s-aoki

[s-aoki]

His duty rests on the edge of his sword.

As a member of the Order of Knights led by Beidou, his main job is to protect and entrust his life to clients in need of them. It was an unbearable responsibility that chained him to unknown lands for certain periods of time, and currently, he was at the pinnacle of his career. Kazuha yearned for nothing more than the foreign path of an adventure, but he had a more important moral dilemma, being his job.

In the midst of that dilemma, however, something improbable happened.

As if the gods were punishing him for impertinence, Kazuha was assigned as guardian and protector of a princess from distant lands. The princess was betrothed to one of the Yashira Commissioners, Kamisato Ayato, in a marriage that would connect nations in the future. It was not so complex to adapt to a routine that would be predictable, being a job he was not unfamiliar with, but still, nothing prepared him for the fall. He was not warned in any manual, much less informed in advance, of the events he would face.

You.

Kazuha expected many things from a princess, except someone like you. You came to him like cherry blossom petals at the change of season, soft against his skin, and bright under the mantle of the sun. You had a particularly infectious smile, and an aura that pulled everyone to adore you. You were the palace's lotus flower, and over time, you had become his — almost fairytale-like, enchanting the heart of a samurai navigator unfamiliar with the settlement.

Soon, you began to pull him to tea evenings, or to nocturnal escapades in castle passages. You encouraged him to practice the art of dancing, and submit to the pleasures of reading. You took him to the edges of his knowledge, where a pen and paper were his companion, scrolls and scrolls of poetry dedicated to a vessel that could not receive them.

His duty as a knight was to take care of you until the day your future betrothed claims your hand, and he knows this to perfection. Beidou stressed to him on multiple occasions that becoming attached to their recipients would never bring any good, and he always thought he would be cautious enough to avoid it. It would be impossible for someone like him to put professionalism aside, being someone who takes the aspects that his responsibility brings very seriously.

When the palace was rocked by the information that Kamisato Ayato would be visiting in a few days, however, he couldn't help the hatred that coursed through his veins.

Was it sickening to feel like this?

It was the first occasion he had imagined the edge of his blade at someone's throat. It is the first occasion that his hands have trembled with anger, and his fist has slammed against the glass of his room. It's the first time he's been devastated, pacing endlessly in his chambers, wondering if it wouldn't be simpler to kill the aforementioned and make it look like an accident. 

Or rob you before he does.

His usually calm, glitter-laden eyes have lost their usual intonation, narrowing to two calculating rubies, unable to let you out of their sight. As much as he wants to be an ineffable, capable and ideal knight, his mind has become plagued with idiocy. He has begun to dream of you with tears in your eyes, his cock in your soft mouth. He has begun to fantasize in the middle of the night about slamming you against the little table where you did your make up every morning, forcing you to look at yourself in the mirror while he has one hand on your stomach, marking you with his cock. He has begun to see you in a light that underscores possessiveness — where your warmth overwhelms only him, and no one else.

Kazuha thinks it's a tragedy, these one-sided, forbidden feelings. He is seething in the lurking darkness of jealousy, his calm features reduced to solemn expressionlessness when his feet have guided him to the peacefulness of your chambers, looking at you from the corner of his eye.

There are multiple costly gowns in every expanse of the cabin, jewelry from every province, and objects plated in gold with diamonds. He knows it's anticipation of your fiancé's arrival. 

(For some reason, that just makes his mood even more deplorable.)

“Princess.”

He calls to you, closing the door behind him. The moment you turn to see him, the emotion visible on every expanse of his face, a shudder runs through his body. He hates him. He advances a footstep toward you. He wants to destroy him with his bare hands. Hands behind his back. He's going to bathe in his blood.

“It's time for your evening walk. I thought you might want to visit the garden.” The garments of his uniform cling to his complexion, black forging every muscle, fresh bandages on his knuckles and abdomen. There is a small gauze on his cheekbone, the hardened features remaining unchanged. It's the first time he hasn't forged a smile, and he can see it unnerves you. It is inevitable, then, as he is currently burning with envy. “Commander Beidou informed me that once you begin your union in marriage, I will be transferred to another division.” He added, cutting gaps with your body, his height giving him enough authority to look down on you from above. His white hair fell messily down his face, one palm on your shoulder, the other on your lower lip. He ran his thumb over the area. “Pardon my intrusion. Some of your lipstick was smeared.” How he wished the cause was his cock in your throat. He distanced his hand, as if touching you was akin to burning in the flames of hell. “I am sure that once you marry young master Kamisato Ayato, you will not require my presence. You will be safe.”

No. Truthfully, you won't be.

No one can protect you like him. No one deserves you as much as he does. No one can be like him.

“Yet, still, I find myself delusionally hoping…”

A prolonged sigh left his lips, and he swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. May you be mine once and for all, he forgot to mention. May you be mine and no one else's. 

I don't want you to be someone else's. 

I can't let you be someone else's.

“... Do you wish for me to escort you?”

Offering you his arm was the only thing he could do.

And in the process, he hoped he wouldn't lose his train of reason. Because if Kazuha loses his reasoning completely, he knows the consequences well enough.

He just prays to the Gods you don't tempt him.

(Temptation is such a fickle little thing, and he finds succumbing not unappealing. At all.

But, for your fiancé, such things are to fear, as he might kill him.)

Kazuha.

Night falls penetrating the large windows that adorn her room in the big castle, the tender moonlight kissing the wooden floor and part of her bed as she looks at herself in the mirror on the small table. There is a certain sadness and disappointment reflected in her features as she looks at herself, but it is as if nothing has changed.

This is not what I want. She repeats over and over, at the verge of salty tears.

Countless nights rolling on the sheets of her bed without being able to sleep, questioning why this had to be her life, why she did not have the option of being free and being able to choose, but it was the curse of being the eldest sister of the family and the legitimate heir to the throne. To have to take someone's hand forcibly for the simple fact of reigning and uniting lands and thus being able to prosper. Bullshit. Absolute bullshit.

But it was the price I had to pay for living up to the expectations of the family, always trying to please others just to see a smile on their faces, not to hear complaints or have to fight or say anything about it. Trying day and night to be the perfect daughter figure, trying to do everything to the letter but... for what? To live a life she didn't even want, with someone she didn't even love just because her parents wanted her to?

Her eyes shift from her reflection to the ring resting around her ring finger, and she feels a churning in her stomach as she looks at it, contempt reflected in her eyes to the point that it forces her to take it off and leave it on the rustic wood.

Her fiancé, Ayato, he was a good man, a prince from a distant land, kings friend of her parents who since they were in diapers had planned the long awaited union, you could say he was the perfect boy. He brought her flowers whenever he visited her, and made sure the letters arrived safe and sound, little poems written on an old leaf that could take anyone's breath away, he was good, and she was sure he could be a good king, a husband even, but... it wasn't what she wanted. It wasn't him.

She still remembers when she was first introduced to him, never in her life had her heart beat so hard at his figure, managing to take the breath completely out of her lungs and she still remembers the way the heat rose quickly to her cheeks, forcing her to swallow hard. Pure muscle memory that moment when her hand touched his and a current of electricity hit them lightly, smiling shylt at the little spark.

And since that day it's been just sleepless nights, in the dimness of her room thinking about the young man who escorted her every night to her room. Playing with myself at the mere thought of his rough hands running over every inch of her body, soft lips kissing the expanse of her skin making her sigh his name and nothing but his name with every calculated touch.

A smile spreads across her face at the thought of the young man, and just as she finishes applying her makeup and rising from the comfort of her chair, the aforementioned stands in front of her. "Kazuha.", voice trying to hide the palpable excitement. "Yes please, let's go. It's been a while since we went there.", her eyes scan every inch of his features, trying to memorize every detail and enjoy the sweet sound of his voice.

Heart flipping the moment his thumb makes contact with her lips, and for a millisecond she imagines sucking on it, but instantly recomposing herself. "Yeah...," a lump forms in her throat at your words. "I wish you could stay by my side — just a little bit longer. I don't think I'll ever find someone like you.", she says this last whispering more to herself, praying you haven't heard her as she wraps her arm around yours, feeling your muscles tense under her grip and slowly begins her calm walk.

The only thing you hear in the background are both of your footsteps, candles adorning the long, grand corridors of the establishment as you make the familiar walk. There is a sepulchral silence adorning the atmosphere, and a heavy sigh is the only thing that comes from within as she rests her cheek on your shoulder, looking up at you. "I missed this." You.

She just hopes she could find the right moment to say everything but... would you feel the same?

#kazuha.mssg #KWNDLSNZJSNDLSNZJNSLDN DIOS ES QUE #FUUUUUUUCK #IM CRYING #SHITTING #THROWING IP #SCREAMING

[s-aoki]

He brought his index finger to his cheek.

… Yes. This was definitely not going to work.

He planned a nice evening for that night. Maybe this time he would let you lick the cream right off his cock, and end up fucking you against one of the kitchen counters. Any option would occur after a nice dinner that was prepared by the old lady's instructions, taking care of even the smallest fucking detail to be able to surprise you. He knows you've been working hard, as you always have been commanded to, so he figured a little compensation wouldn't hurt.

If not for the wave of mercenaries behind his back, he would have made it in time.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” An exhausted sigh leaves him, his head thrown back. “You know you're ruining my fucking chances of getting laid tonight with my really hot girlfriend, don't you?” His swords rest in his dark-gloved palms, his face tilted a fraction, the red and black suit framing every part of his build as he dodges each blow. “Ah, of course. Forgive me. It's not like you guys have love prospects. My mistake.”

Bullets explode in the alley, his boots clicking on the floor as he climbs the stairs. He slides down the railing and a smile flashes from under his mask the instant he hangs from it, falling on top of one of the big guys who was trying to shoot at him, his thighs pressing against the sides of his face. “Easy, big guy. Watch my balls, huh? Treat them with love.”

“Hmpft! Who the hell do you think—?”

He pressed so hard bones cracked, swords now at his back, pistols in both palms. “Sh, sh. The more quiet you are, the prettier you look. Didn’t your mommy teach you that? You sure are noisy. It does surprise me. I would’ve shut you up with a pacifier the instant you were born.” He laughed, then looked to his side, pointing his guns. “As for the rest of you… Say hello to daddy Jesus for me, yeah? Though, wait! I doubt you'll get there.” He pretended to think about it for a second. “Hm, hm. Well, Hitler would do. Tell him I say hi, and that he's a son of a motherfucking bitch.”

Two well-seated bullets to heads, his body jumping off the now unconscious man. The barrel of his gun was directed at his forehead. “Oh, my dear friend. How many memories we had together… Sweet dreams, my one and only. You were a good temporary seat.”

