don't touch it

hiii everyone ♡

i’m stella, 19, she/her just dove headfirst into the jjk fandom because my friend basically shoved it down my throat and now i’m ruined in the best way possible. sukuna’s feral energy? gojo’s stupidly pretty smirk? yeah… i’m never recovering.

so i made this blog to dump all my shameless, silly, thirsty ideas without holding back. mostly x reader stuff, a lot of ceo aus, possessive boys, dark + soft smut, and way too much brainrot about getting wrecked and then cuddled after.

i’m not the best writer—still figuring out how to string words together without cringing—but if even one of you vibes with my nonsense, that’s more than enough for me.

mdni 18+ only !! ageless/minors dni or i’ll block ♡

synopsis: months of shadows, months of your moans echoing in his head. he’s hard, aching, done pretending. one brutal thrust and you’re stretched around him, tears streaming as he claims what’s always been his. thank me, slut. louder.

tw / warnings: noncon, yandere behavior, stalking, degradation, obsession/possessiveness, rough sex, forced orgasm, creampie, explicit smut. mdni (18+ only). dark content ahead—read at your own risk!

he’d been watching you for months. not “too long.” months. every single night you thought you were alone—scrolling in bed with the lights low, showering with the curtain half-open, touching yourself while whispering names that weren’t his. he knew them all. he’d memorised the exact pitch of your little broken moans when you came.

tonight he finally stopped pretending.

you didn’t even hear the door click shut behind you when you stepped into the hallway. one second you were fumbling with your keys, the next his hand was clamped over your mouth and you were being dragged backward into the dark apartment you’d left unlocked like a fucking invitation.

“shhh,” he breathed against your ear, voice low and venomous. “you’ve teased me enough, whore.”

your back slammed against his chest. he was hard already—thick, hot, pressing insistently against your ass through his pants like he’d been aching for this exact moment for weeks.

“always parading around like you’re not dripping for someone to ruin you,” he growled, free hand shoving under your skirt without warning. two thick fingers dragged through your folds and he laughed—dark, cruel—when he found you soaked. “pathetic. look at this messy cunt. you’ve been wet for me all night, haven’t you?”

you whimpered behind his palm. he shoved those same fingers straight into your mouth, forcing you to taste yourself.

“suck. that’s it. clean up your own slutty mess while i decide how hard i’m going to break you.”

he spun you around, shoved you face-first over the back of your own couch, and yanked your panties down in one brutal tug. the sound of his zipper was deafening in the quiet room.

“you think anyone else could ever fuck you like i will?” he slapped your ass hard enough to sting, then again, watching the skin bloom red. “they’d be gentle. they’d ask if you’re okay. me?” he lined his cock up and pushed in with one merciless thrust, stretching you open so wide you cried out. “i’m going to use this hole until you forget every other name but mine.”

he didn’t ease in. he fucked you—deep, punishing strokes that punched the air out of your lungs. every thrust slapped wetly against your ass, obscene and loud.

“fuck—listen to that greedy little pussy,” he snarled, one hand fisting your hair, yanking your head back so he could see your face. tears streaked your cheeks; drool slipped from the corner of your mouth. “crying already? we’ve barely started, baby. i’m nowhere near done ruining you.”

he reached around and rubbed your clit in tight, mean circles, forcing you closer and closer while he kept slamming into you.

“you’re going to cum on my cock like the desperate slut you are, and then i’m going to fill you up until it’s leaking down your thighs for days. and you’re going to thank me. say it.”

you choked on a sob, walls fluttering around him.

“louder.”

“thank you—fuck—thank you—”

he buried himself to the hilt and came with a guttural groan, pumping you full, hot and thick. when he finally pulled out, he watched his cum drip from your wrecked cunt with dark satisfaction.

he leaned down, lips brushing your ear one last time.

“next time you touch yourself, you’re going to think of me. only me. because you’re mine now. and i don’t share.”

"fuck, this pussy tastes so good," sukuna rasps into your folds. "you've been hiding this from me?"

you jerk on top of his massive desk, legs splayed wide as his grip turns relentless. sukuna—your boss, the fucking ceo—stays on his knees, giving you the head you've dreamed about for so fucking long. you never told a soul about the fantasies that ran wild in your head.

but sukuna saw right through you.

his chiseled chin is already coated in your slick; he nuzzles against your clit, nose rubbing perfectly against the swollen bud. his fingers join without warning—no prep, no teasing. three thick digits plunge in at once.

"ah... sir... please, sir—"

he lets out a low, satisfied purr, almost like a giant cat who's finally caught his favorite prey. and you? you're his sweetest little treat.

