swvness

you got by closing your eyes at the scarier parts and subtly whispering to sukuna to tell you when it was over.

then the movie hit you with the most horrific, satan-spawned jumpscare imaginable.

you shrieked so loud the entire row flinched.

your hand jerked violently.

and your ice cream launched directly into satoru gojo's face.

silence.

then satoru yelling, “WHAT THE HELLY?”

suguru and toji snickered.

and suddenly you were crying.

partly because you’d just assaulted sukuna's friend with matcha soft serve after you'd spent a whole minute outside the theatre convincing all of them you weren't scared in the slightest before you'd gone in.

partly because that was some really good ice cream you'd just wasted.

partly because everyone was staring.

but mostly because that movie was fucking terrifying.

sukuna immediately grabbed your wrist and stood up. “aight, we’re leaving.”

you hid your face in his arm while his friends snickered behind you. humiliation burned hot in your chest as he guided you out of the theater, your legs still shaky.

outside, the cold night air hit your cheeks.

“sorry…” you mumbled miserably.

sukuna snorted. “it's fine, baby. gojo deserved it, he was being an asshole."

you whined, covering your face. "i wasn't talking about that!"

he laughed under his breath, but there wasn’t an ounce of cruelty in it. just amusement. then he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your temple, “i’ll take you home, yeah?”

you sniffled and nodded. “that was scary.”

“i know, babe. i'm sorry,” he opened the passenger door for you, buckling your seatbelt himself with surprising gentleness. “should’ve known that shit would freak you out.”

“it was my idea…” you hiccuped.

“i still shoulda said no.” he shut the door and rounded the hood of the car.

the few seconds you sat alone were awful. your eyes immediately darted to the rearview mirror. the backseat looked way too dark. you stared at it, fully convinced some horrifying demon woman was about to crawl over the seats and kill you.

the driver door opened and sukuna slid in and caught you staring.

“…you looking at your little friend back there?”

you gasped, “kuna, don’t SAY that!”

he barked out a laugh while starting the engine. “you want another ice cream?”

your watery eyes widened hopefully. “…yeah.”

“thought so.”

by the time you reached your apartment complex, you were clutching a drive-thru soft serve with both hands while sukuna walked beside you toward your door.

you were finally calm again.

until he kissed your forehead, patted your ass lightly, and turned away. “see you tomorrow, babe.”

terror immediately flooded your face. you grabbed his arm so fast he almost stumbled back.

he looked down at you with a blink. then sighed. “…should’ve expected that.”

your eyes welled up again. “y-you’re leaving?”

“nah.” he unlocked your apartment and walked in beside you. “just wanted to see your face.” sukuna lied smoothly.

you blinked. “…oh.”

“cute reaction though.”

you huffed at him before setting your ice cream on the counter. “um… i need to pee.”

“okay?” he said, lifting a questioning brow, not quite sure what this has to do with him.

you awkwardly twisted your fingers together before looking up at him nervously.

a beat passed.

then sukuna sighed the sigh of a man accepting his fate.

a minute later, he was inside your bathroom aggressively yanking the shower curtain open .checking the cabinets. looking behind the door.

“there.” he deadpanned. “no demons.”

you stood in the doorway anxiously. “is it safe?”

“yes.”

“…promise?”

“baby, if something attacks you while you piss, i’ll personally beat its ass.”

you considered that seriously.

“…okay.”

you stepped inside cautiously.

“stand by the door.”

“stand by the—” he repeated in disbelief, before he stopped himself with a long exhale. “fine.”

“and turn around.”

“baby, i’ve literally seen you naked—”

“TURN AROUND.”

“bossy as hell,” he muttered, turning around anyway.

“and cover your ears.”

he stared at you over his shoulder in disbelief. “why?”

"i don't want you hearing me pee!"

sukuna sighed slowly. then lifted two resigned hands to his ears.

“not all the way though,” you continued nervously, “or you won’t hear me scream.”

sukuna closed his eyes and covered his ears, “that all, princess?”

