#{{teehee}}

for the past hour, while you were busy typing in your laptop, Satoru happened to simply drop on the chair in front of you, rambling your ears out even though he knew you were not listening, “you’re gorgeous, do you have a boyfriend?” he asks, no response.

“oh, hard public, hm? that’s okay, you are still gorgeous, can I give you my number?” no response. yet his stupid little smirk stays present.

“your boyfriend is not worth your time, baby, you should date me instead”

“what are you drinking? want a refill?”

“did it hurt when you fell from—”

What was supposed to be a temporary solution becomes permanent and you worry that when you leave for your two-week holiday no one will want to feed him. A week later you're sunbathing on a cozy island somewhere and enjoying your time off when you spot a familiar dark shape far out amongst the waves.

“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.