haiii everyoneee!!! my name is briseis! i'm in SO many. fandoms. i can't even keep count. butttt!!! i'll have them listed down below so you can get a little feel of who i am as a person when it comes to my interests.
writing is my main hobby, though i get writers block a lot. along with my writers block, im also kinda busy a lot. i try to make writing my main hobby but it just gets a lot when concepts i ponder on, are already written about.
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shows/animes/series:
jujutsu kaisen, my hero academia, death note, k-pop demon hunters, the amazing digital circus, uzumaki, attack on titan, saiki k, the fragrent flower that blooms with dignity, kakegurui, assassination classroom, demon slayer, glitter force, naruto, alien stage (new finding!?!), from me to you, komi can't  communicate, sailor moon.
(i'm sure there's more. i just can't think of them.)
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music groups/solo people/bands:
bts, cortis, katseye, stray kids, n.ssign, xlov, lngshot, enhypen, mark tuan, julia wolf, lizzy mcalpine, esha tewari, mazzy star, bishop, angel athans, jazmin bean, ari abdul, sharny, mitski, clairo, conan gray, sombr, lace, sweetiele, melanie martinez, adrianne lenker.
(again, there's so much more, i just can't listen em off.)
thinkin about Sukuna who doesn’t let you suck him off, doesn’t even bother fucking your mouth at all. he just slaps his thick cock against your cheek before he starts to rub it over your face all slow and lazy like. rutting back and forth in long thrusts, grinding each bumped vein over your brow bone until your cheeks are slippery and pearly little threads of pre are strewn over your face from your chin to your forehead. You peer up at him through clumped lashes, eyes glassy, winking whenever his heavy balls nudge at your chin. You lick and suck at whatever slip of skin your greedy mouth can reach just to hear his breath hitch above you, low rumbled groans just as unhurried as the slow rock of his hips. sometimes he drags the blushed tip over your lower lip, lets your tongue dart out to steal a proper taste before he lifts again just to rest his balls over the hollow point of your eye socket while he dribbles ropes of pre cum into your hairline.
𔘓 yandere necromancer!satoru who opens up your ribcage for him and just... holds your heart. holds your heart to be closer to you. cradles it in his hand. feels its thrum. smiles as you gape at him fear stricken. and he just... thumbs over your beating heart. soft and achingly tender. tells you you're his. watches the light fade from your eyes only to bring you right back so he can do it all over again.
this scenario feels like a fever dream, one where you half-expect to wake up at any moment. how else could you explain being impaled by a silicone replica of your best friend’s cock while said best friend is two feet away, stroking the original?
you’ve never seen the real thing before, not outside stolen glimpses through his boxers, and now it’s jutting out as veiny and impressive as the replica filling you, the tip flushed a pretty pink, precum slicking his knuckles. each awkward descent hits your g-spot with pinpoint accuracy, sparking white behind your eyelids. it stings, yes—but beneath the sting throbs a pleasure no modest toy has ever managed to conjure.
“no, no, take it slower, deep breath,” brilliant blue eyes drink in your face with fevered fascination as he coaches you through being gutted by his cock in effigy, stroking the leaking original.
“are you—” heat blossoms across your cheeks as you lower yourself, until your cunt swallows silicone inch by inch. “seriously giving me pointers right now?”
“duh. now don’t give me that look, this is all for you.” satoru’s eyes flutter shut for half a second before snapping open again—because god forbid he miss the sight of his hot best friend bouncing on his likeness. “ah, fuck, tilt your chin up n’ pout a little… yeah, yeah, just like that. so pretty.”
“pervert.”
“probably,” he concedes, “but you’re still bouncing on my dick replica, sooo… who’s really worse here?”
touché, you think, and not for the first time tonight: if this isn’t a fever dream, i might actually be losing my mind. the combination of your fingers kneading your nipples and the foreign girth makes you feel lightheaded, every soft whimper from him pulling you deeper, craving the ache. his hand falters along his shaft, precum gleaming like silk on his skin.
rolling your hips down, you test how deep you can take it, and his breath hitches sharply. it dawns on you: he’s timing himself to you, his hand moving in perfect sync with your hips, as if you’re fucking him by proxy. and god, the thought makes your cunt clench: you want to feel him inside you for real.
