Tapestry

. ݁⋆ ۶ৎ ݁˖ . ݁ 18+ | you and satoru eat the aphrodisiac chocolate that he put in your stocking before going to a christmas party

you don't know how you let satoru convince you to eat the aphrodisiac chocolate, and why you decided to eat it before going to your family's christmas party.

maybe because the rational part of you thought there was no way the aphrodisiac chocolates being advertised everywhere would work. it was just a useless product aimed towards consumers. or sweet addicts, like your husband.

but you start to feel hot and dizzy. feeling this hot towards the end of december shouldn’t be normal. and why the fuck are you suddenly so wet? do those chocolates actually work?

satoru observes you from the other side of the living room, hiding a smirk behind his glass when he knows that the effects are starting to kick in. the way you look flushed and dazed. he has to hold in a small chuckle.

he disguises his smirk with an affectionate smile as he approaches you in the act of a concerned husband.

“oh, looks my wife is feeling unwell,” he croons with a honeyed tone, touching your forehead with the back of his hand, all while giving you a mischievous smirk when no one can see. “do you need me to take you home, sweetheart?”

ᴋɪʟʟ ᴍᴇ ᴏʀ ᴋɪꜱꜱ ᴍᴇ — ʏᴀᴋᴜᴢᴀ! ɢᴏᴊᴏ x ꜰᴇᴍᴍᴇ ꜰᴀᴛᴀʟᴇ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

You were on your knees.

Not in apology, not in surrender, and certainly not in any posture the man in front of you deserved. If fate had a sense of humor, it was an ugly one.

The tatami bit through your stockings, cold and unforgiving. Someone had bled there not long ago; a dark streak marked the floorboards by your left hand, already drying but still tacky at the edges. You tried not to think about whose it had been. The House had no shortage of candidates.

Above you stood Satoru Gojo — oyabun of the largest syndicate in Tokyo, unofficial minister of the underworld, monster with a saint’s smile.

You had spent half your life memorizing that face. It had been sketched in ash and blood across your earliest memories, painted in Sukuna’s voice as the man who ruined everything.

Now he stood within reach. A hand-span away, close enough to kill.

His thumb pressed lightly into the hollow of your throat, reminding you that your life was his to revoke between one word and the next.

“Lie to me again,” he said, “and I’ll show you what becomes of people who try.”

One ought not to sound tender while delivering a threat. It muddled the social cues.

Twilight Tears

Suguru Geto is the picture perfect gentleman. 

He buys you flowers, takes you out to nice dinner dates, holds your hand in public as he whispers sweet nothings in your ear, just everything you could want in a man and more. He wasn’t subtle with his affection, but rather was open about it when it came to you. Your heart never ceases to flutter whenever he addresses you and how he pulls you closer to his side in-front of his friends in a possessive claim.

Suguru knows about your terrible past boyfriends and assures you he would never be the same. He kissed every tear that slipped down your cheeks. Held you close as you let out every insecurity that you face. Suguru was just different from the rest and it’s why you feel so fucking special with him – from the many months of being in each other’s orbit.

For the first time in a long time you feel loved.

His bare chest has become your favorite pillow to sleep on, which is where your head rests tonight – as his arm draws you closer. You nuzzle into his warmth – the muscles of his abs flex under the movement. Soft puffs of breath in your hair as your eyes flutter in and out of consciousness. 

The faint buzz of a phone makes you stir as Suguru remains fast asleep. You remember turning your phone on silent earlier that night before you two were intimate and figured you must have forgot to fix it before you began falling asleep. You choose to ignore it since it seems like it was only one text, whoever it was could wait till morning. 

You’re about to lay your head back down but it goes off again – multiple times. You huff blinking back the drowsiness to reach over Suguru’s chest where both of your phones lay. Too sleepy to really process which phone that you are reaching for since they look the same.

You whimper, eyes adjusting to the sudden light but confusion etches over your face making your nose scrunch up.