“mhm!” you chirped brightly, kissing his cheek. “thanks honey. you’re sooo brave.”

he looked up at the ceiling like he was asking the universe for strength.

“next time we’re watching finding nemo.”

supa kyoot dividers by my fave @anitalenia !!

tags - babygirl : @sadisticslut666

perm - @whorishminds @throatgoatgeto @go-go-gadget-autism @thecrazyfangirlthings @grignardsreagent @strawberryshortcakkitty @naammiii @liasacountgothacked @annicishana @my-starlights @error-racoon-404 @afreakforyautja @cupidstrace @iam-souless @sindulgent666 @chewiebee @tojisballhair @ex1acy @palanggaaa @yourlocalcatscammer @ehcilhc @gravecyte @restingoasis @satorupi @laburantesdoll @sxpernova @thethyri @lostgeto @lilytrn @mikaari0 @chososballhair @nanamissilkytie @iwasabs @tojis-juicymantitys @laitifly @farylfordaryl @bl1ndv3lvet @booboobear-12 @6arcxm @sleeplessdancer @chloeee20 @deartoru @neptunezxx @ash273819 @sketchbonked @vanillakirstein @valberryboos @itimisu @livviaaaaa @kebablover @babyluvlol @audreytoru

sunnylovesdiluc: WHO IS THAT??

deeplytwistedrealm: HELLOOO??

chuuchuumii: SLEEPOVER POV LET’S FUCKIN GO

ellabstmut: WIFEYYYY

toji doesn’t even turn around, just huffs out a quiet laugh under his breath. “relax,” he says, eyes still glued to the screen. “that’s my girl. stop barkin’.”

you roll your eyes, circling around the chair anyway, stealing his drink before dropping into his lap like it’s second nature. sideways, comfortable, your legs draped over his thigh while his arm wraps around your waist without thinking— big hand settling low, thumb idly tracing your side.

“hi chat,” you mumble, sipping his drink like you own it.

urfavemabes: HI BBY !!!

1ana22: MOMMY????

crybabyrizz: LET HER PLAY >:(

rxnn018: MA’AM, SIT ON HIS FACE

reiapologist: SHARE HIM W THE REST OF US WTF

“y’all need help,” you snort, shaking your head.

toji smirks, squeezing your hip once. “they’ve been gone.”

you settle against him, half-watching the game, nearly zoning out, until the donation sound cuts through everything.

ding!

toji glances at the screen— and pauses.

it’s subtle, but you feel it. the way his hand stills on you, the slight shift in his posture.

“…yo,” he says slowly.

you lean back just enough to read it too.

$100 donation:

“$100 if you spit in her mouth right now.”

you burst out laughing immediately, head tipping back. “what the fuck is wrong with you people.”

chat absolutely loses it.

shylartojiiii: DO ITTTTT

menchichew: NO BALLS TOJI 💀

bluexberries267: $100 IS $100 BRO

spltbtch: RENT DUE

bunnymacaron: DO IT DO IT DO IT

“ignore them,” you say, still laughing. “they’re actually insane.”

toji doesn’t answer right away.

and when you look up at him, really look, you realize he’s not laughing anymore.

his eyes are darker now. focused. calculating.

“toji,” you warn, already narrowing your eyes. “don’t—”

his hand slides from your waist up to your jaw, fingers firm as they tilt your face toward him. your breath catches a little at the sudden shift, the way his thumb presses into your cheek, forcing your lips apart just slightly.

“open up, princess,” he murmurs.

you blink. “you’re not serious..”

