship with Bachira didn't end in bad terms. You didn't really expect him to be so mature about it, but I guess your time together really helped in teaching hum how to take a more serious approach sometimes. You just decided, together, that it would be best to break it off. His carrer was too demanding, and you were a little too much of a coward to go on with your relationship. You didn't know if you could take the loneliness, the uncertainty, the lows.
You never stopped loving him, and he never stopped loving you. Looking back, you were kinda embarrassed about being such a pussy and not fighting for the relationship, but thinking about the past isn't gonna change anything, is it?
What matters is the present. And the future. And Haruto is your future.
You weren't sure about how to go through the pregnancy first. To get your mind off of Bachira, you had many one night stands. None of them made you feel even slightly close to how he made you feel, but they helped you forget, at least for a while.
It all stopped when you started feeling dizzy. You didn't even remember the father's name (you didn't even know who it was, actually), and maybe that's why, when you saw the two lines, you pathetically gripped your bathroom's sink while repeating Meguru's name over and over (or maybe it wasn't only that. Maybe you were really ashamed of running and just wanted him back. Who knows).
It looked like your whole life flashed beside your eyes. You felt like everything was ending - like you were hanging by a single thud.
But time heals all wounds - and your close ones help, too. As the months passed, you started to love your little baby boy more and more. Your mom helped, your dad supported you, your cousins bought clothes and diapers. You could count on them. That's how you managed to survive nine whole months.
And that's why Haruto was so dear to you. You wanted to give him the best life ever - not only because the help you got made you see how important people that care are, but also because you took solace in each other. Being a single mom wasn't easy, but Haruto made it feel like it mattered. Like you could do it. Like there was a reason to fight.
That's why you didn't hesitate that much on agreeing. On starting the new series.
You helped him record the first one. And the second. And by the tenth day, seeing your son's efforts, you were really hoping it would work.
You just didn't think it would be so soon.
On the twelveth day, you receiver a call from a random number. You didn't think much of it at first, really. But the moment the person on the other side of the line introduced themselves as "One of Barcelona's PR managers", you started to grow agitated.
When they said they were willing to arrange a meeting, you felt like you were going to faint. When they ended the call after giving you a date and an address, you thought you were dreaming.
But you weren't. And that's how you found yourself where you are right now, in front or Barcelona's headquarters, all the way in Spain.
"Wait right here, miss" the kind secretary who was giving you a tour pointed to a big and clearly expensive sofa on the HQ's waiting room "I'll go call Mr. Bachira."
"Sure" you said, a little to quick for your liking "Sure. I'll wait"
She smiled at you and went off to God knows where, and you sat on the couch.
Your son, clearly, didn't do the same.
More like he couldn't. He was so, so excited about all of this - he even came dressed as Bachira. Same hair, his jersey, even the cleats were similar.
Bachira.
You were seriously freaking out. He didn't even know he was going to see you again. How would he react? Would he refuse to see Haruto because of you? Would he smile upon seeing you again? Frown? Call you by your name? Your surname? Don't acknowledge you at all?
Now you were the one growing agitated. Your leg was bouncing up and down, and you stared chewing your nails - a bad habit of yours. It got you a point where even Haruto noticed it and gently asked if you were alright - and that's when you pulled yourself together...
...for a grand total of 5 minutes. The moment the door opened and the same secretary from before called you in, the churning on your stomach got back.
You reached for Haruto's hand. Each step seemed heavier than the other, like you were walking right into a trap. A trap you set up yourself, one you couldn't escape from.
Haruto went through the door first. You heard him yell his idol's name, and you could sense the smile on his face.
You were going to walk into the room too. But the moment you heard his voice, you pathetically stopped.
"Hey, little dude!"
It was the same voice. The same excited tone you grew to love. The carefree way of speaking that made you feel like nothing could potentially go wrong.
The memories came crashing out all together. How you met, your first date, when you went to meet his mom. The exact shape of his lips, the glimmer in his eyes, the blond of his hair that you loved so much.
"Miss [Surname]?" The kind secretary rested her hand on your shoulder, a worried expression on her face "Are you feeling alright?"
You heard the excited chatter inside stop. For a moment, you could only hear the air conditioner working and your own stupid heart, beating so fast you actually thought it would pop with out of your chest.
