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To Mr. & Mrs. Yamada
Oneshot
Reading Time: 18 minutes
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Details
Idol

Yamada Ryosuke

Relationship

Yamada x Reader

Type

Oneshot

Genre

Romantic Fluffy

Rating

NC-17

Warnings

NSFW, Public Sex

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Synopsis

Another boring event as arm candy for the hubby…or is it?(NSFW)

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Story Rating

There wasn’t a single fiber of your being that was looking forward to this charity event you had been railroaded into attending with Ryosuke. You’d actually come to abhor the words, “ 山田ご夫妻へ ”, “To Mr. & Mrs. Yamada”, on any invitation, ever.

At the last event the two of you had been seated at a table with eight other people, all of them with the combined age of at least over one-thousand! Naturally, Ryosuke was well versed at talking to and being a perfect gentleman with people of all ages. However, it wasn’t something you had ever been very good at and your ability certainly hadn’t been improved despite being happily married to a man who made being congenial and kind-hearted look like an art form.

You sighed, having to admit that at least one good thing was to come out of this–he’d bought you a new dress, which, standing in front of the mirror now–you could honestly say, made you look quite lovely. The dress was mostly black, a soft silky material that flared and flowed around you.

It was primarily black, the top layer of black peeked open in the front to show a fluffy red layer underneath. The top was a halter style that had a cute little collar attached to it in the bright red accent color, tying in the middle, making your average sized breasts look rather large when combined with the way the rest of the dress defined your waist and hips. He’d bought you a pair of matching red underwear, black thigh highs, and the cutest pair of red shoes ever. The entire ensemble was beautiful.

Ryosuke knew very well how to pick out clothes that were the style you liked, feminine, soft, and flowy, and at the same time seemed to accentuate your curves in all the right ways. You turned to look again, the skirt that edged just past your knees flaring out softly.

As attractive as it was, it was still a rather conservative choice for him, the skirt was longer than his normal choices, and he didn’t usually purchase dresses that wrapped because he didn’t particularly like the way they covered all of the bits he loved to see. He never minded showing you off to the world, within reason of course, and while he didn’t always pick out clothes for you–he really, really, really loved to dress you up–so it’d been a long standing routine that you could expect that he’d be ‘surprising’ you with a new dress when you had to go to one function or another with him that you weren’t particularly happy about attending. That said, you had to admit, there was a thrill to wearing something you knew he’d picked out specifically for you, no matter where you were wearing it.

You spun sideways, smiling, since you really did love this dress despite it being out of the normal choice for him, as it reminded you of something the movie stars from the old black and white films would wear. Classy and elegant, but flirty and fun at the same time.

“Baby, are you rea–”

You twisted to see him as he walked into the room, finding him standing there with his hand on his tie, an accessory that would last exactly fifteen minutes after the event started before he’d lose it, jacket tossed over his arm, his mouth gaping open, eyes moving seductively over your form.

“Damn, that looks even more stunning on you than I’d imagined,” he mused, his voice low, moving quickly across the room to sweep you up into his arms as you squealed loudly, as the teasing words the two of you said to one another filled the room, “Glad you’re mine!”

His mouth was heading for yours when you slapped your hand across it, “Absolutely not, Ryosuke!”

His eyebrows flew up and he whined, words being spoken beneath your hand that you were sure you understood clearly, despite them being muffled, “I spent a long time getting ready, so no, you’re not touching me, not tonight!”

You held your most stern face and watched the play of emotions as he considered his options, finally, he nodded. The last time he’d tried to ‘tell you’ about his appreciation for the dress he’d purchased you were forty minutes late to the event.

“I mean it,” you tried to remain firm, but it was hard–because seriously, how stunningly gorgeous he looked in his black suit, tailored to fit every square inch of him with exacting precision, the crisp white shirt making your heart race at the way it tapered to his narrow waist, the way his pants hung low on his hips, and the belt that rest there like a sign lighting the way. The fit of the shirt was cut accentuating his shoulders and arms, the fabric soft, as the muscles under the hand that was pressed into his abdomen to hold him back rippled under your fingertips, making you bite your lip, and, well–honestly, it all wasn’t exactly lost on you and you’d be a filthy liar if you didn’t admit that you would forgo tonight’s event and just seduce him straight out of that sinful suit if not for the fact that he would hate himself in the morning.