“hghm fuck…how i wish—nevermind.” satoru’s voice splinters mid-babble, cheeks flaming.
“what’d you wish for?”
his eyes go wide, panicked, before rolling back as his fist tightens. hot white ropes spurt across his stomach before he can even speak. when it’s over, satoru gives you an impish smile. “nothing. just this.”
when your best friend shows up with a silicon mould of his dick, you think it’s one of his stupid jokes. it should be—except he’s dead serious. “for practice,” satoru says, as if that explains anything. practice for what? apparently, for the day you finally stop being a virgin and decide to date some poor bastard. because, in his words, it’s his duty as your best friend to set the bar high enough so you don’t go settling for less.
tragic, he calls it, if you ended up with someone who couldn’t measure up—when you’ve got him. well, not him, exactly. a replica of him. thick and heavy in your hands, veins carved into silicon with obscene detail. the kind of thing you’d scroll past online, laugh at for looking unrealistic, dangerous even.
and yet here you are, knees braced on the carpet, the suction base planted against the floor like some depraved monument. satoru is manspreading on the edge of your bed, sunglasses slipping down his nose so he can watch every twitch of your face. even with the copious amount of lube, it stretches you open cruelly, the blunt head popping past resistance and leaving your stomach cramping. you let out a shaky little sound before sinking even lower, the wet squelch filling the room. “holy shit,” he laughs, a bit disbelieving as he crosses one leg over his lap, “you’re really taking it.”
you roll your hips once, tentative, and the drag of silicon veins inside you has your head tipping back, lips parting around a moan. by the time you bottom out, you’re trembling—walls fluttering around the silicone like it doesn’t know whether to take it or or force it back out. drool slicks your lip as you try not to think about the fact that it’s his cock you’re training on.
another whine bubbles up your throat as you rock your hips, proving something—you don’t know what, or to who—but the thought still sears through: i’ve lost my virginity, indirectly, to a copy of my best friend’s dick.
later, you’ll realise maybe this was his plan all along. how every guy you dated after could never measure up—literally.
Being curled up in Sukuna’s lap with his forearm slotted between your thighs. He’s playing with your pussy lazily, fingering you nice n deep while you paw and mouth at his pecs. Your eyes are closed, smearing drool messily over his chest and moaning quietly as you suck and bite at his nipples…
your big boyfriend always leaves you sore between your legs 𐦍
fluff/ light smut
you thought you’d be used to having a big boyfriend by now — six foot three, body sculpted by the gods, dick big and heavy (and he knew it).
the morning after he’d fucked you stupid, you’re used to having a little tenderness between your legs. it was normal to you. expected.
that’s not to say it wasn’t close to agonising sometimes.
"y’okay, sweets?" satoru asks as you wake, cuddling up to you as soon as he catches a glimpse of discomfort on your face.
he presses a kiss to your shoulder, watching you clutch your lower stomach. "mhm, just sore," you reply.
you were a little more than sore, but he didn’t need to know that.
satoru nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, then rolls you over so you’re flat on the bed. "my poor baby. lemme see."
there wasn’t an ounce of mock-sympathy in his voice — just pure love and affection.
you let him pull your shorts down, placing them beside you. he kisses your knee before parting your legs, gaze focused on your pussy. it’s like you could still feel him down there, the soreness and weight of him still lingering.
satoru hums as he parts your folds, pussy still slightly puffy and red, most of the pain on the inside near your cervix. "m’sorry, princess," he says, leaning in to press a chaste kiss to your clit.
