[NSFW] Mʏ Sɪsᴛᴇʀ's Bᴏʏғʀɪᴇɴᴅ - Sᴛᴀʀʙʟᴜsʜ x Osᴛᴇᴏ

[Starblush]

╭⋟────────────────────────╮ ♡ Sᴛᴀʀʙʟᴜsʜ x Osᴛᴇᴏ ♡ ╰────────────────────────⋞╯ ​

 

[Starblush]

╭⋟────────────────────────╮ ♡ 𝚂𝚊𝚒𝚝𝚘𝚞 𝙰𝚖𝚒 ♡ ╰────────────────────────⋞╯ xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxFɪɴᴀʟ Yᴇᴀʀ Sᴛᴜᴅᴇɴᴛ. ♡ ​

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The final bell rang with a low, tired groan - less a sound of liberation and more a long exhale of relief. The corridors of the high school slowly filled with the shuffling sound of uwabaki slippers, pencil cases being zipped, and the rising chatter of students pouring out into the warm Friday afternoon. Ami Saitou stood quietly beside her desk, smoothing down the hem of her long navy skirt, her delicate fingers tracing the pleats like it was something she needed to do before she could move. She could feel it again - eyes. Stares. From the boys seated behind her, across from her, even one from the door pretending to check his phone. Her pale mint cardigan was buttoned all the way to the top despite the heat, sleeves pulled down past her wrists, hiding the tremble in her fingers. The white blouse beneath was fitted without meaning to be. Even as she slouched, her chest pushed forward unintentionally, the tight buttons straining gently over her full, sensitive E-cups. Her navy ribbon was a little loose at the collar, and she knew - knew - if she leaned over her bag too far, the boys behind her would see everything. They already talked. She heard them at lunch. “Have you seen her tits? Bet they’re fake.” “Too shy to even talk, but her body’s begging for it.” “I’d give anything to see her run in PE again.” She never said a word. Just turned her head and pretended to look out the window. “Ami-chan!” The voice made her flinch. Not from fear - but surprise. Warmth. A girl with short black hair and lively eyes approached with a too-big smile, sliding her bookbag over one shoulder. “Did you hear what Satou-sensei said? We’re free until Monday! I might actually sleep in for once.” Ami smiled back, soft and small. “Mm... that sounds nice.” “Are you doing anything this weekend?” Ami shook her head, hugging her books close to her chest. “No… just chores. Maybe some baking.” “You’re so housewifey,” the girl teased with a wink. “You should come out sometime, Ami-chan. Let people see how cute you really are.”[/i] That made Ami’s face flush a soft, embarrassed pink. “I’m... I don’t really like crowded places...” Her friend laughed and gave her a gentle nudge. “Okay, okay. Just saying. You’re wasted on that kitchen.” She leaned in, smirking. “You know half the boys are too scared to talk to you, right? Like... you’re scary because you’re hot.” Ami didn’t answer. Just tugged her cardigan tighter around her chest and offered a little wave goodbye as they parted at the gates. Outside, the air was thick with heat. Early summer in Saitama always felt a bit heavier than it should’ve - like the humidity carried its own weight. Ami stepped out slowly into the sun, shoes tapping softly on the pavement as she crossed beneath the archway of the school’s entrance, her thighs already starting to stick together beneath her skirt. She wore her standard uniform, but everything on her looked just a little too full. Her hips swayed slightly as she walked—not because she tried, but because she was built to do so. Her thick thighs rubbed beneath her skirt with every step, and the small cotton bloomers she wore under her uniform clung to the heat gathering between her legs. A soft breeze teased the hem of her skirt just high enough to worry her, and she quickly tugged it back down with a quiet, nervous breath. Her skin glistened faintly with perspiration - tiny beads collecting at the nape of her neck where her soft orange hair clung in damp strands. She’d tied it back in a loose green ribbon that now drooped slightly from the humidity, like everything else about her. Every few blocks, a car would pass. She hated that. The way men sometimes slowed down. Looked once. Then again. She crossed in front of a konbini and caught sight of herself in the reflection—blouse damp with sweat just beneath her breasts, the fabric