“c’mon,” he says, voice low, amused in that dangerous way. “don’t make me look broke in front of chat.”

you huff out another laugh, but it’s weaker this time, your heart doing something weird in your chest. “you’re actually stupid—”

“yeah?” his grip tightens just enough. “then open.”

there’s a beat. just one. and then you do. just a little. his thumb presses your chin down further— and he leans in, spitting directly onto your tongue.

it’s obscene. warm. intimate in a way that makes your stomach flip.

you choke on a laugh that turns into a gasp, instinctively swallowing as your eyes go wide.

chat goes feral.

l0velyg1rll: OH MY GOD CLIP THAT RN

tatispm: SHE SWALLOWED SHE FUCKING SWALLOWED

theartofsugarcoating: WHAT THE FUCKKK

velvetangelz: AGAINNNN

microwave-the-moon: MARRY THEM IMMEDIATELY

“toji—!” you shove at his chest, hiding your face in embarrassment.

he just laughs, low and satisfied. “easy hundred,” he mutters, already going back to his game.

but his hand doesn’t go back to the controller.

it stays on you.

your breath catches as his fingers trace down your throat, lingering, teasing, before trailing over your chest and slipping under the hem of your shorts.

“…toji,” you whisper, grabbing his wrist, panic seeping into the edges of your tone. “the cam—”

“relax,” he responds with way too much confidence. “they can’t see shit.”

(which is… debatable)

his fingers drift lower, pressing against your panties, the touch firm, deliberate, pulling a sharp jolt from your hips as your breath stutters.

“shit,” you hiss, attempting to keep your voice down, leaning closer so the mic won’t catch it. “i swear to god- stop. stop or i’m actually gonna lose it—”

his thumb brushes against your clit once. just once. a quick, teasing circle that makes you shiver and clamp down on his wrist reflexively.

your grip tightens instantly.

he exhales slow, almost thoughtful, like he’s deciding just how far he wants to take this. then he clicks his tongue. “…fine,” pulling back with a feigned grumble. “damn. y’all are annoying anyway.”

you let out a shaky breath, relief flooding your chest as his fingers disappear, his attention finally shifting toward his setup.

he reaches forward, clicks around with one hand. it takes longer than it should, but you’re not thinking about that too much, just thankful for the tension lifting slightly.

“stream’s done,” he says, stretching back in his chair, “happy?”

“thank you,” you exhale, shoulders slumping. “jesus, you’re insane.”

“yeah, yeah,” he mutters, already grabbing your waist again. “now c’mere.”

you barely have time to react before he shifts you fully in his lap, turning you so you’re straddling him properly. your knees press awkwardly into either side of the chair, your shorts dragging uncomfortably against him, and your hips fit square above the distinct bulge in his sweats.

“wait—” you start, but it comes out weaker than you meant.

he grins up at you, hands already sliding under your shirt, blunt fingers dragging up the soft skin of your sides. “what? stream’s off.”

“you’re still…” you gesture vaguely at the glowing PC beside him, cheeks hot. “…you’re still at your desk.”

“and?” he shrugs, his large hands gripping your thighs to pull your hips forward, forcing you to press down against him. “you were the one complaining.”

you swallow hard, feeling the thick, firm outline of his cock against the seam of your shorts, pulsing slightly even through the layers of fabric between you. “i wasn’t—”

“you were,” he cuts you off, leaning in close enough for his nose to brush against your cheek, “said you were gonna lose it.”

his thumb presses between your thighs again, slower this time, the motion intentional, almost lazy.

“so go ahead,” he murmurs, his lips brushing along the corner of your mouth. “lose it.”

your breath stutters.

and yeah— you do.

because the second his rough fingers push your shorts aside, the second he presses them against your bare, dripping cunt, the warm pads of his fingertips dragging right through your slick folds— it’s over.

your head drops to his shoulder as his touch works through you with surgical precision, his fingers teasing your entrance, pulling more slick from you in a filthy, wet glide that fills the space between your bodies.

“toji,” you whine softly, your hands gripping his shirt now, desperate for something to steady yourself as he toys with you. “you’re such an asshole—”

“mm,” he hums. “still sittin’ on my lap though.”

you smack his shoulder weakly, but it dissolves into a gasp when he pushes a finger inside you slowly, dragging the stretch out in a way that makes your toes curl.