No, between the two of you, it would almost always be you needing to be an adult and demand that you actually make it to events at a decent hour.

He reluctantly nodded his head, but you waited until he released you and took a step back before you removed your hand from his mouth. You couldn’t stop the loud squeal of frustration as he darted forward, bending you backward as his mouth landed on your neck, sucking lightly before he moved his mouth to your ear, whispering, “We’ll see…” before he stood you back up, and moved far enough away that it almost felt like you’d imagined what had just happened.

“We’re leaving,” you moved quickly past him, the sound of your heels clicking on the hardwood floor as you moved to the doorway, determined to not be late, “so there’s no ‘we’ll see’ about it!”

Once you’d arrived at the venue you’d been shown to a sort of diamond shaped booth, with three distinct sides, tucked in the farthest corner from everyone and everything in the crowded room. You certainly didn’t mind not being seated in the middle like you normally were. It always felt like you were under a microscope, as if everyone was watching you. Of course, they weren’t watching you so much as watching him, and that meant people were curious about you as well. The girl who’d married the idol, the gorgeous, talented, elusive bachelor, Yamada Ryosuke.

You glanced around, realizing the room was wall to wall celebrities so it would definitely be nice to not be noticed as much. You took a deep breath, preparing to put on your ‘mask’…the ‘I’m a seasoned veteran of the celebrity social scene and we are above scandals and questioning–as I am a good, prim, and proper trophy wife’.

Maybe it wasn’t the best way to put it, because there wasn’t a single fiber in your husband’s body that would regard you as a ‘trophy wife’ and he’d probably go to jail for beating the hell out of anyone who inferred such in front of him, yet, despite that, sometimes it is how the press and world seemed to make you feel. At any rate, Ryosuke had a very firm point of view about how the two of you needed to behave when in public. Something you’d supposed was placed there through years with the agency, but that you’d really thought might change after you’d been married.

Two years later and there was no sign of that happening. Instead, every event, every time you were out in public, there was a ‘proper’ distance between you, no hand holding, no hugging, and most certainly no kissing.

You’d often told him it made you sad to have to pretend you weren’t in love in public–that you were one of those passionless wives who just hung on their husband’s arm. Cold,and impersonal. Of course, it wasn’t that you didn’t understand, because of course you did, but it didn’t change the fact that sometimes you’d wished you could be more open with your affection no matter where you were.

“The booth that you requested, Yamada-san,” the usher nodded, gesturing his hand toward the table he’d led you to, then bowed and turned to go seat other guests.

You glanced at Ryosuke who just shrugged, shuffling his feet, “I might have made an extra donation to the foundation to receive my choice of tables,” he looked at you sheepishly, “I figured a quiet spot would be nice for the evening–for once.”

You leaned over feeling a little bit bold, kissing him quickly on the cheek before he could give you ‘the look’, reaching up to rub the spot of lipstick that remained behind, “Thank you for thinking of me.”

Before you could take another breath, he’d grasped your hips, pulling you toward him as he slowly rolled his own against you, pressing his lips gently into yours, smiling brightly, causing you to blink rapidly, your eyes wide and uncertain. He knew what you were thinking and laughed, his lips still grazing yours, “I’ve reevaluated my PDA policy.”

“Have you now?” you pulled back to get a good look at his face.

“I have,” he kissed you again, “I’ve decided that as long as we are discreet, then we should be who we are no matter where we are. In fact, you’re my wife, I’m even on the fence about the discreet part at this point.”

You rolled your eyes upward, twisting your mouth as you tapped your chin with your finger, as if to say you were deep in thought, humming softly.

His hands moved up to tickle your sides, causing you to slap them away as you laughed, his smile contagious as he warned you, “Don’t even say it, I am fully aware it’s what you’ve been saying for years…It just took me a little longer to catch up is all. You’re my wife, I don’t care to act like I don’t have feelings for you. I was going crazy trying to pretend I wasn’t effected by you.”

