Your soft boyfriend finally learned how to talk dirty. A little too well, actually.
⤷ Part I
cw: NSFW. dirty talk, degradation kink, light bondage, soft-dom nerdjo, rough sex, light choking, established relationship, fluff at the end.
Weeks had passed since that night in his dorm.
You’d kept fucking. Often. Really often. You were just that insatiable for each other. Sometimes it stayed soft and sweet, the way Satoru naturally defaulted to. Other times, you gently pushed him further.
He practiced, and he improved a lot. The grip in your hair had gotten firmer, the thrusts had gotten less careful. But he still called you “baby” more than anything else. He still avoided the filthiest words. “Slut” had barely made another appearance since that first night, and at this point you were almost certain he quietly hated it, and that it would never become part of his brand-new, still-awkward pack of dirty talk.
Still, whatever form it took, sex with Satoru was always too fucking good.
And that was exactly why, after celebrating the results of your biggest project of the semester with your best friends, you found yourself heading straight to his apartment, already looking forward to dinner, his arms around you, and eventually crawling into bed with him.
You were still buzzing from the drinks at the bar when you finally made it back to his place.
“Toru? I’m already here,” you said as you opened the door and stepped inside, glancing around for him as you dropped your bag by the door and kicked off your heels.
Suddenly, warm arms slid around your waist from behind, pulling you flush against a familiar chest. His mouth brushed the side of your neck once, then again, slower.
You turned in his arms, surprised.
He kissed you like he’d been thinking about it all evening. No hesitation, no greeting first. Just his mouth on yours, deep and hungry, one hand sliding up into your hair while the other stayed locked around your waist. You made a small sound of surprise against his lips before melting into it, kissing him back just as hard.
When he finally pulled back, his blue eyes were already half-lidded behind his glasses.
“Hi, baby,” he said softly. “Missed you.”
Before you could answer, he was kissing you again, walking you backward toward the bedroom without breaking contact. Your back hit the doorframe for a second, then the door itself, and suddenly you were inside his room, the door kicking shut behind you.
You barely had time to process how different this felt—how forward he was being—before his hands were already under your top, sliding it up and over your head. He tossed it somewhere behind him. Your bra followed a moment later. He kept going, his mouth trailing down your throat while his fingers worked the zipper of your skirt.
The fabric pooled at your feet. You stepped out of it, and all that was left were your panties.
Satoru guided you onto the bed, gently pushing you onto your back. You went willingly, still a little stunned by this sudden shift in him. He reached into the drawer of the nightstand and pulled out a soft black ribbon. Then he took both your wrists, lifted them above your head, and tied them together with careful, practiced knots.
“Keep them there,” he said “Above your head. Don’t move them.”
You stared up at him and nodded, dazed.
He was still fully dressed — sweater, jeans, glasses perfectly in place — while you lay there in nothing but panties, wrists bound, chest rising and falling a little faster than normal. The contrast was so hot it made you squirm under his gaze.
Satoru exhaled slowly, almost like he was steadying himself. Then he reached up and carefully removed his glasses.
He held them by one arm for a second, turning them once in his fingers like he was deciding something. His blue eyes looked even brighter without the lenses, locked on you. There was still a faint flush high on his cheeks—the one that never quite disappeared when he got like this—but he didn’t stop. He leaned over you.
The cold metal of the glasses brushed your lower lip first. He dragged it across your mouth, then pressed a little firmer. You parted your lips in response, and he slid the arm of the glasses between them, just enough for you to feel the cool weight against your tongue. When he finally pulled them free, a thin string of spit connected the frame to your mouth for a second before it broke.
He didn’t wipe it off. Instead he dragged the wet frame down your chin, along the side of your throat, then across your collarbone. He moved lower, circling one breast, then the other, the thin arm gliding over soft skin until it found a nipple. He pressed there, rubbing the hard peak.
“Satoru—” you moaned, arching your back.
“Look at you,” he said, voice rough. “Already so fucking responsive. So easy for me. Smartest girl in your class, highest grade on the project… and here you are, tied up on my bed, getting wet because I’m using my glasses on you.”
He dragged them lower, over your ribs, across your stomach, stopping just above the waistband of your panties. You were already breathing harder. Your thighs shifted restlessly against the sheets.
Satoru’s free hand settled on your hip. His thumb stroked once, almost absently, before he caught himself and tightened his grip.
“Stay still,” he ordered, though the command still carried that soft edge he could never fully erase.
You bit your lip and stayed still, thanking whatever had gotten into your boyfriend tonight.
He kept going lower until the frame pressed right over the front of your panties. He rubbed slowly up and down. The pressure was light at first, then firmer.
You fought to keep your hands still. Your hips twitched anyway.
“Greedy,” he said, testing the word. “Look at how you’re moving. Can’t even keep still when I’m barely touching you. Such a needy little slut.”
You whimpered. He actually called you a slut.
You didn’t even get time to process it before he shifted the glasses, angling them so one thin arm slid under the waistband of your panties. The cool metal slipped lower, right against your bare pussy, nestled between your folds. You gasped at the sudden contact.
Satoru pushed a little further, letting the arm rest against your clit, then slowly moved it back and forth. It slid easily with how wet you were.
“Fuck—look at that,” he murmured, watching the metal disappear under the fabric. “You’re getting them all wet and messy. You’re such a fucking whore.” He rubbed faster. “I could tell you to do anything right now and you’d do it without even questioning it.”