"keep them open."

your legs shake on his broad shoulders as he curls his fingers, hitting that spot he somehow already knows exists inside you. he doesn't need guidance—he loves discovering it himself.

"i... this is too much."

"is it?"

you nod frantically.

"babygirl," he smirks, fangs glinting. tattooed hands slide up and down your trembling thighs. "you're too gentle. too innocent. i like that." his voice drops darker. "but you're not going anywhere until i'm fed. you hear me?"

to prove it, he dives back in, sucking hard on your swollen clit. he moans deliberately when your legs tense, fingers twisting inside your tight channel—curling, scissoring, pumping with the sloppiest, wettest sounds you've ever heard.

"have you ever been touched like this?" he asks between flat, broad licks, crimson eyes never leaving yours. "talk to me, babygirl."

you can't. you can barely breathe. it feels like he's been toying with you for hours when it's only minutes. sukuna always acts like the world belongs to him. you're not about to prove him wrong.

"you make me feel so good... sir," you sob, hands clinging to the polished edge of the desk. "please, sir, i need you—i'm so close..."

"i can feel it."

his low voice pierces straight through your core, cranking the tingles in your lower belly until you shatter. his fingers work in perfect sync with his mouth—plump lips sucking your clit inside, creating that vacuum seal that makes everything spike sharper.

you come so hard you practically jolt on the lacquered wood, as if the desk were made of burning coals. sukuna doesn't stop fingering you even after you gush around him—staining his pristine shirt, his hand, his workspace.

he doesn't care.

his mind is already racing ahead to future scenarios: how he'll ruin you next time. and oh—calling him sir like that? he files it away. he'll use it. 100%.

alpha!sukuna who killed your intended alpha partner, lied to your parents that he tried to hurt you, and took you for himself. when he finally has you—he knots you so hard you spend hours tangled in his bed, unable to move. all he can think about is you swollen with his pups.

sukuna who has you pinned beneath him, face-down on the sheets, ass high and already stinging from the relentless slap of his hips. "sukuna—ah—daddy—please—"

"please what?"

he grazes the shell of your ear, breath hot, pounding into you from behind. his muscular body cages yours completely, weight pressing you deeper into the mattress.

"…deeper," you whimper. "please, i need you. i want all of you."

sukuna growls low, tongue dragging up the side of your neck. his hands are everywhere—tight ropes around your wrists, your waist, your throat—like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go. his cock sits so deep inside you that you swear you can feel it in your belly, thick and throbbing.

"little brat."

spank.

his large palm lands perfectly where thigh meets ass. you squeal, legs shaking, but you can’t move—he’s got you locked in place.

"you’ve been provoking me," he hisses, hips grinding menacingly, slow circles that make you see stars. "playing me for a fool. and now what? you beg for my cock like a whore? that’s all it took?"

you cry out when he suddenly pulls out—empty, aching—only to slam back in with brutal force. your tits are heavy against the cotton sheets, nipples swollen and raw from constant friction. sukuna inhales the scent of your hair, rests his chin on the top of your head, and starts those slow, punishingly deep strokes that feel like they’re rearranging your insides.

"now you beg. beg daddy to give you what you want."

he pulls out again.

your eyes water instantly from the loss. "please! please, daddy, please—i need you—"

"louder."

he slaps his cock against your ass, wet and heavy.

"please! i beg you! i want you to fuck me until i fade!"

sukuna smirks. "i believe you, brat."

with a low, guttural groan, he plunges back inside. his fat tip brushes every sensitive spot on your inner walls, stretching you wide, making your legs kick uselessly. he’s already on top again—body crushing yours, balls tight and slick with his own cum. he fucks you with pure abandon now: teeth sinking into your shoulder blades, dragging up your neck, marking you everywhere until you collapse beneath his weight. until you’re shaking, sobbing, drooling like you’ve lost all control.

no thoughts. no words. just daddy’s little fucktoy, reduced to this trembling, ruined mess.

sukuna who pins your wrists above your head with one hand while the other grips your hip hard enough to bruise, keeping you exactly where he wants you. “look at me,” he growls when your eyes flutter shut from the stretch. “i want to see your face when i fill you up. want to watch you break knowing my seed’s taking root.”

sukuna who talks filthy the entire time, voice low and mocking against your ear. “gonna pump you so full tonight, brat. gonna make sure every drop stays deep inside that greedy little cunt. you’re not wasting a single one—clench tighter, i know you can.” he laughs when you whimper and flutter around him involuntarily.

sukuna who pulls out slow after he comes just to watch his cum leak out of you, only to push it back in with thick fingers. “can’t let it escape, can we? you’re keeping every bit until i decide you’re bred properly.” he smears the mess across your folds, then licks his fingers clean while staring you down.