Manami…?

fratboy!choso x bestfriend!reader

wc: 16k

smut with so, so much plot.

choso kamo is the kind of boy people notice without realizing they’re staring. he’s not loud, never one to demand a room’s attention, but something about him pulls you in, the lazy grace of someone who’s always just a little bit stoned and completely at peace with himself.

he throws the best parties on campus, the kind that aren’t just about getting drunk or high, but about the vibe. incense burning in the corner, led lights set to red or purple, trap playing softly over speakers. and yet, you’re the only one who really knows him.

you, the sweet girl who never misses a single one of his parties. the one always curled up next to him on the couch with a red solo cup of something you can barely taste, your legs draped over his lap, your cheek pressed to his shoulder. it’s always been like this. ever since freshman year, when you met him during that stupid icebreaker event on campus that neither of you wanted to go to.

somehow, you’d ended up next to him. not even talking at first. just being. and then he’d pulled one earbud out and offered it to you without saying anything, and you’d heard frank ocean’s “ivy” playing soft and crackly from his phone. you’d smiled at him, and he’d smiled back. just a little.

after that, it was like something clicked. you didn’t have to try with choso. you just existed in each other’s space like you were meant to.

you’re sweet, outgoing, a little flirty, always the first one to compliment someone’s outfit or remember their birthday. people love you for your light, your laughter, the way you make everyone feel seen.

but when it comes to closeness, to real comfort? that’s reserved for choso.

❤︎ ໋𓈒 TWITTER LINKS

he loves fucking you like this

fucking at a party

gojo loves when you ride him

nights in his room

you love when he cums inside

his dick feels too good

need him to breed your pussy

mating press

the both of you couldn’t sleep

he came so much it’s leaking out

he got jealous

doggy with sukuna

the both of you are so needy for one another

playing with choso’s pretty cock

he needs you right in the morning

me when satoru calls reader wifey

me when toji calls reader ma

me when suguru calls reader pretty girl

me when toji calls reader doll

me when sukuna calls reader woman

34+35 𝜗𝜚

warnings. fem! reader, unprotected, 69, manhandling, ass-obsessed men, true form! sukuna, fíngering, mirror séx, squírting, riding ijichi’s glasses, cunnīlingus, bjs, spanks, riding their tongues, praise, implied marathons, sukuna’s stomach tongue, overstim, pússydrunk men, messy eating, milking them, breedīng mentions, dirty talk, petnames.

✩ ˛˚ . IJICHI KIYOTAKA

“oh,” ijichi would gulp, basking in your slick glory that’s located between your cracked thighs. you’re arched over, holding your hips up while he laid flat on his back against the bed. as a mere taunt, you wriggle your ass against his face and you hear a small gasp depart from his thinly-parted lips. “ ‘s this position comfortable for you, m’ love?”

“mhmhm,” you’d hum, wrapping a hand around his vein-covered cock. from all girthy sides and angles, its decorated with prominent veins that prodded solely at the way your thumb rubbed against his tender foreskin. it even had a cute ‘lil curve on the side. “don’t be shy, ‘jichi. i’ll just be down here.”

with a teasing, sweet shimmy of your hips, your sloppy cunt ends up imprinting against ijichi’s squared glasses lenses. beforehand, he asked if he should take them off but oh, you insisted for him to keep them on.

right then, you moaned, feeling his tongue give your dripping folds a few flicks before he pushed the metal bridge back up his nose. “s- so pretty,” he’d murmur huskily, groaning mellowly once he felt the tip of your tongue slither around his ruby-colored tip. he’s still so sensitive, and ijichi squeezed the left cheek of your ass before giving it a soft sharp smack. “mngh- keep . . keep doin’ that, m’love. use your tongue like that ‘n ride against my- hah- face, fuck-”

r/AmITheAsshole •

by u/BigdickBigheartKamo_

WIBTA if I *accidentally* hid my human roommate’s vibrator only to try it on myself? Help! (╥﹏╥)

r/wc. 6.8k

r/warnings. fem! reader, modern au, loserboy choso, he’s kinda pervy here, crack fic, protected -> unprotected, cóndom breaks, vírgin! choso, size kinks, multiple rounds, he fucks you while wearing your hoodie, óral, panty stuffing, bulges, cervíx mentions, switch choso sorta, toy usage, manhandling, use of ‘mommy’, & ‘good boy’, brèeding, body worship, petnames

r/an. he’s trying

“…of course, i properly cleaned it and everything before using it - but, she uses this glittery thing all the time. not the mention the fact that it’s so…big. and another thing, it glows in the dark. this squishy thing can’t be the reason why i can barely sleep sometimes, can it? i swear, i can sometimes hear her loud, belting moans in my dreams. sounds painful. i’m kind of too shy to confront her about it, what if she kicks me out? she’s so nice and pretty - oh, i’m getting off-topic, sorry.

but it was this one particular night that happened, i was in our apartment alone and i hid her toy. she only noticed it was gone after about say, maybe three days. she asked me had i had seen and i just shrugged. in reality though, i tried the thing out for myself and experienced the best organism orgasm of my life!

the down side though, was that she caught me red-handed on her bed … ”

“is that my fucking vibrator?”

