onehundredelevven

[onehundredelevven]

FINALLY REMEMBERED AN I IDEA FOR A FIC I HAD HELLOOO

okay so a fanfic inspired by the song Terrified by Childish Gambino with a gender neutral or male reader (plsplsplspls need more male reader) specifically these lyrics:

Do you misbehave?

Haunt you to your grave

I′m going to eat you alive

Please don't find me rude

But I don't eat fast food

So don′t run to me, baby

I NEED SUGURU SOOO BAD PUHLEASE or any jjk man you think would fit the fic y'know 😋 interpret the lyrics however you want !

Here u goon !! I chose Geto cuz why nottt. And idk if I actually got the interpretation of the song, I think I wrote this too vaguely(and boring)😭😭😭

☆☆☆

Misbehave.

The moon was full and heavy in the sky, casting a pale glow over the large temple grounds. The chill of the night bit at your skin as you stood just outside Suguru’s private quarters. The air felt thick, almost suffocating, as though the very walls of this place knew you didn’t belong here.

You shouldn’t have come.

But Suguru had called you—no, summoned you—with a simple message delivered through one of his devout followers: “Come to me. Tonight.” And like the fool you were, you had obeyed, unable to ignore the magnetic pull he seemed to have over you.

Now, standing before the sliding doors, you hesitated. The distant hum of insects filled the air, but the temple felt too quiet, like the calm before a storm.

Before you could knock or announce your presence, the door slid open with a soft shhk. Suguru stood on the other side, dressed in dark robes that hung loosely around his shoulders. His hair, long and dark, framed his sharp features in a way that made your breath hitch. But it wasn’t just his appearance—it was the way his gaze bore into you, heavy and knowing, as though he’d been expecting you to hesitate.

“You’re late,” he said, his tone light but tinged with amusement.

“I—” you started, but the words caught in your throat as he stepped aside, gesturing for you to enter.

Once inside, the door slid shut behind you with a finality that made your stomach twist. The room was dimly lit by a single candle on the far side.

“You’re nervous,” Suguru noted, his voice low and smooth as he approached you. “Good. You should be.”

Your pulse quickened, and you took a step back, but his hand shot out, catching your wrist. His touch was firm but not painful, just enough to stop you in your tracks.

“Do you know why I called you here?” he asked, tilting his head slightly.

You swallowed hard, shaking your head.

His lips curled into a smirk, and he leaned in closer, his breath ghosting against your ear. “Because I wanted to see if you’d come running to me like a good little pet. And here you are.”

You froze, his words sending a jolt of something—fear, excitement, maybe both—through your body. His grip on your wrist loosened, but he didn’t let go entirely. Instead, he guided your hand upward, pressing your palm against his chest.

“I’m too possessive to play nice,” he murmured, his voice dripping with something dangerous. “Too selfish to share. And too obsessed to let you go.”

You stared at him, your heart hammering in your chest as his eyes darkened, glinting with a predatory light.

“I don’t like things that come easy,” Suguru continued, his free hand trailing up your arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake. “I like a little fight. A little chase.”

Your breath hitched as his hand moved to your chin, tilting your head up so you were forced to meet his gaze. “But now that I’ve caught you, what should I do with you?"

His words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. You tried to pull away, but his grip tightened just enough to remind you that you weren’t going anywhere unless he allowed it.

“Don’t run,” he purred, his lips brushing the corner of your mouth in a ghost of a kiss. “I don’t like fast food. I like to savor every bite.”

The candlelight flickered, and for a moment, you swore you saw something darker lurking in his eyes.

“You’re mine,” he said, his voice low and dangerous, each word sinking into your skin like a brand. “I’ll haunt you to your grave if I have to, but you’ll never be free of me. Do you understand that?”

You nodded, your voice lost to the weight of his presence.

Suguru smiled, but there was no warmth in it—only possession, only hunger.

“Good,” he said, his thumb brushing over your lower lip. “Now, be good for me and don’t misbehave. Unless…” His grin widened, a glint of wicked amusement in his eyes. “...you want to give me a reason to punish you.”