sukuna who flips you onto your stomach the second round, knees shoved wide, ass up. “this position’s better—lets it sink deeper. gravity’s on my side now.” he slams back in without warning, one set of hands spreading you open so he can watch himself disappear inside you again. “fuck, look how swollen you already are. pussy’s begging for more.”

sukuna who gets meaner the longer it goes on. “you’re dripping everywhere—such a messy little thing. bet your body already knows what it’s for. knows it’s made to take my cock and carry my heirs.” he presses down on your lower stomach, feeling himself bulge inside. “right here. gonna make sure it sticks.”

sukuna who loses the teasing edge when he’s close again. his thrusts turn erratic, hips snapping so hard the bedframe rattles. “take it—fuck—take it all,” he snarls, burying himself to the hilt as he comes a second time, flooding you until it’s spilling out around his base. he doesn’t pull out right away; just stays seated deep, grinding lazily to push it further in.

sukuna who finally collapses over you, chest heaving, four arms caging you in like he’s afraid you’ll disappear. he nuzzles into your neck—almost gentle—murmuring against sweat-slick skin. “you’re mine now. every part. if it takes, you’re carrying my mark forever.” his lower hand strokes your stomach possessively. “and if it doesn’t… we’ll just keep going until it does.”

sukuna who smirks when you shiver at the promise. “don’t look so surprised, little one. you begged for this cock—now you get everything that comes with it.”

sukuna who growls when you gasp and rush over. "it's nothing," he snaps, voice gravel-rough, but he doesn't pull away when your hands hover over the worst cut. doesn't flinch when you drag him (all 9 feet of muscle and malice) to sit on the edge of the bed. he just watches you with that sharp, predatory stare—half amused, half something softer he refuses to name.

sukuna who lets you peel off his ruined yukata without protest. the fabric sticks to drying blood; you wince more than he does. "sit still, idiot king," you mutter, fetching the kit you keep hidden because he never admits he needs it. antiseptic, clean cloths, bandages you bought in bulk after the last time he came home looking like war itself.

sukuna who hisses through his teeth when the cloth meets torn skin—more annoyed than hurt. "you think this stings?" he scoffs. "i've had worse from children with sticks." but his lower set of arms curls around your waist anyway, pulling you closer between his thighs like you're the only thing keeping him grounded. possessive. needy in a way he'd kill anyone for noticing.

sukuna who goes unnaturally still when you dab carefully at the gash on his ribs. your fingers tremble just a little—he notices, of course. "scared of a little blood, brat?" he teases, but his voice drops softer than usual. you shoot him a look. "scared of you bleeding out because you're too stubborn to heal yourself properly." he chuckles—low, dark, fond. "i don't bleed out. i bleed on things. like your floor."

sukuna who leans his forehead against yours when you start wrapping the bandage. four hands—one set steadying your hips, another gently cradling your face so you can't look away. "you're too gentle," he murmurs against your temple. "makes me want to break something just to see you fuss over it." you roll your eyes, tie off the gauze with a neat bow. "break anything and i'll break you." he laughs—real, rare, rumbling through his chest like thunder wrapped in velvet.

sukuna who doesn't let you pull away after. instead he tugs you onto his lap, careful of the fresh bandages, arms caging you in like you're the most precious curse he's ever claimed. his mouth brushes your neck—soft, almost reverent. "you think you can patch me up and walk away unscathed?" he whispers. "foolish little thing." but there's no bite left—just warmth, just him burying his face in your hair like he needs your scent to remember he's still here.

step!brother!toji who’s been eyeing you like prey since the day your mom married his dad—tall, scarred, smirking like he knows every dirty thought you’ve ever had about him. he’s supposed to be the “responsible” older step-bro now that you’re both living under the same roof, but responsibility went out the window the first time he caught you touching yourself through your thin pajama shorts, door cracked just enough for him to watch.

tonight the house is full: parents downstairs hosting neighbors for dinner—laughter, clinking glasses, boring small talk drifting up the stairs like white noise. you’re in your room, door locked (or so you thought), trying to read but failing because toji’s been teasing you all day—brushing against you in the kitchen, whispering “behave, little sis” when no one’s looking. your thighs are already sticky, panties ruined just from the memory of his low voice.

a soft knock. before you can answer, the door opens—he has a key?—and toji slips in, shutting it quietly behind him. he’s shirtless, sweatpants low on his hips, that stupid scar tugging at his lip as he grins.

