𝒃𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒆𝒊𝒔

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?”

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.

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.

you love your big, cocky boyfriend.

more like this

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.

˚₊‧⁺˙ 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝓖.𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 ˙⁺‧₊˚

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.

synopsis: you text your number neighbor, only to find out it’s your classmate, megumi!!

content warning: use of y/n, one mention of death as a joke (third image), sorry this parts kinda short!!

- pt.1 -

— the arrangement ∬ ֗ ₊

ა ˙˖ in which → you have car sex with your biggest op, satoru gojo

frat!jo 𝓍 fem!reader

Everyone knows you hate fraternities, especially Theta Phi and it's president, Satoru Gojo

It was a given. The sky is blue, grass is green and according to you, fraternities are the root of all evil.

Which is why when you started fucking Gojo, it was under the condition that this was strictly between the two of you and you'd ruin his life if he told anyone about this.. arrangement. 

Here's what not even your closest friends know about you: you had a very high libido and none of the men you were interested in had been capable of keeping up. you tried sleeping with athletes but even they didn't have the stamina to go for more than two rounds and while your vibrators always helped you, you had grown sexually frustrated and needed more.

You started snapping over the tiniest things, losing sleep and even daydreaming during lectures about getting fucked.

This.. arrangement started when you had been assigned to work on a project with Gojo, the arrogant white haired manchild you hated since the first day of uni. Now you were stuck with him for two months, working on a project he cared little about since he was too busy trying to charm his way into not just your pants, but your heart.

As if!

"Fuck, just like that, princesss. Come on, I know you can go faster." Gojo chuckles and grabs onto your hips, spreading his legs wider as he starts bouncing you on his cock so hard that the car is rocking back and forth, windows fogging up as he lifts his hips to pound into you. 

You should be working on this project that was due in a few weeks, but instead you let Gojo drag you to the backseat of his car with the promise that this would be quick, something to clear your minds so you could focus on your work without any distractions. 

Yet here you were four rounds later with cum dripping down your thighs from his previous loads that started to seep from the condom, body shaking as you neared your fourth orgasm.

"Screw you asshole, how about you get on top you lazy bast- oh!" Gojo lifts you off his cock and flips you onto your knees, awkwardly moving within the limited space until he’s behind you and lining his cock up with your entrance. 

"You're so fucking mean to me, I love it." Gojo leans over your body to suck on your neck, one hand holding onto your hip while the other grips the back of the seat as he pushes into you.

"You d-deserve it." You push back against him as he pushes forward, meeting him halfway until he's balls deep inside of you, your cunt hungrily squeezing him for more, eyes rolling back when he starts to slowly move his hips.

You hadn't meant for this to go on for as long as it has. You had been frustrated after a shift at work, then you walked in on your roommate getting her back blown out, and when you went to meet Gojo for a quick study session at the library, it was closed and he smirked and told you his place was around the corner.

You reluctantly got into his car, arms folded across your chest as you stared out the window the entire way there, ignoring his flirtatious comments. It had frustrated you to no end, so who could really blame you when you started drooling after he offered to help you with your little issue?

It was supposed to be a one time thing, a quick solution to your "problem" until you could find someone more permanent, someone you didn't despise. 

Only Gojo had matched your freak perfectly, going six rounds your first time and only taking a break once. You didn't want it to be him, did everything to convince yourself that he was actually terrible in bed but your vibrators had turned stale after that night, your mind constantly drifting to how hard Gojo made you cum on his dick and on his tongue.

He was just too good. 

You arch your back so he can hit deeper, hands tightly gripping the leather head rest to steady yourself, skirt yanked above your waist, bra and shirt long discarded on the car floor. 

You cry out when he hits a spot inside of you that has you seeing stars, head spinning from how deep he was fucking you. 

Gojo groans and leans forward, grabbing your chin to turn your head toward his, pink lips slamming against yours. The kiss is careless, his tongue fighting yours, you angrily biting his lip because you hate yourself for letting him fuck you when you swore up and down you’d never get involved with a fratboy. 

Gojo didn’t care, savoring the taste of his blood mixing with the spit you both traded.

