I studied her face, taking in the complexity of what was happening.
Shiho was many things—brilliant, submissive, devoted—but she was also fundamentally reserved and professional. Her whole persona was built around being the nerdy cipher girl in the corner, hiding behind lab coats and modest dresses like armor. Even though she was well-stacked with round hips, generous curves, and heavy tits, she deliberately dressed not to draw attention. Modesty and diffidence stitched into every seam.
She was an orphan with painfully low self-esteem. Could barely hold a conversation unless it involved codes or analysis. Despite all my efforts over the years to draw her out of her shell—teasing, complimenting, making her feel desired—she'd only grown more comfortable hiding under my care.
I knew her body better than she did, pushed her limits, and made her feel owned. But that ownership had always lived in shadows. She was my nerd girl, hidden away, never publicly acknowledged.
But deep down, I was beginning to realize, Shiho wanted recognition. She wanted to be seen as my woman, not just some girl I fucked in secret. She longed to be acknowledged as someone I claimed and desired.
Matching her serious expression, I said firmly, "They won't."
Her pupils trembled. "How would you know?" she blurted, voice shaking. "When they find out, they'll… they'll make you choose. And they're prettier, they're stronger, they're everything I'm not—" Her words tripped over each other, panic bubbling up, faster, sharper. "I'm just the boring one, the safe one—"
"That won't happen!" I shouted, louder than I'd intended. She reeled back like I'd struck her across the face. I sighed, feeling like shit for raising my voice, but she needed to understand.
"It seems you're underestimating just how much of a possessive, greedy bastard I really am," I said in a low, serious tone. Her eyes locked onto mine with intensity, like a hawk. "There's no way in hell I'm giving up what's mine without a fight. And that fight will end the same way—with me on top."
Her breath hitched.
"You're mine, Shiho," I smiled. Not gentle or reassuring, but the challenging, devilish grin I showed enemies on the battlefield. "No matter who's against it, no matter who it pisses off, no matter what it costs, no matter what obstacles get thrown in our way. You're mine, and you'll always be mine."
I paused, making sure my point had sunk in completely.
When I saw understanding dawn in her eyes, my smile softened. "The only reason we kept it secret in the first place was to spare you from rumors and gossip—since you hate that kind of attention. But now that you're carrying my baby and we'll be living together, keeping it secret will defeat the point and do more harm."
She stared at me for what felt like forever. Then, quiet, small. "Truly?"
I cupped her cheek fully, brushing my thumb slowly. "Really. When have I ever lied to you?"
Shiho's expression went through a complex dance—smiling, then scrunching with worry, then laughing softly, her face warring between joy and anxiety. An awkward mix of a smile and a wince.
Finally settling into that radiant smile, she looked at me with an expression no other girl ever had—pure fondness mixed with other pretty lights.
She leaned in, kissed me softly, then pulled back just enough to whisper. "I love you." Her thumbs traced my cheekbones.
My eyes went wide. And before I could think. Before I could even process what she'd said. Before I could put the brakes on, my lips moved on their own.
"I love you too, Shiho."
The words hung there. Lies, they had to be lies. Yet I always had control over my lies. Always. But right now…..
Her eyes sparkled for some reason like I'd just handed her the moon.
"Eishin!" she launched herself at me, kissing me frantically. "I love you," she said. "I love you, so much," She repeated. "Eishin! Eishin! You love me? You do? Aah, Eishin…. I love you. I love you so, so much."
Over and over between kisses—lips, cheeks, jaw, everywhere she could reach. Lost in her excitement, she grew more aggressive, and I found myself falling backward onto the tatami, wincing as pain shot through my still-healing ribs.
I tried to calm her down, gently saying, "Easy there, Shiho," while giving her ass light spanks. But my nerdy girl had gone completely feral, drowning me in the one thing I'd never once heard directed at me—pure, unfiltered declarations of love.
I smacked her ass harder.
If that was supposed to settle her, it failed spectacularly. She pulled back, grin wild and feral on her face.
"I can feel it... poking at me," she said breathlessly, and with one impatient tug, she bunched her dress up and tossed it higher, exposing pale thighs that gleamed in the light and those red panties clinging to her like a traitor's map. My cock, still very much aware of its purpose, dented the fabric of my pants into a sharp, hungry line.
The sight stole the breath out of me. Her thighs, thick and soft, pressed together then parted just enough to make the space between them a temple of want. The damp patch on the cotton flashed dark and obvious; the edges of the elastic dug slightly into her hips. Her calves were pale, ankles delicate, toes flexing—little, helpless movements that made my mouth dry.
