I woke up under a blanket.
"Huh?"
I'd crashed on the sofa, but now I was in bed. The soaked sheets were swapped for clean ones. No Black Thunder on the floor, no scattered clothes—spotless.
"You up?"
"Oh."
Sensei walked in, tray in hand—steaming coffee and toast—wearing my button-up shirt, loose and unbuttoned. The legendary "boyfriend shirt."
I almost said "Sensei," but caught myself.
"Morning, Miyuki-san."
"Uh, morning."
I could tell she'd been waiting to hear my voice— she lit up a little.
Not full-on "Miyuki sex slave" mode, though. More like a personal dream—waking up with a guy as Fuyuhara Miyuki, not the teacher. Why else rock the shirt?
"Sorry, borrowed this."
She caught my stare, glancing down at herself, sheepish.
"Nah, it suits you. Weird to say? Those peeking thighs and ass—cute as hell."
"R-Really?"
She beamed, plopping beside me, tray on her lap, shoulder brushing mine.
"Brought what I had."
"Huh? Just for me?"
One serving—thick sugar toast and coffee.
"Yeah, I don't eat much on weekend mornings."
"Got it. Thanks."
"…Wait."
She stopped me, tore off a bite-sized piece, and held it to my mouth.
This… oh?
"Miyagi, open up. Come on—ahh."
Full-on "ahh" treatment.
Her face blazed—red-hot, ready to combust from embarrassment.
Let's break this down. A mid-twenties woman feeding a seventeen-year-old high schooler? Adorable to me, but in this world's norms? A grown-ass lady clinging to the kid she banged last night, desperate for attention. She knows it's cringe but pushed through.
Why? Another dream tucked in her heart, I bet. Last night, she said a bunch came true—bedroom ones. But not all. Some wait outside the sheets.
No reason to refuse. Hell—
"Thanks!"
I chomped down like it was nothing—manners of a guy who takes what's offered.
"M-Miyagi…"
"Wha?" I mumbled, mouth full.
She muttered like she hadn't expected me to play along. I leaned in further.
"Ahh."
I swallowed and opened wide. She stared, blanker than my goofy face.
"Ahh?"
"…Oh! Right!"
Snapping out of it, she fumbled another piece. Butter slicked her fingers—she didn't care.
"Here—ahh."
"Ahh."
I bit, licking her fingers clean.
"Hya!"
"Oops. Greasy fingers, huh?"
My lick made them wetter, though.
"Geez…"
She reached for a tissue, then hesitated, sneaking a glance. Worried I'd judge?
"What's up? Won't lick 'em yourself? I'll do it again."
A devilish nudge—and she caved.
"Hmph! Mind your own business!"
She licked her fingers, face flaming brighter.
"More, Miyuki-san."
I opened up, shameless.
"Ah, wait, hold on—"
Freshly cleaned fingers dipped back into butter, tossing another chunk in my mouth. That face—nothing like the stern teacher on the podium. Pure, giddy mush.
One night flipped her this hard?
Masochism, sadism, slavery, teacher-student—I dig the kinks, but love's the ultimate high. No love, no spark—sad for a guy like me who can't get off without it.
This lovey-dovey shit? Totally works. Who'd turn down an older woman's smothering, kissy affection?
"Heh."
"What?"
She'd prepped the next piece, waiting. I grinned.
"You're sweet, Miyuki-san."
"Hif!?"
A quick peck on her cheek. Shock—or the "Sensual Genesis" jolt—made her drop the last piece.
"Whoops."
"Ah, sorry! And… one toast's not enough for a guy, huh?"
Thick or not, it wouldn't cut it—especially today.
"I burned a lot of fuel last night. Meat energy's gone."
"Y-You idiot…"
She squirmed, thighs rubbing together, flashing back to it.
"Sure, but you crying 'stop' left me half-cocked."
"You didn't stop when I cried… wait, that was half-cocked?"
"Told you—two or three rounds don't cut it."
"Uh, yeah… thought you were kidding…"
Her eyes flicked to my crotch. The rude little bastard stood tall—morning manners be damned.
"…That's just, uh, morning wood, right?"
"Yep."
"Oh, good."
"But a hard-on's a hard-on. Wanna cry again now? Or bark later?"
Silence. No—stunned silence.
"What's wrong?"
"Oh. Uh, no… just… I half-thought last night was a dream. But it's real."
"You changed the wet sheets, didn't you?"
"Yeah, but… living that dream night? Still doesn't feel real."
She's rattled.
"One night, and you're this dramatic? We're fuck buddies now—get used to it."
"…Y-Yeah. Sex friends, huh…"
A flicker of discontent, but no pushback. Good enough.
I'm shoving my selfish terms on her—she doesn't have to love it.
"Pregnancy's part of the deal, though."
No pandering—just restating the stakes.
"Right! I'll bear your kid someday!"
Her face lit up.
I won't ditch that promise. She doesn't know yet, but I'll claim the kid too. Past life, I died saving someone else's—no regrets. Point is, I like kids. Never married, never had my own back then. Here? I can—with women who want me. Future's fine, but distant.
Sorry to wax noble, but short-term fun trumps long-term plans for this asshole.
"Miyuki-san."
"Hm?"
She glowed—motherly vibes dreaming of kids. I cut through it.
"Morning wood's killing me. Ass up, on all fours."
A scumbag line—top seed in the asshole championships, no contest.