#s8ns stuff

Inumaki Toge | Fushiguro Megumi | Okotsu Yuuta

…the kind of man who is hesitant at first because if he’s being honest, he’d rather wait until you’re ready for all of him rather than some of him. But he’s a young man, his uncertainty is not going to last long once he realizes exactly how badly you want to give it a try.

You’re in a dimly lit room, his hot breath fanning across your neck as your delicate touches slowly make their way to the waistband of his underwear. Soft lips planting wet, gentle kisses against your heated skin. The two of you have never been completely intimate with each other, and definitely not like this – his mind is quickly spiraling down a steep staircase of ‘what if’s’ and worries. He knows you aren’t quite ready to go as far as you already have, but it’s hard to stop when your insistent fingers keep digging into his hips like that.

“Y/N,” he breathes, weight supported by an elbow pressing into the mattress just near your ear, a warm hand tightly winding itself through the tendrils of hair at the base of your skull when you grind your lower body into his. “We should probably stop.”

“Just the tip.” You whine, glassy eyes meeting his foggy ones. His jaw locks at your words, the grip on your hair tightening while he silently screams in his head because he wants to, he wants to, he wants to… But that’s a very bad idea. Even the thought of just rubbing his bare cock against your soft… wet folds has all the blood in his body rushing straight to his dick.

You boldly reach past the fabric of his boxers and fist his erection with a few lewd strokes, lip tucked tight between your teeth. His eyes go wide, brain fuzzy and his cheeks red; his hips buck up into your touch and a broken moan slips past his lips.

“J-just the tip…” He agrees, nodding frantically and hooking his slender fingers through the band of your underwear to yank them off your legs.

Itadori Yuji | Gojo Satoru

…the kind of man who would whine, pout, throw a total fit when you tell him early in the morning that you aren’t in the mood and he needs to get his erection off your ass before he regrets the request. His strong hands are glued to your hip bones, eyes downcast towards where his boxer-clad dick is proudly pressing against your body and bottom lip jutted out in a deep, childish frown.

“Mean…” He mutters low and quiet, huffing out in frustration and twisting around to turn his back to you.

You roll your eyes, now completely awake and annoyed with your man-child boyfriend over his sad attempt at seducing you from slumber. It’s a Sunday, your last opportunity to sleep in before work tomorrow and he’s really bothering you with this now?

“Just the tip.” You bite, rolling on to your back and craning your neck to look at him with a harsh glare.

He flashes you a devilish grin, full of pride over the success of his fit and intentionally complacent to your obvious irritation. Though the words ricochet around in his head for several moments as he rolls around to pull you in close and plant a chaste kiss to your lips– just the tip? Can he actually do that?

He’s got you twisted on your side, desperately thrusting his aching cock up along the slick of your cunt, nudging your clit with each motion and groaning hopelessly into your neck because damn, it feels so fucking good.

His large hand draws a line down your spine, around the curve of your ass— giving it a quick smack and admiring the jiggle before gripping the base of his erection, stroking it once and gently pushing the tip between your folds.

You suck in a breath at the stretch, your hand quick to find his muscular abdomen and push against the force of his hips before he slips the thick of his cock in too far. The action only earns you another low groan from the man, his hips stuttering against your fingers in an attempt to get just a little more friction.

“Babyy—,” he whines, quickly grabbing your wrist and twisting it to trap your arm behind your back, allowing him to completely sheath his cock inside you. “I don’t think I can do just the tip.”

Geto Suguru | Nanami Kento

…the kind of man who uses it as a punishment. You just had to go and get coffee without him that morning… He wouldn’t admit it out loud, but the action frustrated him to no end. To think you’d be so careless?

“You were asleep!”

What a sad excuse to give, you know better than to just up and leave by yourself without at least telling him where you’re going. But you didn’t do just that, you also forgot to get him coffee too?

Oh my…

The remainder of your morning is spent by the silent treatment, fleeting glares and snappy remarks over home-made coffee until you’ve had your fill of his attitude and you are left begging him for some decency.

“Ah, so we’re reducing ourselves to groveling and whining now, hm?” He hums, trapping you against the kitchen counter with his hips, large hands caging your body and dark eyes staring down at you with fervor. Predator and the prey who fell right into his trap.

Your panties are pulled to the side, left leg hiked up to your hip and bare ass flat against the cold countertop while he mercilessly wipes the mess of your slick all over your pretty pussy lips— chuckling to himself at the way your hips twitch from the shocks of pleasure every time he bumps your sweet spot.

“Bad pets like you deserve to be punished.” He says sweetly, tapping the spongy head of his cock against your exposed clit. “How ‘bout I give you just the tip, hmm~?”

“P-please…” You cry, rolling into his touches as heat rushes to your chest and cheeks in embarrassment. He’s making you beg a lot… and he’s not going to let you stop anytime soon.

Fushiguro Toji | Ryomen Sukuna

…the kind of man who knows exactly where he wants you. Physically, mentally, and emotionally.

“Ah ah ahh…” He tuts, a smirk splitting his lips as he stares down at where your bodies are joined— a large hand stroking the base of his thick cock while the other holds you in place at the hip. The soft, warm tip of his dick is perfectly nudged up against your clit, so each rough pump on his erection is another smooth stroke along your folds.

You’re nothing but a drooly, crying mess. He’s been using you like a doll for nearly forty minutes, reeling everytime you whine and shout that you’re “g-gonna cum!” because he hasn’t even put it inside yet.

“You’re so desperate for my cock, baby… tell me how bad you want it.” He says low and sinister, hands moving to grab under your knees and push them to your chest. The base of your calves find home on his shoulders while he moves himself up into your body— positioning and folding you in half beneath his huge frame, allowing the tip of his dick to bump your clit again.

