amy

you wanted to start to undress, lifting your shirt over your head when choso stopped you. “maybe you can… stay dressed?”

you eyed your boyfriend who sat on the edge of the bed completely naked, his cock twitching and leaking against his stomach after all the heated kisses. his cheeks were flushed, eyes glassy.

“you want me to stay dressed?” you asked, surprised.

“mhmm.” he nodded shyly, biting his lip. that’s how you ended up dry humping choso’s bare leg.

your soaked panties dragged slowly against his thick, muscular thigh, the friction making you sigh softly. choso whimpered beneath you, hands trembling as they rested on your hips.

“feels so good…” his cock lay heavy and untouched against his abs, leaking messily every time you rolled your hips. “you’re so wet… i can feel it all over my leg.”

you braced your hands on his shoulders and ground down harder, the wet patch on your panties growing darker as you rubbed your clothed pussy against his bare skin. choso’s head fell back with a moan, thighs flexing underneath you.

“please… don’t stop,” he begged quietly, looking up at you with needy eyes. “use me. use my leg however you want… i just want to feel you.”

you moved faster, grinding your swollen clit against the firm muscle of his thigh. choso was panting now, chest heaving, cock twitching helplessly as it continued to drip precum all over his stomach. he looked so pretty like this—completely naked and desperate while you stayed fully dressed, using him for your pleasure.

“you’re making such a mess.”

choso whimpered, fingers digging into your hips. “i’m sorry… can’t help it. you feel too good. i’m so hard it hurts but… fuck, i love when you use me like this.”

you leaned forward and kissed him, still grinding on his thigh. choso moaned into your mouth, tongue sliding against yours obediently as his cock continued leaking, completely ignored between you.

“please…” he whispered against your lips. “keep going. make yourself cum on me. i want to feel it.”

you smiled against his mouth and rolled your hips harder, soaking his bare leg even more while choso trembled and whimpered beneath you.

“i’m close—”

“yes— please cum on me,” choso whispered. “i want to feel it. please—”

your orgasm hit you hard, riding out every wave while choso watched with wide eyes. he couldn’t look away from the sight—the way your soaked panties rubbed against his thigh, the shiny wetness on his skin, the way your body trembled on top of him.

“oh god—” without any touch to his cock at all, choso suddenly came.

thick ropes of cum spurted from his untouched cock, painting his stomach and chest in messy streaks. he whimpered your name, completely lost in the sight of you cumming on his thigh. his cock continued twitching and leaking even after he finished, still painfully hard.

you slowed your movements, breathing heavily as you looked down at him. “you came…” you whispered, a little stunned.

he nodded weakly, cheeks burning red. “couldn’t help it… you looked so pretty cumming on me.” and then he pulled you down into a messy kiss, still trembling from his untouched orgasm.

satoru didn’t know what was worse— you, or the problem in his pants.

you and satoru were sitting at a small beachside table, enjoying ice cream under the warm afternoon sun. you licked happily at your strawberry cone, swinging your legs under the table, completely unaware of the effect you were having on him.

a big drop of melted ice cream suddenly slid down and landed right on your chest, slowly dripping toward your bikini top.

“ah, it spilled!” you said, a little embarrassed. without thinking, you scooped the melting cream with your finger, collecting the sticky sweetness from your skin. you brought your finger to your lips and licked it clean, sucking the cream off with a satisfied hum.

satoru’s ice cream completely forgotten in his hand, melting fast and dripping onto the table. his eyes were locked on your mouth, watching the way your tongue swirled around your finger so sweetly, how your lips wrapped around it for a second.

he was losing his fucking mind.

his cock was rock hard, throbbing painfully against his swim trunks under the table. he shifted uncomfortably, trying to hide the very obvious bulge, but it was useless. precum was already leaking into his shorts.

“satoru? you’re not eating yours,” you said, tilting your head with big eyes as you licked the last bit of cream from your finger. “is something wrong?”

he let out a breath. “yeah… big problem,” he said. “i can’t stand up right now, baby.”

you blinked, confused. “why not?”

satoru glanced down at his lap, hidden under the table, then back at you. “because you’ve been licking ice cream off your tits for the last two minutes,” he whispered, almost whining. “and now i’m so fucking hard I almost hurts.”

your eyes widened, cheeks turning warm. satoru groaned quietly, pressing his forehead against his hand, his melting ice cream still dripping onto the sand.