clinging slightly and exposing the outline of her bra. Her stomach fluttered. She looked away immediately, cheeks burning. Was he home yet? The thought slipped in uninvited. Her sandals scuffed softly as she turned toward the hill that led up to their apartment complex. Her pulse quickened. She hated that it did. Hated the feeling building between her legs. The sticky, humming guilt. The genkan was cool and quiet when Ami slipped off her shoes. The soft clack of her loafers against the tile was the only sound that followed her into the narrow front corridor of the apartment. She stepped carefully onto the polished wood floor, her white ankle socks slightly damp from sweat, her schoolbag slipping from her shoulder with a little thud as she knelt to place it by the wall. “...Tadaima,” she murmured. No reply. Her eyes flicked toward the living room. Empty. The shoji screen was partially drawn, letting in a muted shaft of afternoon sunlight that fell across the tatami mats. The television was off. The air smelled faintly of fabric softener and the citrus cleaner they used for the floors. Still… it felt too quiet. Ami lingered there for a moment, the heat from outside still clinging to her skin. Her thighs rubbed as she shifted, the damp bloomers beneath her skirt making her shift awkwardly. Her cardigan had started to stick to her back; she reached behind to tug it free, exposing just a hint of the curve of her waist. That’s when she saw it. A small envelope on the kitchen counter. Her name written neatly on the front in Mayu’s elegant, slightly slanted handwriting. Ami walked over and picked it up, cheeks still flushed from the walk, and gently peeled it open. Inside: 25,000 yen and a tiny square of folded paper. “Won’t be home until next week. Remember to stock up on groceries. – Mayu.” Ami stood there for a moment, staring at the note like it might change. Like maybe she’d overlooked something warmer. But no—just the money. Just the absence. She placed it back down carefully and turned away. This was normal. Expected. She didn’t mind. Really. Still wearing her full uniform, she began to tidy. First the counter - she wiped it slowly with a damp cloth, rinsing the sponge more often than necessary. Her chest shifted softly beneath her blouse as she leaned forward, her skirt pulling tight across her ass. She hadn’t unbuttoned anything yet - hadn’t thought to. It wasn’t like anyone was home. The fan in the corner hummed, spinning lazily. It did little to help. She swept next - long, careful strokes across the living room floor, her posture bent in a way that made her skirt ride just a little too high in the back. Her thighs peeked out with each crouch. The pale curve of her inner leg gleamed faintly with sweat. She didn’t notice. Or maybe she did. Maybe a part of her wanted to be seen. In the hallway mirror, she caught a glimpse of herself. Face flushed. Hair clinging to her cheeks. Ribbon slipping. A girl trying so hard to be good. She turned away quickly. Laundry next. She gathered the basket from the bedroom and carried it to the little alcove beside the kitchen, where the washing machine sat humming softly. Mayu’s work blouse. Her boyfriend’s white T-shirts. Socks—plain, masculine. Underwear she didn’t mean to notice. Didn’t mean to hold. Ami swallowed hard and dropped them into the drum. Her own clothes followed. She paused when she reached for the hem of her skirt - fingers lingering just a second too long. The fabric clung to her skin. She peeled it down slowly, revealing her thick thighs, the outline of her bloomers soaked faintly from the heat. She stood there, in nothing but her blouse, socks, and clinging cotton panties. The curve of her breasts rose and fell with each breath, nipples pressing into the fabric just enough to show if someone happened to walk by. She placed the last items in the machine. Pressed the button. The water began to fill. Another silence. Ami turned and leaned back against the counter - exhausted from the heat, her legs parted slightly, the air finally brushing between her thighs. She bit her lip without thinking. No one was home. ...Right? ​

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[Osteo]

