Every Version Of Him Is Sweet - Tumblr Posts
— BURN BRIGHT FOR ME | bokuto x fem!reader
-> synopsis: the club isn’t the best place to find a lover but maybe the stage is
-> cw: NSFW, MDNI 18+, smut, stripper!bokuto, brief mentions of alcohol, lap dances, dry humping, cunnilingus, spit, body worship, protected vaginal sex, praise, manhandling, size kink
-> wc: 7k help
-> a/n: this has taken me forever to write so pls don’t let it all go to waste 🥹
The club is heaving, as one would expect on a Friday night, lit up only by dimmed spotlights and chandeliers. A thick fog of white smoke carpets the floor, spilling out from strategically placed machines hidden behind heavy curtains that have now been pulled back for tonight's performance. The air is alive with a buzz of excitement, the tang of alcohol and the sweet scent of women’s perfume clouding your senses where you sit. The table you’re sharing with your friends gives you the best seats in the house, a perfect view of what you’re paying good money to see.
They giggle and chatter and you can’t help feeling a thrill of anticipation run down your spine as the announcer makes her way to the front with a dazzling grin to get the show started. The three of you came here on a whim when you stumbled across one of the performers' social media accounts. Out of mild curiosity, you began to dig through the handsome man’s profile, before discovering a link that took you to the club’s website and before you could think twice, you sent it to the group chat. Needless to say, the girls took one look at the gallery and decided that it would be a crime to pass up the opportunity to see a bunch of muscular men stripping on stage.
“It’s starting!” Kaori squeals as the lighting is cut out completely, plunging the whole place into darkness. Music pours out from around you, slow and sensual, the beat settling heavily in your bones as it thumps rhythmically. One by one, stage lights burst to life, shining on each performer in time with the music. Every man is clad in a perfectly tailored tuxedo, top hats tipped low to shield their eyes in mystery, giving you only a taste of the sharp line of their jaws, their gloved hands folded neatly over black canes. The last spotlight turns on, right in the centre, revealing the final entertainer of the night. There’s a broad, charming grin on his face as he tips up the brim of his hat and winks at the crowd.
After that, the night becomes a blur.
There’s a lot of giggling, squealing and cheering as you watch performance after performance. After their initial introduction, each dancer has the stage to himself turn by turn, leaving their audience to fan their hot cheeks and toss every bill in their wallets on stage, even tucking them into the waistbands of their impossibly tiny underwear when they get close enough.
You feel like you’re caught in some delicious daydream, as ridiculously gorgeous men shed their clothes and thrust the air, purely for your entertainment. A few people from the audience are coaxed onto stage for lap dances, and you quickly find that those parts are the most entertaining. The way they encourage their guests to run their hands over their muscular bodies, guiding them gently and whispering things in their ears makes you feel more than a little hot under the collar.
But out of all of them, the one that catches your eye, to no great surprise, is the star of the club. His performance is last and by far the best, in your humble opinion. A murmur ripples through the crowd as he steps on, an easy grin on his face. Almost immediately, the audience begins to chant ‘take it off!’ and he winks, launching into his routine. He’s the only one that has kept the tuxedo as his costume, flinging his hat off into the sea of people before him, revealing bright, golden eyes and salt and pepper hair pushed up and away from his face.
This man is truly of a different calibre to the rest, you quickly realise. He has a way of hypnotising you with every movement, sensual and fluid as he pulls off his clothes one by one, revealing more and more of his perfectly sculpted form. You can’t tear your eyes away from him or his broad chest. But it’s not just the way he looks - the whole room feels electric from his presence, more bills fluttering around the stage like confetti, your own money joining the fray.
And then you blink and the tip of a cane appears beneath your chin. Your friends are nudging you forwards, encouraging you to accept his invitation and you quickly find yourself placing your hand in his so that he can hoist you onto the stage with him.
“Are you okay being up here?” he murmurs in your ear, guiding you to sit in the chair that has been brought out for this portion of his routine. You nod, taking a seat and willing your heartbeat to slow down.
“I am. I think.”
Large hands brace themselves on the back of the chair, his forearms bracketing the slope of your neck, trapping you against it. His voice is deep and just a little bit rough but kind nonetheless. “Good. Would you like to touch me?”
You’re taken aback for a moment but the raucous audience encourages you to whisper your assent and he grins wolfishly, causing you to shiver from excitement. He starts by testing the waters, grinding his hips in the tiny space between you, almost brushing against you but staying clear - enough to tempt but not enough to make you uncomfortable. Testing the waters, you suppose. “Keep your eyes on me,” he tells you. “I want you to enjoy this.” Shyly, your gaze slides up from your lap to meet his eyes, breath catching in your throat when you meet deep pools of gold. They’re sultry but gentle, bright and beautiful and completely mesmerising, just like the rest of him, if not more.
“I’m going to take your hands now. Is that okay?” he whispers.
“Yes,” you breathe. At this point, you think you’d agree to absolutely anything he asked of you, completely caught under his thrall. His hands slide down from your shoulders to your wrists, grasping them loosely before he leans back a little and guides your own pair over his torso, letting you run your palms over his taut abs, his skin warm and a little damp with sweat under your touch. Letting go of you for a moment, he grasps his trousers and tugs them off in one quick motion, the sound of velcro pulling apart drowned out by the crescendoing music and more ecstatic cheering.
Left in nothing more than his too-tight underwear to conceal whatever is left of his modesty, your cheeks flood with heat, and a giddy giggle tumbles from your lips as he begins to lead your hands over his rippling body once more. “You good?” he asks, smirking at the excited twinkle in your eyes.
“So good,” you reply, as he takes your hands lower.
“How about now?” he snickers, letting your fingers brush over his tailbone. “This okay?”
“Yeah, it is.”
“Then let’s take these pretty hands lower.” You allow him to slide your hands down to the pert globes of his ass, your whole face flaming hot as your palms settle there. Releasing them, he grips the back of your chair once again, moving his hips in time with the music as he dips his head until he is but a hair's breadth away from your lips. The rest of the room falls away as his warm breath plays against your lips, the music becoming a dull thud in your ears, like you’re numb to all but the man before you. Euphoria courses through your veins, a new sort of high that you didn’t think you could experience at the hands of a stranger, and yet here you sit, skin tingling and alive from his sheer proximity.
“Are you gonna kiss me?” you find yourself asking teasingly, and his brows bounce up briefly in surprise as you dare to squeeze his ass.
“I’m not allowed to do that, I’m afraid.”
“I can touch your ass but can't kiss you?” you pout and he grins.
“Not right now you can’t,” he tells you. “I’m gonna lift you now, okay?” You nod, shrieking in surprise despite the warning when he scoops you up with little to no effort, letting you wrap your legs around his waist whilst your arms loop around his neck. The audience whoops behind you and you can’t help feeling just a little bit smug.
“Hot and strong,” you flirt. Where has this sudden surge of confidence come from? You’re not usually this brazen. This whole atmosphere is doing something to you. “Careful, or you’ll take my heart along with the rest of my cash.”
“These muscles aren’t just for show,” he says cockily. “Am I okay to dip you a little?”
Nodding, you allow him to flatten his hands against your back and let your torso drop away from him and down towards the floor, eliciting another squeal from you. From there, he lays you on the stage, right on top of his earnings for the night, rolling his whole body as he follows you down in a dive. Looming over you, he checks in with you again, his nose trailing down your throat and between your breasts.
Now, it bears mentioning that there is a reason as to why you are currently trapped beneath a hot stripper, why your friends insisted almost immediately that you pay this club a visit. It’s been an entire year since your fiance broke things off with you, and you’ve spent the majority of that time healing (read: moping). An entire year since you’ve been this close to an attractive man, let alone touched by one. But the extended dry spell of yours ends here, the rains of desire flooding deep in your belly as the man above you rolls his hips into yours and sends your mind spiralling, the half-hard bulge in his underwear dragging over your mound briefly with each sensual snap of his hips
“At least ask me to dinner first,” you joke breathlessly as he drops himself even closer to you, so that there's only a mere sliver of sexually charged air between your bodies.
“Do you want me to?”
“Would you?”
“I don’t see why not. You’re very pretty.”
“Is that so?” you murmur, belly swooping low with butterflies at the sincerity in his voice.
“‘Course. You can stick around and see what happens if you like.”
The performance begins to come to a close far sooner than you would like as he lifts you effortlessly into the air once again, placing you delicately on your feet before helping you off the stage. Is it a trick of the light and the result of too much loneliness, or does he keep glancing in your direction as his routine ends? Regardless, you sigh wistfully as he exits the stage, bringing the night of raunchy dances to a close.