“tell me to stop,” he whispers against your ear, his voice sticky sweet, like the offer’s genuine— like you’re in control.

you don’t. you can’t.

so he doesn’t.

and it escalates exactly how it always does. messy, heated, your hands locked onto his shoulders as you grind down against the fingers buried inside you, his other hand gripping your ass to push your hips into his touch with every slow roll.

a low groan rumbles in the back of his throat, his gaze dark and heavy as he watches you— your face tilted up, your lips parted, your wide, glassy eyes squeezing shut briefly as he curls his fingers against that spot inside you. the spot he knows will ruin you.

“fuck,” he mutters at one point, his hands pushing and pulling you against him as the wet, slick sounds of your cunt only grow louder. “look at you.”

“shut up—” you whimper, burying your face in his neck.

“nah,” he huffs, his voice smug, rough, as he pushes your hips back harder, just so his fingers can sink deeper, the lewd squelch making your whole body heat. “wanna see you cum on my fuckin’ hand, baby.”

and then— like it was inevitable— his patience snaps.

“stand up,” he commands, his tone sharp.

you blink, dazed, your movements sluggish as he helps shove you off his lap. “what—”

“stand up.”

you do.

and the next second, he’s got you turned around— bent forward over his desk. your hands press against the edge, lowering yourself instinctively as he pulls your shorts down in one swift motion, panties dragged off along with them.

“toji—” your voice shakes, low and nervous. “you said the stream—”

“it’s off,” he says, far too quick, far too distracted. “relax.”

you try to say something else. maybe to protest again. maybe not. but whatever it was, it dies completely in your throat the second you feel him behind you— his rough hands gripping the soft curve of your ass, spreading you out just enough for his hard, thick cock to drag heavy against your cunt.

“fuckin’ soaked,” he growls lowly under his breath, pressing the leaky head of his cock against your entrance, nudging it there just enough to make your hips rock back against him instinctively. “goddamn, baby. already takin’ me like you’re made for it.”

and then he pushes in.

your shoulders drop instantly, a sharp, wrecked gasp tumbling from your lips as the thick stretch forces you open so suddenly, so painfully perfect that it knocks the wind out of you.

toji groans low and ragged, his voice cracking slightly like he can’t hold it back. “fuckin’ tight- shit! always so goddamn tight for me—”

and then he moves.

his fingers dig into your hips as he pulls you back against him rough, sharp, his cock punching deepinside on the next thrust, the chair creaking loudly under the driving force of his hips as your ass slaps hard against his thighs.

your mouth falls open in a silent whimper, your hands struggling to find purchase on the slick surface of the desk as he picks up his pace— deep, messy thrusts with just enough speed to make your whole body shake.

“fuck,” he mutters again, his teeth gritting hard as he watches you struggle to stay upright, the angle of his hips dragging his cock against your walls just right everytime. “fuck, you should see yourself, baby. takin’ it so good- so messy for me.”

you whimper in response, trying to bury your cries in your elbow as his thrusts grow harder, the sound of skin slapping against skin loud enough to drown out your shaky breaths entirely.

his motions grow rougher, meaner— it’s nearly impossible to focus on anything other than the thick, blinding stretch of his cock pulling you apart.

“shit—” he groans, his voice sharp, his abs flexing each time you clench involuntarily around him. “gonna fuck you stupid, princess, make your pretty pussy gush all over this desk.”

and you do.

it’s messy. reckless. way too loud for how close the mic is.

but neither of you are thinking about that anymore.

not until after.

not until you’re both slumped back in the chair, your legs shaky, his arm wrapped around you again like nothing just happened.

you’re still catching your breath when you glance at the monitor.

“…wait.”

he hums lazily. “mm?”

