“Shit, I’m gonna regret this.” Satoru’s gaze is almost feverish as he watches you. He’s taut as a bowstring, every muscle tense against his restraints, locked in on the scene playing out on his marital bed. You’re splayed out on your back, and Toji is nestled deep between your thighs; taking you right in front of him.

“I think he likes it,” Toji purrs, leaning back so Satoru can get a better view. His hands hook beneath your knees, pushing them to your chest, relishing the whine that rips from your throat as he sinks deeper. “Fuck, look at you. Does he hit this deep, baby doll? Stretch you open like I do?”

Toji flashes a rogueish grin to the other man, damn near sneering. Satoru jerks in the chair, arms flexing against the ropes keeping him bound.

“Watch it,” he growls. His jaw tightens as his eyes flick to you, drinking in the wanton pleasure on your face, trailing down to where Toji’s splitting you open. God, it’s so hot. He hates that he loves this so much. But the throbbing ache between his thighs can’t be denied.

The humiliation of being stripped and tied to a chair, left to watch Toji of all people have his way with you, was absolutely maddening. But god, seeing you take it like this…

Satoru’s frustrated groan sounds out as he shifts in his chair, looking at you with heated, pleading eyes.

“Come on, sugar,” he murmurs, tongue passing hungrily over his lips. “Let me play too, yeah? You know he’s got nothing on me.” But Toji clicks his tongue, giving a slow shake of his head as one hand moves to thread through the hair at the base of your skull. He tugs, watching you arch so prettily, and leans down to lick a long stripe up your throat; groaning at the taste of you.

“Nuh uh, you wanted this,” he answers, tilting his head to meet Satoru’s gaze. His hips roll relentlessly, pulling more delicious sounds from you, mocking Satoru with every motion. “Sit still like a good boy and watch while I make {{user}} come undone all over me.”