“I can’t believe you got to go up there!” Yukie whines from, beside you. “Lucky bitch.”
“It looked like you were talking,” Kaori says, sipping from her martini glass and looking at you pointedly over the rim.
“He was just making sure I was okay with everything,” you say vaguely.
“Aw, that’s actually really sweet!”
“Right?”
The night wears on and soon enough, your smartly suited waiters are replaced by the performers of the night, much to the delight of every patron in the establishment. They wander around serving drinks and such, wearing dazzling smiles and little else. Secretly, you hope the stripper you briefly flirted with will look in your direction.
“I wish I could stay here forever,” Yukie sighs, shamelessly ogling whoever she could set her greedy eyes on.
“You could always come again,” comes a deep, playful voice. Your head whips up in recognition. Speak of the devil. “Did you ladies enjoy the show?”
The girls giggle and gush to him as he sets down your drinks, his eyes lingering on you as he delicately places your glass before you. You dare not meet his eyes, cheeks flaming as you recall what transpired not too long ago. Ever the entertainer, he chats animatedly with your friends, laughing loudly over the general buzz of the club.
“How about you?” He directs his question at you, his wide grin settling into something more mischievous. “What did you think?”
“Who, me?”
“Yeah.”
“Of what?”
“Of my performance, of course,” he says without missing a beat. “They don’t call me a star for nothin’!”
“So it would seem.” It feels like all eyes are on you and this man, Kaori and Yukie glancing furtively between the two of you and this odd tension that seems to simmer in the space between you.
“You didn’t like it?” he asks, almost sullenly, and it’s his tone that makes you look up with a raised brow.
“No, I did,” you affirm slowly. “I’ve never experienced anything quite like it.”
“Which part was your favourite?” Warmth creeps up your cheeks as your brief time on stage with him quickly flashes behind your eyes. Any confidence you had felt up there really was in the heat of the moment, and you can find no way to slip back into that side of you.
“All of it?” you answer unsurely, trying desperately not to give away that you very much enjoyed being under him. Apparently, it’s the right thing to say, because his bare chest puffs with pride as he comes around to your side of the table, taking the empty seat beside you.
“I’ve got a fan on my hands, huh?” he teases, waggling his thick brows.
“Oh my god,” you mumble, hiding your face in your hands out of embarrassment as the girls around you laugh. Maybe you shouldn’t have said that.
“Hey, hey, c’mon! Don’t get shy on me now!” he complains lightly, lower lipping pushing out in a pout - you can’t help thinking that expression looks downright adorable on him.
“I’m not!” you insist, sinking lower in your seat, not helping your case in the slightest.
“I think it’s time for a bathroom break, Kaori,” Yukie announces suddenly and the other girl nods and they rise from their seats in unison. They disappear before you can protest, leaving you alone with him.
“I didn’t catch your name,” he says as you watch them leave.
“I didn’t catch yours,” you shoot back reflexively.
“You want my real name?”
“Of course. A name for a name. It’s only fair, right?”
“I suppose that’s true!” he exclaims. “But don’t let the boss know I told you, ‘kay? It’s kinda against the rules.”
“What an odd rule,” you hum and he shrugs.
“Yeah, something to do with our privacy or whatever.”
“I see. And you’d be willing to share that with a stranger like me?” He chuckles sheepishly and scratches at his jaw. If the lights were any brighter, you’d see the sweet blush staining his cheekbones.
“It would make you not a stranger, wouldn’t it?”
“I suppose that’s true,” you nod, biting your lower lip to halt your grin from widening. Now that there are no eyes on you, you can allow yourself to relax a little.
“Exactly! I’m Bokuto Koutaro,” he says, sticking his hand out for you to shake. You accept, and offer him your own name, to which he beams at you, almost blindingly. “Pleasure to meet you!”
The two of you barely get to strike up any meaningful conversation before the girls reappear, much to your disappointment. Bokuto rises from his seat and gives you an apologetic smile, his eyes lingering on you as he speaks.
“I’ll leave you ladies to enjoy your night.”
“Actually,” Kaori says slowly, looking between you as she subtly nudges Yukie with her elbow. “We were just about to head to the bar. Right?”
“Huh? But we just got our drin- Oh! Right, right, we were!”
“But guys-”
“See ya later!” they chorus, leaving just as quickly as they came. A moment later your phone lights up with a message in the group chats that reads:
Don’t do anything we wouldn’t do ;)
“That was weird,” he says offhandedly as he sits back down and you hum in agreement, chewing on your lip in thought. It’s quiet for a moment as you sip pensively from your glass, at a complete loss for what to say. Thankfully, it seems he’s used to such lapses in conversation and pipes up. “Actually, how about we talk somewhere more private?”
“Do you talk to all of your customers in private?”
“Sometimes,” he grins, cocking his head to the side playfully. “Sometimes they don’t wanna talk.”
“And what do you do then?” you ask, though you think you already know the answer.
“A gentleman never kisses and tells,” he says and then mumbles under his breath. “Or at least, that’s what Daichi tells me. He’s always so secretive about his customers.”
“Huh?”
“So? Would you like to?”
You blink at him blankly for a moment. Fuck it, you think. I’ll take what I can get at this point. “Why not,” you shrug and take the hand he offers you. Guiding you through the club, the two of you head towards the back, weaving through a maze of tables to pass through a door that deposits you in a quiet, dark corridor.
“Follow me.” The two of you pass by several doors, each emblazoned with a plaque that has a different name etched into it. You quickly realise that these must be the dressing rooms for each performer and after a few more stops, you come to a stop outside of his door. He pushes the door open and pulls you inside. “Welcome to my humble abode. Cool, right?”
The room is brightly lit and littered with scraps of costumes and a pile of loose bills from the night's show. There's a plush sofa pushed against the far wall and his dressing table is littered with cans of hairspray and tubs of gel along with photographs of groups of people that surround his mirror. The room smells heavily of cologne, enough to make your head swim a little. All in all, it’s the sort of space you might expect from a guy like him.
“It’s a little messy, I know, but that’s just how it gets after a show,” he explains, shutting the door behind him. “You should see ‘The Great King’s’ dressing room, it’s way worse, I swear. Anyway, this isn’t what I had in mind. C’mon.”
Bokuto walks towards a door that’s about a foot away from the couch and beckons you over. “Is this the part where you kill me in cold blood,” you joke as you follow him.
“Nah, you’re a little too cute to be my victim.” The compliment is sincere and completely unexpected, causing heat to flood your cheeks. There’s something about him, between the hypnotising presence he has on stage and the sweet, carefree disposition he has off it, that pulls you towards him. Bokuto is magnetic, pulling you into his orbit effortlessly, reeling you in closer and closer, a star burning bright in every way.
This second room is completely different to the first. You wouldn’t call it messy as such, more that it looks lived in. The silky, silvery bed sheets are imperfectly made up, an abundance of pillows sitting against the headboard. The wardrobe is open, but the clothes inside it are neatly hung up and the lights are turned low, a candle flickering softly in the window sill, overlooking the streets below. It smells like cardamom and vanilla, a sweetly comforting blend that wraps around you and makes you feel at ease. Like him, you think idly.
“You live here?”
“Nah, this is just where I crash after a show. It’s like a home away from home y’know?”
“I’m assuming this is where you bring your customers as well?” you ask, pursing your lips and raising an eyebrow at him.
“Nope,” he says, flopping back on the bed and patting the space beside him. “If someone wants to spend the night with me, they usually pay for a hotel room.”
“So why have you brought me here?”
Bokuto shrugs and looks up at the ceiling. “You’re interesting.”
“Let me guess, ‘I’m not like other girls’, am I?” you mock lightly and he laughs, the sound of it endearing.
“Other girls can be interesting, sure,” he says, eyes twinkling as his laughter fades. “But they’re not here right now, are they?”
“Lucky me,” you murmur shyly. “I get to spend the night conversing with the club’s number one stripper.”
“Hey, the people out there would kill to sit where you are. You’re very lucky.”
“You’re not very humble, are you?” you snort.
“It’s true!”
And it is. There’s no arrogance in his tone, no better-than-you smugness to be found in his handsome face. Sure, he’s a little cocky, but it’s not unfounded and it’s not suffocating either - it’s quite attractive, actually. He speaks the truth every time he opens his mouth, exactly as it is and nothing more.