His elbows cage you in, a strong hand now wrapped tight around your neck as he places sweet kisses on your forehead and rubs himself up and down your slick. Each time it catches the curve of your entrance, just barely slips past your folds— you can’t help but let out a moan. It’s so, so close to what you’ve been begging him for, and he knows exactly what it’s doing to you. He knows exactly what you want.

“Tell me…” He coos, stopping right at your dripping hole and pushing in the first inch— stilling when you try to fuck yourself onto him. “Tell me or all you’ll get is just the tip.”

did i do it right? 😂

… he’s the type to blame you for it. For the thin, light blue paracord bound tightly to your neck, arms, and thighs— confining your limbs to his mattress.

“I really didn’t want to do this to you baby…” Armin whines, voice quiet and shaking, lip tucked between his teeth, eyebrows furrowed while he yanks on the strings tying you down like a puppet master fine-tuning one of his favorite toys.

And you lay completely limp beneath his fury, allowing him to bend and bind your naked body to his will.

“You're making me do it.”

Yank— tie, repeat.

"If you just did what I asked... baby we wouldn't have to do this."

His expression is so sorrowful when he looks at you, you think he may burst into tears. But it’s all very fake; a facade he paints on whenever he gets upset with you. Maybe he could cry— but it would only be to remind you how much you’re hurting him. How hard it is for him to treat you like you’re some animal who needs to be chained up and trained.

But is it actually hard?

No, really it isn’t. The blonde man whispering apologies into your ear is anything but sorry. He knows exactly what knots to tie, where to wrap and braid the paracord so you are absolutely aching in all the right spots and begging him for more.

You recall the sting of Armin’s icy glare piercing through your back from across the room of that little local coffee shop down the road past his apartment. You had leaned a bit too close to the male barista so you could show him the drink you’d seen on the cafe’s social media page— when Armin had asked you not even three minutes before to let him order it for you once he got back from the restroom.

Call it complacency, ignorance… whatever it was, it had gotten you into some serious trouble. That colorful, fruity drink you had to have right away cost you $5 and the rest of your Sunday.

—Yank!

“Why did you do that Y/N?” He asks with voice trembling and gaze growing more desperate.

Tie.

“Is it because you want me to get upset with you?”

Repeat.

“Do you like it when men stare at you like you’re some toy?”

You wildly shake your head back and forth in an attempt to deny his accusations, the cord on your neck rubbing searing red lines into the thin skin and causing tears to spill over the hills of your cheeks.

Toy? No, not for anyone but him. You swear.

Armin frowns deeper at your weeping form. It’s almost embarrassing for him, watching you feed him lies from such a vulnerable spread-eagle position. Going as far as crying to try and get out of the neglect you knew you had coming… how sad.

A few more hard tugs on your strings and he has your thighs spread even farther apart, entirely restrained from free movement by how tight he’s bound you to the steel loops mounted to his bed frame. The veins in your legs pulse and throb against the suffocating squeeze of paracord, almost uncomfortably so. But the ache between them is much, much more distracting.

With your entire body exposed and writhing beneath him, intricately woven and braided into several yards of baby blue rope, you are now completely at his mercy.

“Do you understand why I have to punish you? Y’know how much I love you, Y/N.” He pleads one final time, sentence falling off into a broken whisper and hazy eyes locked on yours. A slender finger darts past his plush lips to coat itself in saliva, drags a thin line down your stomach before coming to an abrupt stop.

Rubbing soft, wet circles over your entrance. One, two, three… until he’s finally pushing through the tight heat between your legs and gently massaging you with a singular digit.

The intrusion is more than welcome, arms and legs itching to reach for the handsome man and hold on to him but unable because of the way he’s wrapped you up. Your chest heaves in frustration, slickened walls desperately clenching around the finger that’s slowly stroking in and out— prodding at the soft, sensitive flesh inside of you. A stark contrast to the ropes lacerating the abused skin on your appendages.

You blink through salty tears, fighting your sense and deciding then and there that breaking his rule of silence has got to be better than this. This slow, incessant and taunting pump of his hands against your cunt. The anxiety of being immobilized only heightens your frustrations and makes your blood pump harder, causing a cold sweat to build at the nape of your neck. You huff out hot air and try to glance down towards where Armin has busied himself between your legs.

“Armin, please!“

Smack— a warm hand firmly clamps over your mouth and that all-too familiar chilled glare meets your eyes.

“I told you not to talk,” He bites, interrupting your weak plea and removing his fingers from teasing you which only earns him more of your relentless tears. You quietly begin to sob at the sudden loss in pleasure and at the tight grip of regret squeezing your throat. Armin’s hand leaves your mouth and you are briefly abandoned, watching him step away from the bed and into the darkness of his closet. Only seconds later he emerges from the black, glassy blue eyes back on yours with a single silk tie held tightly in his hand.

His narrow frame saunters back towards you to stand beside the bed. “Open,” he demands quietly, gripping your jaw and squeezing your cheeks to pry your lips apart and stuff the tie in until you gag on the soft fabric.

“Now be quiet.”

You nod this time, sobs unyielding and soaking the satin pillowcase beneath you. Armin’s expression is almost unreadable now; monotonous and beyond himself. It’s been a really, really long day… and you just keep disobeying him. Testing his patience.

He clenches his teeth in anger and sharply turns away from the beautiful, broken, and shaking creature silently begging for him from his bed to let out another long sigh. With a ruffle of his blonde hair and one hand on the doorknob, he spares you a single fleeting glance over his shoulder.

“You can lay there and think about what you’ve done.”