The sound of the bullet and the presence of small drops of blood on his shoes was an indication of a job well done, the light of the night bathing his complexion now that he sees corpses everywhere. He lifted the sleeve of his suit slightly, glancing at the Hello Kitty's watch that marked five minutes to seven.

Maybe he'd have some time to piece something together before you arrive, after all.

“Shit. My shoes! They were freshly polished…” He pouted, kicking the unconscious man's head close to his sole. “You dirty cock-sucker. Do you have no respect for civilians!?”

He stowed his guns on his belt, and his gaze drifted to a restaurant that had 24/7 written on it in colorful lights.

“... On the other hand,” He pondered, crouching a bit while he slipped his hands in the pockets of the dead body. “I’ll forgive this incident if you invite me to dinner. You know, my girlfriend would have adored meeting you. Such a nice little guy!” He found the wallet, smacking the guy across the head. “What? For me, you say? You shouldn’t have bothered! I’ll pray for you. Promise. You’ll get to heaven.”

Free dinner deserves grace and thankfulness. 

[...]

The smell of food was perceptible throughout the apartment, his figure still covered by the suit, a pink apron on his body while the radio played a tune of classical music. His swords had been deposited in a safe place next to the arsenal of weapons that he carried with him, and the only thing that could remain as proof of his possible involvement in a quick job was the blood on his boots.

He had disposed of any trace evidence of his purchase, the bags and containers lying in a dumpster outside. He did what any romantic man would do: deposit all the contents in different saucepans to make it look like it was his own handiwork.

When he heard the click of the keys, the creak of the door and your exhausted sigh, he had to stop himself from dragging his complexion to you, staying flat on the ground for an instant. Come on, Gojo, you can do this. Keep it sexy. Let her come to you. Play cat and mouse. You've been doing this for months.

He slid his complexion through the frame, now too late, seductively looking at you (or apparently - his mask wasn't very accurate with the detail.)

“Well, would you look at that?” A whistle. “Welcome home, my pumpkin pie.”

His deep voice broke into the environment, watching intently as you got rid of your belongings, depositing everything in its respective place. To be honest, Gojo never imagined this kind of domesticity. When he remembers the time he saved you from a couple of bandits trying to rob you, he comes to the conclusion that it wasn’t intentional - he wasn't any kind of hero, much less had the ambitions to be.

But his body acted on its own, and here you were, long arms reaching out to wrap around your waist. “You know? You have been neglecting me a lot lately.” He feigned a pout, gloved hands moving up the shirt you were wearing. He rubs his fingertips on your skin, sniffing your scent. He could get drunk on it, without the need for alcohol. “I should spank you. You don't do that to your devoted boyfriend, who's been up all afternoon making you dinner. Without moving from my place. And causing trouble. And killing people in an alley of questionable provenance.” His hands descended to your butt, smacking it with a little force. “Fuck. I love your ass. Have I told you before?”

He raised the mask with one of his hands, revealing his face.

Angelic constructions turned toward you, white lashes kissing snowy cheeks. His blue gems sparkle at the sight of you, and a wicked smile lights up every nook and cranny of the place. “I would have left the mask on because I know how hot it turns you to fuck when I have it on, but I want a kiss.” Another pout, both hands now going to your cheekbones, pulling you closer to him as he leans in close to you. “Kiss me, or I'll have to steal it from you, and I don't think the first thing you want after coming home from work is to have my tongue lasciviously buried down your throat…”

An ideal boyfriend, clearly.

If his nocturnal activities, work, and interpersonal relationships were ignored.

Gojo Satoru.

A deep sigh escapes her lips, dropping her shoulder with resignation and tiredness. She just wanted to get home, nothing more.

It had been a pretty hectic and stressful day at the hospital, too many kids screaming and crying in the hallways, infatuated with the slightest thing and screaming every time a needle came near them, grumpy old people without a shred of education and the typical not-it-all trying to tell her how to do her own job, can you believe it? It had been exhausting.

Maybe he should have been a stripper.

Her feet drag on the worn carpet of the building's hallways as she carved her eyes tiredly. There's a slight headache that makes every step hurt, and already at this point her backpack is dragging on the same floor as she passes by the open door of the old lady next door, waving her hand at her with a soft smile on her lips, but all she gets in return is a serious look on her face and a pair of eyes that are not visible through the dark sunglasses she is wearing. Why is was always like this? Whenever Satoru said hi to her she replied, even though it was a frown in her face, she did. But when the girl waved her hand happily every morning, nothing happened. Maybe she wasn't fond with her at all.

She feels like she might cry as she crosses the threshold of the door, leaving her things on the floor, but all frustration melts away as she is greeted with joy by your figure. Feeling her heart pounding and heat rising to her cheeks as your strong arms wrap around her drawing her into your body tightly. "Hey, my honey butter biscuit.", she laughs at herself because one day she's being rescued by a dreaded mercenary with a Hello Kitty watch and black and red suit —which he wears because according to him, and I quote; «Red makes blood camouflage better.»— and the next that same mercenary is waiting for her with dinner ready and wearing a Barbie apron around his waist.

The twists and turns of life I guess.

"So you didn't move from here, huh?" She squeezes your cheeks. "Then why are you wearing your suit at home and why are there footprints of dried blood on the floor?", her gaze shifts from you, to the floor and then to you again. "Also you're trending on Twitter, again. There's a video of you climbing the emergency ladder trying to get into the apartment and then falling, you fell like two times, Satoru. If it weren't because you kill bad guys we would be arrested, both of us. Also your ass looks amazing from that angle, babygirl. I saved the video." she grins at the nickname, teasingly waiting for a reaction, as your hands descend her ass abruptly, strong thick fingers squeezing the flesh feeling her own breath tremble. "Yeah, you tell me that every single time, don't cream your pants."

Her palms come down to your pecs, feeling your calm heartbeat against them and the heat rises quickly to her face as intense blue eyes finally look up at her properly. "Fuck—It's so hot when you have the mask on while we fuck, plus you're too pretty it makes me nervous when I look at you, but... I guess I can give you a little kiss if that's what you want. Though I would like something else buried down my throat—", a bite on her lower lip makes its presence known as dove eyes look up to you; she smiles before closing the distance and curious fingers entangle themselves in the soft white strands.

Warm breaths mingling as her tongue instructs itself in your warm cavity. Exploring the insides of your mouth, swallowing a low growl as her nails lightly scratch the nape of your neck and her pearly teeth bite your lower lip before pulling away, a thin trickle of saliva being the only thing connecting both of you and one of her palms cups your defined jaw. "—like food, for example! Also I bought some mochi with cream.", her eyes closing as she smiles, feigning innocence behind her words as she pulls the small cardboard bag from her backpack with the store's logo on it and heads to the kitchen as if nothing happened. "Oh! You cooked chicken from KFC, I like it." looking at the plates adorning the table in the middle of the place. "Suguru told me you stopped there and bought food, he said you were running so fast you didn't see him, also that you fell, how many times?" a laugh escapes her as she peeks at your from the kitchen. "Are you coming or not?"

#deadpoolgojo.mssg #LOOK #LOIK TOu #LITTLE BITCHSIFNOWNXUWNDLWNJDMSLFNWOMDJSNDOW #YOU KNOW EXACTLY WHAG YOU SID AND I HATE IT #I COULDN'T EVEN RESIST IT'S EMBARRASSING

[s-aoki]

Kuroo has a lot of money.

It's obvious by now. His promotional company amasses fortunes, and he has a source of income that allows him the luxury of regular travel. He lives in a mansion that's bigger than the average hotel, and he drives the vehicle of the year. For a man who has it all, per se, it is still difficult for him to fully comprehend how he ended up in the situation he is in now.

He has his thrown head back, leaning against the railing, glancing at his watch from time to time. He's wearing casual clothes, but he doesn't fail to carry his usual lack of elegance — he wants to look presentable for his meeting, at the end of the day — as he awaits an instance that he knows won't be prolonged. You were always punctual for your meetings, after all, and Kuroo knows you won't start letting him down now.

It was a transactional relationship at first. You met because one of your friends was dating Kenma, and in one of the many encounters, he ended up pulling you in front of his catty eyes, ruining his perception for life. The only thing he saw from there was you with your pretty face, your soft lips, your smile, your eyes; your way of speaking fascinated him, the accent flowing when you referred to him, or touched on a topic of your career and skills. He knew he liked you from then on, and even though he wasn't aware of how you ended up entangled in the sheets, you decided not to give any label to what you had, other than a relationship of sexual encounters. A sort of dysfunctional friends-with-benefits.

Dysfunctional, of course, because Kuroo had his feelings too involved.

You've been seeing each other for half a year now, and it was only a few months ago that his habits changed. He started taking you to expensive lingerie stores, offered to buy your mother a new house, and proceeded to take you to expensive restaurants — your life became designer clothes, extended spa sessions, and green bucks you couldn't refuse under any circumstances.

And Kuroo?

Kuroo loves to spend all his money on you.

When he sees your figure approaching a smile settles on his lips, almost amused and elusive. He holds onto the railing with one hand, flicks his hair back with the other, and licks his lips, cutting gaps with you as he rests his hands on your waist, lifting you into the air, making you laugh as he twirls you around a couple of times. “Hey, pretty girl,” His throaty voice interrupted. The white t-shirt he was posing that time was accented nicely to his pecs, a product of all the work at the gym. He wrapped your legs around his waist. “I was beginning to think you'd forgotten about me, moh. I had to cancel a couple of meetings to come pick you up at the airport. Aren’t I the best?”

He sat you down against the surface slowly, glancing to his side at his escorts, who soon took care of your luggage. Because you had to travel from Argentina to Japan, Kuroo made all the necessary arrangements for you to use his private jet under the circumstances — and now it's a habit, his arm sliding around your shoulders as he clutches you to his frame. “I missed you.” Despite everything, the teasing edge was still imbued in his every sentence. If you weren't looking closely, it would be tricky to decipher that his words were true, lips resting against the bare skin of your neck. “Next time I'll come to visit you. I think it will be a good opportunity to let your mother force me to drink mate again, don't you think?”

He began to lead you towards the outskirts where his private vehicle waited, holding your hand between his. The domesticity was apparent, of course; anyone seeing you would think you were an engaged couple, or newlyweds, when it was quite the opposite. 

Anxiety was eating Kuroo alive, and the lack of officialdom was a nightmare.

Despite the fact that he had his ways of dealing with it.

