Takata Mashiho Oneshots

Stay focused

"Takata, what's your girl doing here?" Jimmy, his trainer asked, glaring in your direction.

Mashiho straightened his posture, turning around to see you walking in with a white tank top, ripped a little down the middle, tits practically hanging out, and those stupid jean shorts he loved so much.

You couldn't help yourself, you'd been teasing him at home with booty shorts, oversized shirts with hardly anything underneath, driving him completely insane. Also, you blame your outfit choices on the stupid heatwave, it wasn't your fault.

"fucking hell--" Mashiho wiped the sweat off of his head, beginning to take off his gloves. "I'll take care of it," he said to his trainer.

"You have five minutes Takata."

Unabashedly, you grin and wave your manicured fingers at your boyfriend who's heading towards you.

He walked over, pulling you away into a darkened hallway, away from the others, caging you in against the wall. "What are you doing here? You know you can't be here," Mashiho scowled at you. You knew how important this match was to him, his career.

"You weren't picking up your phone and I needed a cool place to hang out in because our air conditioning broke...again," you explained, hoping he'd have some kind of sympathy for you.

Mashiho clicked his teeth. "Fuck. Okay, I'll call someone to come repair it, but you...you gotta go. now."

"You're not happy to see me?" You teased, tucking a piece of his drenched fringe back, only to have it fall back into place.

He licked his lips. "Of course, I love seeing you, but I gotta stay focused...and right now...I'm not focused," he said, glancing down at your tits, causing his d*ck to become strained in his shorts. Mashiho darted his eyes back at yours. "You should go."

You shrugged, proceeding to walk away. "'kay. See you at home Mashi."

Fuck. Mashiho felt bad for being so brash with you, but he needed to be. "Wait--" you abruptly stop, returning to your previous position against the wall, peering through your long eyelashes at him. He closes the distance between the two of you. "Sorry--I just...haven't being able to touch you in weeks has made me gone mad."

"You're a dummy. Jimmy said you can't fuck me, he didn't say you couldn't touch me or yourself."

"I know but...if I touch you, then I can't stop, you know that," he whispers, leaning his forehead against yours.

You slightly nudge your nose against his. "Jimmy didn't say anything about me touching you..." your words trailing off...hands too, toying with the elastic of his shorts.

"Baby... don't..." His eyes flutter shut, imagining your hands wrapped around his hard length. you bit your bottom lip, watching the torture and tension happening within himself.

"Turn around," he whispered. fuck--he knew this was a bad idea, but you couldn't help grinning while you turned to face the wall, cheeks pressed against the cool wall.

Mashiho glanced in the direction of his trainer to make sure no one was watching. Your breathing began to slow down, waiting for him to make his move. Mashiho placed his large hand on your right ass cheek, squeezing and kneading causing you to whine. The simplest touch put you over the edge. This is the first time he's touched you in four weeks, you'd been doing the work yourself since he refused to go near you. His body was now flushed against yours, making you feel hard length pressed against your ass.

he leaned in, lips ghosting the shell of your ear, "you're gonna be the death me, you know that." you nodded at his words, biting down on your bottom lip, wiggling your ass at his strained c*ck. but Mashiho stepped back, leaving you frustrated and annoyed.

"Gotta stay focused, baby," he said casually before walking off, with a shit-eating grin on his face.

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