“Yes—fuck, I’d do anything—”
Your wrists strained against the ribbon. Soft, broken sounds kept leaving your throat. You were already so close it was almost embarrassing.
Satoru noticed. He pulled the glasses free and set them carefully on the nightstand, like they were something precious. Then he hooked his fingers into the side of your panties and dragged them down, exposing you completely.
For a moment he just stared.
You watched his throat work as he swallowed. His cock was visibly hard in his jeans, straining against the zipper.
“You’ve been walking around all night with your friends,” he said, voice low and rough, “celebrating, looking perfect… and the whole time this cunt was waiting for me, wasn’t it? Waiting to get used.”
He finally unzipped his jeans and pushed them down just enough. His cock sprang free, impossibly hard and flushed. He climbed back over you, one hand bracing beside your head, the other wrapping loosely around your throat.
“You ready for me?” he asked, voice rough. The soft edge was still there, buried under the filth, but it was fighting hard.
You nodded, almost frantic.
Satoru lined himself up and pushed in with one long, slow thrust that stole the air from both of you.
He bottomed out and stayed there for a second, breathing hard. His hand tightened just slightly around your throat.
“Fuck… look at you,” he muttered. “Taking every inch like the needy cockslut you are. This is what you wanted, isn’t it? You were dying to have my big cock in your greedy cunt.”
He pulled almost all the way out and slammed back in, harder this time. The wet sound of it filled the room.
“Such a fucking whore for it.”
His hips set a steady, deep rhythm, each thrust punching the air out of your lungs. The hand on your throat stayed firm but controlled—thumb stroking once almost tenderly before he remembered himself and pressed a little harder.
“God, you’re so wet. Dripping all over my cock like a cumdump. Is this what the popular girl does when no one’s looking? Spreads her legs for the physics nerd and begs to get degraded?”
He angled his hips, hitting that spot that made your vision blur. Your mouth fell open on a broken sound.
“That’s it. Make those pretty noises for me. Let everyone in the building know what a desperate little whore you are. Taking cock this deep and still looking like you want more. Fucking insatiable.”
Inside his head, the soft, hopelessly in-love part of him was screaming. He just wanted to untie your wrists and pull you into his arms. He wanted to call you baby and press kisses to your forehead and tell you how proud he was of your project while you rode him and used him however you wanted.
But he’d practiced. He’d rehearsed every filthy thing and was determined to get them all out.
“Pretty sure you’d love to keep this cunt stuffed full of my cock for the rest of your life,” he said, thrusting harder. “You’d love to keep your legs open, waiting for me to use it whenever I want. My personal little toy... That’s all you’re good for right now, isn’t it?”
Tears were already starting to gather at the corners of your eyes from how overwhelmed you felt.
“What do you think your classmates would say if they saw you like this? They’d know you’re the chemistry department’s secret whore. They’d know you’re just as good at taking your boyfriend’s cock as you are in the lab.”
He shifted the angle again, driving into you with short, deep strokes that made the bed creak. The hand on your throat tightened just enough to make your head spin in the best way.
“You’re squeezing me so hard. Greedy little hole can’t get enough. Bet if I pulled out right now you’d beg me to put it back in. You’d say anything, wouldn’t you? Call yourself a slut, a cumdump. You’re just that cockhungry”
You were past coherent words. Soft, wrecked whimpers and broken moans were all you could manage. Your wrists pulled uselessly at the ribbon—you were dying to free yourself and grab his hair.
Satoru leaned down closer, mouth brushing your ear, voice dropping into something darker and more strained.
“I’m going to fill this slutty little cunt up. You’re going to take every drop like the good fucking slut you are. And tomorrow you’re going to walk around campus with my cum still inside you, acting like the perfect student while your pussy remembers exactly who owns it.”
The combination of the words, the pressure on your throat, and the way he kept hitting that perfect spot finally broke you.
You came hard, tears spilling over, a long broken sob tearing out of your throat as your body clenched around him. Satoru followed right after, burying himself as deep as he could and spilling inside you with a low, wrecked sound that was pure him underneath all the filth.
He stayed there for a few long seconds, breathing hard against your neck, hand still loosely around your throat. Then, carefully, he loosened his grip completely and reached up to untie your wrists. His fingers were trembling slightly.
Once your hands were free he brought them down gently, pressing soft kisses to the faint marks the ribbon had left, like he couldn’t help himself.
He stayed inside you a moment longer, forehead resting against yours, eyes soft and a little dazed. Those big blue puppy eyes were already back in all their glory. Then he finally spoke, voice quiet and warm, the filthy edge completely gone.
“Congratulations on your success, baby. I’m so proud of you” He kissed you gently. “I wanted to give you something special tonight. I hope I did better this time.”
You just stared at him for a second, still trying to catch your breath.
Your brain felt completely scrambled. You had never come that hard in your entire life. You weren’t even sure what the fuck had just happened.
“…Toru,” you finally managed, voice rough.
“Next time you’re going to smack my ass till I can’t think straight while you say all of that again.” You paused, then added, completely serious, “Fuck it. You should slap me too.”
Satoru’s eyes went wide. His mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. Then he let out a long, defeated sigh and rubbed his eyes with one hand.
“Baby... I’m starting to think you enjoy watching me malfunction.”
I love this man so much..
Reblogs are always appreciated :)
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