Then, from inside the room, came a low whisper that made your breath get caught in your throat.
"...[Surname]?"
Timed seemed to still. You heard quick footsteps coming towards the door, almost like someone was running in it's direction. Then, the steps came to a halt, and you saw him.
The same hair, just a little longer. He was a bit taller, too. But he was the same. And, for a moment, you felt like your 15 year old self again.
"[Surname]." He repeated himself, staring at you intensely. You tried to look anywhere else - your eyes scanned through his shocked expression and paused on the way his knuckles were white from how strongly he was gripping the doorframe. You couldn't look at him. You couldn't breath. Couldn't think of anything that wasn't him, him and him.
It's a shame you didn't look up. If you did, you would have seen the way his eyes brimmed with tears, and how a smile appeared on his face. Not one of his exaggerated ones - a gentle one, reserved only for you.
"[Name]..." You looked up when you heard him say your name. Your own eyes filled with unshed tears that begged to be let out. You couldn't speak, but you didn't need to. He always understood what you wanted to say, even when you said nothing. Your silence spoke to him.
He took a step forward.
Then another.
And that's all it took for him to cover the distance between you and pull you in a long needed hug.
You inhaled deeply. He still used the same perfume, and it calmed you. It was still him. Right in front of you, again.
"Meguru..." You finally found the strength to whisper, and his hold around you only tightened. You felt your shoulder getting wet, and you could feel his shoulder moving up and down too.
He pulled away, much to your dismay, and stared at you straight in the eyes. He was crying. His eyes red and his nose stuffed and you still thought you've never seen him look more handsome. More yours.
He rested his hand on your cheek. It was shaking, you noticed. He was shaking. Like your presence affected him the same you his affected you.
"You're here" he muttered "You're back."
"I never left" you smiled at him. He pulled you into a hug again.
You didn't kiss, but the hug you shared was much more affectionate than any kiss could possibly be. It spoke everything left unsaid: I won't leave again. I missed you. I can't believe you're back.
His hands shakily traveled every inch of you. From your head to your face to your waist, like he was trying to convince himself you were real. That you were there with him, and it wasn't a dream like the many ones he had before.
The moment looked like it came straight out of a very well written novel. The secretary was crying, the other players were watching from a distance - even the bodyguards were letting out a few sighs and portly hidden sobs.
None of them dared to interrupt.
"Hey!"
None of them, except one.
Haruto was watching the scene with an excited smile, jumping up and down.
"Are mom and Bachira dating, now?"
You laughed and stared at Bachira. His eyes weren't looking at you, though - he was staring at your left hand, looking for something. A ring. Anything that told him he needed to stop.
He found none. So, he just laughed and kissed your forehead.
"Not yet, kiddo" he then smirked at Haruto, crouching down to his height "But hey, if you want me to become your dad, throw in a good word for me with your mom, yeah?"
Safe to say Haruto wouldn't shut up about Bachira now. But it's not like he needed to do any propaganda for you.
You already knew exactly what you were getting into. And you loved it.
Sae Itoshi
Sae thought you and him were endgame.
He never had any interest in relationships or whatsoever, but you?
You were a whole other deal.
Sae thought you were a match made in heaven, even if he didn't believe in fate, soulmates and those other silly things. Actually, scratch that - he knew you both belonged together. The same way the sun needs the moon and the sea needs the earth, you couldn't exist without each other. It would break the laws of nature. There was a stronger force connecting both your souls and merging then until they became one.
That's why he didn't want to believe you when you said he was changing. He knew he was not the same - his failed relationship with Rin proved that -, but his feelings for you still remained - his love for you was there. He's never had an easy time expressing what he feels, but you never seemed to have a problem with it. So why were you bringing this up now? Right as he was about to ask you to move in with him to his apartment in Madrid? Right as he was about to ask you to be a part of his routine? Of his life?
The break up was rough. You screamed. He threw words around as if they were spears, and shot then straight where it hurts. He called you selfish, stupid and dumb. You said he was irresponsible, avoidant and ignorant. Something about how you were "Not feeling like a priority".
He looked at you as if what you said was the biggest lie he's ever had.
That's when it hit you: he didn't realize he was straight up ignoring you.