“Oh, by the way, before anything…”

He placed a hand on your waist, pulling you close enough to him that his lips brush against your ear. His breath is warm against your skin, rubbing against you with the sprout of a shallow touch. He knows he can coax any bodily reaction out of you, especially when he has two heads of advantage on you, and his aggrandized palms hold you still.

“I have a surprise for you.” He blows his lips, causing the hairs on your body to rise. “I think you're going to like it. After all, you're a little masochist, aren't you?” His hand ascended to your chin, squeezing your cheeks together in a pout. “Ow. I'm going to have so much fun with you, huhu. I just hope it doesn't make you cry too much…” He trailed off, thoughtfully. He paused for a second, and he laughed softly, the vibration coursing through your body. “On second thought, maybe you're going to cry. And I might enjoy it more than I should. You’re such a pretty crier after all, are you not, baby girl? So cute.”

Who was he, if he didn’t have a plan beforehand?

And an evil one, at best.

Kuroo Tetsurou.

A course of anxiety runs through her veins rapidly. The red sundress clinging to her figure when she begins to close the distance to the glass windows of the airport.

There is a certain fire in her cheeks and she feels as if her heart is going to burst out of her chest causing the grip on her bags to tighten. "This is stupid.", she says to herself, it's stupid the way she feels the excitement run through her figure and a wave of nervousness sweeps over her as she sees your body in the distance awaiting her arrival after leaving the luxurious private jet behind.

A float of strange emotions take over her being as she feels her legs falter, maybe she should turn around and leave, get back to her firm, there's a lot of cases to work on after all, right? Just... maybe she should pretend those feelings didn't even exist all, as if that relationship with the sole purpose of being pleasurable has overstepped the boundaries and broken the only rule that had been imposed and had to be followed: do not catch feelings.

Everything went downhill a couple of months ago, not knowing when or how, but when she least expected it, she was by your side watching you peacefully sleep, studying your every features and how your nose puckered slightly when you fell into the sleep of morpheus, your messy hair, the little freckles adoring your cheeks, absolutely everything

After some time the love songs began to make sense, a particular face appearing in her mind with every little phrase, imagining herself with him in every situation, suddenly in the love scenes in romantic movies they were the protagonists, forming little scenarios in her head as time passed. Wondering if his heart beat with the same intensity every time he saw her, if he felt that need to always have her near and always look for the opportunity to hear her voice. Wanting for know about his day, how was work, what his favorite movie was, or the things he hated. She was...

Utterly fucked.

Her hands tremble as her complexion approaches and she feels his warmth the moment she closes the distance. A laugh of complete bliss leaving her throat as his hands hold her. "Someone is excited to see me.", arms wrapping around his waist as her feet gently touch the ground, looking up to him with a teasing smile on her face. "Oh please, say that I'm more important and interesting than some boring meeting. Just say that and stop lying to yourself, Tetsu, okay? It's bad for you health." a chuckle escaped her lips, finding it funny what she herself says. "But I missed you too, bab—," she cuts herself off before finishing the sentence, overthinking about has stressed her so much that now her fantasies and reality are mixed. "Actually she's going to be glad, she's still laughs remembering when you burned, like c'mon!" a wheezes erupts from her mouth, "How can you be that stupid? I told you like five times it had boiled water, I'm starting to question your IQ, you know? Are you actually that smart? Mmm, I don't think so."

It was... weird, to say the least. They were like those people who talked, acted and did everything as if they were a couple even though they were quietly the opposite, but the connection was so strong that if you asked them if they were something more, they wouldn't know what to say. There were things that at this point, were beyond their reach.

A current of electricity runs down her spine and she is forced to have to adjust her dress slightly when his voice booms in her eardrums, lower than normal, about 8 octaves lower. A heavy sigh penetrating her lips as her cheeks tinge a strong crimson red, forcing herself to look sideways and then into his intense eyes that looked up at her expectantly. "You really enjoy this, huh?" she licks her lips to bite the bottom one, four fingers curling into the belt of his pants to pull him in to her a little more, hips touching and gracing now, forcing her back against the expensive car and their bodies pressed together. "I have a surprise for you as well, Tetsu." the lust is palpable in her tone, fingers tangling themselves in his blalck locks and caressing his scalp slightly. "So let's hurry up. I don't think you want your bodyguards to find out I have nothing underneath, right? Unless, of course, you're into that stuff as well, you little pervert."

#kuroo.mssg #me siento puta ayuda

[s-aoki]

He assumes that he has never felt this way, and perhaps that is the reason why his defense mechanisms are being as inadequate as possible. 

It's just a glitch in his data matrix, he tries to reason. A miscalculation, repairable at best—he had the ability to mend the discomfort in his ribs, the anger welling up in his clenched knuckles, and the tension in his jaw.

However, Gojo hasn't slept in days.

He has the silver chain hanging between his teeth. There are dark circles under his blue eyes, his dark gaze unfocused. Half the man he was rests in the weariness your audacity brings. He can barely concentrate without you crossing his mind like a fleeting fantasy perpetrating nightmares, the tormentor of his insomnia and one of his greatest ordeals. 

In any case, he could have fucked you to get you out of his system. He's not used to obsessing over a girl like that, not even to the point of demonstrating such a thing in harassment. At the end of the day, Satoru Gojo always got what he wanted. Every girl was dying to be in his arms, or receive a shred of attention. You would be no exception.

Except, you were. In every sense of the word.

You rebuffed all of his advances from the start, and that only made him sink further, to the point where he lost track of who was chasing who. No matter how many times he shoved your books as he passed, pinched your shoulders and thighs, pushed you roughly against the wall, pulled your hair, or ruined your potential encounters with men — you never looked in his direction, not even for a millisecond.

He was going crazy. 

He was losing his mind. 

He was bordering on insanity, waking up to the beat of your thoughts in the middle of the night with his breath coming fast, an erection in his pants, and sweat pouring down his forehead as if he'd seen a ghost.

That party was not to your particular taste, but he was here for one reason only:

You.

Suguru had told him that Choso Kamo had asked you out, and his blood boiled, because you accepted. You agreed to go out with Choso, when you turned him down on countless occasions. He saw red. He thought of all the ways he could ruin you. He masturbated under the pretense of having you gagged in a small closet, one leg on his waist, and his hand on your neck as he forced you to moan his name until your pretty cheeks burned. Until your throat had every intonation of his name memorized in vocal chords. Until you wouldn't think of rejecting him one more time, because he was sure that if you did, he would explode.

Just like now, when you're in a corner, laughing at everything that fucker says. Tucking a lock of hair behind your ear, tilting your face to get closer to him, batting your eyelashes, holding his arm —

Why?

His heart pumps fast, pupils dilated and a flex of his aggrandized palms. His fist opens, and closes. For a second, when he looks down, he can almost see blood staining the skin — he can see the fist slamming into Choso's flesh again and again. He can see other people's pain, and he has to pull his thoughts back so they don't brush against a dangerous path.

Gojo was not particularly violent. He never felt the need to be. There was never an instance where he had to present a sense of competition or envy towards anyone, and he didn't think that would change.

But why don't you smile at him like that? Why don't you shine so brightly when he's around? Why do you ignore him?

The question repeats endlessly in his brain, the music echoing in the speakers as his footsteps move on their own, almost by instinct. He shortens the gaps in long strides, hears the squeals of the little girls who want to stick to him, but he ignores it.

His target is clear.

And when he brushes against it, a fangy smile settles on his lips, because, bingo — he doesn't have to pretend to be nice. Under no pretense, let alone facet, slipping his arm around your shoulders, slyly pinching your hip. (Maybe a little harder than usual.) 

“Jazmín,” He crooned in his soothing voice, squinting his eyelids as he looked at Choso with a certain hint of defiance. “Oh, honey. Why are you getting lost like that? I was looking all over for you. Were we playing hide-and-seek, by any chance? I didn't know you liked to hide near the garbage.” The tinge of teasing persisted, and his grip was only tighter, a hand slipping away to your ass. He pinched it as well, hard, letting out a low chuckle. “Don't make me look for you, okay? You know I'll always find you.”

Choso sharpened his gaze, watching you and the atmosphere that had suddenly been created. He pursed his lips into a thin line, immediately grabbing your wrist, and pulling you to his side.

“Satoru.” His voice was icy, a darkened tinge creeping into the sentences. “Can you leave her alone? She clearly doesn't like you, nor does she want to share your same oxygen.” He spat, perching in front of you, using his own body as a shield. “Get the hell out of here.”

If there was one thing Gojo hated more than impertinent people, it was bastards who wanted to take away what was his.

And more than that, Choso was impertinent and wanted to take away what was his.

“Oh, Choso…” A chuckle. “Pft. Hahaha!”

The laughter disappeared immediately, and an instant later, there was a clatter of bones crunching. Gojo was roughly holding the edges of the aforementioned's shirt, slamming him against a wall, his gaze lost in an abyss of darkness that promised much pain. The crowd had settled around them.

“Escuchá y mirá bien, hijo de puta,” The words came out grotesquely — blood in the bile and razor edges in the pharynx. “If you know what's good for you, you're going to shut up. If you want trouble, I can perfectly well give you a free visit to the dentist — do you want me to break your teeth?” Then he turned to you, a closed-eyed, innocent smile. As if it was no big deal. “Hey, Jazmín.” The softness in his countenance was instantaneous, a beast hanging on by a thread. “How about we make a deal, hm?”

The twinkle in his eyes was evident. 

An opportunity.

“You accompany me there —” He gestured down the hallway. “Just the two of us, and I, in return, won't break this asshole’s bones until his only companion is a wheelchair. What do you think? That's fair, isn't it?”

And even if it wasn't, it was of no consequence.

Satoru was at his limit.

“So, sweetheart? Clock’s ticking!”

If you didn't look at him now, he really would do something crazy.

Satoru Gojo.

Smoke abounded in the atmosphere, the smell of alcohol was palpable in the heavy atmosphere along with the loud reggaeton music playing in the background. Candy echoing through the large speakers coming from the room as under her breathing she sang along to the music, her voice being unable to be perceived thanks to the high volume.

A sigh leaves her lips as her gaze scans the place, people she didn't know dancing and leaving their souls on the dance floor, some drunks lying on the big couch and some running upstairs to throw up in the bathroom along with some sneaking illicit substances to each other as if no one had noticed what they were doing in the shadows.

There's a feeling in her gut that tells her, no, that screams at her that it might have been better to stay in bed, but she couldn't let Utahime down when the girl begged her all week to go with her, she was her best friend after all. Her and the fact that the boy standing in front of her had asked her out. Still playing in her mind the first time they met, she had only turned around to borrow a pencil and the boy clearly had hearts in his eyes as he passed her a ruler instead, it was comical to say the least, but adorable.