It’s easy to talk to him away from the noise of the club, even easier to laugh with him. The two of you migrate from the edge of the bed to sitting against the leather headboard, lounging in his pile of pillows as you talk about everything and nothing. As it happens, he’s also a relatively unknown volleyball player, but the money he earns from it, as much as he adores the sport, isn’t enough to sustain him - hence, the club.
The night wears on and you slowly grow closer, drawn to one another by some invisible force. You’re laying on your sides, face to face, your hands resting between you, close enough for your fingers to brush. Never in a million years would you expect to be where you are now, laying in bed with a barely clothed stripper way past midnight, in some club you’ve never been to before. In all honesty, this is the first night in a long time that you haven’t paid any mind to your ex. All thoughts of him were trampled into the vinyl flooring the moment you were pulled onto stage.
“Can I ask you something?”
Sort of.
“Yeah.”
Bokuto chews his lip, like he’s picking his words carefully. “What made you come here tonight?”
“That question has a few answers,” you sigh but you decide to be honest. After all, there’s no use pretending anymore. “But honestly, it all comes down to my ex.”
“Trying to get over him?” he guesses.
“Something like that. Now that I think about it, I think I’ve been over him for a while. I’ve just been having trouble forgetting him even though it’s been a whole year since we broke up.”
Bokuto nods sagely. “A lot of people come here to forget. Whether it’s relationship trouble or work stress or whatever, it all gets left out there the moment they step through the doors.”
“My brain does tend to empty itself out when I see a hot, unclothed man,” you hum.
He chuckles and gestures with his hand. “There you go.”
A beat of silence passes, and then it all comes out. “We were supposed to get married,” you tell him quietly. “Everything was perfect. He was the sort of man girls dream about being with, y’know? We were so, so happy.”
“What happened?”
You shrug. “He just left one day. Just poof, vanished. All of his belongings were gone when I woke up. All he left me was a note that said ‘I can’t do this anymore’. That’s all I got.” You laugh humourlessly, picking at the corner of one of his many cushions. “We were on good terms as well! We weren’t fighting, there were no grudges, nothing. As far as I know, he didn’t cheat either. He just… left. I struggled to cope without him for a long, long time.”
“I’m sorry,” he says gently, offering you an apologetic smile. “I know this might not mean much coming from a guy like… well, me.” He gestures vaguely to himself. “But sometimes, you find happiness in the strangest places, places you never thought it would be. You just have to look a little harder.”
“Wow,” you murmur. “That’s quite wise.”
“That’s because I am wise!” he grins proudly, which pulls a giggle out of you and melts the serious air around you. It’s the first time in a good while that you’ve felt a glimmer of hope spark in your heart. You reach out your hand and knit your fingers through his, filled with that same confidence from before that you didn’t know you were capable of.
“Hey, Bo,” you whisper. He hums curiously, golden eyes glowing almost silver as they reflect the moonlight. “Remember what you said? About being a gentleman?”
“Hmm… That we don’t kiss and tell?” He squeezes your hand once, running his thumb over your knuckles in an affectionate manner as you nod.
“Does that apply to me too?”
“Sure it does.”
“So if I kissed you now, would that stay in this room?”
“If that’s what you want, then yeah.”
“What if.” You lick your lips and dare to shuffle closer, until you can make out each of his lashes and all the flecks of amber in his eyes. “What if it was… more than that?”
Reaching out his free hand, he gently runs his knuckles over the swell of your cheek, featherlight and sweet as a whisper. Your eyes flutter shut at his tender touch. Maybe you’re starved for this, any crumb of affection you can get, or maybe the alcohol from earlier still clouds your judgement, but there’s one thing you’re certain of.
You can’t get enough of him.
“It can all stay in here.”
Your mind is made up. Reaching out, you run your fingers over his lower lip, breath catching in your throat as he catches your wrist and stills your hand. Gold burns deep into your soul as he flutters little kisses over your fingertips, dragging his lips down to your palm and then to the inside of your wrist, right where your erratic pulse resides. His lips are warm and soft, curling into a lopsided smile as he suddenly pulls you towards himself, simultaneously twisting himself onto his back. You land half on top of him, bashfully averting your gaze from his.
“Hey,” he murmurs, tipping your chin up. “Eyes on me.” Your mouth feels too dry to spit out a response so you nod, your faces inching closer together until you can feel the warmth of his breath waft over your lips. “I’m gonna kiss you now, okay?”
When he speaks, you can feel his lips ghost over yours in a barely there kiss that makes your heart pound. Who eliminated the gap between you, you’re not certain, but suddenly his mouth is on yours and your fingers are buried in his hair and before you know it, you’re straddling his waist in a desperate attempt to get closer. Someone whines as tongue joins the equation and what begins as tentative and sweet, becomes needy and shameless.
You’re panting into his mouth as your kisses grow messier, unable to still the rocking of your hips right over his half hard cock. There’s been a storm brewing in the darkest depths of your belly all night, and now lightning crackles through your veins whilst thunder takes up residence in your ribcage.
“You sure you want this?” Bokuto grunts as you roll your hips on him just right.
“Do I seem unsure to you?” The breathless sarcasm isn’t lost on him and he huffs out a laugh, his large hands squeezing at the soft flesh of your hips so that he can help guide your movements.
“Just making sure.”
“I’m so glad you’re not wearing anything,” you huff against his mouth. Your hands are greedier than your eyes, wandering every inch of his bare skin. Strong muscles ripple and twitch under your touch, and if you knew him any better, you’d know that he’s actually squirming because he’s ticklish everywhere. “You’re so hot, Bo.”
“Yeah?” he gasps. “Hotter than all the others, right?”
“Way hotter,” you affirm, attaching your lips to his throat and sucking roughly.
“Good. You tryin’ to leave a mark or something?” he chuckles, his hands sliding back to grope at your asscheeks, the fabric of your dress bunching up between his fingers.
You pull back uncertainly, lips kiss-swollen and pupils blown wide with desire. “Is that okay?”
Brushing your hair back, he tugs you back in and kisses you softly and for a moment, it feels like you’re lovers. Like it’s not just your bodies that are about to become intertwined, but your hearts will be entangled too, each vein and artery criss-crossing until you share every beat, every drop of blood.
“It is,” he whispers. All of a sudden, he flips you without any effort, pressing your back into the pillows as he hovers over you, smirking at your surprised little gasp. “But I think you deserve all the attention tonight. Whaddya say?”
Swallowing hard, you nod, relaxing back as he carefully unzips your dress and peels it off you, leaving you in nothing but a thin lacy bra and panties. Any shyness is forgotten as he eyes you hungrily, the prominent bulge in his underwear filling you with an odd sort of pride. You sit up a little and reach behind you, unhooking the band of your bra and tossing it aside, before hooking your fingers into your underwear and tugging them off as well.
“I wanted to do that,” he pouts, his hand coming up to cup one of your breasts, squeezing lightly so that it bulges between his fingers.
“You haven’t taken off enough clothes for one night?” you joke, settling back again.
“Yeah but they weren’t yours, were they? It’s different.”
“And mine are special, are they?”
“You are,” he says honestly. “I wanted to take my time for once. I don’t know what it is, but with you I want this to last. It’s the least you deserve.”
His name falls from your lips, more delicate than a feather, your whole core throbbing with need. There is no name for this flutter in your heart, no words to explain why you feel this inexplicable need to keep him all to yourself. Bokuto belongs to the world, but right now he is yours alone. Should anyone take him from you at this moment, your heart would surely break.
“Call me Koutarou.” He smiles at you sweetly, completely at odds with how he parts your legs and settles between them, roughened palms gliding over the bare skin of your thighs. A deep, happy hum rumbles in his chest as you whisper his name. Dipping down, he presses haphazard kisses in the wake of his touch, wet little pecks that make you shiver the closer he gets to your centre. You know you’re soaked. You can feel the stickiness that drools out of you, slipping dangerously close to the bed sheets as he pushes your legs even wider.
More kisses cover your inner thighs, the odd playful nibble making you gasp as he decorates your skin with spit, teeth marks and blooming bruises. Your hands sink into his hair, surprisingly soft as your fingers comb through the salt and pepper strands. And then his mouth reaches its destination and your grip tightens as he licks a long, flat-tongued stripe, ass to clit and spits on your syrupy flesh.
Owlish eyes bore into yours, dark with lust as he swirls the wet muscle over your sensitive bud before sucking into his mouth. The pleasure spikes suddenly and your hips buck, need bubbling hot and quick in your belly. Before you can ask him to slow down, he releases your clit and laps at your folds experimentally before he dips his tongue into your entrance. He may have said that this is all for you, but judging by the way his eyes roll back into his skull and he groans long and deep, it’s safe to assume that he finds pleasure in this too.