“just… give me a minute,” he muttered. “or ten. unless you want to crawl under the table and help your poor boyfriend out.”

“are you sure this one looks okay?” you ask, stepping out of the fitting room in a tiny baby-blue bikini that barely covers anything.

choso freezes.

his eyes drag slowly down your body, taking in the way the thin straps hug your curves, the way the fabric barely contains your breasts, the way the bottoms sit high on your hips. he feels his cock twitch hard in his pants, already half-hard since the third bikini you try on.

“it… looks good.” he shifts on the couch outside the fitting room, trying to hide the very obvious bulge growing in his pants.

“you’ve said that about the last four. be honest, choso.”

how can he be honest?

how can he tell you that every single bikini makes him want to drag you back into the fitting room, lock the door, and fuck you against the mirror? how every time you twirl for him, showing off your ass and the way the strings tie at your hips, his mind fills with filthy images of pulling those strings loose with his teeth?

you step closer, doing a little spin. the movement makes your tits bounce slightly, and choso has to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from groaning.

“this one makes my ass look nice, right?” you ask, turning to show him the back.

his cock throbs painfully against his zipper.

“yeah.” his eyes glued to the curve of your ass. “it does.”

you smile. “okay, i’ll try the red one next!”

as soon as you disappear behind the curtain, choso lets out a shaky breath and presses the heel of his hand against his cock, trying to will it down. it doesn’t work. he is rock hard, leaking into his boxers and heart pounding like he is a stupid teenager seeing a girl naked for the first time.

every bikini looks unreal on you. every smile you give him while modeling for him makes him want to fuck you right there in the store. he imagines pushing you against the wall, pulling the bikini bottoms to the side, and sinking into your heat while you try to stay quiet but fail miserably.

“choso? what do you think of this one?” you step out again in a deep red string bikini that makes his brain give up completely. he swallows hard.

“…you’re going to kill me.”

you laugh softly, completely unaware that this whole shopping trip is torture for him. and the only thing choso can do is shift again, painfully hard and completely hopeless.

he is never surviving this shopping trip.

“stop talking and take off your clothes.”

you cut satoru off, staring at him from the edge of the bed. he showed up at your place talking about some mission, some curse, some dumb shit that happened with his students like you two were actually dating.

“why are you telling me this?” you ask, again. “we’re here to fuck, right? not play boyfriend and girlfriend.”

satoru pauses, then that lazy smirk spreads across his face. “yeah. you’re right.”

he doesn’t waste time. he pulls his shirt off, drops his pants, and pushes you back onto the bed. before you can say anything else he’s between your thighs, spreading them wide. he drags your panties down and buries his face in your pussy like he’s starving.

“fuck,” you moan as his tongue slides up and down, hot and wet. he licks broad and messy, then sucks your clit between his lips. you grip the sheets, hips bucking against his mouth. he eats you like he always does—greedy, sloppy, perfect.

but something feels different tonight.

every time you look down, his bright blue eyes are locked on yours. he doesn’t close them. he watches you the whole time, pupils wide while his tongue works your clit and two thick fingers push inside you. there’s heat there, sure, but something softer too. something that looks way too much like love.

you try to ignore it, but you can’t. not when he stares at you like that.

satoru curls his fingers and sucks harder. you whimper, thighs shaking around his head. without breaking eye contact he reaches up and grabs both your hands, locking his long fingers with yours. he pins your hands to the bed beside your hips and holds them tight while he devours your pussy.

“satoru—”

he hums against your clit, the vibration making your back arch. his grip on your hands stays firm, warm, almost possessive. those eyes never leave your face, even when your thighs squeeze around him and you start grinding against his tongue.

you can’t shake the feeling. it’s not just hunger in his gaze. it’s more. and it scares you how much you like it while he fucks you with his mouth and fingers, holding your hands like he never wants to let go.