She vaguely rests her chin over his shoulder, tangling her arms around his muscular frame while he takes a sip from the beer can he got a few moments ago. Curious eyes descend down the chinese ink covered skin as she smiles. "You should get another tattoo.", she pulls the drink out of his hands to take it, too lazy to get one on her own. "Maybe the dick on the note I passed you today in class, or maybe the dick I drew on your hand… Or the one I drew in your book when you weren't looking, there's a lot of possibilities, you know? It's like I'm your personal artist… Maybe I should draw yours."

There's a chuckle escaping his throat and a pair of flushed cheeks that he looks at tenderly, shoulders bumping as his face is just inches from Choso's. "Are you getting shy now? That's cute.", her eyes sparkle but before she can do anything as their noses brush against each other she hears a voice in the distance. An irritating timbre that makes her close her eyes in discomfort, forcing her to take a deep breath feeling a tingle and a current of heat succumbing her insides.

Fuck no.

Everything happens so fast, words are exchanged and a thread of tension forms in the middle of the two men present as a circle of people forms around them, and before she can process the whole situation, her friend is slammed against the wall in fury and there's a pair of blue orbs with fierce tints in them looking at her expectantly. Heat is rising to her cheeks as he calls her name slowly. It was a mess, everything was a mess because wherever Gojo Satoru walked, there was always trouble.

She knew that from the first moment Utahime mentioned to her not to go near him, a total waste of time and a place where she would only come out shedding tears and with a broken heart, so that's what she did. But he was insistent, many times she thought about giving in and accepting, maybe it was so he would stop bothering her, or because the insistence and the certain… obsession seemed slightly attractive to her, however that didn't mean she didn't hate him with every bone in her body. It was simply detestable.

She looks at him and it's as if her body moves of its own accord, grabbing him tightly by the arm to separate him from his companion and lead him down the hall. "Loco de mierda.", she whispers to him when they are already far away from people and in a place that is not easily perceptible to the sight of others. "Sos pelotudo vos? Que mierda te pasa?", the rage is palpable in his voice at what had just happened. "What do you want? Make it quick, I won't be wasting my time on you tonight. I just don't understand why don't you go bother someone else."

If she could, she would rip her hair off right there.

#gojo.mssg #ya basta #DE ESTUPIDECES

[s-aoki]

A silent exchange takes place under the premonition of the night's denouement, hungry beasts appraising their prey, considering when is the ideal moment to sink their teeth into it. One thinks it's better to take her when she's off guard—in the moment she creates a blanket of unattainable self-assurance around herself, believing to be untouchable, and managing a reality that is fictitious.

The other, of course, it’s far from reasonable.

He thinks it doesn't matter what the circumstances are, as long as he has her spread open, cock buried to the brim.

The obvious difference in reasoning would not be a problem. On the contrary, it was a plus. The fact that Geto and Gojo had a different way of dealing with things made it all the more entertaining.

And entertainment they would have.

“Did’ya hear that, Suguru?” it came accompanied by a low chuckle, laden with arrogance. There was a visual exchange, and his tongue darted out to lick his lips. His mouth was watering just seeing your expression contracted in pleasure, though he knows it won't be something potentially long-lasting. “I think the brat says she's going to fuck you in front of me. Do you believe the audacity she has?”

There are evil tints in blue gems and dark eyes. Much is happening even though there is no movement. Pieces are being placed in their respective positions.

“Hm, I got to give it to her, though. I like her attitude. She knows what she wants, Satoru. Won't you give her the benefit of the doubt? Grant her wish, perhaps?” he descended a little, raising your dress. He had to restrain his hands to tear it off, since he knows it's your boyfriend's favorite. He doesn't want to lose the privilege of seeing this show in close-up, even if just for a second. “I think she wants to have my cock in his tight little pussy while you just sit there with a hard-on in your pants. Do you think that's fair play?” he feigned a thoughtful stance. “I don't believe in the concepts of clean methods as long as a goal is achieved. However, despite such a thing, my suggestion is…”

He quickly removed his tie with one hand, unexpectedly, catching your hand and the other, linking them together in a knot that had a small bow on it. A small gift, perhaps, with a betrayal in between. Suguru's closed-eyed smile no longer feigned complicity, but the opposite. As much as he would love to see Satoru restrained with ruddy cheeks, tight knuckles and an erection in his pants, he knows it would be more entertaining to tame you completely. 

One thing they had in common among all their hobbies, was forcing obedience on those who wanted to superimpose power over them.

“... let's fuck the brattiness out of our lovely little slut together, shall we?” He placed your bound hands on top of your head, descending his body to your thighs and positioning himself between them, pulling you down so that you were sprawled on the couch, away from Gojo's lap, who was starting to remove his dark pants. Geto, for his part, patted your pussy in his hand, sighing, and trying to keep his composure. Such a pretty pussy. “I think we have to show her that we decide how we will fuck her, at what time we will fuck her, and in what embarrassing positions we will have her.” A harsh slap was placed on your pussy, hard enough to jolt your complexion. What could define Suguru Geto as just had vanished along with inhibitions, making room for a feast where you were the main course. “What do you think? Shall we show our little angel that we can make her our plaything, and not the other way around?”

Satoru's muscles flexed, a smile flashing with his intentions as he shed his boxers, letting his cock come into the air. 

“Hell, yeah.”

The tip held pre-seminal fluid, a furious red color; the happy trail stretched across his pelvis, ending where his cock began. The veins lingered in the extension, menacing, promising to be run through even if it is their ultimate goal.

Suguru felt the constriction in his own pants.

“Let's teach her a lesson, then. We need to make clear that brats have no right to cum, and that they don't have to open their mouths unless ordered to.” He positioned himself on the couch, kneeling, hovering over your face. He could see you from below in that vulnerable position, rosy cheeks and embarrassed arousal. If you wanted to be fucked by his best friend, you would be fucked by his best friend. “This is what you wanted, isn't it? Then, you shall have. But not under your own rules, babygirl.” He caught your chin in his strong palm, his gaze unfocused, dark hues in the doom and emptiness that were his eyes. His remaining hand palmed your cheek. “Open wide, slut. We'll start by dealing with that noisy mouth of yours, mhm?” Even though you put up resistance, he didn't hesitate twice to force your mouth open, spitting in one go. “I said fucking swallow. Play nice, and you might get rewarded. Try to act smart, and cumming is the last thing you’ll ever get.”

He wasn't usually cruel, but seeing you trying to swallow forced his urges and cut the fine line of his sanity. Without further ado, he gave a little tap on your cheek to get you to open up again, and this time he buried his cock in your mouth. On a different occasion he would have given you time to get used to his girth, but right now, he had buried himself until your lips were kissing the base of his cock.

“Fuck. Take me, yeah? Swallow properly.” His countenance was fierce. Unfocused. His eyes were dazed, and he was seeing red. A laugh came from his throat. He was mocking you. God, he so badly wanted to bully the shit out of you, with your mouth full of cock. “Poor little thing. You can't talk now, can you? Where’s all that bitching you had in you? Where’s the attitude?” He cocked his head, feigning concern. He pressed his cock even harder, until he saw little tears. “This is how you plan to take two cocks?” One more push. “So needy. Such a needy little thing. Come on. Suck my cock. Show me you can take it. And, of course... Since you have no hands to work with, you'll have to make more of an effort.” He pouted. “I guess the pretty princess has to actually win her rewards, huh. Isn’t that just funny?”

Suguru chuckled from underneath, shaking his head. He had to admit, seeing that side of Gojo was worth it. He had you both where he'd always wanted to have you, and he could barely control himself. The scene was erotic — enough to make him thrust forward, pinching your clit between your fingers.

“Do as he says, beautiful. Swallow.” He cooed, softly, tearing at the bottom of your dark panties. He had no patience for dealing with obstacles, least of all when he had to exercise his end of the bargain. “If you want to have us both inside you, I bet this will be a piece of cake, won’t it?” He kissed the side of your thigh, and opened your pussy with two fingers, spreading his tongue around the contour—he wouldn't touch your clit, even if you were wet or throbbing with need. “Oh, Satoru. Your girlfriend is so wet. I think she likes to be pushed around and bullied a bit, don't you think?” He pinched your clit again, this time accompanied by another slap. He felt you wince, and a choked laugh erupted from his chest, the air against your pussy. “Try not to pass out now, okay, sweetheart?” a nibble to the little nerve center, taking his free hand and using two fingers to insert them into your hole. “Because I don't plan to stop eating this pussy, even if you cry. As you can see, I’m starving. And I won't waste a meal.”

His heavy, bold tongue began to wrap around your clit, tasting and collecting your juices on the tip of his palate. He could tell he was tasting one of the most gourmet meals he were ever offered, his fingers fucking themselves in and out, the suctions turning into something that didn't border on the gentle.

If Geto was tearing you to pieces on his tongue, Gojo would tear you to pieces on his cock.

Now that you are conscious, two abominable figures loom over you, promising one thing: retribution.

And you were so utterly fucked.

Satoru Gojo & Suguru Geto.

There are fat tears rolling down her rosy cheeks, choking back a moan deep in her throat as Satoru buries his cock in her mouth. There's a tinge of danger in his now dark blue orbs, along with that machiavellian smile that has her hanging on the thread between torment and pleasure.

She can't help it, it was as if the words just tumbled out of her mouth on their own without thought but she can't say she regrets it, she had Satoru right where she wanted him, a beast about to be let loose and an unwavering patience that could be trampled with a couple of words if you knew exactly what to say. Though she finds himself a little taken back by the sudden roughness, but the whole situation was making the puddle between her legs and his arousal spill over onto the black leather of the silicon. Her heart beats hard and fast against her chest, a current of electricity runs down her spine and she feels her legs falter as Suguru's skillful tongue makes contact with her dripping core, feeling the wet muscle run over every inch of her pussy, forcing her hips to thrust forward letting herself be carried away by the warm sensation he gives her.

Soft lips in contrast to the albino's roughness, deep grunts that only encourage her to take more until the dripping head touches the back of her throat relentlessly. The shuddering vibrations of her gagging make the man above throb as she begins to bob her head from back and forth while a pair of watery eyes make contact with lust-filled ones. Heavy on her tongue she swirls it around his cock, feeling the small veins pulse until she completely pulls away, tasting under her palate the salty taste of his precum.

Mascara running, black droplets staining the apples of her cheeks before sucking the tip one last time. The restraint of her wrists making the job twice as hard, twisting her hands slightly until the knot unravels enough for her to pull it completely free.