“Hmm…” you looked at him with suspicion, “who did you talk to who gave you this advice?”

He huffed out air as if he were utterly insulted that you were implying this wasn’t 100% his idea, gesturing his arm out for you to sit. You slid into the booth with him sitting down immediately after, whispering, “Dai-chan.”  

You laughed at him, “I knew it!” Giving him a shove with your elbow as he kept bumping his hip into yours to keep you scooching along until you were both sitting on the wide corner spot. The other two sides of the table would likely hold two or possibly three other people each.

You didn’t have to wonder long when you glanced up to see Keito and his wife being shown to the corner, turning with surprise to Ryosuke, whispering excitedly, “A kiss, and corner table AND we get to sit with people we know? What kind of wizardry is this, Ryo?”

He smiled broadly, glad that you were excited about the arrangements he’d made, his eyes twinkling tapping his finger on your nose and laughing when you scrunched your nose up, “The best kind, of course!”

You laughed softly, grabbing his hand and squeezing it as you greeted the couple who had sat down. You weren’t surprised when Yuri and his wife arrived to take the seat on the other side of you two, clearly Ryosuke had planned this especially for you, and it made sense your closest friends would be there too! There were no words for how relieved you were that tonight would be spent among friends instead of the usual stuffy boring people you’d always found yourself stuck with.

The event began and the early evening passed with good food, delightful drinks, great conversation, and amazing friends.

After several different representatives of the charity spoke, the stage was filled with a live band who began to play music, people heading out to the dance floor as the lights dimmed throughout the room. The candles on the tables cast a glowing reflection across the space and it might have been the loveliest event you’d attended so far. The atmosphere was elegant, and yet, thanks to the fluttering golden light from the candles, quite romantic. The stage was far across the room, with a large dance floor in front of it, but it was interesting how the lights did not cast around the room. The design was meant to contain the excitement from the stage and dancing area and to allow the rest of the room to continue to buzz in soft conversation and warmth.

There was a Jump related conversation that you basically checked out of, something about idols and whatever it was, you were having a hard time following it because at some point while you drank your third glass of champagne–from the magical glass that seemed to always be full of your favorite flavor–you were feeling rather warm and fuzzy.

You were especially excited to be able to sit so close to Ryosuke, taking advantage of it as you leaned your head on his shoulder, smiling at nothing in particular, when your leg jerked out and kicked Keito who bolted in his seat, causing you to apologize, issuing an excuse of ‘leg cramp’ before you looked down to see the real reason for your response.

Ryosuke’s hand on your leg.

You blinked at the sensation, as you watched him massage just above your knee, and then his fingers twisted in the fabric of the skirt, slowly tugging it to move it to the side, pushing it up enough that he could rest his hand directly on the stocking covered skin just above your knee.

Okay, so he said he had reevaluated his position on PDA, but this seems a little much…

The conversation flowed naturally, even with the inadvertent kick, and you couldn’t stop looking at his hand, a little bit confused because until tonight he’d been more than firm about how you two behaved in public. He was a man who’d frowned on kisses, even chaste ones, so his hand, on your leg, under your skirt, was quite shocking. You couldn’t begin to imagine what he was thinking, and how were you supposed to not be freaked out by a sudden change like this?

You were startled out of your thoughts when you felt fingers under your chin, looking up slowly as Ryosuke turned your face to look into his eyes, his smile soft and gentle, eyes crinkled at the corners from his tenderness, face so expressive with such love it made your heart swell as the emotion washed over you, as he whispered, “Relax, sweetheart,” his eyes twinkled in the candlelight, and he leaned forward, kissing you softly.

There was something different about him the way he was looking at you, the way the heat from his hand on your leg was thrumming through your blood, and the way that he’d just spoken to you, the words laced with something other than a mere nicety.

And this kiss. There’s that.

Your tummy thwumped downward as you felt the kiss resonate to the tips of your toes.

He released your chin, turning his head to pick up the conversation just like he’d never turned away from it.

Huh.