“Kou-” you whine as he buries his face deeper into your cunt, drinking from you as if he’s never tasted a drop of water in his life. The sounds coming from his mouth grow more obscene the longer he spends ravaging you with his mouth, loudly slurping and grunting against you like a starved beast. Your eyes squeeze shut against the ecstasy, hips rolling into his no doubt dripping face, fingers so tight in his hair that if he moves wrong, you might pull out a small clump of it.
But Bokuto seems oblivious to any pain, so drunk on the taste of you that he barely even comes up for air. When he does pull back for the briefest moment, his chin and lips glossy and his eyes full of stars, he smacks your thighs and huffs in mild annoyance, keeping you warm and pliant with two thick fingers buried inside you. “Don’t close your eyes,” he tells you as he licks his lips. “Look at me. Look at what I’m doing to your sweet pussy.”
And he dives back in for more.
“I want you to cum on my face,” he mumbles into you as he feels you tighten around his fingers. “I want it.”
You can barely think straight, but you manage to stutter, “I-I thought this was about me.”
“Baby, it is, it is,” he groans, flicking his tongue rapidly over your stiff clit and forcing your back to arch. “‘S all about you. But I should get a reward for making you feel so good, right? That’s what I want.”
This time, you don’t respond, so overcome with pleasure that every vein in your body brims with crackling lightning, sparking scalding hot in your belly until finally, it bursts and you tumble over the edge with a sharp cry of his name. Even as your body trembles under his hands, he continues to lick at your pussy, catching every last drop of cum that leaks out of you, only stopping when you whimper and push his head away. “T-too much.”
Moving up the bed, he kisses you, licking heavily into your mouth and pushing the taste of your own juices onto your tongue. His cock is hard, twitching against your thigh. At some point, he must have shed the last scrap of cloth shielding his modesty and now you can feel every thick inch of him. Bokuto pulls away and you look down, your eyes almost bugging out of your skull at what you see.
“Fuck.”
Golden eyes follow your line of sight, a soft blush colouring his cheeks as they land on the little wet spot that formed on the bed under where he had been. “I got a little carried away,” he says sheepishly, evidence of his own need leaking freely from his flushed cockhead.
“It’s so big,” you blurt out.
“Huh? What are you- Oh! Oh, that’s what you were looking at,” he laughs. “I, er, get told that a lot.”
“Can’t imagine why,” you mumble under your breath. However, lust begins to overshadow logic the longer you look at his dick, drooling precum and painfully hard. You wonder if your hands would fit around it, if it would break your jaw if you tried to put it in your mouth, if-
“Don’t worry.” His warm voice cuts off your thoughts as his hand runs soothingly over your tummy, dropping to a whisper. “We can make it fit.”
Bokuto reaches into his bedside drawer and pulls out a foil packet, quickly tearing it open and rolling a condom over his cock. Part of you deflates as he covers it but you suppose it makes sense. In the blink of an eye, he’s on you again, kissing you deeply as he pulls your thighs around his waist and sits back on his haunches.
Taking himself in hand, he guides the blunt tip of his cock through your dewy folds, gathering your arousal and spreading down with his hand as he pumps himself. “Ready?”
“Mhm,” you nod. Anticipation thrums under your skin as he prods at your fluttering hole, slowly dipping inside it. He curses under his breath, entranced by the way your cunt swallows the bulbous tip, hot and tight around him. He feels so dizzyingly good, that it takes every effort not to slam into you and fuck you until you weep. A whimper catches his attention, his gaze flicking up to see your face scrunched in discomfort.
“Are you okay?”
“F-fine, it's just a lot.”
“Believe me, I know,” he grunts, massaging circles into your hip with one hand, the other playing gently with your clit. “Just relax, baby.”
His hands distract you a little from the dull burn you feel at the edges of your stretched entrance, but it ebbs as he starts to shallowly thrust his hips, popping the head in and out of you, pushing in just a little further each time to accustom you to his sheer size. After a while, he meets resistance, his balls pressed up against your ass once he’s fully inside, your walls hugging him tightly.
“Fuck, you feel amazing,” he whines, pearly teeth pressing into his lower lip, his thick brows knitting together as you squeeze around him, sweat beading at his forehead.. You’re half delirious yourself, feeling so full that you fear you might come apart at the seams. You wouldn’t mind that, you think - as long as it’s him unravelling you.
You squirm, voice thin and breathy. “‘M so full.”
“Can I move?” You don’t even answer him and his hips are already grinding into you. “Please let me move.”
“Fuck me, Koutaro,” you mewl, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck. “I want you.”
Barely able to hold back, Bokuto does just that. He fucks you like it’s his sole reason for existing. Every snap of his hips, every time his cock drags against your insides and bumps up against that delicate bundle of nerves, has you moaning wantonly, uncaring of who might overhear.. His heavy thrusts split you open, pushing you further into the pillows every time he slams into you.
“So perfect,” he moans. “Can’t get enough of you.”
It’s easy to forget that Bokuto’s physique isn’t just for display. Before you realise it, he’s pinning your thighs up against your body, your feet dangling over his broad shoulders as he forces you further into the mattress. Like this, he’s even deeper, impossibly so, stroking places inside you that you didn’t even know existed. Pure ecstasy courses through your body, your mouth hanging open as he fucks you harder, pulling sounds from your chest you didn’t think you were capable of making.
Despite how rough and desperate it is, he leans down and kisses you, his hips still pistoning in and out of you. When his lips meet yours, when he pants and moans into your mouth between messy kisses, you feel that fluttering in your chest again. Perhaps you're just drunk on pleasure, but it feels like love and devotion and everything you thought you’d never feel again at the hands of another. Tears prick at your eyes, half from emotion and half from being pounded so thoroughly, so you cling to him tighter and choke out his name like a prayer, over and over.
“Kou- Koutaro, ‘m so close,” you sob.
“Yeah?” he pants. “Gonna cum for me, aren't you? All for me. Only for me.” His fingers find your clit and all it takes are a few tight, wobbly circles before you’re falling apart on his cock, your tits pressed tight against his chest as you crumble to pieces. He fucks you through it, his thrusts growing sloppy and disjointed before he too reaches his peak with a loud, open-mouthed moan, each spurt of his cum filling the tip of the condom.
The two of you stay like that for a moment, sweaty and clinging to each other, your thighs trembling from the aftershocks, an ache settling in your muscles from the position you’ve been folded into. Bokuto drops his forehead to rest against your own and you wish that you could stay with him like this forever. But all too soon, he’s pulling out and you both hiss, leaving you to feel empty and lonely once again.
“You good?” he murmurs and when you nod, he gently lowers your legs to the mattress before he quickly hops off the bed and discards the condom. Forlornly, you sit up, glancing around the room for your clothes. There’s no doubt that now that this is over, you’ll part ways and this will all become a distant memory. You’ll compensate him for his time, as you’ve heard some people do, and that will be that.
“What are you doing?” he asks, as you start to slip your arms through the straps of your bra.
“Getting dressed?” He makes a confused face and sits on the edge of the mattress.
“Why?”
“... Isn’t that what usually happens?”
“Yeah, but not after one round,” he chuckles, plucking out another foil packet from the drawer. “The night is still young.”
“Oh. I see.”
“You don’t want more?” His tone is a little dejected and you smile at him halfheartedly.
“Of course I want more,” you say softly, your words carrying more weight than you can stand. “I want so much more.”
“Then that’s what you’ll get,” he promises, cupping your cheek and raising your head so that you can see the honesty shining in his eyes. “I’m not done with you yet.”
“No?”
“Nope,” he says, popping the ‘p’. “And even when we are done, I was hoping you’d stay to cuddle.”
You feel yourself soften and grow hopeful. “Is it normal to do that after fucking a customer?”
“Not really. It’s also not normal to want to take my customers to brunch the morning after.” He sounds shy and hopeful and you want to kiss him all over again.
“Oh.”
“So?” Tentatively, he hooks a forefinger through your limp bra strap and cocks his head to the side. “What do you say? Would you want that?”
Holding his gaze, you wrap your hand around his and free his finger from the garment and tug him towards you, a giddy smile curling at your lips. “Yes,” you breathe, pulling him into a gentle kiss. “I want it. I want you.”