“why. is. chat. still. moving.”

he huffs out a noise, looking more confused than concerned as he glances at the screen over your shoulder.

the messages are moving so fast you can’t even keep up with them:

eis3n: BRO WE HEARD EVERYTHINGFSFSG

skibidididdy21: AIN’T NO WAY HE LEFT THE STREAM ON

o-rion-sta-r: LMAO THIS IS THE BEST STREAM EVER

vibraze: W STREAM

vanillaapples: TAKE MY CREDIT CARD

interstellix: “CHAT’S OFF”???? BRO WHOS GONNA TELL HER 💀💀

you feel the heat creep up your neck, your heart pounding in embarrassment as the realization sinks in. they heard it. oh, god, they heard everything.

“toji,” you hiss, smacking his chest hard enough to make a sharp slap! echo in the still-heavy air.

“what?” he blinks, leaning forward lazily like he’s still not fully registering the problem.

you point at the screen “you said the stream was off. you told me it was off!”

“…huh,” he mutters after a beat, still staring blankly at the screen.

you slap him again, this time against his arm. “HUH?! that’s all you have to say?!”

finally, he glances down at you, scratching lazily at his jaw with that infuriatingly smug expression on his face. “i mean…shit. my bad.”

“my bad?!” you basically screech, twisting in his lap again to get a better look at the monitor. not that it helps at all— you can’t even see through the unhinged stream of chat scrolling faster than your brain can process.

yyurrrr: CLIP THAT CLIP THAT CLIP THAT

bbgnovaaaaaa: WHERE’S THE MODS LMFAOOO

cybersaiki: THIS WAS NOT SUPPOSED TO BE FREE CONTENT WTF

splurtz: BRO STOP DONATING WE’RE FEEDING HIS EGO

yesornomaybeso: I CAME HERE FOR GAMING AND GOT A SHOW INSTEAD?? 10/10 STREAMING

you groan, dropping your head in your hands as your whole body heats with a flood of mortification. everyone fucking heard it.

and toji— goddamn toji— is still sitting under you, calm as ever, and you’re too fucking annoyed to even look at him.

“you’re a fucking moron,” you snap, struggling to climb out of his lap, your hands thrown against his chest to shove him away.

you only make it halfway before his hands come down heavy on your hips, stilling you instantly.

“okay, relax,” he says, voice lower now, but still so goddamn nonchalant.

you glare down at him, cheeks on fire. “are you seriously telling me to relax?”

his lips twitch, barely biting back a smirk as he gives a slight shrug. “you’re freakin’ out over nothin’, princess.”

“not nothing, toji! they heard everything!”

“yeah, so?” his hand tightens on your waist, fingers teasing under the hem of your shirt as he settles deeper into the chair, eyeing you like you’re the one being unreasonable. “don’t sound like they’re mad about it.”

your jaw drops. “that’s not the point—”

“aw, c’mon,” he cuts you off, finally letting that signature grin curl across his lips. his free hand slips lower once more— not slick with heat like before but still confident, still toji, like he didn’t just blow your life to smithereens. “you were the one makin’ all that noise, baby. don’t act all shy now.”

you smack his shoulder weakly, your body too shaky to do any real damage, but the effort earns an amused chuckle from the bastard holding you hostage in his lap.

“you’re infuriating,” you scoff, still red-faced, trying to wiggle away from him again.

but of course, he doesn’t let you.

“nah, don’t run from me now,” he hums, pulling you back into him. his lips twitch wider. “y’know they’ll love it if you give ‘em another show.”

“toji!” you smack him one final time, harder this time— but it melts instantly into a noise of frustration as you twist against his hold, his low laugh vibrating against your back.

“alright, alright,” he mutters, clearly humoring you but raising one hand in mock surrender anyway. “i’ll clean it up.”

you blink, head tilted slightly. “…clean what up?”

he smirks, finally spinning you gently to face the monitor again. and when you see the sub count on the bottom corner of the screen— when you fucking see just how HIGH it’s skyrocketed in the last ten minutes and your jaw drops.