You stared blankly at him, musing internally about how lovely he was and how beautiful and how much you loved him, and then your eyes moved again to your leg, where his hand was slowly moving upward.

You jerked your head back to look at him, and he was still talking, just perfectly normal, nothing out of the ordinary, laughing even as they talked about some event they’d just filmed or another, and you glanced around the table, your eyes wide finding everyone else absorbed in the conversation and completely oblivious as to what was happening under the table.

His fingers were drawing slow, lazy circles on the skin of your thigh, moving up gradually, then grazing gently the seam where your legs met, as he reached the top of your thigh high hose, his fingers tracing the edge slowly, and you clenched your legs together tightly, both to try to give him a clear signal that whatever he had planned was impossible, and also because the tingling sensation that he was igniting required some kind of movement.

He laughed beside you, causing you to look back up at him, and at the same time as you made eye contact with him, his head turning to look at you in the most natural way, his eyes alight with mischief, his hand grasped your thigh, squeezing it gently in the way that he knew tickled you, causing you to jerk forward, legs opening, and then his hand was there, pressed against your covered sex. Both of your hands squeezed together, and you rest your forearms on the edge of the table to steady them.

He said something about the next location shoot, and a part of you was seriously cursing his insane acting ability, as he was still looking at you, carrying on some inane conversation with the others while his other hand reached to grasp your glass of champagne, holding it out to you. You took it in your shaking hand, glancing nervously around at the others but even now, they all seemed completely oblivious to your situation. You gulped down what was left in the glass, setting it back down on the table your body trembling.

“You okay?” Yuri asked, and you jumped, because Ryosuke’s hand pressed inward, and all you could think was that he was going to stop, or keep going, or something, because you didn’t know what was happening anymore but the way his hand was just resting there, not moving was driving you insane.

Not to mention the fact that you were completely mortified that there was a chance your entire countenance was making it more than obvious what was happening under the table right now.

“I-I’m fine, I think it’s…the shrimp didn’t set well,” you lied, smoothly, your voice a little shaky as the words flowed out, but were instantly rewarded with a light, teasing stroke of Ryosuke’s fingers along your underwear.

“Do you need to go to the bathroom?” Keito’s wife asked, “Your face is really flushed,” she smiled, shifting as if she would get up to let you out.

“I’m fine right now,” you nodded, “Thank you, I will let you know though.”

Hell no. You weren’t about to try to stand up with the way your legs were trembling.

You gasped, biting your bottom lip between your teeth as his fingers stroked along your center again, pressing more firmly into the fabric of your underwear.

Satisfied you weren’t about to die, the conversation moved away from you and you felt like your excuse was good enough to allow you to lean your head down, avoiding eye contact as you reached up to wipe your hand across your forehead–feeling like the room was suffocating and hot all of a sudden.

Understatement.

You tried to close your legs, feeling like you shouldn’t let this go too far, but Ryosuke had, as he is wont to do, anticipated this, spreading his hand out so that you couldn’t close your legs, in fact, his hand moved so quickly you couldn’t make sense of what was happening, but somehow your legs were positioned wider and one of his feet was wrapped around the leg closest to him to hold it still.

How much thought has he actually put into this?

You realized it was quite a bit when his fingers moved quickly to the side of your underwear which were made with a cute little bow that you thought was just decoration, but clearly, was NOT, when he tugged on it, and you felt the fabric of the garment give way. A few tugs on the other side, and you knew when the bow had released as the cool air of the room hit your warm skin.

You curled your back forward, resting your arms on the table, hands clasped together tightly, head turned downward, thankful for the upset tummy defense you’d delivered earlier as his fingers moved back between your legs, slowly grazing down through your folds, stilling for a moment, when he felt your warm wetness, the words he was saying stuttering momentarily before he composed himself. The fingers swirled and then began gliding back up, two fingers pressing soft circles against the sensitive nerves that made your toes curl. You worried your teeth were going to bite through your lip, as he stroked slowly down again, his careful touches opening you tenderly and a finger sliding easily inside from the amount of teasing he’d been doing.