[onehundredelevven]

ABOUT THE CHILDISH GAMBINO FIC

toni would be a great fit too

Pls I was literally so confused the first time I saw this😭😭😭(working on it)

[onehundredelevven]

I'm so back

(i cooked and got cooked at a class debate but idc I slayed)

[onehundredelevven]

Mr. Chopped x reader!! Please I'm starving! Maybe spicy if you're comfy with that but if you're not fluff is always amazing too <3 I love that severed head so much

Here u go babes

☆☆☆

Mr. Chopped had never been particularly shy about invading your personal space, and you're okay with it. He didn’t exactly have much space of his own, after all. So when he boldly declared, “Me… lay here,” before nestling himself on your chest, you didn’t even have time to argue.

“Chopped, you can’t just—”

“Shhh.” His voice was soft, almost teasing. “Me comfy.”

You blinked down at him, his head perfectly balanced as he rested against you. His weight wasn’t much, but the audacity? Heavy.

“Don’t you think this is… a little uncomfortable for you?” you asked, raising a brow, though your tone lacked any real bite.

“uncom—what?” His face scrunched in mock confusion. “This good spot. Warm. Soft. Me deserve.”

“You deserve?” you echoed, trying to suppress a laugh. “And what exactly have you done to earn this?”

He grinned, smug and unapologetic. “Me charming. You like me.”

Your cheeks warmed at his bluntness. “You’re impossible,” you muttered, though your hand instinctively came up to rest against his cheek.

He leaned into the touch with an exaggerated sigh. “See? You care. You… spoil me.”

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” you teased, gently running your fingers through his hair.

“Lucky?” he repeated, his grin softening into something sweeter. “No. Me… happiest head. You best.”

The sincerity in his voice made your heart squeeze. “Chopped…”

“Shhh,” he murmured again, though this time it was almost shy. “No talk. Just stay. Me like this.”

And so you did, letting him stay nestled against you, his presence both ridiculous and comforting. You couldn’t help but smile, thinking that maybe he was right—he did deserve this.

[onehundredelevven]

I squirted

Didn't want to post it tbh, cuz this head turn made me cry, but I kinda like his boobies so here it is. Toji it is ♥

[onehundredelevven]

Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii, could i request an angst long form fic (or if you want it can be short, whatever you feel more comfortable with) of choso x reader (or whatever other jjk man you would like), and we find that he has a new friend (a girl friend) and we had a very important date with him (anniversary or whatever) and we stay there, but that day it was freezing cold and he lefts us there to go to another place with his friend, and a lot lf angst, wheter the end is fluff or angst is up to you:DD

If you dont want to do it or you dont have time its okay:DDD

HERE U GO BABES !!! I'm finally back from the dead. This is nothing too nice tbh, I still feel like crap. Idek if this has a lot of angst TT

☆☆☆

Left In The Cold.

Choso Kamo x reader

contains: angst, hurt w/ comfort, happy ending ofc(surprisingly)

You stood at the edge of the park, breath forming small clouds in the freezing air. The cold bit at your fingers, even through the gloves you’d worn, and your toes felt like ice inside your boots. You shifted your weight from foot to foot, glancing at your watch for the fifth time in the last ten minutes.

He was late.

You told yourself it was fine. Choso wasn’t the type to forget something as important as today. He’d been the one to insist on this anniversary date, after all. “I want to do something special for us,” he’d said with that soft smile of his, the one that always made your chest feel warm.

But now, as the minutes stretched into an hour, that warmth was nowhere to be found.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket, and you fumbled to pull it out, hope flickering in your chest. Maybe he’d gotten stuck somewhere, or maybe something urgent had come up, and he’d explain everything once he got here.

But it wasn’t a call or an apology. It was a picture—a story he’d posted, a shot of him and her.

His new friend.

They were sitting in a cozy café, steam curling from the mugs in their hands. She was laughing at something, her smile wide and easy, while Choso leaned closer, his expression soft.

The caption read: Needed a break. This place has the best hot chocolate.

Your chest tightened as the image blurred in front of your eyes. You blinked hard, your breath hitching, and shoved your phone back into your pocket.