"mm, i have such a big, mean boyfriend" you respond with a faint smile.
satoru giggles, then slides your shorts back onto you, gathering you in his strong arms to give you all his love and attention. "soooo mean," he says, kissing you all over your face with exaggerated ‘mwah’ sounds.
after cuddling you for a little while, he grabs you your heating pad, placing it on your lower stomach before drawing you a hot bath. and of course, he orders you copious amounts of food and unnecessary gifts.
"you don’t have to do all this, toru. i’m okay," you say, watching him saunter back over to you with that infamous casual confidence, gathering you in his arms and walking you over to the bathroom.
"shhh," he hushes, sitting you on the ledge of the bath and helping you undress, "always gonna take care of my princess."
he pauses for a second, allowing a moment of silence before breaking it again. "suchhhhh a shame i have such a massive di-"
you cut him off with a glare as he climbs behind you into the bath, shortly after setting you down in it.
ryomen sukuna proves he can treat you better than your asshole bf
ryomen sukuna does not concern himself with the miserable dwellings of day to day life of peasants (aka his frat buddies)
he parties,he gyms, he balls. he looks good and smells good and keeps his women limited to strict one night schedules.
he doesn't give two shits about who's fucking whom and whichever latest breakups circulating around campus. and he definitely doesn't keep track of his friends' girlfriends.
except when he spotted you one night , sitting in one corner of the raging neon lit room , fiddling with your fingers as you watched your boyfriend dance with other women .
sukuna told himself he didn't care about how your smile kept faltering or how sad your eyes looked.
yet, he never wanted to punch a man to oblivion so much than at that moment. he reigned himself in that night.
but the next time when he saw your crestfallen expression when your asshole boyfriend dismissed your homecooked lunch before the entire team , sukuna lost it.
so yeah. he did punch his teammate and frat mate to oblivion.
the rest was easy and quick. some bruises here and there. a little blood. but his favourite part was hearing your shy mouth yell "fuck you , you bastard" on your boyfriends bloody and beaten face (courtesy of him)
but sukuna's life somehow became even more convoluted after that.
his eyes track the slight colouring of your cheeks , the way your gaze darts away from his as you mutter a shy "thank you" .
the sweet scent of your shampoo lingers in his nose when you pass by him in the corridors. his mind replays the small smile you gave him when he crossed paths with you, in the dark quiet of his room.
days escalate to weeks and he finds himself sitting on the bleachers after practice, eating from the cute pink bento you prepared for him as he listens to you read out a line from your favourite book.
he surprises himself when he throws away his entire stash of cigarettes after you tell him one afternoon that you dislike the smell of them.
as autumn approaches, sukuna finds himself before you , pink cheeked, handing you the books he picked out in hopes that you would enjoy them.
ryomen sukuna did not care about feelings . he never bothered to question his own lack of them. but then how was he supposed to justify the way his heart beat stuttered when you placed a soft, barely there kiss on his cheek after he walked you to your apartment?
ryomen sukuna did not bother with cheek kisses. he was rough and in the bed,took from the women what he wanted.
and you were the antagonist of everything he was accustomed to. because it wasn't rough and hard and frantic when it came to you. hell, he hadn't even tasted your lips, and somehow sex hadn't even crossed his mind.
he was willing to take even the tiniest bit of affection you showed him. and somehow it was enough for him.
with you it was lingering fingers, and soft glances. easy smiles and reading poetry. eating sundaes at 10pm under the streetlights .
and when he realised that he looked forward to hearing your soft voice as you read to him, and eating your handcooked meals instead of his bland protein shakes and walking you home as the lamposts cast a warm glow on your skin—sukuna realised that he was utterly fucked.
because, as much as he wanted to deny it, he was no fool.
traps fairy!reader in a jar... now you're his greatest obsession.