“you’re more sensitive than usual.”

shiu leans back in his office chair, hands steady on your hips as you move in his lap. panties shoved to the side, and you’re riding him slow but deep, chasing the feeling you’ve missed for weeks.

after weeks of busy schedules, today you both finally lined up a free lunch slot and you showed up at his door flushed and impatient.

“been a while, hasn’t it?” he murmurs against your neck. he sounds a little surprised every time you get like this, but he doesn’t push the thought. instead he guides your rhythm, letting you bounce at your own pace while his thick length fills you completely.

you whimper softly and roll your hips harder, thighs trembling around him. every drag of him inside you feels fuller and hotter than usual after the dry spell. he notices right away.

“easy, baby. you’re shaking already.” his thumbs stroke your waist under your top. “all that time apart and now you’re this worked up. couldn’t wait, could you?”

you nod, biting your lip as you keep moving, taking him again and again. the chair creaks quietly under you. the thought of someone walking past his office door adds a rush, but you don’t slow down. you needed this. needed him.

shiu lets out a rough breath, eyes heavy as he watches you. “fuck… you feel so good. missed this so much.” he thrusts up to meet you, burying himself deeper, and you gasp at the sudden spark. he’s so hard, so warm, stretching you so right after weeks of nothing.

“so greedy,” he says, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “guess going without for so long made you extra needy.” his hand slides up your back, pulling you closer so your chest presses against him. “sneaking into my office just to ride me on lunch break. you really couldn’t hold out anymore, huh?”

you moan against his shoulder, moving faster. the ache in your body builds quick and heavy. he feels it too—the way you tighten around him. and he’s enjoying it so much, watching his pretty young girlfriend use him like you want. his cock throbs inside you, rock hard and pulsing as you ride him faster.

“don’t stop, baby,” he whispers near your ear. “keep bouncing on me. i want to feel you cum all over my cock before my next meeting.”

︵ ೀ mdni. yuta eating you out

the end credits are already rolling on the tv, but it’s not like either of you care anymore. not when yuta is pressed close against you on the couch, kissing you senseless while his touch makes your skin tingle.

his fingers trace down slowly, barely there, light enough to make you shiver as they follow the curve of your side.

“is it good when i touch you here?”

yuta's fingers brush over your breasts through your thin shirt. he circles your nipples so softly you arch into his hand.

“or maybe here?”

his palm slides lower, over your stomach, then slips under the waistband of your shorts. his fingers dip inside your panties and brush your pussy. you’re already wet. he spreads your folds with two fingers and rubs your clit in slow, lazy circles.

“yuta…” you breathe and spread your legs wider on the couch.

he presses a little harder on your clit and then pushes one finger inside your tight cunt, then adds another, curling them deep.

yuta watches your face the whole time, eyes dark. “you’re so wet already.” he pumps his fingers in and out and rubs your clit with his thumb at the same time.

you grip his shoulders and rock against his hand. he leans in and kisses your neck, then sucks hard enough to leave a mark. his fingers move faster, fucking you deeper. “is it good when i fuck you like this?” he whispers against your skin. “tell me.”

you nod and yuta smiles. he kisses you once, deep and hungry, before starting to move lower. his mouth trails down your body, leaving soft kisses over your chest and stomach until he reaches your inner thighs. there, he slows, pressing gentle kisses to the soft skin, each one softer and more deliberate than the last as he moves lower.

he kisses your clit gently first, lips soft against you. then he licks you, tongue flat and warm, dragging up your slit. you shudder. yuta kisses your clit again, sucks it lightly between his lips, and pushes his tongue inside you.

yuta kisses your pussy like he kisses your mouth—slow, hungry, and wet. his hands hold your thighs open as he buries his face deeper and kisses your folds, licks inside you, then sucks your clit while his tongue pushes in and out.

“so fucking sweet,” he groans against you. he slides two fingers back inside you and curls them while he kisses and licks your clit nonstop.

your thighs start to shake around his head. yuta doesn’t stop. he keeps kissing your clit, sucking it, licking it, tongue sliding inside you between kisses until your back arches hard off the couch.

when he finally pulls back, lips shiny, he looks up at you with hazy eyes. “you like it?” he asks, all shy now. he looks almost embarrassed, cheeks warm as he watches your face. and all you can do is nod.