Of course he didn't. He never noticed anything about you. And, somehow, that hurt even more.
You loved Sae. You really did, but it was clear he didn't have time for you anymore. Calls became rarer until they stopped happening all together, special dates were forgotten, his texts got drier. You felt like you were the other woman - and the first one was football. His career. Spain. It would always be anything but you.
He changed. And your relationship changed with him.
They say love can fix everything, but you quickly realized it can't. It can't when there no passion, no feeling of commitment and responsibility. You didn't feel like a priority, and honestly, you really weren't.
Sae thought he could manage it. He thought you wouldn't ever leave - you loved him too much for that. But love's not a feeling - it's a choice, and he wasn't choosing you. That much was clear.
So, you choose yourself. You left. You slammed the door to his family's house on that fatidic snowy day, and he could see your car slowly disappearing through the living room's window.
Everything will be fine, he told himself. She'll come back. She always does.
But you didn't. Days merged into weeks and weeks into months, and not a single trace of you. You blocked him everywhere - even your friends blocked him -, and never once did you reach out.
At first, he was too prideful to admit it was all over. He was actually angry at you - how could you do this to him?
But one day, when practice was a little to rough and life felt a little too unforgiving, he finally acknowledged it.
You were gone. For good.
He tried calling. Dozens and hundreds of times, swallowing his pride if it meant getting you back - but nothing. Not a single word.
All he wanted was your touch back. Your voice soothing him. Your cooking. To see your shoes by his next to the door. All he wanted was you - you as a whole.
He kept trying to contact you, but with each failed attempt he grew more desperate.
Your shirt that he had brought to Spain with him served as a cape to his pillow, the jacket you gave him was still his favorite one and your songs played on repeat in his earphones. He had the perfume you wore right beside his bed, and the scented candles you used were always on his shopping list.
You weren't there, but you were. Your absence screamed louder than your presence.
Maybe that's why he was here. Right in front of that damned football field where he used to train at. With you by his side, helping him with his kicks and passes.
It was still the same. It's just him that wasn't.
He could remember it clearly: how you and him kissed in the middle of that same field. How he tried to teach you how to play soccer and you failed miserably. How you and him laid there, hands intertwined while you made promises about the future. Your future.
Maybe he just missed you. Or maybe he was seriously hoping that whatever red string that was between you led you to him, right there. Maybe he was hoping you'd be there, waiting for him.
That's what you always did, after all: you waited for him. Until you couldn't. Until the wait was too long and his presence too short.
He stepped into the field. The falling of snow created a movie-like scenery, and if he closed his eyes and thought hard enough he could pretend he was his 13 year old self, nervous about kissing you for the first time.
He inhaled. Then exhaled hard. He closed his eyes and just tried to forget everything - you, football, Madrid, himself.
He was in this beautiful philosophical, self-awareness moment - until he snapped out of it. Or rather, was snapped out of it. By a ball. Hitting him straight on the face.
"I'm so sorry, mister!" He heard a high pitched voice "Are you okay?"
He opened his eyes slowly, hand moving towards his forehead and rubbing on the now red spot.
It was a kid. Not older than 8 - perhaps 5. He was never good at guessing people's ages.
She held a football on her hands and was bowing, not daring to look up, clearly embarrassed about hitting him.
He didn't speak, so she started to get really shy.
"I'm, uhm, still not good at controlling the ball" she admitted bashfully while slowly raising her head "So I'm really, really... Wait"
She suddenly stopped. She stared at him for almost a whole 30 seconds, her eyes widening slowly "Wait" she repeated, a smile appearing on her face "You're Sae Itoshi! You're my favorite football player!"
Sae didn't know how to feel about that. A part of him was glad he proud he had so many fans - the other was kinda still annoyed at the kid for disruptins the moment he was having early
"...yeah." he muttered, blasé expression on his face.
The girl didn't stop smiling though, and for a split second her smile looked a little too similar to yours.
Maybe he was hallucinating.
"Shiori! Shiori, where are you?"
Maybe he was, indeed, having hallucinations. He could swear he just heard your voice...
"Mom, I'm right here!" The kid shouted, giggling "Look who I found!"
A figure started to take form across the snow flocks. A figure he knew too damn well - the one who appeared in his dreams and nightmares.