"You're gorgeous like this," I said, hoping to both compliment and calm her down. "But maybe we should—"
She wasn't listening. She dove right for my belt, fingers clumsy and trembling as she forced it open, eyes bright with something that wasn't just lust — it was relief and joy mashed together. "This is perfect…" she murmured to my cock like it was an old friend, voice ridiculous and sweet. "It's going to be perfect... I'm so happy, my heart is so full of joy... I just need you to fill the emptiness in my lower belly and everything will be perfect..."Her words tumbled, nonsense drenched in need.
When my shaft freed itself into her small hand, she wrapped it around like she was holding a miracle. Her fingers were tiny against the thick heat; she looked down at it as if surprised at its size, then smiled. She pumped slowly and tentatively. The feel was ridiculous — warm, slick, small hands trying to match an instrument built for more. I bit my lip. She had power in the wrong places.
By that point, I gave up trying to reason with her. She was clearly running on some cocktail of pregnancy hormones, endorphins, and pure emotional euphoria. I decided to let her exhaust herself. She'd calm down…. eventually. Hopefully.
She caressed my dick affectionately for another moment, then lifted her hips, impatiently pushed her panties to the side with shaking fingers, and with no more preparation or care, she dropped down, impaling herself completely.
"Fuck."
Her sound tore out of her in a bright, involuntary moan. She tried to cover it with a hand, because she was still Shiho, still the careful, modest nerd, but her knees shook and her other hand splayed on my chest as the first tremor of pleasure rolled through her.
Eyes squeezed shut, lips parted, she rode that first hit like someone who'd been denied her dick for too long. It hit her deep — the stretch, the heat, the slick drag — and her body answered with a whimper that turned into a long, wet sound.
Her pussy around my shaft was familiar in the way only years of knowing someone can make something feel like home. It had been perfectly molded to my shape. Tight where it needed to hold, warm and slick, muscles fluttering in small, ignorant spasms that pulled and gripped and begged.
It was wet enough that my cock slid in like it knew the road already. My breath stuttered; the world narrowed to the press of her hips.
I kept my hands steady on her thighs, fingers splaying to anchor and soothe even as I fought against the contractions of her cunt.
"It's fine," I murmured into her hair. "I'm here. Nothing's happened, Shiho. You're safe. You have nothing to fear..." The same words I used the first time I took her.
She shook her head, hair fanning, a stray strand plastering to her damp cheek, one hand still over her mouth. Her feet found the tatami, planted firmly. "I... I want to make you feel good too," she managed between gasps.
She tried to lift, jerking her hips with a kind of determined, panicked rhythm. Mostly, she failed; her thighs trembled, and she'd sag back onto me, catching herself only because I was there. The movement, awkward and raw, was ugly and holy at the same time — knees lifting, hips falling, a rhythm that had no polish but bled with honesty.
Shiho clearly wasn't used to this. She'd rarely, if ever, taken initiative. Usually, she just passively accepted what I gave her and thanked me afterward.
It wasn't so bad, this change of pace. I doubted she could keep it up for long. And... she'd confessed her love. That left me feeling strange, stupid, and buzzing all over.
But seeing her so happy made me happy too.
Love, huh. She might change her mind about that one day. I'd just need to keep her satisfied enough not to realize when she did. Do what I always did.
"Slow down. Let me help," I said after a long breath as I guided gently, one hand moving to her hips. "Feel every inch as you move up..."
"First," I coached softly, thumb stroking slow circles on the inside of her thigh, "don't bounce. Find a steady down-and-up. Shorter is better than wild. Keep your hips close to the base, use your knees to push, not just your arms."
She tried to follow, lifting more slowly, her face scrunched in concentration. "Like... like this?"
"Perfect." The motion became less spasmodic, more like a small, controlled piston. "Lean forward when you press down. Plant your hands on my chest and slide forward so you get a shallower, grinding angle. That'll hit the right spot without tearing you."
She did, eyes watering as she adjusted. The shallow angle turned the sensation from a raw stab to a delicious, consuming rub. She moaned, softer now, fingers digging into my sternum.
I ignored the pain and drifted a fingertip to brush the outside of her slick slit and her puffed-up and sensitive labia. She nearly lost her balance. I steadied her with my hands on her waist.
Shiho would be mistaken if she thought, I just sit it out and let her do all the work. Her intent was noble, but I was no bottom.
"Use your pelvis. Not just up and down with your legs. Circle it. A little grind at the top of each thrust."
She started to breathe in a cadence, attempting the grind like a child tracing letters for the first time. The result made her face contort, a sweet sound pouring out as the new sensation built her toward another peak. "I can't... it's too much...it's stretching me—mhpmph!"
"You can. Trust yourself." My thumb found her hardened yet tender clit and worked it through wet fabric. "Breathe. Push out with your belly on each raise. Don't hold it." I pinched gently, increasing pressure.
She tried, heavy breaths coming, and the sensation made her body tense like wiring snapping. Each tip nudged the way she moved, and each time she adapted, she got closer to the edge.
In the end, Shiho rose to fight unequipped in a battle she was not made for.
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