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4unnyr0se · 3 days

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PLS BOKUTO SMUT I WILL SELL YOU MY SOUL VIV 🙏🙏🙏

❥ nepenthe | kotaro bokuto

warnings: timeskip! bokuto, fem! reader, mutual pining, bokuto is emo in the beginning, dry humping/grinding, multiple orgasms, making out, incredibly lewd dialogue, fingering, missionary, two text messages, unprotected sex, tiny corruption kink, possessive! bokuto if u squint, extreme fluff at the end, bokuto is a semi-hard dom in bed, atsumu, hinata and sakusa mentioned, not proofread (unless u count grammarly)

MDNI | 18+ content

word count -> 5.3k (lol)

opal i would write anything for u i love u sm

got a request? asks are open!

Being on the MSBY Black Jackals was all the Bokuto could ever dream of. Playing on a team made up of his peers, the adoring cheers from the crowd filled his ears and boosted his ego. He especially loved how cute the girls in the stands were and how they wore merchandized versions of his jersey. People paid good money to watch him play, him. Was there nothing better than the universe could offer him? Indeed, Kotaro Bokuto’s life was perfectly perfect.

Except until recently. He had missed a significant spike in the latest game against the Alders, which nearly cost him the match. He was not okay. But that was just a first-time thing, right? Indeed, he would not miss a spike in tomorrow’s practice. He’s Bokuto; he doesn’t miss spikes. And then he missed nearly all of his spikes. He was not doing well when he returned to his penthouse apartment that evening. Was he in a slump?

His golden eyes flicked back and forth on his ceiling as he lay in his plush bed, hands crossed over his chest in thought. Why was he acting like this? He occasionally missed a spike, but that was a rare event. Was he missing them so frequently? What if he wasn’t as good of a volleyball player as he thought? Anxiety plagued his mind, making him toss and turn in his cotton comforter decorated with owls (stylish owls, of course). Bokuto’s black and white hair became incredibly messy, reflecting his inner thoughts. Luckily, he had a means of comforting himself. When the opposite hitter wasn’t doing so well at times like these, he could always turn to you, one of his beloved Black Jackal Managers.

You were the kindest of all the managers he had, that was for sure. While the other seven managers focused on scheduling or payroll, you were the personality hire. Your pretty face automatically boosted the morale of the entire team, like a beam of sunlight poking out from the clouds after a thunderstorm. Bokuto liked you; he really liked you. Every single practice, he would pray that you’d be there, sitting on your chair, diligently taking notes while wearing that MSBY windbreaker that covered the curves of your breasts in the most annoying manner possible. Fuck, you were so damn pretty.

Bokuto reached for his phone, which was charging on the bedside table, scrolling through his messages until he landed on your chat from a couple of weeks ago. The topic was simple: What kind of onigiri did he want from Onigiri Miya? It was just a question, but the notification made his heart race every time he read it. The pads of his thumbs hovered over the keypad for a moment, unsure of how to word his message. He wanted you to visit him. Why couldn’t he just type that? After minutes of contemplation, he had sent his message. Bokuto’s phone was thrown to the other side of the bed, nearly getting lost in the mess of thick duvet. The opposite hitter slammed his face into his fluffed pillow, groaning into the fabric.

Kotaro Bokuto: Wanna come over and talk? Been feeling really down recently. :(

It felt like hours since he sent the text, looking at where he tossed his phone every other minute to see if the home screen lit up. Finally, after agonizingly painful minutes passed, his screen lit up with your message, the cute little heart icon next to your name making him break out in a crooked smile.

Cute Manager: I’ll be over in 30 minutes. Bringing my famous sugar cookies! They always brighten someone’s day <3

Bokuto practically threw himself off his bed, looking around his messy apartment. Shit, had that smell always been there? Why (and how) was there a sock on the ceiling fan? Don’t even get him started on the empty packages that littered his living room floor; this was a disaster. He had to ensure it was perfect for you, his angelic manager. You thought so highly of him; he wasn’t about to lose that due to a messy apartment.

He cleaned like a man gone wild, sensual R&B music playing from a speaker in his kitchen. He had obtained three full trash bags and one spilling-over hamper, but he had made his apartment look presentable. The counters were no longer sticky, and the sock was down from the fan, thanks to him expertly flinging rubber bands at the blades. Bokuto was proud of himself, bearing a satisfied smirk while his hands rested on his hips in a hero pose.

The doorbell rang. Oh fuck, how were you here already? Did half an hour seriously pass by so quickly? He didn’t even have time to change out of his black tank top! Maybe that was a good thing? Perhaps you liked looking at his massive biceps. Whatever, he didn’t have time to think about all that. His cute manager was waiting behind that door with a plate of delicious sugar cookies!

Bokuto swung the door open a little too enthusiastically, his crooked smile fully displayed amongst his handsome features. His golden eyes instantly landed on your figure, drinking in your outfit. A low-cut black scoop neck top with oversized ripped jeans; fucking perfection. You offered him a kind smile and held out the wrapped-up plate of cookies, tilting your head to the side. “Hey, Bokuto! I’m here, like I promised. Oh, and I brought the cookies. Don’t ask for the recipe because I won’t tell!” you giggled, stepping inside his apartment. It was cleaner than you imagined, and it smelled like roses. Who knew that Bokuto could be so neat?

“Woah, it’s even bigger than I imagined! Sometimes I forget how much professional athletes make annually,” you joked, kicking off your ballet flats on the shoe stand. “You must have an amazing view at night, look at the city! It’s gorgeous.” you turned to Bokuto and smiled, placing your hands on his shoulders. “It’s been a while since we last hung out, hasn’t it?”