╭⋟────────────────────────╮ ♕Tanaka Kenzo♕ ╰────────────────────────⋞╯ ​

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The flash of the monitor was bright in the dimly lit room, casting illumination on the chiseled jaw of Ken who was looking at his screen. Several different programs opened as a stream of data flashed across the screen, dragging and dropping into a homemade program he had developed to help streamline the process of his job and do a majority of it for him when it came to compiling data and sheets that were forwarded to him. In his other hand was his cellphone pressed to his ear, a phone call with his loving girlfriend Mayu, who was going to be out of town for a couple of days because of her job and a needed business trip. "I will call you back later tonight, after you check into your hotel. I know you will kill it at your meeting. I love you, talk to you soon." The call was ended with Mayu. The calls were always direct, straightforward, and like they were some sort of schedule or plan she had made. She was deliberate with each word she spoke and the direction she carried the conversation. He didn't mind Mayu's focus on her career or how she was a neat and tidy woman. They had been dating for some time now and finally they had moved in together with her little sister who was in her final year of school. The Saitou sisters were beautiful and he was living with both now. Many men were jealous simply because he was dating Mayu. A stunning, rising businesswoman in the private sector, but even more would be furious to find he lived with Ami as well, a young, shy beauty who gave the perfect housewife vibes -- the complete opposite package of her sister. Pushing away from his work setup, the program would continue to do his job for him without even needing to be at his desk, and with his emails answered, he rose from the seat. Setting his phone down on the desk, the screen lit up with a photo of Mayu as his wallpaper. Dressed in simple, loose black sweats and a button-up black shirt on top with the top few buttons undone, he would look a mix of relaxed and business-ready. The camera for any meeting he would have to attend would only show his torso and face; what he wore down underneath wasn't needed most days, and he chose comfort. He had heard the door open and the soft and gentle voice of Ami call out as low as it was. A sweet, reserved girl, shy to speak and be noticed, but he had noticed her. The first time he met her, he had kept his eyes on her with a calm, warm confidence that left her turning her eyes away from him. He took note that she would steer clear of him any chance she had but those became fewer and farther between when he had moved in. Now, he had heard her one night when he had gotten up to get a glass of water. It was quiet and controlled, but it was there, and that was Ami touching herself at night and saying his name. It made him smile before he had crawled back into bed with Mayu, who was none the wiser about her little sister's crush on Ken. Today was the first day they were going to be alone for more than just a few hours. Mayu was gone on a business trip, and they had the apartment all to themselves now, in which Ami could only hide from him for so long before he would let her feel his presence and remind her that they were alone. He moved with a confident grace to him out of the makeshift office and into the hallway. The sound of a metal door closing, the washer, as Ami must be starting a load of laundry and that is where he would find her. Standing in the room with her skirt off in just her cotton panties and blouse. "Oh, sorry I must have been too focused on my work. I didn't hear you come home. How was school?" He asked and was casual about the fact he had caught her without her skirt on. Something that would terrify her, but he stepped into the room and approached her. "Looks like you just started a load, sorry, do you mind? I got a stain at lunch today." He lied, his black shirt was spotless without a speck on it but he moved his fingers to the buttons. With practiced ease he undid them in quick succession as each button would reveal more of his torso. The chiseled muscles that hid underneath and were exposed with every button that slipped out of its hole, and the fabric parted like the red Sea to reveal him. Until they were all done, and he removed his shirt and stopped right in front of her. Without asking her to move, he was careful to reach around her and press stop on the machine while opening up the door to drop the shirt into the drum with the other clothes. His figure was so close to her, just barely apart. The silence was deafening. The air was thick with a foggy tension before the drum door slammed closed and the machine began to rumble once more as he resumed the cycle. "Are you feeling okay, Ami? Your face is red and you are sweating." He pretended like she might be sick, and that was leaving her with that color. His hand raised, the back of his palm pressed to her forehead to feel the heat that burned from her, but it wasn't from an illness. He had placed himself so close to her. He was tempting her, gauging her reaction and how he could twist her around his finger. To command her and make her belong to him. Two Saitou sisters were better than just one and Ami acted like the kind of girl with deep desires, ones he could enjoy himself with. She had already given him the hint she wanted him. She just didn't know it yet, that he knew. That he heard her. He wanted her to melt under his touch and to hear that shy little voice of hers beg for him and say his name. ​

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[Starblush]

╭⋟────────────────────────╮ ♡ 𝚂𝚊𝚒𝚝𝚘𝚞 𝙰𝚖𝚒 ♡ ╰────────────────────────⋞╯ xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxFɪɴᴀʟ Yᴇᴀʀ Sᴛᴜᴅᴇɴᴛ. ♡ ​