𝓒𝐰. nerdjo · yandere themes · experimentation ( not on reader ) · creepy satoru · oddly fluffy · stockholm syndrome · worship · slight idolisation · satoru's so whipped it's kinda cute
𔘓 · yandere researcher!nerdjo loved picking apart magical beings. figuring out how they work. how he could use their supernatural capabilities in alchemy and artifice trades alike. he's got magical body parts stuffed in jars and rowed on his shelves. from unicorn horns to vampire teeth, dragon eyes and goblin hands. but above all, he's been awed by the mythical, elusive fairy. he's got an entire taxidermy wall of butterfly wings in dedication to them.
𔘓 · yandere researcher!nerdjo has been obsessed with fairies from a young age. from fairytales to frightening fascination, he's now driven himself mad trying to capture one. he'd honed all of his skills, yet still couldn't get his hands on one… until you came along.
𔘓 · yandere researcher!nerdjo knew that he needed to have you the second he saw you. prancing around the flowers in his garden, pretty and as peaceful as you could be. you even gave him a little smile from your hiding spot. he pretended not to see you, even as his chest fluttered. but in his eyes? you were perfect.
𔘓 · yandere researcher!nerdjo was surprised that the sweet treat on a mushroom top trick worked.
"well, aren't you the prettiest little thing?" he cooed on that fateful day he trapped your wing under his thumb. while you squirmed in the thick blades of grass.
his sharp grin loomed above you. watching you over the rim of his copper-framed glasses. and within his eyes, you saw something that terrified you.
hearts.
𔘓 · yandere researcher!nerdjo perfectly prepared your jar. he cushioned the bottom with soil and moss. a slab of bark laid on side, with a network of flourishing, pink mushrooms growing along its length. a polished pebble for you to perch on, right beside the singular, blooming daisy where you could sleep. he wasn't a monster, after all…
𔘓 · yandere researcher!nerdjo watched you with fascination as you tapped on the glass helplessly, your wings batting and your tears shimmery. so fairy dust was real.
"please."
your tiny hands smacked into the glass. peering up at the man as he sat at a table and chair. "please, why won't you let me go? I'll do anything."
he had scooped the jar into his hand, levelling you with those terrifying blues. "now, why would I let something so pretty go?" he crooked his head, snowy hair dangling to the side.
"i've waited for you for many years, sweetheart. don't be selfish."
𔘓 · yandere researcher!nerdjo would give you everything you ever needed. food wasn't an issue, every day, he fed you something new. a juicy strawberry. honey and puffballs. mango slices. crackers. one time he even tried to hold you in his palm and feed you a small piece of vanilla cake.
you bit him.
he smiled.
"I suppose even pretty things can be feisty." his grip tightened on you, ever so slightly. a thumb brushing over your wings that fluttered erratically.
"let me go! you monster!" you squeaked.
he tutted, stroking his thumb over your back in a tender path. "sshhh, sweet thing. you'll bruise your little lungs…"
he continued the motion until your wreckless squirming melted. your head limped on his knuckle, your limbs still, and your head droopy.
he chuckled, carefully scooping you back into your jar. "thankfully, I've studied your kind extensively. I know you intimately, sweetheart."
𔘓 · yandere researcher!nerdjo sometimes lets you out of the jar, but only when you have manners. he doesn't have to worry about you flying away, because he always so meticulously ties your wings with a silk ribbon.
"remain still for me, okay?" he hushed at you, kissing your head as you thrashed and shouted at him.
he even tied it into a pretty bow, before he set you atop one of his books.
"why do you do this?" you huffed, balling your little fists as you helplessly tried to flutter your wings. "how can you be so twisted to keep me here?"
satoru always spoke to you as if you were a flower. even lowering his head to be at eye level with you. lashes fluttering, almost droopy in the presence of your beauty.
"am I so twisted for being in love with you?"
the way your eyes gaped at him made him smile. he brought his pinkie to gently poke at your head. "what? am I?"
"you're insane…" your murmur sounded frightened. fear looked pretty on you, too.
"maybe," his voice lowered to a whisper. "or maybe I'm just very dedicated to my work."
𔘓 · yandere researcher!nerdjo made little tools out of silver to help fix your hair. he'd do the usual routine of scooping you out of the jar, tying your wings and sitting you on his palm, before he set to work on carefully helping you.