“Oh, yeah! I guess it has, eh? Time flies when you’re a Black Jackal!” Bokuto awkwardly stammered, growing increasingly flustered as the almond shape of your manicured nails made contact with his muscular shoulders. “Thanks for coming over so quickly; I thought you were at a club or something.”

You shook your head and leaned against the raised kitchen counter, raising an eyebrow. “Nah, I hate clubs. It’s always so stuffy in there, and there’s always a hand on your ass, whether you want it or not.” you brushed your hair to the side, exposing your neck. The perfume you had to carefully put on, a mixture of lilac and jasmine, filled Bokuto’s nostrils. He was only a few feet from your body, yet the aroma drove him secretly insane. “What about you, do you like clubs? You seem like the type.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Bokuto asked, pretending to clutch his pearls.

“Well, you’re extroverted and love having a good time. That’s what the clubs are for, aren’t they?” you paused your speech, matching his gaze with your own. “But you haven’t been having a good time recently, have you?”

Bokuto shook his head and slumped onto the sofa, his bottom lip curling into a childish pout. “No, you’re right. I just can’t hit my stupid spikes! Atsumu’s been on my ass about it like it’s my fault that I can’t seem to hit them! I mean, I guess it’s my fault…whatever! I don’t know what I’m saying anymore!” he slammed his face in his hands, groaning in exasperation.

You smiled softly and sat next to him, patting his muscular back. “Hey, it’ll be alright. You’ve hit amazing spikes before, and you’ll hit amazing spikes again. I know you will.” your soft hands ran up and down the thin fabric of his tank top, massaging the tense muscles underneath. “We all have our slumps, you know. Nobody is perfect, not even Atsumu. Besides,” your lips were centimeters away from his ear. “Atsumu is my least favorite.”

Bokuto chuckled and wrapped his arm around your waist, pressing your cheek against his pectoral. “Yeah, but he’s really funny! Except when he texts the group chat with me, Shoyo, and Sakusa…then he gets really gross. Usually about the women he slept with or something.”

“Ew,” you blush softly as Bokuto's muscular bicep wraps around your waist, his large hand squeezing the fabric of your jeans. “So, are you feeling any better now? Do you wanna eat a cookie and watch a movie, maybe? What would make you feel better?” you could feel his heartbreak in his chest, the thumbing sensation of the organ being a somewhat calming presence. “Because when you’re sad, the Jackals can’t really get anything done. No offense.”

Bokuto chuckled and squeezed you closer, inhaling the scent of your shampoo. God, you smelled fucking amazing. Did you always smell so good? “I’m down for a movie if you’re down. What kind of movie were you thinking of?”

“Comedy, maybe? I don’t know, you can pick,” you replied.

“Comedy it is,” Bokuto leaned forward to grab the remote from the coffee table, turning on the massive television he owned. His hand remained firmly grasped on your waist, occasionally running his thumb up and down the denim of your high-waisted jeans. He flicked through a couple of films under the comedy section in his DVR until he selected a random one. He chose it solely on how fantastic the movie poster was, naturally.

The opening credits played from the surround sound speakers, and his hand was still snug on your waist, his golden eyes occasionally stealing a chaste look. You were smaller than him, so he really only got to see the top of your head, but you were so fucking adorable. Bokuto thought it was vital that you didn’t push him away after he wrapped his arm around you and that you welcomed his touch. You trusted him so much, making his heart beat a million miles a minute.

The movie's beginning was hilarious, as expected from an award-winning comedy. Bokuto’s laugh was deep in comparison to yours. Of course, your laugh was adorable; why wouldn’t it be? He felt as though his heart would explode from your presence, beating erratically in his chest.

“Are you feeling okay? Your heart is beating really fast,” you questioned, lifting your face from its comfortable resting spot on his chest. “Do you need anything at all?”

Bokuto bit down on his lower lip, unsure of what to say. Should he just confess how much he wants you, how much he craves to have your lips on his own? What if you rejected his advances and quit managing the team? “Uh, it’s nothing. Don’t worry about it, sweetheart.” Sweetheart, did he really just say that? Bokuto cringed at himself.

A small smile graced your delicate features at the endearing name, your tiny hand resting on his chest. “Bokuto, I’m always going to worry about my team. Especially you, you’re my favorite. Did you know that?”

His mind went blank for a second. He was your favorite. He was your favorite. Out of all the members of the Black Jackals, you liked him the most. “I-I didn’t know that at all, am I actually your favorite? You aren’t messing with me or anything?”

“Why would I lie about that?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s just…you’re beautiful. And I’m your favorite…it makes me feel special. I know I’m already special, just like, more special. Y’know?”

“You think I’m beautiful?” your eyes bore into his once more, the chatter from the movie falling on deaf ears. “You really think I’m beautiful?”

Bokuto softly smiled at you, adoring how the light from the television illuminated your blushing face. “Yeah, I really think so. I’ve thought that for a while since you were hired.” his other hand cupped the right side of your face, his calloused thumb running across your cheekbone. “Do you…do you think I’m pretty, too?”

You giggled and rested your hand on Bokuto’s, smiling brightly. “Yeah, I think you’re beautiful, Bokuto. And handsome and adorable.” you leaned upwards, your noses touching. “You’re funny, kind, and sometimes a little too confident. You’re sensitive, and you care so much about your teammates. Anyone would be lucky to have you.”

“I want you to have me,” he whispered, his voice a low baritone. “Please, I’ve wanted this for so long. Tell me that I can have you, even if it’s just for tonight.” his lips hovered over yours, not daring to do anything without your permission. “Because if you say it’s okay, I don’t think I’ll be able to hold myself back, sweetness.”