Oh.
You.
"Who is it, sweetie?" You asked your daughter, finally looking up to see...
Oh.
Him.
An awkward silence settled between you. Sae felt so much - he had so much to say. To admit. To ask for forgiveness about.
But you clearly didn't.
"Let's go, Shiori"
You grabbed her hand, desperate to get away from this terrible situation.
Sae wasnt having any of that.
"[Name]" he muttered, and you flinched. He reached for your other hand, the one that wasn't holding your daughter's, but you pushed him away. "[Name]." He repeated, stronger "Listen to me."
You turned back, and he forgot how to breath for a second. Then, he quickly added "Please."
You just stared into each other's eyes, the weight of every emotion and feeling making the air tense. Then, a weak voice interrupted the moment.
"...Sae and mom know each other?"
"...we do" he stared at you, eyes finally shining again after what seemed like forever. Just seeing you made him instantly better, what kind of effect did you have over him?
"We did." You corrected, and the glimmer in his eyes darkened a little. You sighed, then crouched right in front of Shiori again "You want a picture with him? Go on."
Your daughter smiled, kissing your cheek and running towards him. The attitude made you smile too and - oh, how much he missed your smile. The one that used to be his. The one that still held his entire existence.
"Wait, [Name]" he stopped "Are you serious? Don't we have more important stuff to talk about?"
"Pose." you scoffed, rolling your eyes at him, and he mentally beat himself up for being so insensible.
He quickly shut up and just stayed unmoving right beside Shiori. He heard the phone's camera click and felt a little hand holding his.
"You're the best player ever!" The girl smiled - it was really yours "No wonder you won balloon d'or! It seems like you always know exactly what to do!"
Except he didn't. He didn't know what to do now that you were finally right in front of him.
Every scene he created on his mind and every speech he prepared seemed to disappear from his mind the moment he stared into your eyes, and he couldn't bring himself to snap out of it.
He didn't even realize it when your daughter finished talking. He was too busy staring at you, after all.
He was not gonna let you walk away again.
"...thank you" he didn't know what Shiori said, but he thanked her anyway.
"Now we can go, Shiori" you grabbed her hand and started walking away.
Damn. Were you really that desperate to get away from him?
He needed to think of something, and fast. He quickly grabbed your hand again to stop you - but, this time, he held on too strong and stripped your glove away.
And that's when he saw it. What would absolutely shatter him.
"...you're married." He affirmed, almost like he couldn't believe it. He stared at the ring on your finger like it personally wronged him - and it did.
"I am" you answered, curtly and final. He took your hand in his and you let him, almost as if you wanted to see him suffer. The metal pressed cold against his skin - colder than the snow falling ok your heads. "With an amazing man who treats me like I deserve. The father of my daughter."
He stilled. Time stilled. But you didn't.
You took your hand away, giving him a pity look.
"Goodbye, Sae"
He watched your figure disappear in the distance, your daughter in one hand and his heart in the other.
Michael Kaiser
Kaiser always had a rather soft spot for children.
It was one of the things you both most talked about. Having kids. Starting a family, as insane as it sounds when we analyse his childhood.
Maybe that's why he wanted a family so much. To prove he was not like his shitty father.
He was so sure it would happen. You were clearly meant for each other, everyone could see that.
But life doesn't always follow your plans, and soon enough, you broke up. A nasty fight between the two of you managed to bury all of Kaiser's dreams, hopes and expectations towards your future. The children you both talked about so often were nowhere to be seen, and your wedding disappeared. Everything he wanted to do with you - every travel, every kiss, every dedicated goal - gone. Just like that.
And just like that, life went on.
He continued being the best. Continued practicing and pushing himself to just be better - secretly hoping that, if he got better, you'd come back to him.
He could fool the whole world that way, but he could never fool his pillow. The one who saw him cry so many times, pathetically whispering your name while his hands went in the direction of his neck.
He pretended he had gotten over you. Parties and drinks and beautiful women started to be a constant in his life - but none of it ever mattered to him. Only you did.
He was still the same, underneath. Changed, of course, as everyone is when 10 years pass by, but still the same boy who was so enamored but everything you did, and the same boy who secretly smiled every time he heard a kid genuinely laugh.