-> tags: @burnishedcrown @bigbadwolfwood @quaranweeb @crysugu @autumnalsteahouse @kuroosexuall @pressed-flower-journal @petriquors @tteokdorokimain @oinksa @unknownspecies @strawberrystepmom
— BURN BRIGHT FOR ME | bokuto x fem!reader
-> synopsis: the club isn’t the best place to find a lover but maybe the stage is
-> cw: NSFW, MDNI 18+, smut, stripper!bokuto, brief mentions of alcohol, lap dances, dry humping, cunnilingus, spit, body worship, protected vaginal sex, praise, manhandling, size kink
-> wc: 7k help
-> a/n: this has taken me forever to write so pls don’t let it all go to waste 🥹
The club is heaving, as one would expect on a Friday night, lit up only by dimmed spotlights and chandeliers. A thick fog of white smoke carpets the floor, spilling out from strategically placed machines hidden behind heavy curtains that have now been pulled back for tonight's performance. The air is alive with a buzz of excitement, the tang of alcohol and the sweet scent of women’s perfume clouding your senses where you sit. The table you’re sharing with your friends gives you the best seats in the house, a perfect view of what you’re paying good money to see.
They giggle and chatter and you can’t help feeling a thrill of anticipation run down your spine as the announcer makes her way to the front with a dazzling grin to get the show started. The three of you came here on a whim when you stumbled across one of the performers' social media accounts. Out of mild curiosity, you began to dig through the handsome man’s profile, before discovering a link that took you to the club’s website and before you could think twice, you sent it to the group chat. Needless to say, the girls took one look at the gallery and decided that it would be a crime to pass up the opportunity to see a bunch of muscular men stripping on stage.
“It’s starting!” Kaori squeals as the lighting is cut out completely, plunging the whole place into darkness. Music pours out from around you, slow and sensual, the beat settling heavily in your bones as it thumps rhythmically. One by one, stage lights burst to life, shining on each performer in time with the music. Every man is clad in a perfectly tailored tuxedo, top hats tipped low to shield their eyes in mystery, giving you only a taste of the sharp line of their jaws, their gloved hands folded neatly over black canes. The last spotlight turns on, right in the centre, revealing the final entertainer of the night. There’s a broad, charming grin on his face as he tips up the brim of his hat and winks at the crowd.
After that, the night becomes a blur.
There’s a lot of giggling, squealing and cheering as you watch performance after performance. After their initial introduction, each dancer has the stage to himself turn by turn, leaving their audience to fan their hot cheeks and toss every bill in their wallets on stage, even tucking them into the waistbands of their impossibly tiny underwear when they get close enough.
You feel like you’re caught in some delicious daydream, as ridiculously gorgeous men shed their clothes and thrust the air, purely for your entertainment. A few people from the audience are coaxed onto stage for lap dances, and you quickly find that those parts are the most entertaining. The way they encourage their guests to run their hands over their muscular bodies, guiding them gently and whispering things in their ears makes you feel more than a little hot under the collar.
But out of all of them, the one that catches your eye, to no great surprise, is the star of the club. His performance is last and by far the best, in your humble opinion. A murmur ripples through the crowd as he steps on, an easy grin on his face. Almost immediately, the audience begins to chant ‘take it off!’ and he winks, launching into his routine. He’s the only one that has kept the tuxedo as his costume, flinging his hat off into the sea of people before him, revealing bright, golden eyes and salt and pepper hair pushed up and away from his face.
This man is truly of a different calibre to the rest, you quickly realise. He has a way of hypnotising you with every movement, sensual and fluid as he pulls off his clothes one by one, revealing more and more of his perfectly sculpted form. You can’t tear your eyes away from him or his broad chest. But it’s not just the way he looks - the whole room feels electric from his presence, more bills fluttering around the stage like confetti, your own money joining the fray.
And then you blink and the tip of a cane appears beneath your chin. Your friends are nudging you forwards, encouraging you to accept his invitation and you quickly find yourself placing your hand in his so that he can hoist you onto the stage with him.
“Are you okay being up here?” he murmurs in your ear, guiding you to sit in the chair that has been brought out for this portion of his routine. You nod, taking a seat and willing your heartbeat to slow down.
“I am. I think.”
Large hands brace themselves on the back of the chair, his forearms bracketing the slope of your neck, trapping you against it. His voice is deep and just a little bit rough but kind nonetheless. “Good. Would you like to touch me?”
You’re taken aback for a moment but the raucous audience encourages you to whisper your assent and he grins wolfishly, causing you to shiver from excitement. He starts by testing the waters, grinding his hips in the tiny space between you, almost brushing against you but staying clear - enough to tempt but not enough to make you uncomfortable. Testing the waters, you suppose. “Keep your eyes on me,” he tells you. “I want you to enjoy this.” Shyly, your gaze slides up from your lap to meet his eyes, breath catching in your throat when you meet deep pools of gold. They’re sultry but gentle, bright and beautiful and completely mesmerising, just like the rest of him, if not more.
“I’m going to take your hands now. Is that okay?” he whispers.
“Yes,” you breathe. At this point, you think you’d agree to absolutely anything he asked of you, completely caught under his thrall. His hands slide down from your shoulders to your wrists, grasping them loosely before he leans back a little and guides your own pair over his torso, letting you run your palms over his taut abs, his skin warm and a little damp with sweat under your touch. Letting go of you for a moment, he grasps his trousers and tugs them off in one quick motion, the sound of velcro pulling apart drowned out by the crescendoing music and more ecstatic cheering.
Left in nothing more than his too-tight underwear to conceal whatever is left of his modesty, your cheeks flood with heat, and a giddy giggle tumbles from your lips as he begins to lead your hands over his rippling body once more. “You good?” he asks, smirking at the excited twinkle in your eyes.
“So good,” you reply, as he takes your hands lower.
“How about now?” he snickers, letting your fingers brush over his tailbone. “This okay?”
“Yeah, it is.”
“Then let’s take these pretty hands lower.” You allow him to slide your hands down to the pert globes of his ass, your whole face flaming hot as your palms settle there. Releasing them, he grips the back of your chair once again, moving his hips in time with the music as he dips his head until he is but a hair's breadth away from your lips. The rest of the room falls away as his warm breath plays against your lips, the music becoming a dull thud in your ears, like you’re numb to all but the man before you. Euphoria courses through your veins, a new sort of high that you didn’t think you could experience at the hands of a stranger, and yet here you sit, skin tingling and alive from his sheer proximity.
“Are you gonna kiss me?” you find yourself asking teasingly, and his brows bounce up briefly in surprise as you dare to squeeze his ass.
“I’m not allowed to do that, I’m afraid.”
“I can touch your ass but can't kiss you?” you pout and he grins.
“Not right now you can’t,” he tells you. “I’m gonna lift you now, okay?” You nod, shrieking in surprise despite the warning when he scoops you up with little to no effort, letting you wrap your legs around his waist whilst your arms loop around his neck. The audience whoops behind you and you can’t help feeling just a little bit smug.
“Hot and strong,” you flirt. Where has this sudden surge of confidence come from? You’re not usually this brazen. This whole atmosphere is doing something to you. “Careful, or you’ll take my heart along with the rest of my cash.”
“These muscles aren’t just for show,” he says cockily. “Am I okay to dip you a little?”
Nodding, you allow him to flatten his hands against your back and let your torso drop away from him and down towards the floor, eliciting another squeal from you. From there, he lays you on the stage, right on top of his earnings for the night, rolling his whole body as he follows you down in a dive. Looming over you, he checks in with you again, his nose trailing down your throat and between your breasts.
Now, it bears mentioning that there is a reason as to why you are currently trapped beneath a hot stripper, why your friends insisted almost immediately that you pay this club a visit. It’s been an entire year since your fiance broke things off with you, and you’ve spent the majority of that time healing (read: moping). An entire year since you’ve been this close to an attractive man, let alone touched by one. But the extended dry spell of yours ends here, the rains of desire flooding deep in your belly as the man above you rolls his hips into yours and sends your mind spiralling, the half-hard bulge in his underwear dragging over your mound briefly with each sensual snap of his hips
“At least ask me to dinner first,” you joke breathlessly as he drops himself even closer to you, so that there's only a mere sliver of sexually charged air between your bodies.
“Do you want me to?”
“Would you?”
“I don’t see why not. You’re very pretty.”
“Is that so?” you murmur, belly swooping low with butterflies at the sincerity in his voice.
“‘Course. You can stick around and see what happens if you like.”
The performance begins to come to a close far sooner than you would like as he lifts you effortlessly into the air once again, placing you delicately on your feet before helping you off the stage. Is it a trick of the light and the result of too much loneliness, or does he keep glancing in your direction as his routine ends? Regardless, you sigh wistfully as he exits the stage, bringing the night of raunchy dances to a close.