A proud smile takes over her face, a manicured hand wrapping around the throbbing length as it descends her face, nose bumping lightly against his cock as she goes to suck his balls, pressed against his tongue as she sucks hard and then licks a long strip over it teasingly to end at the head again, never taking her gaze from him. "Easy, big guy, will you? Don't be too eager." husky voice, about to take him in her mouth again but a broken moan erupts from her vocal cords as the raven-haired one inserts his thick fingers into her tight hole.

Hips lifting, unconsciously rubbing lightly against her face, feeling the rub of his nose on her swollen clit as he sucks hard, curling his fingers in and she has to restrain herself from closing her legs on each side of his skull from the giddy pleasure.

Dizzy, tearing out a loud moan with each pumping, she feels her thighs tremble, a tingle making itself present in her pelvis and she opens a little wider for him. She feels a strange sensation come over her, similar to when she is about to pee, but pleasure and lust consume her more than ever. Faint fingers tangle in his black lock in a failed attempt to try to push him away, but it's as if she has just pushed his head even further into her pussy. "Suguru —fuck. Suguru, wait... I'm going to...", her face nuzzling into her boyfriend's white bush, contorted in pleasure as her back arches and a broken voice interrupts the silence forming in the air. "S-slow down, please— Shit!"

#satosugu.mssg #feeling #*sigh* #feeling very submissive and breedable

[s-aoki]

There is a sensation that climbs in his ribs, working its way into his gut until the mere act of breathing is suffocating. It is a sensation that, in extreme fascination, he must admit is memorable—a longing that bursts into a tidal wave of enviable disproportion just at the instance when he thinks he is too libertine to control the flow of his emotions. Diluc never believed his mistakes were reparable. In the end, countless scars scattered across his body remind him of the constant inability he possesses to make amends, though the mere thought of doing so is a nice one to hold onto.

Even with that in mind he can't stop himself, his eyes roaming over your figure, a rough, unapproachable expression on his face. Since you started working here, his relationship with you hasn't been the best of all... Far from it, actually—you were like cats and dogs. The third day of your first shift you spilled wine on his shirt, blushed so much and apologized multiple times (your cheeks were adorable, by the way, when they were tinted red) and in return, he just scoffed, giving his back to you.

What had caused that abrupt action on his part he didn’t know in depth, but that was what sealed your future interactions. Not only did you avoid him like the plague, but the conversations you shared were fraught with tension, overwhelmed by your palpable resentment and his absolute inability to communicate properly. Truth be told, from the first instance Diluc saw you, he felt something prickle in his chest—he would burst into a disproportionate heartbeat, in rapid breathing and nightly sighs spent with his hand on his cock as he moaned your name under his breath, wishing it was your lips around the tip, or your lovely, pretty eyes focused on his gaze; you reduced yourself to his fantasies, soft hands in his russet hair, honey kisses on the freckles on his cheeks and nose, or his back, or all of him—

But when he visualizes you at a distance conversing with a client amiably, his thoughts might be interpreted differently, and your hatred seems to multiply just a little bit more at his impertinence. (No—he swears it's not unhealthy. It's not insane to imagine breaking bones or punching the teeth out of your own clients. That would be against the legality of his business, and Diluc was a single father of a three-year-old girl. There was nothing immoral about him. He had child support to pay.)

Except, of course, his fantasies about his hot employee, her captivating figure, and her charming accent—oh, and when you speak Spanish? Diluc is ecstatic—or everything about her, driving him crazy until his concentration on everything is dull.

Today, fuck the Gods and his luck, it’s one of those nights. Those nights when the music blares loud, Come On, Let's Go on the speakers, alcohol dancing from corner to corner with inebriated office workers, or parents who are likely to be very late that night. The only thing different? He couldn't overlook it. His eyes never leave your figure, nor the orange-haired boy smiling flirtatiously at you. This is stupid. It's really stupid. Everything would have been simpler if he was nicer, or used eyes of: “Fuck, you're beautiful.” instead of: “Fuck you.”

As insurmountable as he was, he crossed the stretch of distance, placing a hand between the two of you, perhaps more abruptly than he expected. His countenance was darkened, and his eyes had slid to you in an act of inertia, startling the giggling boy who paused from his hunting intent.

“Jazmín, I don't think I pay you to chat.” There it was, his abruptly hostile tone. Fuck. He wasn't making the situation any easier on himself. Then, his eyes drifted to the guy. He’s a threat. “We don't distract employees either. I do believe you won’t be bothered if I take her back with me, would it?”

The boy cleared his throat. “Huh? I, In fact…”

“It’s irrelevant.”

He didn't even let him finish, holding your elbow and the tray that held several empty glasses in the other. Maybe his grip was stronger than he anticipated. Maybe he wished he could stop feeling that warmth of jadedness in his chest. Maybe, just maybe, he wanted to say that he really likes you a lot—fuck, he wants you so badly—but he just murmurs, very low, close to your ear:

“Behave yourself,” A quiet whisper, inaudible. His hand, unexpectedly, descended to your waist, gripping the material of your shirt softly, but not to the point that is something you can’t perceive. “I wouldn’t want to reprimand you in my office. Don’t make me do so, yeah?” It is possessiveness. It is borderline sick, perhaps, that he feels a need to possess. To fuck you senseless. To grab your elbow and just take you to his office where he will indeed make sure you’re naked on top of his desk, his red angry tip brushing against your cunt, his hands and your soft thighs… Fuck. “Be good.”

—Diluc.

The music echoed through the speakers of the place, it was soft but loud enough to overshadow most of the voices in the bar, but all in all it was a pretty quiet night compared to the others. There were people coming back from their jobs with a lot of weight on their shoulders, drowning their frustrations in a glass of vodka, friends catching up after a long time and laughing when remembering old memories from when they were younger, and the occasional lonely person trying to get through the night alone. It was just... perfect.

"Stop it.", there's a chuckle accompanied with a little smack to his shoulder. "I'm working now, Childe, you're gonna get me fired."

"Oh c'mon, pretty. Just sit down a little, you've been going back and forth all night."

"Yeah, that's what I have to do.", a soft smile appears on her face as she sees the pouty lips of the ginger begging for a little of her time. "You can bother me later, now give me your order already."

But before the young man can even formulate a response, he is brutally interrupted and a messy flame-colored hair appears on her radar. And instantly she knows she's in trouble when his serious countenance and withering gaze settles on his friend, providing him with a curt, stern reply and then pulling her away from the overwhelming environment.

The situation was strained, based on careful glances and it was like walking on eggshells, everything she said or did could be used against her. Every day being greeted by dark eyes and limited interactions that made her feel out of place, but it was all so she could pay the rent for her tiny apartment.

Still remembering the first day with a bittersweet taste on her palate, just trying to be nice with the mere goal of being able to work in a decent work environment and comfort, but now her eyes show her resentment that she doesn't know if there is any coming back from.

"I wasn't doing anything.", the space is small, her back hits the cold wall of the hallway, causing a wave of shivers to grow across her skin. "How do you think I can do my job if I don't talk to customers?"

She looks up at her boss, there is a fire in his eyes but this time it is different, and his words only make an anger grow inside her, pushing her off the cliff and sending her over the edge.

Her hands grip the material of her uniform tightly, her blood burns deep inside her and a wave of adrenaline rushes through her veins as her cheeks are tinged a warm crimson color.

It was enough.

"The only thing we're going to your office for is to sign my resignation." she whispers through her teeth when she has him close enough, her curious eyes watching the freckles adorning the bridge of his nose as her breathing becomes heavy. "I'm sick of your fucking attitude, I tried countless times to be nice with you but useless. You're useless, Ragnvindr."

Her words are sharp, her point fingers touching his heavy chest, feeling his increasing breathing under her finger tips. A «you need to get fucked.» burns in the tip of her tongue but instead she says; "I'd rather sleep on the street than keep working one more day in this fucking hell hole. I'm done."

#diluc.mssg #no comment.

[s-aoki]

Of all the things he could have imagined would adorn your body in that instance, he didn't imagine that the yellow sundress—his favorite, by the way—would be the chosen one, and more so in the presence of his best friend. He's tempted to back out of that deal; not to twist his arm willingly even if he is the cause of Suguru's blue balls. However, at the same time, he wants this to be a small test of probabilities.

A study where the subjects are unaware of his experimentation.

His beefy arms wrap around your frame, resting his chin on your shoulder. He can see Geto from this position, with that hungry gaze and that dark look of which you seem ignorant. He allowed himself to move up one of his hands to hold your hair in his grip, kissing your lower lip, his orbs focused on his opponent. “I missed you too, precious. Have you been a good girl in my absence?” He pressed your lips together lightly, just so you'd feel the brush. And cause a provocation. His hands had descended (releasing his grip) to settle on your buttocks, performing a pressure, enlarged palms massaging your cheeks while he could feel needles in his complexion. “A little birdie told me your work is going uphill lately, mh-mh. Am I going to have to fight Utahime for the place of your top priority, or would you force me to buy your hotel so that you have to be around me all the time?”

He knew what he was doing. His office was suddenly too warm, footsteps becoming audible as the opposite couch was suddenly empty, Getou bursting the atmosphere as he cocked his head to the side feigning ignorance. His smile was friendly on the surface, but upon closer inspection, the predatory overtones were visible. It was obvious what was going on.

A rivalry had broken out, and there was only one way to make amends.

“Jazmín.” His velvety tone broke through the comfort of your conversation and daring touches before his eyes. If anything, he would take advantage of your shyness, scrutinizing you to feel the weight of his desire. Probably, if your formulation of events were accurate, you would see clearly how much Geto is holding back from pouncing on you and slipping his hand under your dress, ripping off your lovely panties. What color would they be? Do you like pink? Or black? Would you have a lovely ribbon down the center, or would he find red lingerie? He wants to know everything, especially if he has you gagged with his heavy cock on your pretty tongue, your lips stained with his cum. “I'm fine now that I finally get to see you, sweetheart. Although, of course, I'm surprised Satoru didn't tell you I was here... After all, he was the one who offered for us to share time together. The three of us. You know how he is. Always wanting to keep his two favorite people together, don't you, Satoru?”

His closed-eyed smile hid the malice in his tone, the white-haired man's daggers being useless in the face of his charm.

He had to resign himself to let out a sigh at your new question, looking between you and Geto, not knowing the reason why his morbid curiosity was so dangerous. His longing to see his best friend fucking you had become a particular whim, driving him up a wall with no escape when his decision came in full force, the smile on his lips as mischievous as that of his companion.

He held your wrist gently, leading you to the couch, settling you between his legs as if you had belonged there since the beginning of time.

