Origin Of Baby

APHRODITE ; Osamu x f!reader

He looks down at you, his gaze betraying his words–greedy, lovesick–and you want to live in this moment forever.

contains: f!reader, dilf!Osamu, co-workers, age gap (reader is in her twenties, Osamu in his forties), mutual pining, pet names (all of them. he uses all of them), oral (reader giving), dirty talk, three lines of spit kink bc it wouldn't be a lale-txt work without it, praise kink, whipped Osamu (as in: down bad, adoring)

word count: 2.6k

You shouldn't have these kinds of thoughts. He’s your boss, you remind yourself. 

But admittedly, it’s hard when he’s currently lying under your kitchen sink, his shirt rucked up a little, revealing a sliver of soft skin and a happy trail while he aches and groans. You sit next to his figure on the kitchen floor, never been happier over a leaking pipe in your apartment.

“Hand me the ring wrench, sweetheart,” Osamu mumbles without looking at you, only holding out a calloused hand for you. You love these hands. They’re the hands you watch for hours while working, shaping the perfect onigiri and wondering what they’d feel wrapped around your neck. Sometimes he’d place them against the small of your back when passing by you behind the counter, always lingering a little longer than he had to. Last time he drove you home (he insisted because it was pouring outside), he rested one on your thigh while steering the car with the other.

You’re pretty sure Osamu Miya wants to fuck you badly. You hope he will.

“Doll,” he says again, his voice soft. He knows how often you tend to zone out. You snap out of it and rummage around the toolbox before you, handing him the thing he asked for. 

Look–you haven’t begged him to do this for you. This may be your first apartment you rented by yourself after moving to Osaka for your master program, but you were an independent one. Always have been. You built your own furniture and drilled every hole in the walls yourself. You knew for a fact how to fix a leaking pipe, you just didn’t get around to it yet because you picked up a few extra shifts at your part-time job at Onigiri Miya so you could save up for a new laptop.

But Osamu wants to help–he’s practically begging you to let him. Which is how he ended up on your kitchen floor. 

You’ve been alone with him before. When you were closing the shop together and you imagined how he’d bent you over the counter to violate every food safety regulation to ever exist. When you were the last ones at the bar during last year’s anniversary party, and you thought about stuffing your panties in the pockets of his coat for him to find later. When you spent one night at his place so you could finish a deadline before midnight on his laptop because yours gave out, and you wondered what his stubble would feel against the insides of your thighs if he ate you out. 

Nothing happened and you’ve been growing more frustrated lately. He’s sweet, he’s caring, he’s respectful and you get it. He’s trying to maintain a somewhat professional relationship between you two, especially given your age gap, but some days you wished he’d just let the animal in him run rampage and fuck you stupid against the nearest wall. 

You know he could. You know he’s thinking about it, too.

Ten minutes later he fixed your leaking pipe, but the ache between your thighs persists. He sits up again, so close that your knees are touching in your cramped little kitchen, and gives you a smile that makes your chest tighten with barely contained lust. There’s something boyish about his smile, making it easy to imagine what kind of heartthrob he must have been in his twenties. You gotta ask him about some photos from that time.

He’s still handsome, though. More than that. With his salt-and-pepper hair and the small wrinkles around his eyes, and his big calloused hands, adorned with a few scars from handling knives in the kitchen for over three decades and counting. He’s built differently than his twin, the retired pro-athlete. You’ve met him a few times at the shop. Osamu works out but he also likes to eat, granting him the strength to throw these heavy rice bags over his shoulders as if they weighed nothing. How many times have you imagined him manhandling you like that? You can’t remember. Far too often. 

Osamu wipes the sweat off his forehead and looks at you, lazy half-lidded eyes lingering on your face. He has no idea what kind of effect he has on you. Or maybe he does, but he’s not acting on it which is even more frustrating. 

“Yer hungry? I could fix us a plate,” he offers. Always looking out for you. Always caring. 

“Be my guest,” you reply, nodding over to your fridge. It’s currently stocked with two slices of toast, a cucumber that has seen better days, some leftovers from last week that you haven’t thrown out yet and a half-empty box of orange juice. You usually eat at uni or at work, and lately you’ve been so busy that you haven’t really gotten around to stocking up on things at home. 

Osamu lets out a long sigh when he peaks inside your fridge, one hand on his hip and the other rubbing over his face.

“Sweetheart,” he mutters, his tone a touch condescending, and you laugh quietly. You know this sight pained him more than anything. He looks over his shoulder back at you, his thick brows furrowed. “What is this?”

You rise to your feet as well and take a few steps towards him, firmly shutting the fridge door again.

“None of your business,” you say with a teasing smile to which Osamu huffs. He pats down the pockets of his pants for his phone and then taps the screen a few times. 

“Takeout it is then,” he sighs. This man is determined to feed you at all costs, already adding a few things to the cart. “What d’you want, doll?”

“You.”

Osamu doesn’t lift his head, but his eyes dart up to your face. Pondering if you’re serious or you’re joking. His expression doesn’t betray anything, but the small twitch of his hand and the sight of his pants tightening a little does.