The cold seemed to sink deeper into your skin, and the weight of the realization hit you all at once: he wasn’t coming.

You stayed there for a while longer, convincing yourself he’d show up, that he’d remember, that this wasn’t what it looked like. But as the hours dragged on and the sun dipped below the horizon, the bitter cold became unbearable.

With trembling hands, you wrapped your coat tighter around yourself and turned to leave, tears stinging your eyes.

---

By the time Choso got home, it was late. He kicked off his shoes, the warmth of the café still lingering on his skin. He felt lighter, more relaxed after spending the afternoon unwinding.

But when he stepped into the living room and saw you curled up on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, something twisted in his chest.

“Hey,” he said, his voice cautious.

You didn’t look up.

“...You’re still awake?” he tried again, walking closer.

“Barely,” you replied, your voice flat.

It took him a moment to notice the faint shiver in your frame or the redness around your eyes.

“Were you crying?” he asked, his brows furrowing as he crouched down in front of you.

That was the last straw. You sat up, the blanket falling from your shoulders, and glared at him. “Do you even remember what today was?”

Choso blinked, confusion flashing across his face. “What?”

“Our anniversary, Choso.”

His heart sank, realization hitting him like a punch to the gut.

You laughed bitterly, though the sound held no humor. “I waited for hours. In the freezing cold. And you—” Your voice cracked, and you shook your head. “You were with her.”

“Wait—”

“No, don’t,” you snapped, standing abruptly. “Don’t you dare try to explain this away. I saw the picture. You looked like you were having a great time while I was standing there, hoping you’d show up.”

“I—” Choso struggled for words, his chest tight with guilt. “I didn’t mean to—”

“But you did,” you said, your voice trembling. “You made a choice, Choso. And it wasn’t me.”

Silence fell between you, heavy and suffocating.

“I’m sorry,” he finally whispered, his voice barely audible.

You let out a shaky breath, wiping at your eyes. “You always say that. But it doesn’t fix anything.”

Choso reached out, his hand hovering near yours, but he didn’t touch you. “I messed up. I know I did. And I’ll do whatever it takes to make it up to you.”

“You can’t just fix this with words,” you said quietly, stepping back. “I need time.”

---

Time passed, and true to his word, Choso worked to earn back your trust. He showed up—consistently and wholeheartedly. He didn’t shy away from the discomfort or the guilt, and he didn’t rush you to forgive him.

On what would’ve been just another cold winter evening, he surprised you.

The park was lit with soft, twinkling lights, the frost glittering like stars on the ground. Choso stood there, bundled in a thick coat, holding a thermos in one hand and a bouquet in the other.

“I know I can’t undo what I did,” he said when you approached. “But I want to make new memories. Better ones.”

You stared at him, your heart aching in your chest. He looked nervous—vulnerable in a way you rarely saw—but his sincerity was written all over his face.

“I’m still mad at you,” you admitted, though your voice was softer this time.

“I know,” he said, his lips quirking into a faint smile. “But I’m not going anywhere this time. Not until you’re ready.”

You took the thermos from his hand, feeling the warmth seep into your fingers. “You better not screw this up again.”

“I won’t,” he promised, his gaze steady.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, you believed him.

[onehundredelevven]

GoSh I posted this late. To those who have been waiting for my updates(if there are any), excuse me for being dead for the past three days^^✿

School has been really shitty and an attention wh0re that I had to focus on it. Also, I have a fever going for 3 days now. But I'm working with the requests !! Ily to my, idk, 11 fans out there(⁠人⁠*⁠´⁠∀⁠｀⁠)⁠｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+

[onehundredelevven]

may I request toji with a reader who dotes on him? like he comes in from the rain and they dry his hair

I love writing anything about Toji tbh... Love him sm

The door creaked open, and you immediately turned toward the sound, a warm smile forming on your lips—until you saw him.

Toji stood there, soaked to the bone, rainwater dripping from his hair and pooling onto the floor. He carried the usual tiredness on his face, but tonight, it seemed heavier, his shoulders slumped as though the weight of the world had settled there.