He always wanted a kid with you. A boy or a girl, didn't really matter. He'd love them the same.
After the break up, he still had a soft spot for kids - he never cussed in front of them or mistreated them. Instead, s soft smile appeared on his face, even if it was a little sadder than before, as now, everytime he sees a kid with blond hair and your eye color, he thinks about how amazing the future he had planned would be - not that his ego would ever let him admit that.
That's why he really liked to enter the field with kids. The emotion in their eyes when they saw the crowd, the way they smiled at that experience - at football.
And, today, he was entering the field with a kid again.
It was a Bundesliga match. An important one at that, one that could guarantee Bastard's advantage on points if they won.
"...hi" a girl walked up to him, hands behind her back and rocking back and forth.
He uncharacteristically smiled soft, talking to her while tying his shoelaces
"Hallo, Maüschen"
She smiled at him
"My name's Mia" she held her hand towards him, and he shook it "It sounds like yours"
Michael. Mia.
Nope, it didn't.
"It does" he smiled again, now looking at her. Then, he patter her head "Are you excited to enter the field?"
Her eyes lit up
"Yes!" She smiled, looking up at him "I love football! My mom teached me everything about it! She's also a big fan!"
For a second, he paused. That was exactly what you and him always planned to do: teach your kid how to play soccer. Together.
He quickly shrugged the thought away
"Oh, really?"
"Yes!" She beamed even more, and his heart skipped a beat when he swore it was your smile "Your my favorite player, you know? And my mom's too! She really likes you!"
He giggled, getting up and taking her hand on his "That's because I'm amazing, so everybody loved me." he couldn't help but still be a little smug. It was his personality, after all
"You are!" She shouted "And I'm gonna be as amazing as you!"
He laughed
"Then you're gonna have to train hard for it."
"I will!"
His heart ached once more. Her smile, her determined behavior, heck even her eyes - they looked like yours. Everything about her screamed you, and Michael wondered if he was going crazy.
They went together to where the parents were. Before the kids entered the field, they had a little time to say goodbye to the parents.
The girl was now running on front of him, pulling him with her
"C'mon, let's meet my mom!" The girl giggled, then abruptly stopped. She made a gesture for him to lean down, and he did. She then quickly whispered "She's single!"
Kaiser could only laugh, but some strange feeling settled in his stomach. Almost like disgust. Not towards the kid, of course, but towards the thought of dating someone that wasn't you.
He couldn't picture a future without you. He still didn't know how to win you back, but he's do it. He had to. He couldn't take any more sleepless nights or crying sessions or random hook ups. He needed you again, like it was always meant to be.
The girl continued pulling, unaware of his mental consternation. They got closer to where the parents were, and the kid started calling for her mom.
"Mom!" She screamed "Moommm! I'm entering with Kaiser!"
He couldn't see the mom amongst the crowd of parents, but he heard her response. And it was like suddenly only the three of them were in the room.
"Really? That's great, Mia!"
It was you.
It was undoubtedly you. His heart memorized the curve in your voice, even if his mind screamed at him to let you go.
He repeated your name in a low tone, tasting how it felt against his lips after so long.
He was now searching for you, too. But it was like you had a magnetic pull that attracted him - because he spotted you almost immediately.
He repeated your name again, this time with more intensity than the first one, which he thought was impossible (but hey, he's always been the one to do the impossible, right?)
"Michael."
He thought this was a dream. I mean, he's dreamt about this moment many times already, but nothing could prepare him for the real deal.
He tried to look nonchalant, but his shining eyes betrayed him.
You lifted your daughter and kissed her forehead, then put her back down. Kaiser was still silent and unmoving - until a smirk slowly crept on his face. And now, it was your turn to be silent.
You missed that idiotic smirk. You really did.
"Favorite player, huh?" He crossed his arms "I see you still have good taste, schatz."
"Do I, now?" You smirked back "I think you're the one who does. You dated me, after all"
"And I intend to do it all again" he grabbed your hand and kissed it, to which you rolled your eyes
"As charming as ever, I see"
"Only with you" he joked, but you could see the sincerity in his eyes. You actually hoped he was telling the truth. That he only does this to you. That he waited for you like you waited for him, between oceans of people.