"I made these for you." he'd say affectionately.
and when you didn't respond, he blew a bit of air onto your wings until you squirmed and giggled.
𔘓 · yandere researcher!nerdjo makes sure to let you have a little soak in one of his favourite teacups with some warm water. no, he doesn't peep at you. he's not a creep. a pretty little lady like yourself needs her privacy, after all.
𔘓 · yandere researcher!nerdjo sometimes takes you out to dance you around the windowsill when the moon shines just right. he lets you hold onto his pinkies. twirls and dips you all night long. treating you as delicate as a flower as he watches you with awestruck eyes.
𔘓 · yandere researcher!nerdjo brings you bundles of flowers to drink nectar from. he'll nudge your chin up so gently with his index nail and feed you himself. makes sure you don't choke.
𔘓 · yandere researcher!nerdjo wraps you up in his glasses cloth when it gets too cold, or sometimes even scoops you into his pocket where you can nap to the sound of his heartbeat.
𔘓 · yandere researcher!nerdjo despite being so gentle, would remind you what kind of man he was. not all of the times he plucked you from the jar were for your benefit.
at times, he'd tie your wings a little tighter. laying you out on a leather-bound notebook and analysing you piece by piece.
"fascinating," he mumbled, prodding at your arm with a flat, wooden stick. applying pressure. testing. "your limbs are stronger than they look. is it your magic, I wonder?"
he spoke about wanting to take you apart. bit by bit, to understand you better. when you gave him a horrified look, he chuckled, cocking his head as he tickled your wings.
"what, sweetheart? wouldn't it be intimate?"
𔘓 · yandere researcher!nerdjo wouldn't ever hurt you. he didn't think he had it in him. you were too soft, too elegant, too pretty. it broke his heart whenever he'd see you weeping in your jar.
"don't cry… please don't cry," he'd whisper as he laid his head beside the jar. watching you with sullen blue eyes.
you'd cry for him to let you go, and it ached a deep part of him.
"I can't. I'm sorry, sweet thing." his lips brushed the glass, a sincere apology from a man so sadistic. "I need you." came his shaky breath.
"I need you here. with me. I'm just so lonely. please don't hate me."
𔘓 · yandere researcher!nerdjo saw you staring at the wall of wings while he worked, once. silent and wide eyed.
he sorely misinterpreted you, tilting his head with a crooked smile. "do you like any of them?"
scooping you out of the jar, he cradled you in his palm. "I could make you a dress… would you like that?"
your look of horror bewildered him, and when tears streamed down your face, he rushed to soothe you. brushing away your tears with a petal plucked from a flower on his desk.
when you told him why you wept— because you thought the wings were your fallen brethren, his face twisted. almost disgusted that you could compare your pristine, perfect wings to those baneful butterflies. still, his shoulder shook with a little laugh. he found it morbidly amusing.
"oh, my sweetheart. of course not," he cooed at you. "those are butterflies. you are the only fairy I've had in my grasp."
pale lips brushed your little head, ever delicate. as he whispered. soft, lovingly.
"that's why you're so special to me."
you didn't look too convinced. your small sniffles broke his heart, so he sighed as he gently nudged you over. till you were slumped over his thumb and forefinger.
"sweetheart, please don't insult yourself so," he lightly scolded. "butterfly wings are so brittle. so dull. but yours…"
his other index slowly, tenderly brushed down your spine. tracing your wings in that same gentle, sick fascination he always had.
"yours are pristine. delicate… perfect."
his shaky breath tickled your wings, and they twitched. his throat ran dry. heart hammering a bit faster at this little, intimate moment.
with a gentle squeeze to you, he leaned down. pressing a slow, velvet kiss to your wings. smiling into them as they fluttered and you pitched a whine.
"see?" satoru breathed, lips brushing over their little twitches. his smile was soft, sick.
"these are all mine. my special little sweetheart."