“told ya,” he mutters, his smirk deepening into something so smug and self-satisfied you can feel it without even looking at him.

you want to scream, but part of you feels like this is an impossible argument to have.

“…you left the fucking stream on for money?!”

he laughs again, and he almost looks proud that you even picked up on it.

unbelievable.

“not just for money,” he hums, his lips curving against your ear with that low, rough rasp you wish you could erase from your head. “i mean, sure, that’s nice…but did ya see how much fun chat was havin’?”

“oh my fucking god—”

he grins down at you, one hand resting on your thigh as the other clicks through tabs on his setup, his tone downright devious now.

“c’mon, baby," he teases softly, "let’s do it again sometime.”

You smiled, wicked and teasing. “That doesn’t sound like a thank you for the little surprise I planned.”

His eyes cut to you, cold and sharp. “I should pull this car over right now. Stop. It.”

You didn’t stop. You never did. Not when he warned you. Not when he glared at you with that tightly-reined restraint that made your thighs press together in the seat. Not even when he muttered a final, sharp “Enough” through gritted teeth, gripping the wheel so tight the leather creaked. He had to recite tax brackets in his head just to keep from wrecking the car.

Instead, you ran your palm slowly over his thigh, higher and higher until you reached the aching, hard line of his cock straining against his slacks. You gave him a playful little squeeze, and in the same motion, reached into your bag.

“Cupcake?” you asked, all innocent as you unwrapped the little thing you picked up from the bakery. Vanilla bean. A stupid, soft little snack. “I brought one just for you.”

“Don't,” he muttered under his breath. He watched you tear the wrapper with one dainty hand, shimmying in the seat like your bare cunt wasn’t already sticking to the leather.

“Kento,” you murmured, licking a streak of frosting off your thumb, “you want a bite?” You moaned—loud—when your tongue dragged over the tip of your finger, eyes fluttering shut like the taste was orgasmic. Then you bit into it slow, messy, frosting smearing the corner of your mouth. You licked that too. Sucked it off your finger like it was his cock.

“This frosting is so good,” you said, eyes flicking to him while your other hand trailed up his thigh. “C’mon just one bite?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, snatched the half-bitten cupcake out of your mouth without warning, threw it straight out the open window—“Kento!”—frosting streaking his knuckles from the force. He didn’t even blink.

Your lips parted like you might whine, but all that came out was a breathy sound as he raised his frosting-coated fingers to inspect the mess he'd made. Creamy, sticky, speckled with crumbs. His other hand never left the wheel, eyes forward as you—incorrigible, needy—snatched his hand and dragged it to your mouth.

You looked up at him through your lashes as you licked slowly from his knuckle to fingertip.

“Oh, fuck off,” he muttered under his breath—but you caught the twitch of his jaw.

“You’re so mean to me, baby,” you whispered against his knuckles. “You didn’t even want a taste?”

His voice was deadpan. “You’re going to cry later. I hope you know that.”

Your thighs clenched again—god, you were already so fucking wet, sticky between your legs from nothing but teasing him. His fingers were still in your mouth. You made a soft little mmph sound like a slut trying to apologize. 

He made a sharp turn off the main road—too fast—and pulled the car into the back lot of a quiet rest stop. You barely had time to react before the engine cut off, the brake engaged.

And then the car was dead silent. You watched him unbuckle his belt with controlled precision. He wasn’t rushing. Nanami never rushed.

You gulped. “Kento—”

“Get on my lap.”

The words hit like a slap. You blinked. “What—”

“You wanted attention. You want to tease me? Fine. Get on my lap. I’ll let you fuck yourself on my cock in broad daylight. No window tints. No privacy. Go ahead. Let’s see how long that attitude lasts.”

“…someone could see—”

He grabbed the back of your neck and pulled you forward, his mouth was right at your ear, voice low. “Get. On. My. Lap.”

He released you just as fast. Sat back. Opened his slacks with one sharp motion and freed his cock—thick, flushed, already leaking, slapping against his stomach with a quiet, heavy thud.