You hummed softly, and noticed that Ryosuke laughed, a little louder than necessary to cover the noise, another finger quickly joining the one as he slowly pumped them in and out, his voice giving away nothing. Every few strokes he would move his fingers up to circle around your clit and then back down again, dipping in and your entire body was on fire. You weren’t sure if you’d ever been this turned on, but you were terrified, because you could not possibly do this…you needed to do something, anything to relieve the pressure building up in you.

You jumped when his lips landed on your neck, his tongue tracing a line from your collar bone to your ear, his fingers changing angles, suddenly his movements laced with more purpose and force, and you jerked your head up, realizing that the others had left the table and were nearly over to the dance floor, and that you two were alone.

“Where…”

“They’re going dancing,” he murmured his tongue wrecking havoc on your senses as he drifted back down to kiss your collarbone.

You tried to calm down, to be reasonable, but really, the area was so dark and there weren’t any tables very close to you, and the tables that were relatively close were empty as most people had moved to the dance floor for the current party song.

Plus, I’m going to die if he stops touching me now.

“You were sick, so I told them, we’d sit out dancing this time,” his voice was like silk, and his fingers began to curl rhythmically, making you groan, “at least I didn’t have in mind the kind of dance they’re doing.”

His tone was soft, and you looked at him, your face flushed and warm, finding him just as hot and bothered as you were, knowing him well enough to understand just by seeing the way his cheeks were pinked, and the way his eyes looked that he was just as effected–and he was asking, you knew he was–’will you?’, ’can we?’, ’please?’.

“We can be quick,” he murmured, kissing your lips softly, his tongue slowly moving to taste the lingering remnants of your champagne, and you couldn’t say no, didn’t want to say no, nodding, and without hesitation, your hands rushed to touch him.

He hissed as your hands moved down his chest, to gently rub his overly sensitive arousal through his pants. You found what you needed to know, that he was more than ready, and then your fingers moved quickly, joined by his free hand as you fumbled to get his belt undone.

He cursed as you released him, his arms were instantly around your waist pulling you backwards toward him, setting you down on his knees, his hands on your hips as your eyes watched the flashing lights across the room, then he signaled for you to lift up, which you did, and then his fingers clenched tightly as he pulled you down, and the world became blurry. You couldn’t have been more thankful for the loud pumping music that covered the way you said his name as your body yielded to him, slowly filling you, sinking down on him. His breath heavy at your shoulder, your legs resting between his, your eyes unfocused as you looked forward to see the swirling colors of the stage and dance floor, your legs shaking as his length was fully seated within you.

His groan vibrated through your body as you slowly pressed back toward him, deepening the angle even more, and one of his hands reached forward, his finger circling firmly for a few moments, causing you to roll your head back onto his shoulder, before he whispered, “I’m sorry, baby, we can’t take our time.”

You nodded, understanding, and in one quick movement he’d pressed you up and forward, your hips hitting the edge of the table, your hands holding you up, as you realized the space had been cleared of everything except your drinks. Your fingers moved to grasp the edge of the table as his thighs pressed against your own where he stood behind you, one hand on your hip, the other gently pressing your lower back forward, causing you to tip over the table a bit, giving him better access. He tested the position with a few slow strokes, causing you to whine as the tension was too much, and then once he found the angle he’d been looking for, punctuated by the sound from you as you felt your entire body alight with sensation–both of his hands grasped your hips as he set a fast, frantic cadence, his need clear as your own.

You knew you weren’t going to last long…not only was every movement he made creating the most delicious sensations, you were already wired and on edge for the last ten minutes from his prolonged teasing. Your breath came out in small gasps as you moaned his name, humming as your eyes closed of their own accord from the overwhelming feelings, lost in the pleasure.

Ryosuke knew you well enough to sense how close you were, your body giving him clear signals. You pressed back into him when one of his arms wrapped around you, moving up your stomach, grazing your breast as his fingers slid up your neck to pull your face to him, leaning forward to be closer to you, his voice like velvet on your skin, “Come on baby, I want to feel it. Give it to me.”

