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Persona 3-Mitsuru Kirijo/Reader
Erotica Sex Story: Persona 3-Mitsuru Kirijo/Reader - A collection of short one-shots that may or may not become full stories down the road. Enjoy!
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa mt/ft Ma/ft mt/Fa Fa/Fa ft/ft Mult Coercion Consensual Hypnosis Reluctant Lesbian BiSexual Heterosexual Fan Fiction High Fantasy School Superhero Science Fiction Aliens Alternate History Magic Demons Cheating Cuckold Slut Wife Wimp Husband BDSM DomSub MaleDom FemaleDom Humiliation Rough Gang Bang Group Sex Interracial Black Female White Male White Female Anal Sex First Facial Oral Sex Tit-Fucking Big Breasts Leg Fetish Public Sex Small Breasts
Work at the Kirijo Corp was already a step above the rest. The prime of Japan’s elite, to be here you had to be something special. It was definitely enough to give anyone an ego.
Even if you were just a grunt in the end. Shuffling about in this office, you did the usual work of delivering mail. Not that you knew what any of it meant, there was so much of it, and you couldn’t make heads or tails of it. But that was the average day. Show up on time, file in reports, and make sure everything on your end showed up. Not the most glamorous work, but the pay made it worth it.
As did a certain other person. Your boss, the lovely Mitsuru Kirijo. A bombshell of a woman, well endowed with long and perfect legs and a rump that would drive men crazy, her long red hair was always perfect and stylish and she was always perfectly dressed too with just the right amount of dangerous underneath. She carried herself with style and precision.
Tonight on New Year’s Eve made it even more special. You’ve been called ahead to a special assignment. While everyone was off from work to celebrate the New Year celebrations, Ms. Kirijo herself decided to call you on up on a personal call. Unpaid overtime.
You show up on time no problem. Deep in your mind you have more than a few words for the Kirijo heiress. But it’s not like you plan on saying anything. Say one stupid remark and she could have you out of a job. Or worse. You know your place.
Showing on up tonight, in your cubicle there’s already a note waiting for you. It tells you to meet her personally in her office. Sighing, you resign yourself for the worst.
There in her office, she’s sitting in her seat with her back facing you, the seat is too big to even see her, her white fur coat draped upon the back of it. Can’t see her, but you can see what she’s doing, she’s busy overlooking some documents. Her office is as luxurious as ever. Potted plants with only the finest of orchids and roses, they could fit in a greenhouse. Paintings that are worth more than your life adorning the walls. A sign of prestige, her power. Of what you don’t have.
She’s busy talking to herself in French, almost in a lackadaisal singsong manner. You knock awkwardly on the door to get her attention. Her song pauses on the spot, you wonder if you did something wrong.
The big seat with the white fur coat twirls on around. Your breath almost stops in your chest upon getting a good look at her. Not just from her prestige and her power over you but the way she looks too. Her long red hair is styled in an ornate bun wrapped around her head, several braids hanging from the back of her head. That face of hers is as gorgeous as ever, her full lips in her dark smile reflecting her wicked intentions, her eyes sparkling with a demonic intelligence.
And there’s so much more than that too. She’s wearing a long sleeved pink dress shirt that shines under the light, dazzling and fashionable all on it’s own, but the collar of it is split open to reveal her massive cleavage, it’s taking you all your power not to look. There’s more too, she’s wearing a short little black skirt, her luxurious legs coated in thin black nylons and her feet tapped out in stiletto heels, with the gleam of her crafty eyes shining behind the lens of her horn rimmed glasses, her luscious lips adorned and coated in a shiny purple lipstick that makes her look irresistible. All in all, she’s perfect.
Locking eyes with her, you finally have the courage to ask her, “Kirijo-san. How can I help you?”
She arches her eyebrow, in amusement as if she’s telling herself a private joke. That sly grin still on her face. “Oh yes, that. Tell me, what did you think when I asked you to come work here tonight?” You’re about to speak a canned response when she says, “And do be honest. I do hate liars.”
You gulp in your throat. “Honest?”
“Oh yes,” she says, leaning forward. Mitsuru is still smiling but there’s an edge in her eyes that wasn’t there before. “And I especially hate brown-nosers.”
Closing your eyes, you summon your nerve. “I was angry.”
There’s no use hiding it anymore, the cat’s out of the bag. But her face doesn’t change. She doesn’t say a word. Instead she lays back and crosses those shapely legs of hers, spilling even more out of her little tight skirt. Finally she says, “Go on.”
“I wanted to party with my friends. I wanted to be there for the new year. And I know I’ve done everything I’ve supposed to do at work. I wondered why you singled me out.”
“Singled you out?” Her lips curl slightly into a smile. “Yes, I suppose I did do that. Especially with no pay...” Her eyes flitted to the side and then she said, “But I suppose it isn’t so bad, non?” The last word spoken in French, her already sultry voice sounds exotic. “Spending the last night of the year with moi?”
There’s no beating around the bush of what she’s getting at anymore. Mitsuru Kirijo is one hell of a woman, from her ferocity to her beauty, and being in her presence all the time is as scary as it is exciting. Whenever it’s your turn to file in a report or you run into her in the middle of a hallway, it should just be business as usual, but just speaking to her, you know to mind your manners. Not just because of showing respect to your boss, it’s that she’s a woman of such class and beauty. And yet every rose has it’s thorns.
Not like you can properly speak around such a beautiful woman. That wise smile on her gorgeous face, she takes off her glasses so you see her fully. It’s not the first time you’ve seen her without those glasses on, in photoshoots and magazine covers when people hailed her as the next big thing back when she had only just graduated from Gekkoukan, and her beauty had only filled out in the five years since. But seeing her in person without them on, you’re at a loss to her sheer beauty. It’s like you’re seeing her again for the first time.
The way she’s looking at you too, you know those aren’t prescription glasses.
The start to a new year, right?
Finding your nerve, at last you say, “It’s not bad at all Kirijo-san. In fact, I could imagine no better way to spend this time at all.”
You’re more excited than ever. But she doesn’t say anything, and looking at you, that wicked smile hasn’t left her face once. Not saying a word either, the silence eventually becomes so deafening that you remember what she said to you. That she hates brown-nosers.
Oh fuck. Is she going to perform an execution on me?
Then she simply laughs quietly to herself, the erotic echo of that voice in her throat makes your heart race with thrill and terror. Reaching behind her head, you watch her undo her bun, her braids, all of it. It’s rude to watch a woman undo herself like this and for one like this even worse, beauty and fashion is very important to her. Her long red hair almost violet fall in long and natural curls.
“Then, how about you prove it?”
It could be an invitation. Respond the wrong way and you’ll regret it for the rest of your life. But the way she’s dressed and alone with you this last day of the year, there’s no way in hell you’re not going to take this chance.
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