“dinner’s loud enough,” he murmurs, voice gravel-rough. “they won’t hear a thing if you’re quiet.”

you sit up fast, book tumbling. “toji—wait, they’re right—”

he’s on you in two strides, big hand clamping over your mouth, other shoving your knees apart so he can kneel between them on the bed. “shh. you’ve been squirming all night. think i didn’t notice?” his palm is warm, calloused; smells faintly of the beer he was sipping downstairs. “gonna eat this pretty pussy right here. make you come while mom’s passing the potatoes.”

your heart slams—fear, thrill, heat pooling low. you nod against his hand, eyes wide. he removes it slow, replaces it with his mouth—kiss bruising, tongue shoving in like he owns the space. you whimper into it; he swallows the sound.

pulls back just enough to yank your shorts and panties down in one rough tug. spreads your thighs wide, hooks them over his broad shoulders. you’re exposed, dripping, clit throbbing under his stare.

“fuck, look at her,” he breathes, thumb parting your folds. “so wet already. been thinking about your big brother’s tongue, huh?”

you bite your lip hard—can’t answer, not with voices floating up from below. he doesn’t wait—dives in, flat tongue licking a slow, broad stripe from your entrance to clit. you arch, hand flying to your mouth to muffle the gasp.

he groans against you—vibration ripping through your core. “quiet, baby. or i stop.” but he doesn’t stop; he devours. lips seal around your clit, sucking hard then soft, tongue flicking relentless. one thick finger slides in—then two—curling against that spot that makes your toes curl. wet sounds fill the room: sloppy, obscene, louder than you’d like.

downstairs, someone laughs. a chair scrapes. you freeze, eyes darting to the door.

toji doesn’t. he just hums, pleased, and doubles down—nose grinding your clit while fingers pump faster. “that’s it,” he mutters against your slick skin. “clench for me. come on my tongue while they’re all clueless down there.”

you’re shaking—thighs trembling around his head, hips rocking despite yourself. his free hand pins your hip down, keeps you open for him. tongue laps faster, circles tight, then flattens to lap broad again. pressure builds sharp, unbearable.

“toji—” whisper-broken, barely audible.

he growls low—sucks harder. fingers crook just right.

you shatter—back arching off the bed, hand clamped over your mouth so tight your teeth dig in. waves crash through you, pussy fluttering around his digits, gushing onto his tongue. he drinks every drop, groaning like it’s the best thing he’s tasted.

when you slump, boneless, he pulls back slow—lips shiny, chin dripping. wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, smirking.

“good girl,” he rasps, leaning up to kiss you deep—letting you taste yourself on him. “stay quiet next time too. or maybe i’ll fuck you while they’re eating dessert.”

he stands, adjusts the obvious bulge in his sweats, gives your thigh a possessive squeeze.

“clean up. dinner’s almost over.” winks. slips out like nothing happened.

you lie there panting, thighs slick, heart racing—listening to the muffled chatter below.

mdni | 18+ only

t a t t o o! a r t i s t ! s u k u n a who barely glances up when the bell chimes, expecting another walk-in wanting some generic bullshit. but then you step in — big eyes darting around the dark walls covered in his ink sketches, hands twisting the hem of your skirt like you're about to bolt. he smirks behind the buzz of his machine. "first time, huh?" you nod, voice barely a whisper. he sets the gun down, wipes his hands on his black jeans, and motions to the chair. "sit. let's see what you've got in mind, doll."

t a t t o o ! a r t i s t ! s u k u n a who rarely does newbies — he's got no patience for flinching and tears — but something about your quiet tremble makes him take the appointment anyway. he picks a simple design for your inner wrist, small enough not to scare you off, but close enough that his gloved fingers brush your pulse the whole time. you flinch at the first buzz. he chuckles low. "relax. breathe through it." when you still tense, he leans in closer, breath hot against your ear. "or i can distract you another way." your cheeks burn. he doesn't push — yet — but his thumb strokes slow circles on your palm while the needle works, turning pain into something warmer.

t a t t o o ! a r t i s t ! s u k u n a who finishes the outline and wipes the excess ink away, admiring the fresh black lines against your skin. "looks good on you," he mutters, almost soft. you murmur a thank you, eyes down. he tilts your chin up with a knuckle. "look at me when you say that." you do — barely — and he rewards you with a slow drag of his thumb over the new tattoo, testing if it stings. it does. you gasp. he grins, sharp. "sensitive little thing." he doesn't let go of your wrist. instead he pulls you closer on the chair, legs parting just enough for him to step between them.