When he pulls away, your brows furrow from the way he's staring at you, white hair falling into his face, lips slightly busted from your bite, a foreign feeling twirling in your belly. This was just sex, you wanted nothing more from him so why was he staring at you like he wanted to tell you something that would ruin your current agreement? 

"Look at you.” He whispers too softly. “Letting me fuck you like a slut in my car. Anyone could walk by, you know? See how good I fuck you, how well you take me. You want that?"

When you try to turn your head, he tightens his grip on your jaw and smirks, slamming into you as he thrusts grow sloppy. The sound of your wet pussy squelching filling the car has him dizzy with need.

"You don't have to answer, your moans are telling me enough." He kisses you one more time before letting you go and pulling back. 

You don't have a chance to dwell on what he was implying before he was gripping your hips and pounding into you at a pace that had you crying out as the coil in your belly tightens, your puffy walls gripping around Gojo's cock.

"M'gonna cum again!" You whined as his tip hit your cervix perfectly, fat tears escaping your eyes while your mouth dropped open in a silent cry. 

You try to fuck him back, really you do but your legs are noodles at this point and the only thing keeping you up was Gojo's steady hands on your hips, euphoria coursing through your body and making your head dizzy with need. 

“Come on, princess. Give me another one, yeah? You can do it, such a good girl f’me.” 

You hate him so much, hate that he knows exactly what to say to push you over the edge, that he was way too in-tune with your body as if he had been created to please you.

Gojo pulls you up against his chest and you let your head fall on his shoulder. He wraps one arm around your waist and squeezes you flush against him, his other hand moving around your body until he’s rubbing circles on your clit and you’re lazily bucking back against him.

“Feels so good Toru, haah, don’t stop!” 

The car reeked of sex, windows blurred from the breathy moans falling from yours and Gojo’s mouths as you both rock into each other. Anyone walking by would know what was happening inside. You thanked god it was late and the parking lot had been empty. 

“Really? Thought you hated me, pretty girl. Who knew- fuck, who knew you had such loose morals?” He laughs in your ear, hand pushing on your back to arch it even further while he split you on his cock. 

“F-fuck you, oh im close!” 

Gojo laughs and places a kiss on the side of your head that lingers longer than it should before pushing you back down to get a better angle and his next slam sends you over the edge, your orgasm tearing through your soul as you squirt all over his seats and cry out his name.

This was better than porn.

Gojo doesn’t laugh this time, doesn’t make any snide comments because he can barely breathe with the way your cunt is pulsing around his cock, your juices dripping down his thighs and he thinks he’s going crazy because he’s never had pussy this good. 

The fact that you hated him made this even better for some reason, motivated him to fuck you until you finally admitted that this was more than just casual sex. That he wasn’t delusional in thinking this could be something deeper. 

He squeezes your hips tighter, pushing as deep as he can as he pumps his third load into the condom, eyes rolling back and a strangled groan escaping his lips as thick hot cum drips from the latex and into your warm pussy. 

Gojo can feel it slipping it off, can feel your heat and gummy walls on his half free cock and it has him feral as he picks up his pace and fucks another load into you, his balls tightening and pulsing because you had never felt this good. 

“Shit, princess. You’re so fucking wet, so good, s-so perfect.” He drops against your back, still holding you up as his hips stutter and slow, pushing the last of his orgasm out while you both catch your breath. 

He stays there for a moment, his face tucked into the crook of your neck, thumbs rubbing circles on your hips as you both come down from your high. You can feel his cum leaking from you and down your thighs and you hate how it awakens something primal inside of you. And when the thought to push it back in had formed, you blamed it on your disheveled state. 

In any other instance you would have pushed him off you already, huffing that it was only sex and would never happen again even though you both knew that was a lie. 

Something about Gojo had you coming back for seconds and thirds. Every fuck session was somehow better than the last, making you forget that this was supposed to be a one time thing, something to hold you over until you found a more suitable partner. 

Only you were starting to realize Gojo might be the best you ever had. It made you hate him more.

You gasp when he slowly pulls out, pussy overstimulated and swollen from the multiple rounds you went in the span of an hour. Both of you sitting on the cushion, one of your arms draped across the seat, Gojo’s throw over his eyes. 