His hot breath tickled the tiny hairs on your face, mouth slightly agape. You gulped and nodded, closing your eyes while his hands cupped your cheeks. “It’s okay, Kotaro.”

The sound of his given name falling from your lips was all he needed to press his mouth to yours in a searing kiss filled with unfulfilled desires. It was slow and sensual, yet it held so much molten passion. His lips molded with yours so perfectly, the taste of your chapstick making him savor you even more. His hands fled your face and grasped onto your hips, pulling you into his lap with no trouble at all. Bokuto pressed your chest against his own, groaning against your petal-like lips. A spark was set in his lower belly, his hands trailing down to your ass. He squeezed the denim fabric, eliciting an adorable squeak from your mouth.

You pulled away after a moment, both of your faces incredibly flushed. “Shit,” Bokuto breathed out, toying with the hem of your jeans. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that, sweetness.”

“Me too,” you whispered, kissing his neck gently. “I’ve been wanting to do this,” you placed another kiss, then another, and another. “For so fucking long.” you nibbled onto his collarbone playfully, earning yourself a beautiful moan from Bokuto’s bruised lips.

“Fuck, I never pegged you for a biter. Thought I would always be the one biting you,” he purred, slipping his hands underneath your jeans and panties. You gasped at the coldness of his hands on your warm skin, how his fingers kneaded the supple flesh of your ass. “But I guess I can let you nibble on me for a little longer since you’re so damn pretty.”

“When did you get so good at flirting, hm?” you began to suckle on his collarbone.

“The moment I got signed to the Black Jackals. They’re, fuck, they’re a bunch of womanizers.” he softly moaned at the sensation of your teeth suckling at his tough flesh. “Taught me a thing or two.”

You pulled away from his neck and smiled, kissing his forehead. “So I take it you picked up a thing or two?”

“Damn right, I have,” his hands squeezed your ass once more. “Can you do me a favor and take these off, sweetness? I’ll take mine off, too. That way, we’re even.”

You got off his lap and shimmied out of your jeans, tossing them aside along with your top. You wore a matching bra and panty set, the black fabric hugging your curves tenderly. “Now, you do yours. Don’t keep me waiting, Ko’.”

His nickname rang in his ears, your voice making it drip like honey. Bokutp practically ripped off his clothes, leaving him in only his MSBY boxers. “Shit, you’re gorgeous.” he leaned into the leather couch, spreading his legs. “C’mere gorgeous, sit on my lap.”

Bokuto’s hands once again cupped your ass as you straddled his lap, admiring how thick his thighs were. You had never noticed it before, but Bokuto was a big guy. “That’s it, good girl. Right on my thigh there, pretty.”

“Fuck,” you moaned as your clothed pussy made contact with his bare thigh, unconsciously rubbing against it. “You’re really fucking sexy.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Bokuto pulled you into another kiss, aggressively slamming his lips against yours while his hands remained glued to your ass. His tongue prodded against your lips impatiently, begging to be let inside your mouth. You happily obliged, a mewl falling from your lips as his tongue briefly danced with yours. Bokuto pulled away, breaking the strand of saliva that connected your lips. “Your voice is too damn pretty,” his hand cracked against your ass, causing you to grind further onto his thigh. Embarrassed, you hid your face in his bruised neck, earning a smug smirk from Bokuto. “Oh, did that feel good, baby? Don’t be shy now; you can tell me.” he smacked your ass once more, relishing in your pleasurable squeaks and squeals. “Does someone like it when I smack their ass?”

“Y-yeah!” you whimpered into his neck, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. Your hips bucked against his thigh, your core desperate for friction. “Please, lemme ride your thigh. You feel so fucking good, Ko’.”

Bokuto threw his head back at your begging, his cock growing painfully hard in his boxers. “Yeah, you wanna grind on my thigh, pretty girl?” he squeezed the plushness of your thigh. “I’m the only one who can make you feel this way, right? Because I’m the best. Say it, and you can do whatever you want.”

You let out a broken sigh and pulled your face out from his neck, your pearly whites nibbling at the shell of his ear. “You’re the only one who can make me feel this good, Kotaro.” Your breath was sweet and sensual, and you were full of wanting for your release. “Please, I wanna ride your thigh.”

“Good girl,” he praised, gripping onto your hips. He began to drag you up and down his thigh, embracing the cute little noises you made. “That’s it, baby, talk to me. Tell me how good I make you feel, yeah?”

“So good! So good, Ko’.” you whimpered, a warmth sensation bubbling up inside your belly as your clothed clit rubbed against his thigh. Your small hands rested on his abs, running up and down the prevalent muscle. “T-talk to me, helps me get off–fuck!” you tossed your head back, hair falling out of your face as Bokuto purposefully flexed his thigh muscle.

He groaned at the sight of you, head thrown back, tits bouncing in your bra as you used his thigh to get yourself off. His goddess of a manager was using him to cum, his thigh. It was so fucking perfect. “You’re so fucking sexy, you know that? You come to practice in those short shorts that show off your ass so well. Do you know what you do to me?”

“Tell me,” you moaned, feeling your climax approach quickly. You were basically rutting yourself against his thigh like a bitch in heat, and it felt fucking incredible.

“Every time you bent over, I thought about this ass,” he smacked the exposed flesh, definitely leaving a handprint later. “Thought about squeezing it, about smacking it, how it would look wearing slutty black panties.” Bokuto flexed his thigh muscles even more, giving you a sturdier surface to grind on.