“I want you, Osamu,” you say again, closing the remaining distance between you both. He’s now effectively trapped between you and the counter, and while you know he could easily shove you away–he doesn’t. You lean a little closer to him, your body pressing against his. He swallows and puts his phone aside, taking your face in both of his hands and tilting it up a little to make sure you look at him. You can tell that he’s scratching at the last bits of his self-restraint right now.

“I’m old enough to be your father and—sweetie, you have to stop smiling like that when I say this, goddamn,” he groans and looks away. You’re gonna give him a few more gray hairs, he’s sure of it. His thumbs trace absentmindedly along your jaw, fingers calloused but his touch gentle.

You tilt your head to the side, nuzzling closer into his big palm. His eyes linger on you, as if they’re silently telling you ‘behave’, but no. Of course you have to be a brat about it.

Osamu is a goner when you wrap your lips around his thumb, sucking on it while holding his gaze. 

His chest is heaving with every breath, a muttered ‘fuck’ falling out of his mouth as he pushes his thumb in deeper, pressing down on your tongue and making you open up wide for him. For a moment he thinks about spitting in your mouth, but he’ll save this for later. His cock is throbbing in his jeans, begging for release. 

Osamu has never been a patient man. For you, he tried. But right now you’re tearing him apart with your gaze alone and he lets you. He wants you to.

And now you’re lowering yourself to your knees before him, your nimble hands unbuckling his belt as if they waited a lifetime to do so, and glance up at him with these eyes of yours that make him insane if he looks back at them for too long.

“We shouldn’t,” he mutters. His voice is a little husky and his big hands wrap around yours, forcing them to pause what they were doing. He looks down at you, his gaze betraying his words–greedy, lovesick–and you want to live in this moment forever.

“Doesn’t matter,” you say, nuzzling your face against his clothed bulge and keeping your eyes pinned on him. There’s already a damp spot forming in his pants. “Do you want this?”

Osamu curses under his breath again, but he lets go of your hands and leans back against the counter, watching the smirk on your face widen now that you’re given permission to wreck him. You won’t hold back.

Hot, you think when you unzip his pants, learning that his pubic hair is also salt-and-pepper colored. Your mouth feels a little dry once you pull his pants and boxers down to his ankles, his cock springing free, pulsing and leaking, aching to be touched. It does nothing to ease the throbbing between your thighs, only worsening it, but you know he’ll take care of this for you soon, too. 

You press a few open mouthed kisses to the inside of his thighs, one hand wrapping around his cock and giving it a few slow strokes. Your hand can’t even wrap around his girth fully. He twitches underneath your touch. Osamu cups one side of your face with his hand, as if he can’t go a second without some form of contact, now that you both crossed that line. His breath is labored and his hips buck a little with every little caress of yours. 

“Yer killin’ me,” he sighs, his Kansai dialect becoming more prominent the more aroused he gets. His thumb traces the shape of your lips, coaxing them to open for him, now two fingers pressing in the cave of your mouth till you’re drooling. Your lipstick leaves faint marks on his skin when you trail your kisses up his abdomen. “Fuck, baby…” 

You spit on his cock and Osamu gives himself a few quick strokes. He looks like he’s barely keeping it together, still trying to act well-mannered, as if you weren’t silently pleading with your eyes only for him to wreck you.

He curses again under his breath and bends over till he’s hovering over you, two fingers tipping your chin up. Your first kiss is as messy and hungry as you imagined it to be, licking, biting, sucking till you’re moaning into his mouth and clawing against his thick thighs. There’s a thin string of salvia connecting you when he pulls away again. You briefly wonder if he mentally filed this under ‘proper manners’ too–always kiss your girl adoringly before making her choke on your cock. 

“C’mon now, sweet girl,” he coaxes you, gently guiding you towards his crotch with a hand tangled in your hair. “Be good for me, will ya? So fucking good for me.” His voice is low and hoarse, his cock leaking precum. Both of you know he won’t last long; he’s already on the edge of coming undone just from the sight of you on your knees in front of him.

When you take him down your throat, his head tips back and he lets out the most guttural moan. You show no mercy on him, your tongue swirling slowly around his tip before you swallow him whole. Your nose is nestled in his pubes as you glance up at him to make sure he’s watching, small tears welling up in the corners of your eyes. He collects them with his thumb and smears them mixed with some mascara across your face.

“Attagirl,” he praises you, his cock twitching in your mouth. By now he hasn’t cum yet out of sheer willpower and the desire to see you a little longer like this, as if you’re a fever dream that’s about to vanish the second he spills himself down your throat. 

You run your tongue over a prominent vein and Osamu growls, his knuckles white from how tight he is gripping the counter. Maybe it’s you who is dreaming. Sucking your boss off in your tiny kitchen wasn’t on your schedule when you got up this morning, but you wouldn’t want it any other way. You wonder if he’ll fuck you against the wall next or if he’s gonna have the decency to carry you over to the bed first. Either way you don’t see yourself walking anytime soon after this night. 