You sneak a look at him, heart thumping at how attractive he looked. His hair was all over the place, cheeks red from exhaustion, and his pants and boxers were still halfway down, cock still free and housing a half on condom. Your skin tingles at the sight of his abdomen and white pubes wet with your release. 

He looked as fucked out as you felt.

Not one for awkward silence, you lift your hips to pull your panties back up and your skirt down, stretching your body to reach into the front seat for your shirt, ass in the air and you almost have it, your finger literally grazes the blue fabric before Gojo grabs you and pulls you down. 

“Gojo! Oh my god, let go you freak.” You’re fuming, trying your best to wiggle out his grip but he just tightens his arms around your stomach, pulling you against him and lowering his head onto your back, littering it in soft kisses that burn through your skin. 

"Go on a date with me. Please?"

This again. You told him multiple times before that this was simply sex, two college students helping each other out and nothing more. No feelings outside of helping the other get off. His stubbornness would only hurt him in the end.

"God no, I don't date frat boys."

"What if I left?"

You freeze against him, a lump forming in your chest. "Aren't you the president? You can't just leave."

What a cruel joke. Not that you wanted him anyways but even if you did, Gojo would never leave his fraternity. Certainly not for you. You two weren’t lovers, weren’t friends and we’re barely acquaintances given the fact that he was your number one op.

You remembered the time in sophomore year when he publicly called you an uptight bitch because you told him his party sucked. You lived different lives, it could never work. He would never change and you would never see him as more than a quick fuck and your unfortunate  project buddy that you’d go back to ignoring once this was over.  

"I can do whatever I want sweetheart, did you forget my last name?" He lifts his head and kisses your shoulder this time, goosebumps forming on your arms. Of course, he always tried to fix everything with money and status, which is another reason why you hated him. 

You sit there quietly, lost in your thoughts. 

You couldn’t seriously be with someone like Gojo, right? He was brash, had an ego out of this world and was a bratty nepo baby that flirted with anyone with a hole. 

"So?" he asks, hopeful. HIs fingers gently dig into your belly to keep you from moving away, one hand coming up to grip your chin and turn your head back to him. 

"So?" You repeat, eyebrows scrunched in confusion as you lose yourself in his eyes.

For all of his.. lack of good qualities, he never failed in the facial department. Perhaps that was another reason you disliked him, because no matter how many insults you can throw his way, ugly wasn’t one of them.

Satoru Gojo was sculpted by the Gods themselves, which was unfortunate, because no one with a face like that should have a personality so catastrophically irritating. You can’t help but to let your eyes. traitorous things that they were, linger.

He notices because of course he does, and the smile that spreads across his face lacks any of his usual arrogance and for a second you imagined what life as his girlfriend could be like. 

The thought came uninvited, images of him giving you sleepy morning kisses nad taking you on dates vivid enough to make your stomach twist. 

Absolutely not.

Satoru Gojo was many things: powerful, insufferable, unbearably handsome, but he was not boyfriend material.

"Will you go on a date with me if I leave the frat?" 

"No."

You answer too fast and Gojo is once again left heartbroken as you pull away to finish dressing yourself, refusing to spare him another look. He could understand why you hated him, but if you would just give him a chance to prove he could be different, he knew he wouldn’t disappoint you. 

He would just have to keep trying, keep working for your favor because he would make you his if it was the last thing he did. He was competitive to his core and that wouldn’t waver just because he had finally met his match. 

On the contrary, it only motivated him more. He saw the way you looked at him, how you were starting to let him touch you longer than you would have when this first started.

He was slowly breaking your walls down and it was only a matter of time before he made you his.

❦ lisa's note: this will be a series! I'll post the masterlist for it soon but lemme know if you wanna be tagged! 😋

© art creds: gojouify, heart gif from @sweethearticism ❤︎

gojo &̶ jjk tags: @rhaewinsdaughter @timgiohlover1767 @kissprl @lunevarin @keiito066 @Stupidlyawesomegirl @pinkpantherrrrss @Spammyjammyy @lounastar @luvs-angel @luvbambiboo @scramblenigojo @nationalmegumidihhopper