“Thought about you clawing at my back while I fuck you in the locker room, so the rest of the team can back the fuck off. Keep you all to myself, my pretty manager.” he spat through his teeth, gripping your jaw tightly with his hand. “Look at me when you cum, pretty girl. Wanna see that cute little face.” his thumb ran across your bottom lip, pulling slightly.

Your mouth went slack-jawed as your orgasm washed over you, your eyes struggling to look at Bokuto while you continued to ride his thigh until you came down from nirvana. “F-fuck!” you sobbed, your hips ceasing their bucking once your high was finished. “Shit, I made a mess on your thigh. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t fucking apologize. That was the sexiest thing I’ve ever fucking seen.” Bokuto groaned, lifting you off of his thigh so quickly. “Fuck, you soaked your panties. I guess you gotta take them off now, yeah? Bra, too. Don’t be shy around me.” he set you down on the coffee table, your form blocking the movie, but he didn’t care about the movie anymore. There was only you.

Still shaking from the shockwaves of your release, you slowly stripped yourself of your remaining clothes, placing them down on the glass of the table. Bokuto drank in your view, like an artist staring at a finished painting. You were gorgeous, ethereal, out of this world. Surely, it would be impossible for anyone else to match your beauty. “Fucking hell,” he groaned, pushing himself off of the couch to grab your wrist. “Bedroom. Now.”

He practically dragged you into his bedroom, throwing you down onto the plush owl-themed comforter. You giggled at the childish fabric as Bokuto hovered above you, his hands on either side of your head. “I take it you love owls?” you raised an eyebrow.

“I fucking love owls,” he smirked, leaning down to peck your nose. “Not as much as I love how you look right now, pretty girl.” his right hand squeezed your breast, thumb rolling over your nipple while his left hand managed to continue holding him up.

“You’re such a tease,” you moaned as he pinched your sensitive bud, his massive hand encasing your entire breast. “I thought you wanted to fuck me, Kotaro. Am I wrong?”

“You aren’t wrong, sweetness,” he purred, rolling his hips against yours. You could feel his cock pulsating through his boxers, begging to be inside you. “Just wanna make sure you’re prepped first. I’m a big guy, y’know?” he stuck his fingers inside of his mouth, coating them with saliva before prodding at your entrance with the digits, slowly sticking them inside your heat. “Holy fuck, you’re so fucking wet. Did my thigh make you cum that much, princess?”

You gasped as he curled his fingers deep inside of you, his ministrations slow and sensual. “Fuck! Y-yes, y’made me cum so much! Love your thighs, Ko’!” you squeaked, instinctively squeezing your thighs together.

Bokuto tutted and used his free hand to shove your legs apart, now kneeling above you. “Don’t try to hide it, sweetness. You know I don’t like that.” he was not knuckle-deep inside your weeping cunt, his fingers plunging inside so expertly. “Fuck, gotta make sure you’re nice and loose for me, yeah? Don’t wanna hurt you.”

“S-shit! You’re gonna make me cum again!” you whimpered, grasping onto your breasts for additional stimulation. “God, how do your fingers feel so fucking good?”

“Can’t answer that for you, sweetheart. You wanna cum again, pretty girl? Want me to rub your clit and make a mess all over my hand?” he teased, beginning to massage your sensitive clit with the pad of this thumb. His fingers were still scissoring you open, coating you with the mixture of his saliva and your release.

“Yes, fuck! Please, Ko’!” you whined, the familiar bubbling sensation in your belly threatening to spill over. Your legs were now dangling over his shoulder, quaking in ecstasy. “Wanna cum, fucking make me cum!”

“That’s what I like to hear,” he offered you a mischievous smirk, furiously rubbing his thumb over your clit as you tumbled into pure pleasure once more. Your mouth became agape; your head tossed into the plush pillow behind you. His fingers ceased their movement, sliding out of your cunt covered in your slick. “Shit,” Bokuto mumbled, bringing his fingers to his mouth. “Fucking delicious.”

He gave you another kiss, leaving some of your release on your lips. His boxers were peeled off and thrown onto the nightstand as he fumbled through one of the drawers, cursing at himself. “God dammnit, I know I have one. Where the fuck is it?”

“Looking for a condom?” you asked, the breath still being knocked out of your lungs.

“Yeah, it’s being a pain in the ass to find, though.”

“I’m on the pill.” you plainly state, smiling at him. “You don’t have to use a condom. It’ll be okay with me.”

Bokuto stopped rummaging through the drawer, turning over to look at you with a look that could only be a mixture of lust and absolute delight. “Are you sure? I-I mean, I’m happy to hit it raw; I just don’t wanna pressure you or anything.”

You nodded your head and pulled him close to you by his shoulder, pecking his nose sweetly. “I promise, Kotaro. You don’t have to use a condom when you’re with me.”

“God, that’s music to my fucking ears, baby,” his voice rumbled, his hands resting on the bottoms of your thighs. You were propped up by your elbows and Bokuto’s variety of pillows, his cock painfully hard against his abdomen. “Can’t wait to ruin this fucking pussy.”

You tilted your head to the side in confidence, winking. “Then what are you waiting for?” you spread your legs, exposing your glistening heat to him once more. “Ruin me, Kotaro.”

Bokuto bit down on his lower lip and growled, aligning his cock with your cunt. “You have no idea what you’re in for, pretty girl.” the mushroom head pushed past your folds, the newfound sensation causing the both of you to moan softly. “Shit, you’re still so tight. That’s okay,” he chuckled, snapping his hips against yours. His cock slammed inside of you, filling you up so quickly. “I’ll fucking make it fit.”

“Holy shit!” you sobbed, your fingers scrambling for purchase in the bedsheets. “Kotaro!”