“you’re more sensitive than usual.”

shiu leans back in his office chair, hands steady on your hips as you move in his lap. panties shoved to the side, and you’re riding him slow but deep, chasing the feeling you’ve missed for weeks.

after weeks of busy schedules, today you both finally lined up a free lunch slot and you showed up at his door flushed and impatient.

“been a while, hasn’t it?” he murmurs against your neck. he sounds a little surprised every time you get like this, but he doesn’t push the thought. instead he guides your rhythm, letting you bounce at your own pace while his thick length fills you completely.

you whimper softly and roll your hips harder, thighs trembling around him. every drag of him inside you feels fuller and hotter than usual after the dry spell. he notices right away.

“easy, baby. you’re shaking already.” his thumbs stroke your waist under your top. “all that time apart and now you’re this worked up. couldn’t wait, could you?”

you nod, biting your lip as you keep moving, taking him again and again. the chair creaks quietly under you. the thought of someone walking past his office door adds a rush, but you don’t slow down. you needed this. needed him.

shiu lets out a rough breath, eyes heavy as he watches you. “fuck… you feel so good. missed this so much.” he thrusts up to meet you, burying himself deeper, and you gasp at the sudden spark. he’s so hard, so warm, stretching you so right after weeks of nothing.

“so greedy,” he says, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “guess going without for so long made you extra needy.” his hand slides up your back, pulling you closer so your chest presses against him. “sneaking into my office just to ride me on lunch break. you really couldn’t hold out anymore, huh?”

you moan against his shoulder, moving faster. the ache in your body builds quick and heavy. he feels it too—the way you tighten around him. and he’s enjoying it so much, watching his pretty young girlfriend use him like you want. his cock throbs inside you, rock hard and pulsing as you ride him faster.

“don’t stop, baby,” he whispers near your ear. “keep bouncing on me. i want to feel you cum all over my cock before my next meeting.”

megumi fushiguro is trying very hard to play it cool.

he’s buried deep inside you, hips pressed flush against yours, when he first notices it—the soft, unmistakable bulge in your lower belly every time he thrusts forward. his cock is visibly pressing against your insides, distorting your stomach just slightly with every slow roll of his hips.

he freezes for half a second.

his usual stoic expression stays perfectly intact, but inside, something feral awakens. his dark eyes flick down to your stomach again, locked on the way the bulge appears and disappears with each thrust. he feels almost dizzy at the sight.

he doesn’t say anything. doesn’t acknowledge it. just keeps his breathing steady and his face neutral. at least, that’s what he wants you to think. in reality, megumi is obsessed.

the sight of his cock making your tummy bulge is doing dangerous things to his self-control. he’s never seen anything hotter in his life. the primal urge to push deeper, to make the bulge even more obvious, is quickly overriding his usual restraint.

without warning, his pace changes.

his thrusts become harder. deeper. more deliberate. each stroke is forceful enough that the bulge in your stomach becomes much more visible. megumi’s jaw clenches, eyes darkening as he watches it intently.

you moan loudly, fingers digging into his shoulders. “megumi— ah! slow down—”

he doesn’t. if anything, he fucks you even harder.

︵ ೀ mdni. nanami and his oblivious!wife ( part one / part two / part three / part four )

“these bikinis are so tiny now,” you muse, poking your head out from the dressing room curtain. your husband kento slumps in a store chair, exhausted from working overtime and now you’re dragging him through this beachwear shop for a vacation he’s dreading—because you, his sweet, clueless wife, are a walking test of his sanity, and he’s losing.

“what’s the problem, honey?” he says while he’s trying to focus on the tacky store decor—anything but the thought of you in a bikini and your curves, because every time you step out, all innocent, his cock twitches and he’s one step from fucking you against the mirror until you’re a whimpering mess.

you yank the curtain open, stepping out, and kento nearly dies right here and there. the bikini’s a fucking crime—neon pink, two pathetic triangles straining against your tits, which threaten to spill over. the fabric’s stretched so tight it’s basically transparent, nipples hard from the store’s AC, and the straps are screaming for mercy, digging into your skin, pushing those pretty boobs up and out.

