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“fuuuck, baby—”

never in toji fushiguro’s thirty-eight years of living has he let himself get tied up. not during jobs, always too quick and nimble to even let them get close, nor when he was sleeping around. he was always on top, always the one tying them down and fucking them silly.

yet here he is, thick wrists and ankles bound to the posts of your bedframe, legs spread just for you. he can’t help it, not when you’re bouncing on his dick like a see-saw, a repetitive up and down that has those lightning veins dragging through your gooey insides.

“mmmgh, s-shit,” he moans, and it teeters off into a breathy chuckle, practically drowning in feigned confidence. even now, toji still wants to save face with that wobbly smirk on his face, though you definitely know better.

god, he feels like a teenager again, balls heavy and aching cock sensitive to every slight flutter and suctioning clamp of your sweet pussy. it’s like you’ve cast a spell on him, made him weak to your soft touches, the gentle bat of your long lashes, the feeling of your reverent lips peppering his face in endless kisses whenever he returns from a job.

that’s precisely how he ended up like this, tied down to your bed with just a small pout of your glossy lips and a few low, choice words whispered into his ear that’d had his pants instantly growing tight.

it hasn’t even been ten minutes, and toji’s ready to cum. you see it in the way his eyes keep fluttering like he’s having to fight the urge to let them roll back, how his hips don’t stop bucking up into you, shoving his dick in deep enough to create that perfect, cylindrical bulge in your tummy that has him drooling with endless moans and barely bitten off whimpers.

“c’mon, doll, un... mmf— untie me.” his hands flex, testing the barely sufficient restraints. “lemme f-fuck you right. that’s what ya want, y-yeah? jus’ untie me, baby, hah—”

you shake your head, hands on his chest as you up your pace, a familiar pressure building low in your spine. “you p-promised, toji.”

he did promise, he knows that, and he hates breaking them, but with the way you’re now swiveling your hips in torturous figure-eights, snug cunt milking him for all he’s worth, he is genuinely not gonna last.

“baby, pleaseee? you feel s-so fucking good, toji, god—” your voice is as sweet as ever, making the thick walls around toji’s mind melt into goopy, lovesick puddles and his balls draw up tight.

he doesn’t mean to cum before you, honest, but when you’re talking to him like that and riding him so good, he can’t help but pump thick, hot ropes of cum right into your womb, jaw slack for a long, whiny groan.

you don’t even get the chance to process the tears in his eyes before the ropes snap, two big hands coming down on your waist and flipping you right onto your back.

“toji, hnngh, wait—!”

your boyfriend just gives a rough shake of his head, the ropes sliding free from his wrists and ankles as he hikes your legs around his waist. his dark fringe falls in front of his face, and, for a foolish moment, you think he’s going to listen.

but toji has never been good at being submissive for long, even with you.

you’re staring at him in the entryway of the living area, taking in his lanky form in his chair with tired eyes. satoru’s blindfold is discarded on the coffee table, eyes glowing enough for you to see the bags sitting heavily under his eyelids.

“i’m not tired,” he states simply, eyes flittering up to you for only a second. it’s written all over satoru’s face that he is in fact tired—no, exhausted, but for some reason, he just won’t sleep.

you sigh, deeply. your body aches with tiredness of your own, screaming at you to go back to sleep because you have to be up in a few hours. instead, you just walk over to him, slippers dragging along the floor with you. it doesn’t take you long to climb into his lap, laying horizontally over him and curling up into a ball right there, his arms coming to hold you closer to him.

before you can even hope of helping him fall asleep, you’re knocked out in his arms, chest rising and falling so calmly even satoru feels jealous. but he does not blame you. satoru simply looks at you, then back up, then back down, over and over.

no, he’d never tell you why he was like this. watching over your sleeping form just makes him all the more protective, makes him feel like he needs to be awake to watch his surroundings. just in case anyone tried anything.

he knows they wouldn’t dare, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.

everyone else in the world felt differently, but to satoru, you were the only thing that mattered. the only thing he had left in this cruel, mean world. you were the only reason satoru breathed.

so, yes, he would endure as many sleepless nights as it took to keep you safe. his own health did not come first, you did. all you needed to know was he had his reasons for spreading himself so thin.

you were simply his world. his love.

Last night was fun🔞

daydreaming about toji coming back to your shared home after completing an assignment, groaning at how taxing it had been. he walked in, expecting to either find you sprawled out on the couch or the bed, watching one of your favourite shows. the thought made his heart flutter, any semblance of fatigue instantly dissipating.

while he hadn't been wrong, it was what you were wearing that had his dick instantly straining against his pants.

it wasn't even anything sexy, really. if anything, it was cute and innocent. you were wearing one of his black t-shirts, the piece of clothing engulfing the whole of your pretty frame. you peeked your head from the couch, greeting him with that sickeningly sweet smile of yours.

"hi baby," you mused. "i missed you."

that was all it took for him to carry you to your bedroom and have him ramming his thick cock into your weeping cunt. you atop him, his feet digging into the bed, the squelching and slapping sounds of his dick hitting your pussy filling the room.

you were still wearing his top, you clenching it in between your teeth, exposing your breasts and hardened nipples. seeing the way they bounced so sexily every time he thrust up into you, the dribbles of drool that dripped down from biting onto his shirt – fuck... he found it so unbelievably arousing.

"shit babydoll," he growled, gripping onto your sides tightly, leaving red marks. a hard slap to your ass eliciting a cute whimper out of you had him throwing his head back in complete ecstasy. "who knew... ngh! that you in my shirt would get me so horny, huh?", he purred.

all you could do was whine in response, walls clenching so deliciously around his cock. the way your pussy tightened around him; the way your eyes looked so fucked out from him slamming into your wet, syrupy core; the way your hands dug into his chest to keep yourself steady – everything about you in this state had him drunk on you.

seeing your juices soak his cock and how your whimpers and moans were growing louder and whinier was all he needed to be pushed to the edge. spilling his seed into you, coating your walls a pearly white, your legs shaking as you rode out your own orgasm. deep growls erupted from his chest, as if awakening something primal in him.

you flopped your body on top of him, his arms coming to wrap around you tenderly – such a stark contrast as to how rough he had been a mere few seconds ago. he patted down your hair as he whispered in your ear, "fuck i gotta let ya wear my shirts more often, doll."