“That’s it, baby, scream my name while I fuck this pussy stupid.” Bokuto hissed, pounding into you without giving you the chance to catch your breath. You looked so fucking pretty underneath him, especially the way your greedy pussy took him so well. The way your sobbing walls enveloped him entirely it was perfection. “Taking me so well, good fucking girl.”

Your pathetic mewls were like that of a morning songbird, the most beautiful melody. Bokuto hoisted your legs above his shoulders once again, his cock hitting you at a deeper angle. You screamed, the head prodding at your cervix. “Fuck, shit, oh my god! Kotaro, f-fuck!”

His thrusts were animalistic as if he were in heat. They were uncalculated and had no rhythm, only a mission to make you stupid on his cock. His hands gripped onto your ankles while he started at your lewd form, admiring how your small hands encased your breasts in an attempt to create more stimulation. How greedy you were. He thought it was adorable. Everything about you was simply adorable.

“Good fucking girl, that’s my girl,” he groaned as you squeezed around him, pulling him impossibly deep. “Oh, you like it when I call you that? Your pussy is sucking me in, pretty girl.” he teased, smacking the underside of your thigh.

You attempted to speak, but all that fell from your lips was incoherent babbling. Your mind was all fuzzy, full of nothing but thoughts of Bokuto fucking you senseless. You arched your back further into the mattress, your hair forming the messiest halo above you. The sound of his balls slapping against your ass filled the bedroom, the movie in the living room being a thing of the past.

“My pretty girl can’t speak now, but that’s okay,” Bokuto assured you, punctuating his sentences with a harsh slam inside of you. “I’ll just make you cum again, yeah? We’ll cum at the same time, okay, pretty girl? I know you got one more in you. Wanna give it to me? Don’t you think I deserve it? I wanna hear you say that. Say I deserve to make you cum again!”

“Fuck!” you sobbed, your orgasm dangerously close. You didn’t think you could handle one more, his cock bullying its way in and out of your weeping cunt. “Y’deserve to make me cum again, Kotaro! F-fuck, think I’m gonna cum soon!”

“Don’t fucking hold out on me, baby. You know I like it messy!” Bokuto bent forward, his thrusts becoming more erratic and needy as his cock twitched inside of you, begging for release. “Gonna fucking cum in this pussy, make it all fucking mine!”

“Shit!” you sobbed, tears welling up in the corners of your eyes. “Kotaro!” his name fell from your lips like a broken pair as you came for the third and final time that night, completely coating his cock in your glistening slick.

“Holy fuck, yeah, yeah! Fucking hell!” Bokuto roared, shooting ropes of cum deep inside your core, creating a new warm sensation in your belly. His thrusts grew slower and slower, almost as if he was attempting to fuck his cum inside of you. “Dont wanna…stop fucking you…but I’m tired.” he groaned, letting your legs fall back onto your chest. “Shit.”

Bokuto shamelessly collapsed onto you, purposely landing on your breast. He lifted his hips so his cock could slide out of you, almost with the thinnest streams of his release down your bruised thighs. “Mmm, that was so fucking good,” he mumbled against your breast, sucking on your pert nipple for a moment. “You got the best fucking pussy I’ve ever had.”

“You flatter me,” your hands ran through his damp black and white strands, acting as a comb. “You felt so fucking good, Kotaro. I’m glad I could help out. Do you think you’ll feel better at tomorrow's practice?”

Bokuto looked up from your breast and smiled brightly, cupping your flushed face with his hands. “I’m totally gonna kick everyone's ass! Atsumu won’t know what’ll hit him!”

“There’s the Bokuto we know and love!” you chuckle.

“I’m back, baby!” he weakly flexed his muscle, kissing your cheek playfully. “Guess all I needed was my sexy manager. Best damn cure on the planet!”

You rolled your eyes and kissed the top of his head. “You act completely different when you’re inside of me.”

“Is that a bad thing?” he titled his head.

“Absolutely not. I think it’s adorable. You’re adorable.” you kissed his cheek once more. “So, uh, is it possible for us to do this again sometime? I-it was nice.” your eyes landed on the floor, embarrassed for no reason.

Bokuto flashed you his signature crooked smile and laughed, kissing your neck. “What a stupid question. Of course, we can do this again! We basically confessed before I fucked you, remember?”

“Oh yeah, I guess I forgot.” you awkwardly chuckled, leaning into his enthusiastic kisses. “Maybe your dick knocked all the brains out of my skull.”

“But then you won’t have any more left when you watch us practice!” Bokuto whined, snuggling his face into your chest once more. “You gotta have some brain left, okay?”

“Okay, Kotaro,” you mumbled, your eyelids growing heavy. “Hey…it’s pretty late. Would it be okay if I slept here for the night? I understand if you don’t want me to.”

“Hell yeah, you can sleep here!” He cheered softly, running his hand up and down your arm. “That way, you can arrive with me to practice tomorrow. Then I can show off my new girlfriend to the team and make them all super jealous.”

You chuckled. “Oh, am I your girlfriend now?”

“Do…do you wanna be my girlfriend?” his voice was soft and unsure.

“Of course I do, cutie.” you pecked the top of his head, pulling up the owl-themed covers. “Now, get some sleep. You got a lot to do tomorrow, yeah?”

“Mm, okay, baby. I can’t wait to wake up in your arms tomorrow.” he innocently whispered, shutting his eyes as sleep overtook him.