Before offering a reply, he held your chin subtly, forcing you to look at him. “You don't interrupt anything. As Suguru says, there was a slight change of plans. It's time for you to get to know each other better.” His nose nestled into your neck, sniffing you, his hands moving up from your soft, smooth thighs to the edge of your dress, lifting it gently. He looked down at the new lingerie set, and had to close his eyes, say three prayers, and return to his orbit, because there was no way... That this was intentional. “... I see you brought me a little gift as well.” He whispered, his voice a low octave. “Or brought us a little gift.”

Surely you had been a bit thrown off by the plural suggestion, so clarification was immediate as you visualized Geto once again. He was removing his jacket, setting it down on the chair and positioning himself in at the opposite end from Satoru, holding your legs and deciding to prop them up on his own lap, leaving you settled and reclining on your boyfriend's chest. 

(If it went well, he would be called your boyfriend, too.)

The massage on your dermis was set in motion, his concentration plausible as he raised both eyebrows. “Oh, Satoru. Do you want to scare her? Don't be so blunt when you speak. She's trembling like a scared little bunny. I bet she thinks we want to ravish her.” He flashed his pearly smile, climbing up and up, stopping at your knees. “You trust us, don't you, honey? You know we just want to reward you. We've heard about all your new connections, and you work so hard… You must be so tired.”

Satoru finished by pulling up your dress, showing Geto your lingerie. The erection was squeezing his pants and rubbing against your ass, a vivid sign of what was to come, his guttural laughter rumbling through space at the sentences being uttered. Of course. 

Good cop, and bad cop.

Looks like he must be the bad cop this time.

“Suguru, do you think she deserves to be rewarded? Just look at her lingerie. She's practically begging us to abuse her little holes until we make her cry and moan. Only bad girls look for provocative methods to get what they want.” He spread your legs with both hands, forcing Suguru to lean forward, one enlarged palm reclining over Satoru's as his cheek rested on the inside of your thigh. “Come on. Take a closer look at her. She sure has been wet since she entered the building. Isn’t that so lewd and slutty? Perhaps we should consider punishment instead.”

He could feel your trembling complexion, but Satoru would never initiate something he knew you couldn't handle. If this wasn't to your liking, he could stop at any time. He had no particular problem fucking you at his desk and getting Suguru out of his office. 

A part of him, nevertheless, is almost certain, even before he whispers in your ear:

“Princess,” a hint of warning on the tip of his tongue, the fabric returning to cover your body a little, Suguru still watching you from below with hungry, heavy eyes. His tongue promises wonder, and Satoru's promises torment. It all falls to your hands as your chin is held, your eyes riveted on the white-haired man's. “You want to fuck Suguru, don’t you?”

The tone was forceful, and two ghoulish smiles regarded you with amusement, ready to devour you.

Satoru Gojo & Suguru Geto.

To be honest, nothing could have prepared her for this precise moment, although she could not say that the whole situation was unpleasant for her, quite the contrary actually.

Geto Suguru was a mysterious man in the eyes of everyone else, with a sharp tongue and a personality along with a type of words that could leave your legs shaking in a second, and she was no exception. Every word penetrated her ears as if it were the melodious song of a siren that instantly hypnotized her, telling her exactly what to do and making her succumb in a instant.

The girl would be lying if she said she didn't find him attractive, shit no— she was incapable of even making the attempt. Still remembering, playing in her head like a broken record, the way he looked at her the night they met, her eyes couldn't leave his figure either during the whole time. Curiosity prickled her insides, and there was a feeling of wanting to know him a little bit more with each little encounter, a building tension that was bound to break at any moment.

Still it wasn't that her own boyfriend wasn't enough, but there was that little and devilish voice in her left shoulder telling her that two were better than just one.

And although she had always sensed that tension between her Satoru and the raven-haired one, it wasn't something that she couldn't voice it out loud to the first mentioned, until this exact moment, of course. So this situation was simply perfect, just as her deepest fantasies would have imagined. Even better.

Every sentence by the two men made her heart pump blood to every part of her body rapidly, starting a second beat between her trembling legs as she tried to concentrate on both of them, but it was such an overwhelming sensation that it left her head spinning.

"Shit...," she bites her lip at the million dollar question. Stifling a soft moan as Satoru's erection poked her ass, and out of instinct she rubs herself lightly over his covered cock in an attempt to feel a little more of the albino.

Her eyes travel to the one in front of her, his warm breath hitting her skin causing a current of shivers to run down her spine. A heat burning her insides and the terrible feeling that her clothes were already beginning to bother her was triggering.

Stealthy fingers tangled in Suguru's black hair, massaging his scalp until she felt him sigh for her palm to descend to his hot cheek, gently caressing it, only causing that feeling of wanting more to increase. And at this point the answer was more than obvious to all three of them with those slight touches.

"I want to fuck him.", her voice came out slowly as she addresses Satoru, lips almost touching and moving from them to his piercing blue eyes. "I'm gonna fuck him, and you're gonna watch— but I bet you'll like that, don't you?"

The hand that was free plays with the edge of her black panties still covering her pussy. There's a choked gasp, her head drooping against her boyfriend's shoulder as she closes her eyes with a slight frown, exposing her glistening cunt to a pair of hungry eyes. A thin, transparent thread of arousal hanging from the lace fabric still connected to her pulsing center, making them both see how wet she was from just a couple of playful words, exactly like they said.

#satosugu.mssg #mo puedo + #me sientouy #puta #dios

[s-aoki]

In full honesty, Satoru doesn't comprehend what caused this change of scenery.

It was an everyday thing. He trusted Suguru, after all. He knew perfectly well that he was capable of getting his hands dirty or putting them on fire for him, and it's a feeling that is reciprocated in every sense of the word. There is a reason why that company has both of their names as headlines; the reason for the success of Jujutsu Enterprises comes from their mutual effort, and it is a plausible fact that there is no force separating them at this point in their lives.

“So, If I hear this correctly…” Gojo rested his strong arms on his knees, his button-down shirt threatening to spill from the pressure of his pecs against the subtle, fragile garment. “You’re confessing to me that you've liked my girl for…” He averted his eyes for a second to the cell phone resting in his hand, a picture of you glowing on the screen. “months?”

Suguru, for his part, knows the reason why.

He hadn't expected it to happen. Gojo wasn't the type to formalize with just anyone: whoever was by his side had to be a handpicked individual with a lot of skill involved, and from the way things went the moment they met, Geto was clear about one thing:

Gojo Satoru was in love, and there was no turning back.

He would always support him in all his decisions. He would do anything for Satoru. More than associates, they were best friends—until the confusions began the fateful night he officially introduced you to his group of friends, and Suguru sensed almost in real time how the water unraveled the sand between his palms.

It was at a small party. You wore a pretty black dress, your hair was down, and you had a smile on your lips he would never forget. You were funny, charismatic, and exceptional. You danced amazing, and knew how to bring attention to yourself. Simply… perfect. 

He would love to say something else about you, or lie to himself. Emphasize profusely that his eyes were not focused on your figure all night, imagining that his palms were on your hips like Satoru's, and his face on your neck, breathing or savoring the sweetness of your perfume.

He wished he could lie to Satoru's face, instead of confessing that he masturbated multiple times in the shower with your image in his head, or fucked people pretending it was your trembling figure under his. His fascination with everything about you was so unexpected that he can barely keep his thoughts in line, and now they just overflow, unexpectedly, until they become uncontrollable.

He flexes his muscles as he acquires a settled posture, crossing his legs and nodding his head. He takes a sip of the liquor in his glass. “Yes.” His voice was forceful at the confession, sliding his intense eyes on the white-haired man. “It was on the night we agreed to that contract with Mitsui. You introduced her to us. To Shoko, Nanami, and me. I couldn't get her out of my mind ever since.” He let out a sigh, leaning his head back. “I knew she had to be special, because, fuck, you don't like just any girl—but she was more charming than I expected.” He paused, and said, “Does that upset you?”

Despite the fact that Gojo stays in an extreme sepulchral muteness that is unusual, there is a question that disturbs the recesses of his head, in that specific space in his office away from the eyes of others. A tidal wave of possibilities are reborn in events that were memorialized in liquor, and now bloom back to demonstrate their potency.

It's not like the idea is entirely out of place. After all, Satoru loves to have what others do not. He knows he won the lottery with you, and he enjoys it every time he has you beneath him, your legs against your chest as his cock drills your pussy, reminding you that you belonged to him.

But now that there's a new possibility—Suguru's feelings, and his own past with the aforementioned—his imagination takes a drastic change. A play that appears beneath his eyelids as he sighs, Suguru sitting right there, watching, expectant, as his own lithe fingers pump your pussy and opens you up just for him. For them.

It's dangerous, then, for such an idea to flourish, and even more so when you're supposed to visit him in his office in less than...

He looked at his watch.

Oh. Of course. Five minutes.

“Oh, Suguru. Why would I be upset? You just have a nasty habit of liking pretty girls, especially if they are my girl. Isn’t that what you’re trying to say?” His tone of voice was icy, even when his look and smile indicated otherwise. “At the end of the day, we've always liked the same girls. It's not unrelated to our relationship... Despite that, of course, Jazmin—” Now his blue gems were blades, capable of cutting diamond. “It's a special case.”

“You won't get an apology for the uncontrollable, if that's what you expect.” He countered. Gojo just laughed softly, shaking his head. “I think you know perfectly well what I'm getting at.”

He thought about it for a second. 

A part of him, as sickly as it was, just wanted to keep you to himself. To allow no man to touch you. To hold his best friend's hair and smash his face multiple times against the glass surface. However, such a thing was a mere fantasy shining through a confused psyche.

The other part, stronger than he is, beats his rationality.

Curiosity is such a fickle little thing.

“Do you want to fuck my girlfriend, Suguru?” he questioned, rising from his seat. His hand had traveled to the black-haired man's chin, holding his defiant gaze, the cell phone abandoned on the couch. They were used to that unusual tension between the two, of course-—but, currently, it was unbearable. “You want to fuck her little pussy while your fingers are in her mouth and I open her up for you?”

When Suguru raised his hand, holding the back of his neck and forcing him to tilt his face, the position of power became obvious. “Yes,” A smile rose at the corners of his mouth, revealing his sharp fangs. “I want to fuck your girlfriend's little pussy while you open her up for me, and my tongue is down your throat. But I bet you find that idea fascinating, don't you?”

Before there could be a mutual retort, they both heard the knock of the door, Satoru’s secretary's voice murmuring a:

“Mr. Satoru, sorry for… disturbing. Your girlfriend is here. She is wondering if you’re ready to receive her?”