"Oh, how lucky am I?"
"Very."
You just stared into each other's eyes, until his manager came screaming at him to get in line to enter the field and he swore he never wanted to kill someone more than he wanted to kill his manager right now.
You smirked at his expression and quickly start rummaging through your purse. Kaiser stares at you curiously until you pull out a pen. Then, without explanation or warning, you grab his arm and start scribbling. He smirks again, replacing the frown that got on his face when the manager screamed at him
"I thought I'd be the one signing autographs today"
"Autographs are for fans. Or strangers" you brought his arm towards his face, and he stared at it. A phone number. He looked at your eyes that were already staring at him, soft and kind and everything he missed "We were never that."
And there, between the referee's whistle, his manager screaming at your daughter giggling, you found each other again.
And this time, neither of you were willing to let go.
Why are the sae ones always so depressing 😞
Because he deserves it
.𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐬' 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐞 | 𝒔.𝒈𝒐𝒋𝒐
𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈. ceo!gojo satoru / assistant!reader
𝒔𝒖𝒎. you've been working at the same company for the last five years and you'd continue to do so if your circumstances hadn't suddenly changed. after you put in your resignation, your boss is doing everything he can to make you stay. . .
𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ── .✦ mdni (18+), office au ; smut ; light angst ; making out ; porn with plot ; fíngeríng ; cünnilíngus ; biting ; hickeys ; praise kink ; piv ; unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it) ; dirty talk ; big díck gojo ; creampíes ; multiple orgasms ; tiny bit of overstim ; little bit of nípple play ; use of wrist restraints but like not really (it's readers shirt) ; makeshift restraint if you will ; gojo kinda pervy but that's how i like him ; gojo's a yearner (also how i like him) ; f!reader (she/her used) ; pet names used ; no use of y/n [11.6k]
pt 2 pls
Roll the Dice, Enjin
enjin x fem!reader
you and enjin are always bickering but what if all that is to hide your true feelings.
a/n: first time I write for him so be nice to me T.T
words count: 4.6k
tags: chaos duo, constant bickering, humor, fluff, sfw
masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi
“You’re doing it again.”
You don’t look up from the floor “Doing what.”
ZUKO ✰ SEVEN YEARS (AND NEVER) TOO LATE
“You’re late,” you told him, slapping a dough ball onto the floured board. “I was starting to think you’d actually learned to sleep like a normal person.”
Zuko’s footsteps were almost silent, but you had spent seven years learning to read the spaces between sounds. He stopped at your prep station, just inside your peripheral vision, and you could feel the weight of his gaze on the back of your neck.
“I had a thing,” he said.
“A thing.”
“A diplomatic thing. With Ambassador Kuei. It went long.”
You snorted. “Let me guess. He wanted to renegotiate the trade agreement for the seventeenth time, and you wanted to set his mustache on fire.”
A pause. Then, very quietly: “…his mustache is very flammable-looking.”
You finally looked up. Zuko smiled at you. That should’ve told you he was up to no good.
Because he was holding a radish.
Not just a radish. Your radish. The one you’d been saving for the garnish on tomorrow’s soup, because these particular radishes came from a specific farm in the northwestern province, and they had exactly three of them left, and they tasted good without being boiled and—
“Put it down,” you said icily.
Zuko took a bite. Loudly. Crunchily. Maintaining eye contact the entire time. What an idiot.
“You glutton,” you hissed, grabbing for it. He danced back a step—lithe and quick, because of course he was; years of being banished and he still moved like a flame—and took another bite, chewing with deliberate slowness.
“It’s good,” he said, around a mouthful of radish. “Crisp. Tell the royal kitchen to buy more of these.”
“It was for the soup.”
“What soup?”
“Oh, you know. The soup I’m making tomorrow for the council luncheon, which you insisted had to be ‘impressive’ and ‘diplomatically neutral’ and ‘not the same thing we served last time,’ and now I have to figure out what to do with two radishes instead of three, so I hope you’re happy.”
Zuko thought about what you’ve said. Then he held out the remaining half of the radish. “Do you want it back?”
“Of course not,” you replied, scoffing. “That’s disgusting. I want you to leave.”
“You don’t mean that.”
WE'RE SOOOOOOO BACK