“I can’t believe you got to go up there!” Yukie whines from, beside you. “Lucky bitch.”
“It looked like you were talking,” Kaori says, sipping from her martini glass and looking at you pointedly over the rim.
“He was just making sure I was okay with everything,” you say vaguely.
“Aw, that’s actually really sweet!”
“Right?”
The night wears on and soon enough, your smartly suited waiters are replaced by the performers of the night, much to the delight of every patron in the establishment. They wander around serving drinks and such, wearing dazzling smiles and little else. Secretly, you hope the stripper you briefly flirted with will look in your direction.
“I wish I could stay here forever,” Yukie sighs, shamelessly ogling whoever she could set her greedy eyes on.
“You could always come again,” comes a deep, playful voice. Your head whips up in recognition. Speak of the devil. “Did you ladies enjoy the show?”
The girls giggle and gush to him as he sets down your drinks, his eyes lingering on you as he delicately places your glass before you. You dare not meet his eyes, cheeks flaming as you recall what transpired not too long ago. Ever the entertainer, he chats animatedly with your friends, laughing loudly over the general buzz of the club.
“How about you?” He directs his question at you, his wide grin settling into something more mischievous. “What did you think?”
“Who, me?”
“Yeah.”
“Of what?”
“Of my performance, of course,” he says without missing a beat. “They don’t call me a star for nothin’!”
“So it would seem.” It feels like all eyes are on you and this man, Kaori and Yukie glancing furtively between the two of you and this odd tension that seems to simmer in the space between you.
“You didn’t like it?” he asks, almost sullenly, and it’s his tone that makes you look up with a raised brow.
“No, I did,” you affirm slowly. “I’ve never experienced anything quite like it.”
“Which part was your favourite?” Warmth creeps up your cheeks as your brief time on stage with him quickly flashes behind your eyes. Any confidence you had felt up there really was in the heat of the moment, and you can find no way to slip back into that side of you.
“All of it?” you answer unsurely, trying desperately not to give away that you very much enjoyed being under him. Apparently, it’s the right thing to say, because his bare chest puffs with pride as he comes around to your side of the table, taking the empty seat beside you.
“I’ve got a fan on my hands, huh?” he teases, waggling his thick brows.
“Oh my god,” you mumble, hiding your face in your hands out of embarrassment as the girls around you laugh. Maybe you shouldn’t have said that.
“Hey, hey, c’mon! Don’t get shy on me now!” he complains lightly, lower lipping pushing out in a pout - you can’t help thinking that expression looks downright adorable on him.
“I’m not!” you insist, sinking lower in your seat, not helping your case in the slightest.
“I think it’s time for a bathroom break, Kaori,” Yukie announces suddenly and the other girl nods and they rise from their seats in unison. They disappear before you can protest, leaving you alone with him.
“I didn’t catch your name,” he says as you watch them leave.
“I didn’t catch yours,” you shoot back reflexively.
“You want my real name?”
“Of course. A name for a name. It’s only fair, right?”
“I suppose that’s true!” he exclaims. “But don’t let the boss know I told you, ‘kay? It’s kinda against the rules.”
“What an odd rule,” you hum and he shrugs.
“Yeah, something to do with our privacy or whatever.”
“I see. And you’d be willing to share that with a stranger like me?” He chuckles sheepishly and scratches at his jaw. If the lights were any brighter, you’d see the sweet blush staining his cheekbones.
“It would make you not a stranger, wouldn’t it?”
“I suppose that’s true,” you nod, biting your lower lip to halt your grin from widening. Now that there are no eyes on you, you can allow yourself to relax a little.
“Exactly! I’m Bokuto Koutaro,” he says, sticking his hand out for you to shake. You accept, and offer him your own name, to which he beams at you, almost blindingly. “Pleasure to meet you!”
The two of you barely get to strike up any meaningful conversation before the girls reappear, much to your disappointment. Bokuto rises from his seat and gives you an apologetic smile, his eyes lingering on you as he speaks.
“I’ll leave you ladies to enjoy your night.”
“Actually,” Kaori says slowly, looking between you as she subtly nudges Yukie with her elbow. “We were just about to head to the bar. Right?”
“Huh? But we just got our drin- Oh! Right, right, we were!”
“But guys-”
“See ya later!” they chorus, leaving just as quickly as they came. A moment later your phone lights up with a message in the group chats that reads:
Don’t do anything we wouldn’t do ;)
“That was weird,” he says offhandedly as he sits back down and you hum in agreement, chewing on your lip in thought. It’s quiet for a moment as you sip pensively from your glass, at a complete loss for what to say. Thankfully, it seems he’s used to such lapses in conversation and pipes up. “Actually, how about we talk somewhere more private?”
“Do you talk to all of your customers in private?”
“Sometimes,” he grins, cocking his head to the side playfully. “Sometimes they don’t wanna talk.”
“And what do you do then?” you ask, though you think you already know the answer.
“A gentleman never kisses and tells,” he says and then mumbles under his breath. “Or at least, that’s what Daichi tells me. He’s always so secretive about his customers.”
“Huh?”
“So? Would you like to?”
You blink at him blankly for a moment. Fuck it, you think. I’ll take what I can get at this point. “Why not,” you shrug and take the hand he offers you. Guiding you through the club, the two of you head towards the back, weaving through a maze of tables to pass through a door that deposits you in a quiet, dark corridor.
“Follow me.” The two of you pass by several doors, each emblazoned with a plaque that has a different name etched into it. You quickly realise that these must be the dressing rooms for each performer and after a few more stops, you come to a stop outside of his door. He pushes the door open and pulls you inside. “Welcome to my humble abode. Cool, right?”
The room is brightly lit and littered with scraps of costumes and a pile of loose bills from the night's show. There's a plush sofa pushed against the far wall and his dressing table is littered with cans of hairspray and tubs of gel along with photographs of groups of people that surround his mirror. The room smells heavily of cologne, enough to make your head swim a little. All in all, it’s the sort of space you might expect from a guy like him.
“It’s a little messy, I know, but that’s just how it gets after a show,” he explains, shutting the door behind him. “You should see ‘The Great King’s’ dressing room, it’s way worse, I swear. Anyway, this isn’t what I had in mind. C’mon.”
Bokuto walks towards a door that’s about a foot away from the couch and beckons you over. “Is this the part where you kill me in cold blood,” you joke as you follow him.
“Nah, you’re a little too cute to be my victim.” The compliment is sincere and completely unexpected, causing heat to flood your cheeks. There’s something about him, between the hypnotising presence he has on stage and the sweet, carefree disposition he has off it, that pulls you towards him. Bokuto is magnetic, pulling you into his orbit effortlessly, reeling you in closer and closer, a star burning bright in every way.
This second room is completely different to the first. You wouldn’t call it messy as such, more that it looks lived in. The silky, silvery bed sheets are imperfectly made up, an abundance of pillows sitting against the headboard. The wardrobe is open, but the clothes inside it are neatly hung up and the lights are turned low, a candle flickering softly in the window sill, overlooking the streets below. It smells like cardamom and vanilla, a sweetly comforting blend that wraps around you and makes you feel at ease. Like him, you think idly.
“You live here?”
“Nah, this is just where I crash after a show. It’s like a home away from home y’know?”
“I’m assuming this is where you bring your customers as well?” you ask, pursing your lips and raising an eyebrow at him.
“Nope,” he says, flopping back on the bed and patting the space beside him. “If someone wants to spend the night with me, they usually pay for a hotel room.”
“So why have you brought me here?”
Bokuto shrugs and looks up at the ceiling. “You’re interesting.”
“Let me guess, ‘I’m not like other girls’, am I?” you mock lightly and he laughs, the sound of it endearing.
“Other girls can be interesting, sure,” he says, eyes twinkling as his laughter fades. “But they’re not here right now, are they?”
“Lucky me,” you murmur shyly. “I get to spend the night conversing with the club’s number one stripper.”
“Hey, the people out there would kill to sit where you are. You’re very lucky.”
“You’re not very humble, are you?” you snort.
“It’s true!”
And it is. There’s no arrogance in his tone, no better-than-you smugness to be found in his handsome face. Sure, he’s a little cocky, but it’s not unfounded and it’s not suffocating either - it’s quite attractive, actually. He speaks the truth every time he opens his mouth, exactly as it is and nothing more.