He looked at Suguru, the prevailing erection in his pants, and to the door.

Oh, of course. How could he forget?

“Tell her to come in.” He palmed Suguru’s bulge, earning a grunt, and going back to his standing posture with the cheekiest of smiles. “We have a little surprise for her, if things go accordingly.”

That was the perfect chance.

Satoru Gojo & Suguru Geto.

"I owe you one, Hime.", the soles of her white tennis shoes squeak on the luxurious and expensive black porcelain tile that covered the entire floor of the building as she moved forward with tranquility. Holding her phone between her delicate fingers while hearing the other one babble from the other side of the line.

"I know you can handle the hotel on your own, I know you're capable of it—", steps getting a tidy bit quicker, waving at the employees with a smile on her face before entering the glass elevator with a little hop. "—you're my best friend for a reason, and my right hand woman, of course. You know that I trust you with my life... Don't cuss at me, I know you're blushing." a chuckle echoes in the small compartment as her eyes scan the place around her with mere curiosity, watching as she slowly ascends. Just a few people still present in the building in the glooming night becoming tiny at a glance, like a small anthill.

Tiny figures coming and going with stacks of papers and taking desperate calls with a look of stress plastered on their faces, carefully passing by each of the floors while fixing her hair in the small reflection on the crystal glass. "Plus Kawari is gonna be there today, keep an eye on that prick. I don't want him to make us look bad in front of the guests, he'll probably try to sabotage us somehow."

There's a grimace on her face for a millisecond, and then a wheeze followed by a quiet chuckle. "I know! It looks like a cow licked his hairline... What? Yeah... I have it on, great choice by the way, thank you for that." she gives a quick glance at the lace strap perched over her shoulder under her clothes. "Black is his favorite, I know he's gonna love it— He's been so busy lately... I'm just gonna make him relax a little if you know what I mean.", a small ringing bell echoing in her eardrums lets her know she's arrived to the last floor of the big company. Sliding doors opening wide to make way for her excited figure. "Why did you sound like you were about to throw up? Anyways... I have to go now. Talk to you later, and yeah— I'll let you know how everything goes. Let me know if you need anything, okay? Bye bye."

Her eyes scan the place warily, dim lights adorning the small complexion and the large door at the back of the place, decorated with a minimalist reception desk a few feet away from it. "Azumi, hi!", the complexion of the young woman startles in her place, finishing packing her few belongings before departing. "Is Satoru still here?"

"Oh! Miss Jazmin. Yes, let me inform him of your arrival before I leave.", she watches the girl knock a couple of times, nodding at the other side's words and replying back before turning around. "You can come in now, have a nice evening." and with a final bow from both of them as a sign of respect and farewell, she walks into the huge office.

There is a big smile curving her rosy lips, and a crimson red flooding her cheeks as she comes upon the white-haired man standing in the middle of the place. There is a warm sensation in her belly as her arms wrap around his waist and she inhales his addictive perfume, nuzzling her face into his chest while she does so. "I missed you so much." she murmurs and then deposits a chaste kiss on his bare neck, sensing how his snowy pale skin shivers at the sudden contact.

The woman breaks away for a moment when she hears a throat clearing at a considerable but not so distant distance behind her, realizing the intimidating presence of the black-haired one over the leather couch. "Oh, Suguru! I didn't know you were there, it's been a while... How have you been?", she says with a friendly grin.

The tension is palpable in the atmosphere, so intense that she would be able to cut it with a pair of scissors if it were even visible to the mere eye, forcing her to fix her yellow sundress that reaches her bare thighs, and then turning back to face her boyfriend and whisper an inaudible, "Am I interrupting something? Not that I mind his presence —quite the opposite, actually— but I thought it'd be just the two of us tonight."

#satosugu.mssg #i #SIFJSLNDLAMDOANSÑQMDKNFW #THIS IS PURELY #SLUT BEHAVIOR

[s-aoki]

Nothing was more satisfying than hunting prey.

Gojo Satoru knows that better than anyone. Be it all those curses exorcized from his hand, or his naughty little girlfriend, it wouldn't make a difference. Dealing with a problem is dissecting the root, taking his time to break it into pieces; bit by bit, like a respectable stalker. And who would he be, if not a fan of expectation and the act of getting what he wants under improbable methods?

His Mimi — lovely, sweet Mimi, innocent in her pretension of his prolonged absence. After all, the only courage that can incite her to disobey is a possibility: his presence being null and unknown to correct her behavior. In her distant thought of believing him on a mission, she forgot many things on the list: he doesn't need keys to get in, and his senses are more heightened than the average human. It wasn't a matter of much science for his immediate appearance in the apartment, a paper mache bag with a mochi sticker on the cover.

“Mimi.” He balanced the small bag in his grip, his cell phone in the other. He had the recent message open, sent a few minutes ago. His fangy, ravenous smile appeared in all its imminent defiance, his aggrandized palm guarding the object. “I see your little mouth has become quite agile in my absence, hasn’t it? A couple of days, and we’re already facing bratty behavior.”

A pout played on his lips. He knew he'd gotten her all worked up, in the way she jumped as she watched him slide through the door, sitting on the support of one of the armchairs with his legs crossed. He had the Jujutsu Tech uniform decorating his broad body, and the dark blindfold covered his blue eyes, despite his hair falling messily across his face.

“Thought I could bring you a little souvenir and share it with you as we watch a movie... But, I guess you won't be needing it for now. After all, bratty girls don’t get treats.”

It was amusing. Exhilarating. Grazing her weak spots was one of his pleasures—seeing her melt between his palms, her cheeks flushed, her hair messy; her shirt torn, his hips grinding against the flesh of her ass... Satoru could barely keep his sanity within the endless gap between them, but he didn't mind being patient to prove himself right.

After all, no one can outsmart him. 

(Not even his lovely girl, in need of being tamed.)

“How about we do something entertaining?” He raised the dark blindfold, his blue gems glowing in an intensity that promised a bad time, however; it was a time he would savor with his little mouse. He tilted his face, manspreading and analyzing her up and down. Oh, he wanted to devour her—he wanted to rip her to pieces on his cock, smeared makeup running down her cheeks, and perfectly smudged lip gloss on her lips. A glorious sight. “Since you ruined our possibly romantic little evening with your attitude, I have a little suggestion.”

The blindfold returned to its place, a clap of both hands and in an instant—a brief instant, where there's a darkened hue in his gaze. A hostility in his aura, carried by an animalistic instinct growing between his ribs. Suddenly, a snap of fingers resounds on the room, and one of the first lights goes out. Followed by the other. And the other—

“Why don't we play Little Red Riding Hood and the Big Bad Wolf? I'm, of course, the Big Bad Wolf, and you're Little Red Riding Hood. You've always looked adorable in red, after all.”

A guttural laugh, and the house going dark. A gust of wind ending in a sharp movement, his figure leaving the couch and positioning himself behind her, pressing his hand against her tummy, the opposite one going to her chin to hold it tightly and bring his lips to her ear:

“Little Red Riding Hood, you have thirty seconds to run... And if I find you…”

A bite to her earlobe, a grasp, and gentle pressure around the dermis of her throat.

“—I'm going to fuck that filthy mouth of yours until you cry, and I'll fill up that cunt with all my cum until your tummy is full. You don't want to know what will happen to your body if I slam you against a wall and suffocate you with a gag, do you?”

Satoru Gojo.

It was frightening.

The way in the blink of an eye your presence invaded her, overwhelmed her even. Feeling your rough hands on her again and again and again like a broken record, a core, pure muscle memory feeling your single touch everywhere. The timbre of your voice echoing in her ears made an electric current run through her body from head to toe and a gasp left her throat.

Maybe it was the way you talked to her, or the way you grabbed into her fiercely, or how your primitive instincts took hold of you that made a pool to form in between her legs—and she absolutely enjoyed it. Loved it even, not being able to hide the mischievous grin that formed on her face along with her rosy, heated cheeks as your warm breaths bumped against her neck softly, even sensing that you were smiling just the same over her quivering skin... Oh it was delightful to have the strongest sorcerer alive like this, and it didn't happen quite often, making a challenge to make every second absolutely worth it.

"Big Bad Wolf huh? Oh no!— It's be a complete shame if you found me, right?." and before you could even answer her, her feet were planted on every step leading her to the second floor. Lucky that there was still light there.

She could feel her heart beating a mile a minute, hands and legs trembling with each quick step trying to find something safe along with an incredible rush of adrenaline strucking every single part of her.

"Be quick, fuck—quick!" she said to herself as she entered the guest room, illuminated only by the faint moonlight that managed to penetrate the closed window and... Bingo!

Hiding in the small closet amidst quilts and old clothes, counting down the seconds little by little until—

One.

#gojo.mssg #su #fi #cien #te

[s-aoki]

A little harder, huh? So we're being feisty now. I didn't realize you were that needy, but I can match that energy just perfectly fine. Poor little thing. So lonely. Probably missed getting stuffed, yeah? We can arrange that.

If you ask it nicely. Otherwise, I won't respond on behalf of my actions.

—Satoru Gojo.

You sound a little pent up, pretty boy. Might as well take care of your little problem first before asking for such pretentions because I won't ask for it nicely.

#gojo.mssg #I can't #I CAN'T #I DON'T WANNA FOLD #I WON'T DO IT NO NO NO

[s-aoki]

Oh, Mimi, my sweet girl. Didn't you miss me? It seems like apparently you did. Perhaps we need to fix that now, don't we?

—Satoru Gojo.

I missed you so much, 'Toru. You have no idea but you've been away for too long... I guess you'll have to try a little bit harder.

#gojo.mssg #stop #I don't open this app for this #i came looking for pictures #PICTURES #GO AWAY

[s-aoki]

you gotta moan and tell her nasty little things right into her ears in between kisses when you fuck her.

#@ gojo

[s-aoki]

"Don't you think you're being too careless? Maybe we should go over our defense again..." Comments an agitated Yuuji, shuffling the papers on the table, messing the sheets back and forth and in the course of narrowly missing them away from the table due to the gentle movement of the ceiling fan.

Geto thinks he worries too much about nothing, he is even offended by the level of concern his pupil exudes beside him, does he not know who he is working with? The fact makes the black coffee taste much more bitter than he usually tolerates it.

"Yuuji." He stops him in his tracks, calling his name in a way that tells him the level of exasperation he causes him.

"Yes?"

Geto slides 12,000¥ across the table, not even moving his eyes from his main attraction when he feels his assistant's heavy gaze on him, curious and hesitant. "Go and order yourself a coffee, a treat... I don't know, whatever you prefer and take a walk around. See you in twenty at the courthouse."