A strangled noise came out of your mouth, and your hands were grasping at the table as you felt the pulsing sensation begin to thread through your body, his hand moving to cover your mouth, his voice at your ear, “Shh, they’ll hear you.

Your eyes popped open, as he nodded his head to a table diagonally from you where there were two people sitting now, their backs to you, so not able to see what you were doing, but no doubt close enough they would hear you if you got too loud.

You were so glad he had some sense of time and space because you were lost to it all. Your entire body felt like it was throbbing and pulsing, as you bent further forward over the table, his body bowing forward with you. Thankful that his hand was there to stop your sounds as the first wave hit you with such intensity you felt your knees buckling. He kept his pace steady as another wave hit you, then once he knew you were going to be able to control yourself, he released your mouth, kissing your neck softly before he stood back up behind you, his hips grinding against you in the most beautiful dance.

Ryosuke moved quickly, setting a pace that was relentless, pushing harder to go through the powerful contractions of your body’s response, causing you to bite your lip to keep from crying out, his fingers digging into your hips for leverage, as he gasped, and then he was bent over you, his hands slapping onto the table on each side of you, his hips pressed hard into your own. He held there momentarily, “Oh, God,” his hips snapped rhythmically in the way only his hips could–his thighs hitting yours as he rolled them, gasping as his body jerked against yours, then moaning, long and low as his movements slowed down, managing to extend your pleasure even longer as he experienced his own.

Fuck, I love you,” he murmured, panting, then groaning when his hands pushed off the table as he leaned back up, feeling bereft when he slid out of you, whining in protest, not used to the empty feeling immediately after completion, your body still shuddering and pulsing–you were used to a slow loving descent and this was so abrupt. His hands pulled on your hips gently, and you stood up wobbling, your legs trembling, as he turned you around, pulling your skirt down, having somehow managed to fix his own clothes in the short time you’d been dazed, and then he pulled you over to sit in his lap.

His arms crushed you to him, his face buried in your neck as he held you, his body still thrumming in the aftermath of what you’d just done. You could tell he didn’t like this either, not being able to stay close, to hold each other, and slowly bring each other down. You were glad it wasn’t just you. There was a lot to be said about the sheer intensity of what you’d just done, certainly, but it wouldn’t be something you would want to do very often. You suspected he’d feel the same.

“Glad you’re mine,” you whispered, your hands running through his hair, as he leaned back to look up at you, “Glad. You’re. Mine,” he pressed a soft kiss to your lips with each word, his smile beautiful as he pulled you closer. Both of you needing the comfort of affirmation, and finding it there in each other’s arms. The world faded away and you leaned your head on his, your eyes fluttering closed as you tried to slow your breathing.

You didn’t know how much time had passed, such contentment found there in his arms, but peeked an eye open when you felt him lifting your leg. Somehow, your shoes were no longer on your feet, which was amusing enough, but he was pulling something up your legs and you turned your head to stare at him as he worked the underwear, not the pair you’d actually been wearing, but a different pair up your legs.

He thought of everything.

He hummed, the other hand that was around your waist moving to rest on your back as he pushed you gently to stand up, whispering, “Sorry.”

You still felt wobbly, so carefully moved your legs so they’d touch the floor, standing up slowly, hands propped on the table to steady you. He moved quickly, pulling the underwear up, smoothing your skirt down and then his arm wrapped around your waist to drag you back into his lap again, his mouth kissing one of your hands gently as you smiled, eyes fixed on his.

“You really thought of everything,” you whispered, knowing you shouldn’t expect any less from this man. ‘Thorough’ might as well be his middle name.

He smiled, “As much as the visual of you without them is enticing, I knew you’d be uncomfortable, and we still have two hours before this thing is over,” his voice was soft, and velvety, as he turned his head, lifting his chin to seek out your lips, a feathery kiss, “I love you.”

Your hands held his cheeks, reaching forward to rub your nose gently onto his, “I love you, too.”

“Someone’s feeling better!”

You both jumped when Yuri’s voice rang out as he flopped down into his seat, eyes moving over to look at the two of you curiously when the only response he received was the two of you bursting out laughing hysterically.

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