“my boobs don’t fit,” you pout, tugging at the top, making them bounce and jiggle in a way that sends kento’s cock throbbing painfully hard.

“fuck,” he chokes, voice a strangled wheeze. you giggle, oblivious, bouncing on your toes, and the bikini groans, one tit nearly popping free, a sliver of pink nipple taunting him—kento’s mouth waters, aching to lick that teasing peek, to push the fabric aside and tease the stiff bud with slow, hungry swirls of his tongue.

“it’s so tight, kento, look!” you say, spinning to check the mirror, and your ass in the matching thong bottom—plump, barely covered—makes his cock leak, a wet spot blooming dark against his pants, precum soaking through as he shifts, trying to hide it. “looks good” he rasps, sounding like he’s been punched, eyes glued to your chest, where every jiggle is slow-motion torture.

“stop talking and take off your clothes.”

you cut satoru off, staring at him from the edge of the bed. he showed up at your place talking about some mission, some curse, some dumb shit that happened with his students like you two were actually dating.

“why are you telling me this?” you ask, again. “we’re here to fuck, right? not play boyfriend and girlfriend.”

satoru pauses, then that lazy smirk spreads across his face. “yeah. you’re right.”

he doesn’t waste time. he pulls his shirt off, drops his pants, and pushes you back onto the bed. before you can say anything else he’s between your thighs, spreading them wide. he drags your panties down and buries his face in your pussy like he’s starving.

“fuck,” you moan as his tongue slides up and down, hot and wet. he licks broad and messy, then sucks your clit between his lips. you grip the sheets, hips bucking against his mouth. he eats you like he always does—greedy, sloppy, perfect.

but something feels different tonight.

every time you look down, his bright blue eyes are locked on yours. he doesn’t close them. he watches you the whole time, pupils wide while his tongue works your clit and two thick fingers push inside you. there’s heat there, sure, but something softer too. something that looks way too much like love.

you try to ignore it, but you can’t. not when he stares at you like that.

satoru curls his fingers and sucks harder. you whimper, thighs shaking around his head. without breaking eye contact he reaches up and grabs both your hands, locking his long fingers with yours. he pins your hands to the bed beside your hips and holds them tight while he devours your pussy.

“satoru—”

he hums against your clit, the vibration making your back arch. his grip on your hands stays firm, warm, almost possessive. those eyes never leave your face, even when your thighs squeeze around him and you start grinding against his tongue.

you can’t shake the feeling. it’s not just hunger in his gaze. it’s more. and it scares you how much you like it while he fucks you with his mouth and fingers, holding your hands like he never wants to let go.

toji’s old enough to be your dad and you both know it.

you see the silver in his stubble when he leans over the console, the way his knuckles are busted and healed a hundred times over. yeah... he’s got this shady job and a driver’s license that expired the year you graduated high school. but whatever.

you still crawl into his lap the second the door slams shut, loving the way the truck groans every time he drives into you hard enough like he’s trying to break it and you at the same time.

boys your age send dick pics and ask if you’re dtf. toji just palms your ass, lifts you onto his cock like you weigh nothing, and sinks you down slow until you’re gasping at how deep he sits. he doesn’t ask if you’re sure. he knows you are.

you picked him on purpose.

he always grumbles about your knees on the leather yet his hands are always already under your skirt, calloused palms spreading your thighs wide while he mutters “fucking brat” against your mouth.

thick arms cage you against the passenger seat while the windows fog up in the empty parking lot. he’s got you folded damn near in half, knees to your chest, cock buried so deep your belly bulges a little every time he bottoms out.

then his phone lights up. he doesn’t stop, reaches over with one hand, thumb swiping answer while the other keeps your hips pinned.

“yeah,” he grunts into the speaker. “target’s still breathing. give me twenty.”

he rolls his hips hard on the last word, his cockhead grinding right where it makes you stupid. you whimper loud enough the guy on the line probably hears. toji’s eyes flick to you. “open,” he mouths, silent.