“Goodnight, Kotaro,” you whispered, flicking off the lamp as the two of you fell asleep in a mutual embrace, eager for what tomorrow will bring.

reblogs appreciated ❤

#haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #bokuto koutarou #haikyuu bokuto #bokuto smut #bokuto x reader #kotaro bokuto

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mistydeyes · 9 months

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hiiiii I LOVE YOUR WORK!!!!!!!! Can you please do 141 with a model reader who does Chanel,Versace etc and she gets an invite to do Victoria’s Secret runway and they see her down the runway how would they react

she’s not any model shes and icon,sex symbol,brains,she is the moment

big inspo for me ( I want to become a model)

AHHH I LOVE THIS! anon i feel you tho, every time i look on pinterest i just want to be a model! thank you for requesting <3

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summary: The 141 has always had an odd connection of friends, allies, and connections. However, they can't deny that they don't enjoy your luxurious life as a model and the perks that come along with attending one of your shows.

pairing: Taskforce 141 x fem!reader

warnings: swearing

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A series of events in Milan allowed the 141 to cross paths with you. Staying in a lavish French penthouse was far from what they had expected on a mission dictated by Laswell but her connections with your retired INTERPOL mother had brought them the extravagance of your home and lifestyle. Laswell had to threaten to have their court marshaled if they delayed their arrival home any longer. You thought of that brief moment in summer fondly as you left Gaz a voicemail. "I have a runway in New York coming up, let me know if you'll be on leave," you spoke on the phone, examining your manicured nails, "accommodations and champagne are on me."

"This is nice," Price said, dropping his duffle onto the marbled tile of their hotel room. "Are you kidding, Cap?" Gaz said as he opened every door into the massive suite, "This is fucking amazing." When they got off the plane at JFK, they had not expected a private driver who brought them to the ornate hotel. The room itself had four separate bedrooms with two bathrooms filled with the best amenities. Soap had taken the opportunity to run over and open a bottle of champagne while Ghost pilfered the small shampoo and conditioner bottles. While the men explored the vast rooms and fought over the beds, there was a knock at the door. Price opened it to reveal a well-dressed bell-hop boy, holding a tray with an envelope. "Four tickets sent by one of the models," he spoke and Price handled the black envelope with embossed pink lettering. "Hell of invitation," he muttered before he looked at the runway time and shared the details with his team. "Wonder what she'll be wearing," Soap mused as he turned to take over one of the bathrooms.

Behind the stage, there was organized chaos with models running around in their silk robes in between the stations. The chatter roared as they chatted with the various hair stylists and makeup artists. "First VS show?" your makeup artist asked as she applied glitter delicately to your primed lids. "Yes, but not my first modeling gig," you smiled as you felt the pressure on your closed eyes, "Versace was beyond a mess compared to this." The artist laughed as she continued to prep your look. You could see mixes of pink and gold applied to your lips and the apples of your cheeks. "We think an olive green liner would look stunning on you," she said before holding a green eyeliner pencil in hand. You nodded in response as you shifted a bit in your robe. You gently closed your eyes again as you envisioned your latest outfit for the night.

Weeks prior you had visited the city to see your outfit for the night. A sage green bra and panty set decorated with pink and glittery flowers to resemble a meadow. Your wings were made of a delicate rose pink chiffon that was reminiscent of a fairy. "Do you like?" the designer asked as you walked around the stand and examined every stitch and detail. You smiled as you nodded happily, feeling the soft fabric under your fingertips. "Any particular inspiration?" you questioned as you made sure to feel the weight of the wings. "The newest line of Victoria's Secret," she spoke dreamily, "the delicacy of nature."

With your makeup and hair done, you walked over to change and receive the final touches from the design team. The group walked rapidly around your figure, assuring every detail would shine when the lights hit your walk. "Have anyone special here tonight?" one of the designers asked as he cut a few loose stitches. "Just a few friends from Europe," you spoke, hoping you didn't sound too entitled. You wanted to talk more but your odd friendship with a small special forces group would definitely reach some tabloids. "You look perfect darling," another designer spoke and you nodded before beginning to walk in your heels. "You can mingle with the others. Your collection is after the classics set," she reminded. You took a deep breath and made some facetious conversation with the other women. They were in awe at your previous shows but you just simply talked as if each was a mediocre experience. "Alright ladies, walk begins in five," a voice called over the comms and you lined up accordingly. As you watched the excited group in front of you, you wondered what you would treat the 141 to for dinner. You were sure if someone knew this is what you thought of before a show, they would laugh.

"Move up, Y/N," the stage manager directed, pulling you out of your food-related musings, "almost time for you to go on." You moved forward, getting into the comfort of your model walk you had done so many times before. You took a deep breath as you heard the live music stream through the curtains and the ethereal light peek through. You looked down at your attire one last time before the model ahead of you returned and it was your turn to awe the show. "Go, go, go," you could hear the stage manager command as the bright lights and menagerie of faces met your gaze.

"I think this is her!" Gaz commented, leaning forward in his chair. "You've been saying that for the past four models," Ghost corrected before he turned to see who was coming out next. As the men directed their gaze to the stage, you confidently strutted onto the platform. They were glued to your figure, perfectly accentuated by the flirtatious lingerie set. The details were delicate and encapsulated your aura. "Fuck." Soap whispered under his breath as the glitter and flower additions to your ensemble shimmered underneath the light. Your wings bounced and looked like they flittered in the air as you made your way in front of the watching crowd. "She's a natural at this," Price commented as he watched the way you walked in a straight line with an air of elegance in each step. He also couldn't deny the way you shined on stage and how the cameras clicked in rapid succession. As you reached the end of the runway, you took an opportunity to look over at the seats you had picked for the 141. You gave a small wink before blowing a kiss in their direction.