It’s easy to talk to him away from the noise of the club, even easier to laugh with him. The two of you migrate from the edge of the bed to sitting against the leather headboard, lounging in his pile of pillows as you talk about everything and nothing. As it happens, he’s also a relatively unknown volleyball player, but the money he earns from it, as much as he adores the sport, isn’t enough to sustain him - hence, the club.
The night wears on and you slowly grow closer, drawn to one another by some invisible force. You’re laying on your sides, face to face, your hands resting between you, close enough for your fingers to brush. Never in a million years would you expect to be where you are now, laying in bed with a barely clothed stripper way past midnight, in some club you’ve never been to before. In all honesty, this is the first night in a long time that you haven’t paid any mind to your ex. All thoughts of him were trampled into the vinyl flooring the moment you were pulled onto stage.
“Can I ask you something?”
Sort of.
“Yeah.”
Bokuto chews his lip, like he’s picking his words carefully. “What made you come here tonight?”
“That question has a few answers,” you sigh but you decide to be honest. After all, there’s no use pretending anymore. “But honestly, it all comes down to my ex.”
“Trying to get over him?” he guesses.
“Something like that. Now that I think about it, I think I’ve been over him for a while. I’ve just been having trouble forgetting him even though it’s been a whole year since we broke up.”
Bokuto nods sagely. “A lot of people come here to forget. Whether it’s relationship trouble or work stress or whatever, it all gets left out there the moment they step through the doors.”
“My brain does tend to empty itself out when I see a hot, unclothed man,” you hum.
He chuckles and gestures with his hand. “There you go.”
A beat of silence passes, and then it all comes out. “We were supposed to get married,” you tell him quietly. “Everything was perfect. He was the sort of man girls dream about being with, y’know? We were so, so happy.”
“What happened?”
You shrug. “He just left one day. Just poof, vanished. All of his belongings were gone when I woke up. All he left me was a note that said ‘I can’t do this anymore’. That’s all I got.” You laugh humourlessly, picking at the corner of one of his many cushions. “We were on good terms as well! We weren’t fighting, there were no grudges, nothing. As far as I know, he didn’t cheat either. He just… left. I struggled to cope without him for a long, long time.”
“I’m sorry,” he says gently, offering you an apologetic smile. “I know this might not mean much coming from a guy like… well, me.” He gestures vaguely to himself. “But sometimes, you find happiness in the strangest places, places you never thought it would be. You just have to look a little harder.”
“Wow,” you murmur. “That’s quite wise.”
“That’s because I am wise!” he grins proudly, which pulls a giggle out of you and melts the serious air around you. It’s the first time in a good while that you’ve felt a glimmer of hope spark in your heart. You reach out your hand and knit your fingers through his, filled with that same confidence from before that you didn’t know you were capable of.
“Hey, Bo,” you whisper. He hums curiously, golden eyes glowing almost silver as they reflect the moonlight. “Remember what you said? About being a gentleman?”
“Hmm… That we don’t kiss and tell?” He squeezes your hand once, running his thumb over your knuckles in an affectionate manner as you nod.
“Does that apply to me too?”
“Sure it does.”
“So if I kissed you now, would that stay in this room?”
“If that’s what you want, then yeah.”
“What if.” You lick your lips and dare to shuffle closer, until you can make out each of his lashes and all the flecks of amber in his eyes. “What if it was… more than that?”
Reaching out his free hand, he gently runs his knuckles over the swell of your cheek, featherlight and sweet as a whisper. Your eyes flutter shut at his tender touch. Maybe you’re starved for this, any crumb of affection you can get, or maybe the alcohol from earlier still clouds your judgement, but there’s one thing you’re certain of.
You can’t get enough of him.
“It can all stay in here.”
Your mind is made up. Reaching out, you run your fingers over his lower lip, breath catching in your throat as he catches your wrist and stills your hand. Gold burns deep into your soul as he flutters little kisses over your fingertips, dragging his lips down to your palm and then to the inside of your wrist, right where your erratic pulse resides. His lips are warm and soft, curling into a lopsided smile as he suddenly pulls you towards himself, simultaneously twisting himself onto his back. You land half on top of him, bashfully averting your gaze from his.
“Hey,” he murmurs, tipping your chin up. “Eyes on me.” Your mouth feels too dry to spit out a response so you nod, your faces inching closer together until you can feel the warmth of his breath waft over your lips. “I’m gonna kiss you now, okay?”
When he speaks, you can feel his lips ghost over yours in a barely there kiss that makes your heart pound. Who eliminated the gap between you, you’re not certain, but suddenly his mouth is on yours and your fingers are buried in his hair and before you know it, you’re straddling his waist in a desperate attempt to get closer. Someone whines as tongue joins the equation and what begins as tentative and sweet, becomes needy and shameless.
You’re panting into his mouth as your kisses grow messier, unable to still the rocking of your hips right over his half hard cock. There’s been a storm brewing in the darkest depths of your belly all night, and now lightning crackles through your veins whilst thunder takes up residence in your ribcage.
“You sure you want this?” Bokuto grunts as you roll your hips on him just right.
“Do I seem unsure to you?” The breathless sarcasm isn’t lost on him and he huffs out a laugh, his large hands squeezing at the soft flesh of your hips so that he can help guide your movements.
“Just making sure.”
“I’m so glad you’re not wearing anything,” you huff against his mouth. Your hands are greedier than your eyes, wandering every inch of his bare skin. Strong muscles ripple and twitch under your touch, and if you knew him any better, you’d know that he’s actually squirming because he’s ticklish everywhere. “You’re so hot, Bo.”
“Yeah?” he gasps. “Hotter than all the others, right?”
“Way hotter,” you affirm, attaching your lips to his throat and sucking roughly.
“Good. You tryin’ to leave a mark or something?” he chuckles, his hands sliding back to grope at your asscheeks, the fabric of your dress bunching up between his fingers.
You pull back uncertainly, lips kiss-swollen and pupils blown wide with desire. “Is that okay?”
Brushing your hair back, he tugs you back in and kisses you softly and for a moment, it feels like you’re lovers. Like it’s not just your bodies that are about to become intertwined, but your hearts will be entangled too, each vein and artery criss-crossing until you share every beat, every drop of blood.
“It is,” he whispers. All of a sudden, he flips you without any effort, pressing your back into the pillows as he hovers over you, smirking at your surprised little gasp. “But I think you deserve all the attention tonight. Whaddya say?”
Swallowing hard, you nod, relaxing back as he carefully unzips your dress and peels it off you, leaving you in nothing but a thin lacy bra and panties. Any shyness is forgotten as he eyes you hungrily, the prominent bulge in his underwear filling you with an odd sort of pride. You sit up a little and reach behind you, unhooking the band of your bra and tossing it aside, before hooking your fingers into your underwear and tugging them off as well.
“I wanted to do that,” he pouts, his hand coming up to cup one of your breasts, squeezing lightly so that it bulges between his fingers.
“You haven’t taken off enough clothes for one night?” you joke, settling back again.
“Yeah but they weren’t yours, were they? It’s different.”
“And mine are special, are they?”
“You are,” he says honestly. “I wanted to take my time for once. I don’t know what it is, but with you I want this to last. It’s the least you deserve.”
His name falls from your lips, more delicate than a feather, your whole core throbbing with need. There is no name for this flutter in your heart, no words to explain why you feel this inexplicable need to keep him all to yourself. Bokuto belongs to the world, but right now he is yours alone. Should anyone take him from you at this moment, your heart would surely break.
“Call me Koutarou.” He smiles at you sweetly, completely at odds with how he parts your legs and settles between them, roughened palms gliding over the bare skin of your thighs. A deep, happy hum rumbles in his chest as you whisper his name. Dipping down, he presses haphazard kisses in the wake of his touch, wet little pecks that make you shiver the closer he gets to your centre. You know you’re soaked. You can feel the stickiness that drools out of you, slipping dangerously close to the bed sheets as he pushes your legs even wider.
More kisses cover your inner thighs, the odd playful nibble making you gasp as he decorates your skin with spit, teeth marks and blooming bruises. Your hands sink into his hair, surprisingly soft as your fingers comb through the salt and pepper strands. And then his mouth reaches its destination and your grip tightens as he licks a long, flat-tongued stripe, ass to clit and spits on your syrupy flesh.
Owlish eyes bore into yours, dark with lust as he swirls the wet muscle over your sensitive bud before sucking into his mouth. The pleasure spikes suddenly and your hips buck, need bubbling hot and quick in your belly. Before you can ask him to slow down, he releases your clit and laps at your folds experimentally before he dips his tongue into your entrance. He may have said that this is all for you, but judging by the way his eyes roll back into his skull and he groans long and deep, it’s safe to assume that he finds pleasure in this too.