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦​

She didn’t hear him approach. Not until his voice cut through the fog of the softly humming machine and the frantic pulse in her ears. “Oh, sorry I must have been too focused on my work. I didn't hear you come home. How was school?” Ami spun. Or - tried to. Her legs tangled, her back hit the counter, and the basket she was holding tilted just enough to spill a pair of her panties onto the tile floor. She stared. Not at his eyes. No - she couldn’t look him in the eye. She stared at his chest—his broad, toned, bare chest, revealed as each button slipped free with casual, terrifying ease. She should’ve turned around. Should’ve run back to her room. Should’ve screamed. But she didn’t. “...I-I… um…” Her voice cracked. “S-School was… f-fine…” Her fingers clutched the edge of the washing machine like it might anchor her to something real. Her blouse clung to her skin, damp from the walk home, from the heat, from him. Her heavy breasts rose and fell beneath it - nipples embarrassingly hard, pressing visibly through the fabric. Her cotton panties, stretched tight across her thick thighs and soft mound, felt soaked. She shifted, thighs rubbing together with the softest of sounds. Then he stepped closer. He didn’t touch her - not really. Just leaned in. Just reached around her. But the heat from his body sank into hers like steam, curling beneath her blouse, making her shoulders tense and her core clench. The shirt landed in the machine with a whisper. She hadn’t breathed in thirty seconds. “Are you feeling okay, Ami? Your face is red and you are sweating.” Then came his hand. The back of it pressed gently to her forehead. Soft. Warm. Possessive. Ami’s entire body went still. Her lips parted. Her legs gave a subtle, barely-there tremble. Her thighs brushed again, her socks curling slightly against the floor. “I-I’m okay…” she whispered, barely audible. “Just… the weather.” She couldn’t move. Not when he was this close. Not when she was standing in nothing but her panties and a blouse that barely hid what she’d been thinking about all night. He was here. Real. Warm. Watching. She could smell his cologne. See the curve of his collarbone. The way his fingers lingered just a second too long against her skin. She didn’t know where to look. So she looked down. At his bare chest. His hips. The way his sweats hung low - casual, easy, dangerous. She could feel the heat in her cheeks bloom into something lower. Between her legs. Against her thighs. “...G-Gomen’nasai,” she whispered. “I… I didn’t know you were home…” Her voice trembled, and with it - so did she. She could hardly think. Her panties were soaked, clinging tight to her folds. Her blouse was damp and translucent with sweat, her nipples stiff beneath the thin fabric. His scent was in her lungs. His body had been so close—too close—and he was still there. Still watching her. “I—I should… I need to—” she fumbled for the words, breath shallow, heart hammering against her ribs. “I need to make dinner. O-Onee-san left some money and I thought I’d... bake something too.” Her eyes darted down to the floor - her skirt. She’d forgotten it. Still puddled by her feet, bunched like a discarded secret. Her face flushed scarlet. She bent down, fingers trembling as she reached for it, trying to step in without showing too much - but the hem caught awkwardly on her ankle, and she stumbled forward, catching herself on the washer with a little gasp. Her full breasts bounced softly beneath her blouse, and she could feel the fabric clinging to the curve of her ass, sticking to the warmth left behind by his stare. “I’m s-sorry,” she whispered, voice cracking. “I didn’t mean—” She yanked the skirt up, fumbling the zipper with shaking fingers, finally getting it secured around her waist. It hung slightly crooked, the waistband twisted, but she didn’t dare fix it. Not in front of him. “I—I’ll be in the kitchen,” she breathed, already turning. Her shoulder brushed his chest as she passed - a brief, electric touch - and she almost stumbled again. Her legs were shaking. Her thighs stuck. Her panties were still wet. She didn’t look back. She walked fast. And vanished down the hallway in a crooked skirt and a blouse too sheer, leaving behind the scent of vanilla shampoo and fear. The kitchen felt colder, quieter. Safe. She gripped the counter, steadying herself with both hands. Her chest rose and fell in soft, shallow waves. Flour. She needed to bake something. She needed to do something - anything to keep her mind off the shirtless man now alone with her sister’s underwear, and the way her body had nearly collapsed under a single, casual touch. ​

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