Upon your exiting, there was a clamor amongst the group as to who the kiss was directed to. Primarily, Soap and Gaz were at odds thinking you made eye contact with them as you puckered your glossed lips. Price attempted to put a stop to them before Ghost spoke up. "I'm sure that was for me," he spoke quietly, leaving everyone to shelf the conversation and bring it up later over dinner.

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cherryredstars · 10 months

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idc how good dom!miguel fics are, that man is a whole ass sub.

anyhooooooos, may i request rich sub!miguel wanting reader to step on him (literally) with the new red-bottoms he bought her before begging to munch on her. you can decide if reader grants him his request or not. maybe the heels weren’t enough of an apology for his workaholic self 👀

Pairing: Sub!Miguel x Femdom!Reader

Warnings: 18+, Smut with Some Plot, Degradation, Miguel Being Stepped On, Hair Pulling, Oral Sex (Fem. Receiving), Some Begging, Spit Play, Self-Edging, Face Sitting

Summary: Miguel is going to have to do more than give you gifts if he wants your forgiveness.

A/N: The way I SCREAMED when I read this request :))

Word Count: 2.1K (Barley Edited)

They were pretty, sure.

Iconic shiny black heels with rich red bottoms. They definitely cost a pretty penny, which Miguel had plenty of. He constantly had expensive gifts to spoil you with. Designer purses and dresses and thousand dollar shoes that only ever got worn a handful of times. He even bought you the shiny new penthouse that you sit in now, just watching him.

You sat on your expensive leather couch, another gift from your lovely boyfriend, boredly sipping from your wine glass as Miguel rests on his knees before you. His hold on your legs is gentle as he slips the new shoes onto your feet. The look on his face is one of pure devotion and admiration as he looks up at you. He kisses your ankle each time he puts on a shoe, mumbling his love and apologizes against your skin. The sight is cute, if not entirely pathetic.

He had come through your front door, a pretty bouquet of flowers in his hand with the recognizable Louboutin shopping bag clutched in the other. It was an apology for leaving your date early last week because he got called into HQ at the last minute. To say you were less than impressed was an understatement. Clearly the man didn’t know what a proper apology was. Good thing you’re always willing to teach him.

“Do you like them, mi vida?” Miguel mumbled against the skin of your calf. He peppered soft kisses to your skin, eyes practically looking up at you in a crave for approval.

All you did was let out a dismissive hum around the rim of your glass, “I would hardly call it an apology.”

The glass covered your pleased smirk as a look of desperation crossed Miguel’s face. He wanted to make it up to you, to make you happy. Happy with him. He needed you to be happy with him. His lips started to trail higher up your leg, hand coming up to push your silk slip higher up so he can kiss your thighs. He kissed and licked the skin, a pleading look in his eyes, “Please, please let me make it up to you.”

The words were a whisper and his position on your legs and his undertone wasn't lost on you. He said it in a tone he knew you liked. That pathetic whine that dripped with a crazed need. The voice you always cooed at and showered him in praise for.

“And ruin my leather couch? No, thanks.” You scoffed, bending your leg and pushing your heel into Miguel’s chest. With just enough power, you pushed him away from you, causing him to fall on his elbows on the floor.

You slowly got off the couch, standing over Miguel’s form as you downed the rest of your remaining wine. You lifted your foot again and placed it on his chest to keep him down. The heel dug into his chest and he grabbed your calf as you slightly grind your foot into it. Miguel looks up at you with dazed eyes, an expression of pure arousal flushing his face. You crouch down and your free hand clutches the hair at the back of his neck tightly. The tiniest whimper leaves Miguel’s mouth as you jerk his head forward so his ear is next to your mouth.

“You should see yourself, a pathetic excuse of a man begging for forgiveness. The leader of an elite society of heroes turned into a beggar at my feet. What a joke.” The words were a sarcastic chuckle that made Miguel moan slightly. God it was so hot when you looked down at him like this.

You let go of his hair, standing up again. You looked down at him for another minute before scoffing and turning away. Your quick dismissal of him makes Miguel gasp and scramble to get back onto his feet. He was a stumbling fool, trying to pick himself up off the ground in a hurry to follow after you like a puppy. “W-wait! Mi amor, wait!”

You ignore his protests as you set your empty glass on a nearby surface on your way to your bedroom. Miguel is right behind you, tripping over his feet as he chases you with stuttering words. When you reach your bedroom, you close the door right behind you, forcing Miguel to hold the door open so it doesn’t shut in his face.

“Mi tesoro, please.” He grunts, pushing the door open to find you sitting on the edge of your bed with a bored expression waiting for him. He quickly makes his way over, spreading your legs so he can kneel in between them. “Let me show you I’m sorry. Please, perdóname.”

You let out a soft sigh as you tilt your head to the side and stare down at him. He holds onto your calf again, head resting on your thigh as he stares up at you. Your hand comes up, caressing the side of his face gently. Miguel practically purrs at the loving gesture before your hand moves to his chin and grips it tightly.

You move his face off your thigh, holding it close to yours as you smile mockingly. “You’re so pathetic, Mig.”

“For you? Siempre.” Miguel responds automatically as he leans closer to mumble it against your lips. Your smile widens before you pull him into a kiss.

Miguel instantly moans and lets his hands travel up your legs to massage your thighs. He practically melts against you, basking in the taste of the sweet wine that remains on your lips. When you pull away, his eyes are glossy and sluggish. It’s as if he got drunk off your kiss and the aftertaste of wine. You stroke the side of his chin with your thumb in an attempt to pull him from his daze as you spread your thighs wider for him.

“You better make it good, Miguel. Open.” The last word is commanding and Miguel doesn’t hesitate to open his mouth. You lean down and spit in his mouth, “Swallow it.”