“n…no…?”

Toji’s already grunting when you drop your weight on his lap. soft, bare thighs straddling his hips and bracketing around him like it’s your goddamn seat, and not the couch. He doesn’t even look at you—just sits there, all slouched and grumpy—drenched in dried sweat and work stress while he nurses a half-empty beer while Outdoor Boys plays on the TV behind you.

“You got no patience, do you?” he mutters lazily, eyes flicking over your tits as you shimmy out of your sleep shirt, already bare underneath. “Didn’t even let me shower first, dirty girl”.

You ignore him. His cock is already inside you. You made sure of it, of course.

And now you’re finally bouncing on his dick sloppily, skin slapping hard and loudly as you stuff him all the way up into your guts, whining and gasping every time he brushes deep inside your cunnie—deep enough to knock something loose in your pretty empty head. Your hands are gripping his solid, broad shoulders but you’ve got no rhythm. Just frantic little bounces and desperate circles of your hips as your horny pussy slobbers all over his fat cock.

“Fuck—,” he grunts, one big hand casually groping your bouncing ass, spreading your plushy cheeks open like he owns you—like you’re just something for him to play with while he watches TV. His thumb slides down to your stretched out hole, teasing around it with a slow drag and feeling how sticky you are. “You’re frothing all over me, baby. What the fuck did you do today—lay around thinking about this cock?”

“Mhmh—uh-huh!,” you nod like a stupid idiot, glossy lips parted into a gaping O, drooling down your chin as your cunt sucks around him. “I missed it—missed you, missed your cock, missed feeling so full—fuck, daddy, I needed it—!”

“Yeah?” he sneers, calloused thumb moving higher and rubbing nasty, teasing circles on your tight rim while he drinks his beer. “Needed to be filled like a little fleshlight while I’m out busting my ass all day?”

You sob, hips jerking desperately for more as your pussy clenches around him hard. “Y-Yeah… m’sorry!”

too late ♡ multiple jjk

୨୧

You weren’t trying to smother him.

You just missed him. You wanted to be around him. To be enough.

But Gojo was always drifting somewhere higher—farther. Brighter. Untouchable.

And you, in your desperate attempts to hold onto him, had only made yourself a burden.

It started small. unanswered texts, rescheduled plans, jokes that didn’t land the way they used to.

Then one night, it snapped.

You'd waited three hours for him to show up. You made dinner. You even lit a damn candle.

He walked in like he lived on a different planet. No apology, just a tired sigh and a look you couldn’t name.

“Where were you?” you asked, trying to sound casual, even as your throat tightened.

“Busy,” he replied. Short. Clipped.

“I just—could you have told me? I was worried.”

He looked at you then, really looked. And something in him cracked.

“God, can you stop?” he snapped. “You’re always worrying. Always texting. Always needing something. It’s exhausting.”

Your heart plummeted.

“I just wanted to spend time with you.”

“Yeah, well maybe I don’t want to be glued to you 24/7.”

Silence.

Heavy, awful silence.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, voice shaking. “I didn’t realize I was being—”

“Clingy?” he cut in, shrugging. “Annoying? Yeah. You should be sorry.”

That was the last straw.

You didn’t cry. You just nodded. Quietly, you cleaned up the dinner you made for two and left.

And then you stopped.

No more texts. No more waiting. No more soft smiles and gentle reassurances.

You gave him the space he asked for.

You weren’t cold. Just… distant. Detached. You still said hello. Still smiled politely. But that spark—your warmth, your constant affection—it was gone.

At first, he was relieved.

Then he noticed how you didn’t linger anymore. How you laughed more with other people. How someone else started walking you home.

He’d call your name, and you’d pause—but never turn around fast enough.

One day, he saw someone touch your hand, and you let them.

It hit him like a curse.

You weren’t his anymore.

You had been. You gave him everything—your time, your care, your love—and he crushed it like it was nothing.

Now you were gone in the way that really mattered.

Emotionally. Romantically. Soul-deep gone.

He went home to an empty apartment, sat in the silence he once begged for, and suddenly hated the quiet. Hated the space.

He picked up his phone a hundred times. Typed a thousand messages. Never sent a single one.

Because he knew...

He asked for this.

And you listened.

It wasn’t always like this.

He used to hold you like you were precious. Kiss your forehead like he was grateful you existed.

But that was before.

Before the silence between you became louder than any curse. Before the kindness in his eyes dulled into detachment. Before your love became something he resented.

You don’t even know when it changed.

You just remember the day you reached for his hand and he flinched.

“You don’t have to check on me every five minutes,” he muttered one night, voice low but sharp.