t a t t o o! a r t i s t ! s u k u n a who decides the shading can wait. "need you loose first," he says, voice rough as gravel. he drops to one knee — still towering — and hooks your legs over his broad shoulders like it's nothing. you squeak, hands flying to cover your face. he pries them away gently. "nah. wanna see those pretty eyes while i eat you out." his mouth is hot, tongue flat and insistent, lapping slow until your thighs shake and your shy whimpers turn into broken moans. he hums against you when you come, vibrations dragging it out longer. "good girl," he rasps, kissing the fresh ink on your wrist like a promise. "now hold still for the rest."

t a t t o o ! a r t i s t ! s u k u n a who finishes the tattoo hours later — after he's wrecked you on the leather chair, after he's fucked you slow and deep while murmuring "stay with me, doll" against your neck. he wraps the fresh ink carefully, presses a kiss to the bandage. "come back in two weeks for aftercare." you blink up at him, dazed and soft. he smirks. "or sooner. i don't mind." when you leave, legs shaky, he watches from the door — already planning the next piece he'll put on you. something permanent. something his.

modern au · ceo/heir!gojo x fem!reader · mdni i made this blog just so i could gush over jjk boys cuz i can't keep it inside me anymore ♡

you hadn’t seen satoru in almost four months.

four months of him jetting between tokyo, new york, paris, milan — “business meetings” that mostly consisted of champagne brunches, yacht parties and posting stories from rooftops you could never afford to stand on. four months of dry “miss u baby ♡” texts at 3 a.m. your time, followed by him falling asleep before you could even reply.

so when he finally shows up at your apartment — unannounced, of course — wearing that stupidly expensive cream linen shirt with the top four buttons undone and those stupidly pretty blue eyes hidden behind even stupider sunglasses, you don’t even let him finish his smug little “miss me?”.

you grab him by the collar and drag him inside.

the door slams. his back hits the wall. sunglasses clatter to the floor.

“four months,” you breathe against his mouth, already yanking at his belt. “four fucking months, satoru.”

he laughs — that low, spoiled, velvet laugh that always makes your thighs clench — and lets you manhandle him like he’s doing you a favor by allowing it.

“i know, i know,” he purrs, long fingers sliding under your shirt, cool against your skin. “i’m the worst boyfriend ever. let me make it up to you, yeah?”

you don’t answer with words. you answer by shoving his trousers down just enough and dropping to your knees.

his head thuds back against the wall when your mouth closes around him — hot, wet, no teasing, no preamble. just pure, desperate need.

“fuck—baby—” his voice cracks, one hand tangling in your hair immediately. “shit, you’re so—hah—mean when you’re mad.”

you hollow your cheeks and take him deeper. he groans loud enough that your neighbors probably heard.

he doesn’t last long — not when you’ve been apart this long, not when you’re sucking him like you’re trying to punish him and reward him at the same time. his hips jerk, thighs trembling, and then he’s spilling down your throat with a broken moan of your name.

you pull off slowly, lips shiny, glaring up at him.

he’s panting, cheeks flushed, hair a mess, looking far too pretty for someone who just came in under two minutes.

“that was supposed to be round one,” you mutter, standing up and shoving him toward the bedroom. “you’re not done.”

he lets you push him onto the mattress, grinning like he won the lottery.

“oh i’m not?” he drawls, already pulling you down on top of him. “then punish me properly, baby. i’ve been so bad.”

you straddle his hips, grinding down against him — he’s already half-hard again, because of course he is. spoiled, insatiable, greedy.

“you’re gonna stay right here,” you tell him, nails digging into his chest through the thin linen. “no running off to another continent. no disappearing for weeks. you’re gonna fuck me until i can’t walk, and then you’re gonna stay and hold me all night.”

his grin softens into something almost tender.

“deal,” he whispers, hands sliding up your thighs, guiding you down onto him. slow. deep. filling.

you both moan at the same time.

“missed you,” he breathes against your neck as he starts to move — lazy, luxurious thrusts like he has all the time in the world now that he’s finally here. “missed this. missed my girl.”

you bury your face in his throat, clinging to him.

“don’t leave again,” you whisper.

he kisses your temple, hips rolling up harder now, hitting that spot that makes your toes curl.

“not going anywhere,” he promises, voice low and wrecked. “gonna stay right here and spoil you stupid.”

and he does. for hours.

over and over. until the sheets are soaked, your thighs are shaking, and the only thing left in the room is the sound of his soft “i love you”s murmured against your skin like a prayer.

when you finally collapse on his chest, sweaty and spent, he wraps both arms around you — tight, possessive, like he’s scared you’ll disappear if he lets go.

“never leaving again,” he mumbles into your hair, already half-asleep.

you press a kiss to his collarbone.

“good. ‘cause i’d hunt you down.”

he chuckles sleepily.

“kinky.”

you smack his chest weakly.

he just holds you tighter.