“Take your time,” he said coldly. “You love putting on a show, right?”

You were already crawling into his lap, straddling him, the sticky heat of your cunt dragging over his length as you settled against him. You were so wet he didn’t even need to guide himself in—just one slow press of your hips and he slid inside, inch by inch, deliciously deep.

You gasped as he hissed. His head dropped back against the headrest. “Fuck. Of course you’re this wet.”

You bit your lip, hips trembling. “It’s your fault…” you whined, high-pitched and breathless. He gripped your throat with one hand. “Don’t fucking start,” he snapped. “You’re lucky I’m letting you cum at all.”

You could barely breathe. Not just because of the thick weight of his cock pulsing inside you—but because of the way Kento fucking looked at you. One arm slung across the back of the seat, the other still gripping your throat, palm hot and broad. His glasses had slid down just slightly, exposing the sharp glint of his eyes as he watched you tremble in his lap like some fucked-out little plaything.

“You don’t get to be shy now,” he muttered. “Ride me.”

You whimpered and gripped the collar of his shirt as your hips began to move. Slow at first. Up. Down. Just enough to feel that stretch all over again. Every time you sank down, it felt like too much—too deep. But his grip tightened when you tried to stop. His brows drew together like he was annoyed you weren’t using him properly.

“You tease me all fucking morning,” he growled, “and this is how you ride cock?”

“I’m—” you gasped, “I’m trying—”

“Try harder.”

The slap to your ass was loud and immediate—his palm cracked sharp against the curve of it and you yelped, tightening around him. His cock twitched in response. You barely managed another rise and fall of your hips before your rhythm broke, thighs shaking.

“I can’t—” “Yes, you can.”

He grabbed your hips with both hands and then slammed you down onto his cock so hard you choked on your own breath. “Oh my god—Kento!”

His hips snapped into yours, cock stretching you wide, his hands bruising your waist. He grunted with each thrust, every stroke a punishment.

“This—” thrust. “—is—” thrust. “—what happens—” thrust. “—when you pull that shit with me.” Your eyes were glassy, mouth parted around panting little moans as he forced you to take his cock over and over, faster now, harder—bucking you against him with brute, punishing strength. The squelch of your cunt sucking him back in was filthy. 

He sat back, legs planted, hands locked on your hips, and fucked up into you so hard you saw stars. Your entire body bounced with every brutal thrust—his cock punching against your cervix, the fat head dragging over that swollen, needy spot inside you again and again until your back arched and your mouth dropped open in a silent scream.

Your orgasm crashed over you so violently your body locked up, cunt clamping down around him like a vice. You cried out—high, loud, broken—and Nanami bit your lip as he grunted, hips jerking up once, twice, before he stilled. His cock throbbed deep inside you, spilling hot cum into your pulsing cunt, so much it dripped out the second he pulled you off him.

You collapsed against him, panting, shaking, your sundress hiked up around your waist, legs splayed open across his thighs.

Just your heavy breaths and his low, even ones. His hand stroked your back, then slid lower—over your ass, to your slick thighs, to where his cum was starting to drip onto the seat.

“You made a mess,” he muttered. You mumbled something incoherent against his chest. He sighed. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

You giggled, barely able to lift your head. “Told you the dress was worth it.”

He shifted, tucking himself back into his slacks with practiced ease, then grabbed a handkerchief from the glovebox and slipped it between your legs.

“Clean up.” You mewled, lifting your hips weakly so he could wipe the mess from your thighs.

“You know,” you whispered, lazy smile spreading over your face, “we never made it to lunch.”

He glanced down at you. “You're not getting anything sweet for the rest of the day.”

You smirked. “Except you.”

His palm landed on your ass again—lighter this time. A warning. “Behave.”

“No promises.”

He closed his eyes like he was praying for strength. “Next time,” he said, voice low, “I’m tying your hands before we get in the car.”

You beamed. “Looking forward to it.”