“I just wanted to know you were okay.”

“I was,” he said, not looking at you. “Until you started hovering like I’m some broken thing that needs fixing.”

You felt your chest tighten.

“I didn’t mean to—”

“You never do,” he cut you off. “But you’re always there. Always watching. Always needing to be let in. It’s too much.”

His words knocked the breath out of you.

You stared at him—this man you loved, this man you stayed with even as the world started to hate him—searching for something soft in his expression.

There was nothing.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

He didn’t look up. “Yeah.”

So you pulled back.

You stopped fussing. Stopped checking in. Stopped calling him late at night just to hear his voice.

You let him be. Just like he asked.

And for a while, he didn’t notice.

Until the day he realized the apartment was too quiet. That his phone hadn’t lit up in days. That no one waited up for him anymore. No one texted him “are you safe?” or “did you eat?”

It hit him when he walked past your room—your room, that you used to sleep in together—and the bed was perfectly made.

When he saw the chipped mug you always used sitting clean and untouched on the shelf.

When he reached out. finally. no one reached back.

You still answered his messages. Politely. Casually.

But you didn’t ask if he was okay anymore.

You didn’t call him Sugu anymore.

You didn’t love him loudly anymore.

You still loved him. Of course you did.

But you learned the hard way—he didn’t want it.

So you stopped offering it.

And by the time Geto realized what he'd thrown away—

You weren’t his anymore.

He never yelled at you.

He never called you clingy. Never said you were annoying. Never insulted your emotions.

But sometimes, silence wounds more than words ever could.

Nanami was kind. Always.

But kindness isn’t the same as closeness. And love, if only shown through quiet nods and tired sighs, begins to feel like obligation.

You used to sit beside him on the couch, your legs tucked under you, head on his shoulder, trying to start a conversation—about your day, about a show, about anything.

He would hum. Nod. Offer a soft “mm.” But the room always felt colder than his body.

“You okay?” you asked one night.

He looked up from his paperwork. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

You hesitated. “You’ve been… distant.”

“I’ve been busy,” he said plainly. “Work’s been exhausting. You know that.”

“I know. I just… I feel like I’m losing you.”

He sighed through his nose, setting down his pen. “You’re not. You’re overthinking again.”

Again.

That word sank heavy in your chest.

You tried to smile. Tried to swallow it down. But it didn’t go away.

Because love wasn’t supposed to make you feel like a nuisance for needing it.

You stopped bringing up your feelings after that.

You stopped asking if he was okay, if you were okay, if he still wanted this.

You gave him space—not the kind he asked for, but the kind he made when he stopped looking at you like you were his.

He didn’t even realize you’d pulled away until one night, he reached for your hand—and you didn’t reach back.

You smiled, soft and sad.

“I don’t think you ever really loved me,” you said, not bitter—just tired. “I think you loved the quiet I gave you.”

His lips parted, but nothing came out.

And that was the last silence you were willing to bear.

TL: @samm1e13 @syleepy @werfiedeii @mikemsmm @yanderebluelockfan @cyberheartrebel @arwawawa2 @valexqpt @snowsilver2000 @mitsurisupporter @meikstv @ravenbc @mihyas-dieehefrau

A/N: i was crying to sailor song. but anyways. we all need a bit of angst in our lives, right? (i think there is smth wrong with me for writing angst so i can cry)

ꨄ︎Anglbunny | Do not copy, steal or translate my work and pngs. you'll be blocked.

[Masterlist]

★‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ❝ GET YOU BACK! ❞

.pairing﹒ꕀ. fushiguro toji / reader ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎wc.⁀⊹ 3.4k

warnings.ᐟ.ᐟ 18+ only, smut, mdni, swearing, porn with some (?) plot, biting, dirty talk, cunnilingus, fingering, p in v sex, unprotected sex (don't be silly, wrap your willy), creampie, f!reader, toji is a little obsessed maybe

Is Two Really Better Than One?

Nanami is flabbergasted. 

When he came back home after a long hard day’s work, he was impatiently waiting for his wife’s loving embrace and reviving kiss. There’s a routine you two follow and he upholds it like a knight pledging allegiance to the crown – arrive home at 6pm, you greet him, he takes a shower and changes into comfortable clothes whilst you prepare dinner, and then you dine together. He expected you to be at the front door with an excited grin and open arms, just as you did yesterday and the day before that.

What he wasn’t expecting, however, was two wives waiting for him. 

“Ken! Make her go away,” you scream. 

The other you snarls, “No, you go away.”

quick sketch

oh my god