He happily obliged, swallowing it with a happy hum. His eyes drift down from your eyes to your spread legs. The pretty lace of your panties is in clear view from where he kneels and he lets out a soft whine at the damp spot on them. He looks back up at you, a desperate, pleading expression morphing his features. When you give him a silent nod, his face flashes into a smile like a kid being told he can get whatever toy he wants at the store.

“Thank you. Thank you, mi cielo.” He mumbles as he slides his hands under your slip to grasp the sides of your lace.

He pulls it down slowly from your legs, watching intently as it reveals your cunt. He bites his lip at the sight and lets out a shaky sigh as your panties are dropped down your legs. Once they’re off, you scoot up on the bed to lay on your back. Miguel instantly follows your body, leaning his elbows on the bed as he grabs your thighs to spread them open again. He doesn’t hesitate to bunch your nightgown up to your waist and bury his head in your glistening sweetness.

A satisfied sigh leaves your lips as your hands go to Miguel’s hair. His warm tongue licks you fervently, moaning into the skin as he drinks in your sweet juices. It’s sweeter than any bottle of wine money could possibly buy. His tongue circles your clit, sucking it into his mouth before releasing it to prod his tongue into your entrance.

A soft sigh is his reward as you lift your legs to rest your heel-clad feet on his shoulders to give him a better angle. When the heel digs into his skin through his button-up, Miguel lets out a desperate whine that causes your thighs to flex. His eyes travel up your body until they meet your own. His brows are furrowed in concentration, but his red eyes are brightened with enjoyment.

He’s a desperate man as he tightens his hold on your thighs and works his mouth against you. He moans at your moans, lets his tongue lick long strokes to gather as much of your arousal as possible. He’s enjoying this, finding an aching pleasure in the ability to feast on you. It’s too good, too heavenly. He lets out another whine as he closes his eyes and thrusts his cock into the bed with each lick he gives your pussy.

You’re close, both you and Miguel can feel it. Miguel hurries his licks and sucks harsher, moving to focus on your clit. He’s so desperate for you to cum on his face, because he knows that when you do, it means you’ve forgiven him. That, and he is impatient to swallow it all. But you haven't forgiven him yet, so you tug on his hair once again and pull his face away.

Miguel lets out a sound of protest, mumbling “No. No, no, no. Please.” while trying to fight your grip and bury his face back into your folds. He looks back up at you with sad eyes, small whines leaving his lips as if he were an injured dog. Meanwhile, you’re panting. You’re pussy throbbing at your own denial for release. You try to gain your breath before rasping out, “You haven’t earned my cum yet.”

Miguel lets out a desperate noise in response. He tries once again to suck your clit into his mouth, but your hold is unbreakable. You sit up then, legs now folded under you as you look down at his sticky face. “Get on the bed and lay on your back.”

Your instructions give him new life, knowing exactly where this is going. He quickly gets up and practically throws himself onto the bed. He lays patiently as you crawl over to him until you’re hovering above his face. His eyes fall to your pussy again and he groans in excitement. The tension grows as your thighs come to rest on either side of his head but make no move to lower yourself down. You’re hovering just high enough so Miguel can’t flick his tongue up to taste you. It makes Miguel squirm with impatience.

Right when he opens his mouth to start begging you to sit down, you drop onto his face. His gasp is suffocated against your pussy as he grabs onto your thighs. He closes his eyes instantly as he begins moving his tongue into your cunt, moaning when he feels your walls swell. Hurriedly, you take his hands and bring them up to your waist so your slip isn’t covering his face before you grab onto the headboard.

Miguel’s whine vibrates against your pussy lips and you begin bucking your hip into his mouth. His nose bumps against your swollen clit with every thrust, increasing your pleasure. Miguel finds his own pleasure in it, getting the ability to smell your honey-like slick. Miguel mumbles words against you, but the words are incoherent between your moans and him cutting himself off to lick and suck on you. When your peak builds again, you gasp and try to ride his face faster. One of your hands drop from the headboard to tangle in Miguel’s hair, causing him to moan in appreciation.

With a few more strong licks from his tongue, paired with your consistent thrusts, you cum. Miguel greedily moans and laps it all up, holding you still on his face as he swallows mouthful after mouthful of release and slick. His tongue working to ease it all out of you. All you can do is try to catch your breath as you throw your head back and move your hips in lazy bucks before lifting yourself off his face. It gives Miguel time to catch his own breath as he looks up at you with a ruined mouth and dilated eyes.

“What do you say Miguel?” You question as you remain hovered over him.

Miguel is still trying to catch his breath, chest heaving. He lets out deep breaths before he can barely reply with, “Thank you for letting me taste your pretty pussy.”

You sigh before humming in approval, pushing your hair out of your face as you get up off the bed. When you look further down the bed and Miguel’s body, you see Miguel’s cock straining painfully through his dress pants. You let out a breathless chuckle as you press down on it with your hand. Miguel instantly moans and you feel him twitch in your hand.

“Take care of this by yourself, I’m going to take a bath.” You dismiss while rotating your hand over his bulge before taking your hand off him completely and disappearing into your personal bathroom.

You leave Miguel on your bed, a glistening mess dripping down his face and an aching cock in need of attention. He can’t stop the whine that morphs into a satisfied smile as he throws his arm over his eyes.

At least he’s forgiven.

I wrote this the same day that I got the request, but I didn’t want to mess up my posting schedule, so I’m sorry it’s been a few days!!

#across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel ohara fanfiction #miguel ohara x you #miguel o’hara x reader #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 x you #across the spiderverse smut #atsv miguel #atsv smut #atsv fanfiction #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 smut #cherry's requests🍒

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