"Sir, it seems to me that..." Two of his fingers tap on the flat bill, silencing a sentence that's left halfway through. Yuuji sighs resignedly, closing the black folder that holds inside the case they're litigating this morning and rises from the chair, reluctantly dragging the seat under his legs. "As you command boss."

Finally. Some peace. It is only at that moment that Geto is able to relax in his seat. His back stays straight against the backrest and he drops his shoulders a few inches towards the floor. Yuuji is a good boy, a grad student who decided to intern at his law firm but unfortunately doesn't know how to keep his mouth shut, even when Geto is busy....

Because he was...

According to him.

How was he supposed to pay attention to a hormonal teenager when you were only a couple of feet in front of him? Were you aware of his presence and just playing hard to get, or had you just not noticed him? Either way— you had him trapped in the palm of your hand, wrapped in that aura you exude of elegance, sensuality and intelligence.

Geto pauses to revel in the way you nibble on the leg of your glasses and type rapidly for a couple of seconds.

You are beautiful. And he wouldn't be satisfied with just seeing you from afar, he wants to confirm the color of your eyes, what the tone of your voice would be like, what your perfume would smell like... so he decides not to waste time, in one long sip he finishes emptying the plastic cup and elegantly picks up the folder and after putting the chair back in its original place, he heads in your direction with the same intensity of a hunter.

"May I sit down?" It almost sounds like a statement, a voice a couple of feet above your head calls for your attention— before you decided to answer, his hand was already resting on the back of the chair. "I don't mean to intrude, I was just wondering if I could buy you a coffee."

S. Geto.

Typing, typing and more typing.

She could feel that at any moment she might go crazy in the middle of that stupid café. It wasn't that she didn't love her job, on the contrary, she thought she could take more time off than she did work days, but right now the thought of affording a break was out of the question, especially when her client had been accused of committing fraud.

Too many loose ends and too much incriminating evidence to put together a good defense, she could even think of a reliable witness but not even that could help right now, or could pay for someone to pretend to be one but she was way too honest and valued her work too much to stain her image with something so idiotic like that.

With a small cry, the poor girl slumps back in her chair, and the incessant bounce of her leg under the table doesn't seem to help ease her nerves right now, and is sure a couple of gray hairs have grown from the stress and her shoulders feel too heavy for her liking, if only....

Beep, beep.

"No—no, no, no, no," she desperately stares at the black computer screen through the crystals, her eyes shift back and forth over it as her fingers press the tiny keys as if they will charge the device just by touching them repeatedly. "Fuck this."

The resignation is unmistakable in her voice, her lips letting out a deep sigh already surrendered, and her fingers hook on the small elastic holding her hair to loosen it and let it fall over her shoulders.

"If only you had kept your mouth shut." she utters with a tinge of frustration as her eyelids flutter shut when a pair digits entangle themselves in the strands to massage her scalp.

Maybe working in a coffee shop every day part time for a small salary will keep her sane, it's not much but it would give her the peace this doesn't, plus free coffee and—

Your sudden appearance startles her a little, snapping her out of her thoughts as her orbs land on you through a pair of glasses, not being able to help the heat that rushes through her cheeks. "Yes, please. Have a seat, it's no problem.", she regains her composure, straightening her spine and a smile curves those rosy lips as her full attention is directed at you. "I could use a beer right now but I guess a coffee is fine, thank you.", her hand gently closes her computer, too busy studying you, "I'm Italia by the way, nice to meet you."

#geto.mssg #ayuda me siento puta

[s-aoki]

It is like a switch.

It is the fine line between his self-control and his inability to have lucid senses, a fragile and invisible line that tortures him more often than he would like to accept. At times he has been able to manage it, but in this case, it is non-existent. He no longer possesses inhibitions that bind him from acting like an animal, so he lets go — he lets it all out, a guttural moan coming from his lips at your caresses, and everything was a blur after that.

He withdrew his fingers, paused his movements, and lowered his countenance. There was a sudden heavy aura when he didn't respond to your provocations directly, lowering you from the counter as if it were a sign of surrender, though it was not. It was a declaration of war, and you were destined to lose from the first moment you opened your mouth, his complexion abruptly pushing back a chair to push his way into the glass of the dining room table — and when he faces you once more, there is a chilling, immovable expression on his facial features.

If you wanted him to treat you like his whore so badly, that's just what he was going to do, tired of giving you chances or listening to your defiant prayers. No. He stopped playing with you to give you whatever you wanted, as he would now take whatever he wanted without considering your opinion. Your will would be reduced to supplications, and that was the conclusion of the story, his aggression palpable when his arm pushes the fruit bowl or the centerpiece ornaments to the floor, the clatter so loud it echoes through the walls, but he doesn't care. He doesn't care in the fucking slightest anymore, least of all when he lifts you up by the waist and lays you roughly against the surface, spreading your legs so that you end up sprawled out in front of him, messy strands tumbling over your shoulders, a vision of utter vulnerability.

“What the fuck were you saying?” eyes furrowing in malice, enlarged hand spreading your labia, and leaning down to peek between your legs. Your pretty swollen clit, his tongue wandering where his cock had been pressing earlier, a clash of gazes revealing its darkened hue. A loss of Megumi Fushiguro. Sweet, lovely, gentle Fushiguro, depositing a glob of spit that fell into your pussy messily, his tongue spreading it across your folds, sucking where you needed it most — but gradually ascending to your abdomen, his hand slapping your pussy as he did so. “Look at you right now. Open and just for me. My little pet to put in her place, since you can't seem to shut the fuck up.”

Another slap to your pussy that brought out a gasp from you, his tongue transiting your belly and leaving a trail of saliva mixed with your juices on your body, reaching the valley of your breasts, proceeding to spit in the middle of your tits. He sharpened his smile from feeling every quiver of your complexion, flicking the tip of his tongue to water the saliva across one of your breasts, trapping the tip between his mouth — and played with the nipple between suctions, his hips ascending to sneak into your exposed cunt, finding lodgment in your dripping slit, teasing it, pushing in and out but — barely, just to keep you on your toes. He was doing it so that the saliva he left, the fluids and his pre-seminal liquid made a mess, pushing the tip inside you, letting your walls flutter around it with just a little much of the girth.

Megumi let go of your tit and a trickle of saliva attached to it, his free hand going up to your hair to lift you up a little by a tug, your spine slightly arched in an awkward position where your elbows were your only support on the table — and with two fingers in a “V” sign he opened your pussy lips, giving you a close-up view of your cunt sucking him in without having the full thickness inside you.

“See how your needy little pussy is huggin’ my cock?” A darkened chuckle comes from his pharynx. He's mocking you. He's mocking your very pitiful expression, and how vulnerable you are to his caresses, his face tilting to lean into you without abandoning his haughty expression. “And it's just the tip. You're so desperate I bet you'd let me fuck you like this, wouldn't you?” He tugs your silky hair a little more to give you a better view of how he thrusts in and out, your figure so tiny that you can barely hold his veiny cock throbbing with so little inside. “Would you let me burst my load inside your pussy?” he questions, looking down at you as if he is superior. “No, actually… Instead, I should knock you up.”

He looks thoughtful for a second, inserting a little more than the tip, and pulling it out immediately, leaving you empty — he sees the contraction in your chest. Megumi, again, laughs. Darkly, even.

“I should really fuck my seed into you and get you pregnant with my second child,” he announces, thrusting his hips again, and taunting your quickened breaths as he comes out again from inside you. “Fuckin' slut, so needy for dick and yet so proud.” His face leans toward yours and he sees you open your lips gently, but he spits into your mouth, the trickle of saliva running down the corner of your lips. “Can't talk now with your mouth full, can you? Swallow it.” He pushes you back so that your head touches the sturdy glass, glaring at you. “It's such a shame. I wanted to hear you mouth all the bullshit that you said earlier, but guess it can’t be helped… You only want me to breed this pussy until it overflows, right? Should give my pretty bitch what she wants.”

He is obviously going to destroy you.

It's all too much, an overwhelming sensation that gnaws at her insides and clouds her mind when she feels your soft lips wrap around her perky nipples in desperation.

A throaty moan filling your ears when your flat tongue sneaks over it, forcing her to arch her back and bring you a little bit closer. "So easy to rail up... fuck—" a cry escapes her lips as she feels the cold metal of the piercing make contact with her warm center, and if it weren't for your body obstructing her passage, she would have been able to close her legs instantly. "—so easy to piss off."

It all happens too fast for her mind to process, blinded by the lust, the burning heat your body transmits to her because of how close you are, she can feel your cologne flooding her senses and a little layer of sweat covering the both of you, making the heat even more relentless between the two of you.

So much more when your cock finally penetrates her tight hole, feeling so full yet so empty, painfully stretching her out with just the mere tip going inside. "You say all that but look how hard you are.", a breathless laugh escapes her and she has to bite back the urge to say... no, to beg you to slide in a little bit more. "You can deny it all you want but you love it, you love when I talk back."

Squeezing on purpose around you, so tight that she gets to coax a deep moan out of you. "You get so hard when I talk shit, just how I like it and how I want.", she bites her lip, her nails digging hard into your arms when you insert a little more. Eyes shut tight and mouth dropping into a silent scream when the pleasure is almost immense. "Fuck, fuck— right there."

Legs like jelly, quivering on either side of your waist as he feels a wave of heat make itself present in his lower abdomen. "Yeah, pretty boy? I'd like to see you try —ah!— maybe you're good enough to actually knock me up, who knows?" her hands ascend to your neck, seeking some support from the slightly awkward position, her fingers losing themselves in the soft black strands that adorn your hair as you approach.

She feels the little trickle on her warm tongue, sliding slowly over it as a smile takes over her face and she shakes her head slightly. A kiss breaks the distance, messy, desperate, heaving breaths mingling as her tongue enters your cavity, exploring every corner. Her fingers tug at your hair, moaning right into your mouth and she swallows the mix of your spit and hers. "Done, just like daddy wanted." Using a rather condescending tone just to tease you, licking her lips at the sensation of the cold glass under her back, causing you to arch her up thanks to the slight chill of it, sticking her body and brushing her nipples against yours in the process. "Doesn't matter what I say, at the end of the day you always give me what I want, right 'Gumi?"

#megumi.mssg #sin comentarios

[s-aoki]

#fuck fuck fuck #gojo #%print 🖨️

[s-aoki]

#:( #gojo #%print 🖨️

[s-aoki]

Come pito

Geto

El tuyo papi

#geto.mssg