“Kou-” you whine as he buries his face deeper into your cunt, drinking from you as if he’s never tasted a drop of water in his life. The sounds coming from his mouth grow more obscene the longer he spends ravaging you with his mouth, loudly slurping and grunting against you like a starved beast. Your eyes squeeze shut against the ecstasy, hips rolling into his no doubt dripping face, fingers so tight in his hair that if he moves wrong, you might pull out a small clump of it.
But Bokuto seems oblivious to any pain, so drunk on the taste of you that he barely even comes up for air. When he does pull back for the briefest moment, his chin and lips glossy and his eyes full of stars, he smacks your thighs and huffs in mild annoyance, keeping you warm and pliant with two thick fingers buried inside you. “Don’t close your eyes,” he tells you as he licks his lips. “Look at me. Look at what I’m doing to your sweet pussy.”
And he dives back in for more.
“I want you to cum on my face,” he mumbles into you as he feels you tighten around his fingers. “I want it.”
You can barely think straight, but you manage to stutter, “I-I thought this was about me.”
“Baby, it is, it is,” he groans, flicking his tongue rapidly over your stiff clit and forcing your back to arch. “‘S all about you. But I should get a reward for making you feel so good, right? That’s what I want.”
This time, you don’t respond, so overcome with pleasure that every vein in your body brims with crackling lightning, sparking scalding hot in your belly until finally, it bursts and you tumble over the edge with a sharp cry of his name. Even as your body trembles under his hands, he continues to lick at your pussy, catching every last drop of cum that leaks out of you, only stopping when you whimper and push his head away. “T-too much.”
Moving up the bed, he kisses you, licking heavily into your mouth and pushing the taste of your own juices onto your tongue. His cock is hard, twitching against your thigh. At some point, he must have shed the last scrap of cloth shielding his modesty and now you can feel every thick inch of him. Bokuto pulls away and you look down, your eyes almost bugging out of your skull at what you see.
“Fuck.”
Golden eyes follow your line of sight, a soft blush colouring his cheeks as they land on the little wet spot that formed on the bed under where he had been. “I got a little carried away,” he says sheepishly, evidence of his own need leaking freely from his flushed cockhead.
“It’s so big,” you blurt out.
“Huh? What are you- Oh! Oh, that’s what you were looking at,” he laughs. “I, er, get told that a lot.”
“Can’t imagine why,” you mumble under your breath. However, lust begins to overshadow logic the longer you look at his dick, drooling precum and painfully hard. You wonder if your hands would fit around it, if it would break your jaw if you tried to put it in your mouth, if-
“Don’t worry.” His warm voice cuts off your thoughts as his hand runs soothingly over your tummy, dropping to a whisper. “We can make it fit.”
Bokuto reaches into his bedside drawer and pulls out a foil packet, quickly tearing it open and rolling a condom over his cock. Part of you deflates as he covers it but you suppose it makes sense. In the blink of an eye, he’s on you again, kissing you deeply as he pulls your thighs around his waist and sits back on his haunches.
Taking himself in hand, he guides the blunt tip of his cock through your dewy folds, gathering your arousal and spreading down with his hand as he pumps himself. “Ready?”
“Mhm,” you nod. Anticipation thrums under your skin as he prods at your fluttering hole, slowly dipping inside it. He curses under his breath, entranced by the way your cunt swallows the bulbous tip, hot and tight around him. He feels so dizzyingly good, that it takes every effort not to slam into you and fuck you until you weep. A whimper catches his attention, his gaze flicking up to see your face scrunched in discomfort.
“Are you okay?”
“F-fine, it's just a lot.”
“Believe me, I know,” he grunts, massaging circles into your hip with one hand, the other playing gently with your clit. “Just relax, baby.”
His hands distract you a little from the dull burn you feel at the edges of your stretched entrance, but it ebbs as he starts to shallowly thrust his hips, popping the head in and out of you, pushing in just a little further each time to accustom you to his sheer size. After a while, he meets resistance, his balls pressed up against your ass once he’s fully inside, your walls hugging him tightly.
“Fuck, you feel amazing,” he whines, pearly teeth pressing into his lower lip, his thick brows knitting together as you squeeze around him, sweat beading at his forehead.. You’re half delirious yourself, feeling so full that you fear you might come apart at the seams. You wouldn’t mind that, you think - as long as it’s him unravelling you.
You squirm, voice thin and breathy. “‘M so full.”
“Can I move?” You don’t even answer him and his hips are already grinding into you. “Please let me move.”
“Fuck me, Koutaro,” you mewl, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck. “I want you.”
Barely able to hold back, Bokuto does just that. He fucks you like it’s his sole reason for existing. Every snap of his hips, every time his cock drags against your insides and bumps up against that delicate bundle of nerves, has you moaning wantonly, uncaring of who might overhear.. His heavy thrusts split you open, pushing you further into the pillows every time he slams into you.
“So perfect,” he moans. “Can’t get enough of you.”
It’s easy to forget that Bokuto’s physique isn’t just for display. Before you realise it, he’s pinning your thighs up against your body, your feet dangling over his broad shoulders as he forces you further into the mattress. Like this, he’s even deeper, impossibly so, stroking places inside you that you didn’t even know existed. Pure ecstasy courses through your body, your mouth hanging open as he fucks you harder, pulling sounds from your chest you didn’t think you were capable of making.
Despite how rough and desperate it is, he leans down and kisses you, his hips still pistoning in and out of you. When his lips meet yours, when he pants and moans into your mouth between messy kisses, you feel that fluttering in your chest again. Perhaps you're just drunk on pleasure, but it feels like love and devotion and everything you thought you’d never feel again at the hands of another. Tears prick at your eyes, half from emotion and half from being pounded so thoroughly, so you cling to him tighter and choke out his name like a prayer, over and over.
“Kou- Koutaro, ‘m so close,” you sob.
“Yeah?” he pants. “Gonna cum for me, aren't you? All for me. Only for me.” His fingers find your clit and all it takes are a few tight, wobbly circles before you’re falling apart on his cock, your tits pressed tight against his chest as you crumble to pieces. He fucks you through it, his thrusts growing sloppy and disjointed before he too reaches his peak with a loud, open-mouthed moan, each spurt of his cum filling the tip of the condom.
The two of you stay like that for a moment, sweaty and clinging to each other, your thighs trembling from the aftershocks, an ache settling in your muscles from the position you’ve been folded into. Bokuto drops his forehead to rest against your own and you wish that you could stay with him like this forever. But all too soon, he’s pulling out and you both hiss, leaving you to feel empty and lonely once again.
“You good?” he murmurs and when you nod, he gently lowers your legs to the mattress before he quickly hops off the bed and discards the condom. Forlornly, you sit up, glancing around the room for your clothes. There’s no doubt that now that this is over, you’ll part ways and this will all become a distant memory. You’ll compensate him for his time, as you’ve heard some people do, and that will be that.
“What are you doing?” he asks, as you start to slip your arms through the straps of your bra.
“Getting dressed?” He makes a confused face and sits on the edge of the mattress.
“Why?”
“... Isn’t that what usually happens?”
“Yeah, but not after one round,” he chuckles, plucking out another foil packet from the drawer. “The night is still young.”
“Oh. I see.”
“You don’t want more?” His tone is a little dejected and you smile at him halfheartedly.
“Of course I want more,” you say softly, your words carrying more weight than you can stand. “I want so much more.”
“Then that’s what you’ll get,” he promises, cupping your cheek and raising your head so that you can see the honesty shining in his eyes. “I’m not done with you yet.”
“No?”
“Nope,” he says, popping the ‘p’. “And even when we are done, I was hoping you’d stay to cuddle.”
You feel yourself soften and grow hopeful. “Is it normal to do that after fucking a customer?”
“Not really. It’s also not normal to want to take my customers to brunch the morning after.” He sounds shy and hopeful and you want to kiss him all over again.
“Oh.”
“So?” Tentatively, he hooks a forefinger through your limp bra strap and cocks his head to the side. “What do you say? Would you want that?”
Holding his gaze, you wrap your hand around his and free his finger from the garment and tug him towards you, a giddy smile curling at your lips. “Yes,” you breathe, pulling him into a gentle kiss. “I want it. I want you.”
-> tags: @burnishedcrown @bigbadwolfwood @quaranweeb @crysugu @autumnalsteahouse @kuroosexuall @pressed-flower-journal @petriquors @tteokdorokimain @oinksa @unknownspecies @strawberrystepmom