“You’re dripping all over the place,” you teased gently, grabbing a towel from the nearby rack. “Rough day?”

He grunted in response, stepping inside and toeing off his shoes. The floor squeaked under his weight, and you watched him run a hand through his damp hair, water flicking off in tiny droplets.

“Come here,” you said, tugging the towel open. Toji raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue, letting you guide him to sit on the edge of the couch.

You settled beside him, draping the towel over his head. He blinked as the fabric blocked his vision, but you didn’t give him a chance to comment, already ruffling the towel through his messy hair.

“I can do it myself,” he muttered, though he didn’t move to stop you.

“Yeah, but you won’t,” you replied easily, your hands working through the strands with a practiced touch.

Toji sighed, his shoulders relaxing under your care. You knew him well enough to recognize that he wasn’t really annoyed—if anything, he was leaning into the comfort you offered.

“You’ve gotta take better care of yourself,” you murmured, your voice soft but firm. “Coming home like this, you’re going to catch a cold.”

Toji snorted, tilting his head slightly so you could reach the back of his neck. “A cold won’t kill me, sweetheart.”

“No, but I’ll kill you if you keep pulling this,” you shot back, your tone light but teasing.

A low chuckle escaped him, and you felt a flicker of warmth bloom in your chest. Moments like these—where he let his guard down, even just a little—were rare, but you cherished every one of them.

Once his hair was dry enough, you tugged the towel away, setting it aside. His hair stuck up in uneven spikes, and you couldn’t help but smile as you ran your fingers through it, smoothing it back into place.

“There,” you said, brushing a hand along his cheek. “Good as new.”

Toji caught your wrist before you could pull away, his calloused fingers warm despite the rain. His eyes softened as he looked at you, the usual sharpness in his gaze giving way to something gentler, something only you ever got to see.

“Thanks,” he said, his voice low but sincere.

You smiled, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his forehead. “Always.”

For a moment, the two of you sat there in the quiet, the sound of rain pattering against the windows. Toji’s grip on your wrist loosened, but his hand didn’t let go, his thumb tracing slow circles against your skin.

“Don’t know how you put up with me,” he murmured, almost to himself.

You tilted your head, your smile never wavering. “Because I love you, you idiot. Now let me go make you some tea before you really do get sick.”

He let out a small huff, but the faint curve of his lips told you everything you needed to know.

[onehundredelevven]

Can you write something about Mr. Crawling discovering that y/n is musically gifted?

If I was vocally blessed, I would definitely sing to him like a bird🥰

Here it is !! (Idk if I actually did well on this one)

“Hmm…” Mr. Crawling’s voice, low and drawn out, reached you from where he rested in the corner of your living room, body curled like a resting puppy. His head tilted in that curious way of his. “You… hum. Me like. What that?”

You paused, startled. You hadn’t realized he’d been listening to you while you mindlessly hummed along to the melody in your head.

“Oh,” you started, cheeks warming. “Its… just a song. Something I know.”

He shifted closer, moving with eerie smoothness despite his crawling. “Song? You… say pretty words?”

Your heart skipped at his innocent question, but there was something so hopeful in the tilt of his head that you couldn’t say no. You sat down, bringing your knees to your chest, and took a breath.

“Yes, something like that. I… can sing,” you admitted, quieter now.

His entire frame perked up, as if you'd told him a wondrous secret. “You sing for me?”

You hesitated for a moment but couldn’t resist his puppy-like eagerness. “Okay… just one song.”

Clearing your throat, you began singing softly, letting the words and melody flow naturally. It was a calm, gentle tune—something sweet and soothing, like a lullaby.

Mr. Crawling stilled completely. For once, he didn’t fidget or crawl closer. He stayed rooted, as if the sound of your voice had paralyzed him.

“You… amazing,” he whispered when you stopped, his voice barely audible.

You let out a laugh, though it came with a flustered smile. “Its just a song. No big deal.”

He moved closer now, tentatively. His hand brushed your knee, light as a feather, as though he feared breaking you. “Big deal. You sound… warm. You make… heart big.”

Your chest tightened at his sincerity. “You really mean that?”

He tilted his head, as if confused by your doubt. “Me no lie. You… special. You sing, make world feel… bright. I… like.”

Your voice softened as you touched his hand. “Thank you, Crawling.”

His body seemed to relax, curling comfortably next to you. “You sing again… sometime?”

You chuckled, leaning against the couch. “I’ll sing for you anytime you want.”

“Good,” he murmured, his tone lighter than usual. “Me lucky. You… amazing."

[onehundredelevven]

I am once again here to say, REQUESTS ARE OPEN U SEND REQUEST !! (please , kneeling on the floor—)

[onehundredelevven]

I am that wife

some characters just deserve a wife and kids

[onehundredelevven]

These are not a "want" anymore, these are a "need"

men whose voices are deep but they fuck deeper

men who are so rough on the outside but fuck so sweetly, or men who are so sweet on the outside but fuck so rough

men who take the living breath out of you when you unravel in his arms, but treat you soooo well with aftercare

men who are so in love with u, n they show it

[onehundredelevven]

I may be dumb but at least Sukuna called me "my" ��😤😤

Good Thing You're Pretty

Smau: in which you're not the sharpest tool in the shed Warnings: crack, fluff, some cursing Featuring: Gojo, Geto, Choso, Toji, Nanami, Sukuna, Yuji, Megumi, Inumaki

[onehundredelevven]

I just discovered the game last night “Homicipher” from an 18+ fanart edit of Mr. Crawling and aaaaahhhhhh

I HAD to watch gameplay of it. I NEEDED to read fanfics about 💕him💕

You can count on me on the fics, darling ! I sure do love Mr. Crawling too !! Just say the word and I'll cook something up🩷🩷🩷

[onehundredelevven]

School fucked me out so bad in every position that I accidentally wrote some nasty angst fic as a way to distress

[onehundredelevven]

I can't even describe what I felt when I saw this

sukugo hill

[onehundredelevven]

Okay so what if Satoru's eyes glows in the dark and is like a flashlight

☆☆☆

"Satoru, wake up."

The voice was soft, yet insistent. Satoru groaned, pulling the blanket tighter around him as if he could escape the world’s most persistent problem—being awake. The lights flickered, and then, a sudden, dark silence blanketed the room. The power was out.

You were already half-awake, fumbling around in the pitch-black room for your phone, but it wasn’t helping. The glow of the screen was faint at best, and without any light, you might as well be blindfolded.

“Gojo Satoru,” you muttered again, a bit more forcefully this time. “Get up.”

There was a grunt from the bed, followed by a long, dramatic stretch. “Can’t you see I’m trying to sleep?” he groaned, his voice muffled from under the pillow.

You sighed and stood up, feeling your way across the room toward the bed. Your hands brushed over his bedside table, knocking over a few things in your search for—yes—his face.

With an exasperated sigh, you nudged his side. "I need you to wake up. I can’t see anything in here."

Satoru’s eyes fluttered open, glowing faintly in the dark. “Really? You need me to help you with this?” His tone was cocky, like he knew exactly how ridiculous the situation was.

You took a deep breath. “Yes, I need you to be the light. You’re basically a walking flashlight.”

Satoru blinked, his eyes lighting up brighter, and then he grinned, clearly enjoying the absurdity of it all. “I knew you’d come around~ I am the strongest, after all.”

You reached out, tapping the side of his face to make sure he was fully awake. “Alright, can you just move and shine for me so I don’t trip over something?”

Satoru laughed, sitting up dramatically and lifting his head like he was doing some grand reveal. His eyes glowed with an eerie, yet oddly comforting, light. “There you go. Your very own living flashlight. Try not to get too distracted by my beautiful eyes.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help but chuckle as you made your way around, finally being able to see without having to grope through the dark.

Satoru leaned back against the pillows, arms behind his head, still glowing in the darkness. “You’re welcome,” he said smugly, the usual gleam in his eye never fading.

"Yeah, yeah," you muttered, but secretly, you were kind of glad he’d woken up.

And, honestly? The whole thing was a little endearing(and funny). Even if he was, well, a walking flashlight.