As you go on, Osamu’s breath is coming out in small huffs now, his nose scrunched up while he watches his cock disappear between your swollen lips. He never fully allowed himself to think about this, but now that he had you like that–fuck, he’ll never let you go. Yeah, he’s gonna keep you on your knees forever till your body remembers the shape of him. Fuck. 

“Baby… ‘m so close,” Osamu growls, a low warning. He taps your jaw with his fingers again, a sign for you to let go of him. It didn’t strike him as good manners to make an entire mess out of you the first time you blow him, and he wants you to remember him as a decent man (as decent as pining after your half-your-age employee can be). However he underestimated your determination to stubbornly refuse his request, making yourself gag a bit harder on his cock. Osamu’s hips jerk forwards involuntarily and he groans, barely keeping his composure. 

“Fuck,” he cusses under his breath, your hands now on his sides, steading yourself as you take him down your throat, your eyes fluttering up at him. The last bit of his carefully maintained self-restraint snaps. Osamu’s hands now find the back of your head, keeping it steady so you won’t have a chance of pulling back, then he slams his cock hard between your parted lips until you’re whimpering and coughing around his length. “Cumming, baby, ‘m cumming, so fucking tight for me, fuck–” 

He spills himself inside your mouth, the most primal moan leaving his lips. He’s trembling, his hips stuttering, thick cum spurting seemingly with no end, emptying himself into you. It’s dizzying. His breath is labored once he slides his softening cock out of your mouth.

“Shit, ‘m sorry,” he mutters, reaching behind him for a paper towel and dropping to his knees, holding it out for you. He brushes a few strands of hair out of face, trying hard not to think about how much he likes this fucked out expression on you. “Just spit it out, sweetheart. ’s okay. I was a little too rough, hm?”

What Osamu doesn’t expect is you opening up wide, sticking out your tongue. Spotless. 

You swallowed it all. Swallowed everything he gave you. His cock twitches back to life. 

“Little minx,” he growls, cupping your chin and towering over you. He spits in your mouth and watches you swallow it, again. It’s making him feel lightheaded. He should’ve done this sooner, he thinks. Making you take everything he has to offer and more. 

One of his hands wander underneath that flimsy skirt you’re wearing. He finds you dripping. A corner of his mouth twitches up in a lopsided smirk, a hint of something more sinister. His eyes darken a little. You mewl when he pushes your soaked panties aside to run a finger between your slit before bringing it to his lips, tasting you. You’re even sweeter than he imagined.

Oh, he’s gonna devour you. 

“Sweetheart. Be a good girl and spread your legs.”

a/n: osamu loving demon possessed me idk. i usually don't write part twos for my oneshots but for this one i could be sweet talked into it

My heart goes out to the Irish in these trying times. May you not contract alcohol poisoning from celebrating the news

suna rintarou who knows how to tie the stem of a cherry into a knot with his tongue. who is intent on teaching you how to. who beckons you closer with a wave of two fingers, curling up against his palm.

"open," he hums, his nose caressing yours, hands splayed out on your thighs, fingertips pressing into your flesh.

when your lips part, he had already tipped his head towards yours, tongue sneaking into your mouth. he tastes warm, sweet; the pink muscle wet and teasing against yours. he pushes something rough into your mouth, the stem scratchy and faintly covered in cherry juice. it feels weird, foreign next to the familiar touch of him.

one hand of his sneaks back to grip your neck tightly, pushing your lips closer to his. his tongue moves swiftly, dancing around yours as you let him devour your mouth. victim to his demonstration, a thin trickle of spit smears on your chin and a slight gasp isn't far behind.

within a couple seconds, he pulls back and lets you feel out the knot he tied in the stem.

"how—?"

a faint chuckle escapes him, and he broadens his tongue, licking up the remnants of spit on your chin up to your mouth.

he murmurs against you, "let me show you again."

he says that but when he gets up on his knees and looks down at you, thumb pulling down your lower lip to inspect your gums, your teeth, the red of your swollen mouth, the cherry stem is fast forgotten.

instead, there's a vulgar twitch in his lazy grin and an amused glint in his sharp eyes.

"open," he says again, and when you listen, beads of spit drop from his lolled tongue into your awaiting mouth.

blushed cheeks, heavy breath, crazed look in his eyes at how readily you take anything he gives you. for a second, he wonders how your mouth would look like with his cum and saliva painted all over your lips like his own special brand of lip gloss. he aches, and his spine catches fire at the fantasy.

before you know it, it's just him licking the inside of your mouth, hips grinding up your thigh, one hand of his buried in your hair to press you closer to him, the other shoved down your pants to find how wet you are.

rutting against your leg, he kisses you messily, sloppy; his pants growing wetter and wetter with each groan that leaves your mouth, because fuck, he can't wait to make a mess out of you, mix both of your fluids together like one of those damn witch's concoctions you brewed as kids, lick it all off you again, lose himself in your mouth and your heat.

his abdomen squeezes and your thighs tremble.

his cum, spit, your arousal — check, check, check.

TAGLIST | @takes1 ; @lale-txt (suffer with me, lale)

“Love is a sacrament that should be taken kneeling”

—Oscar Wilde

I loved your riding gojo! now, I present to you: riding sakusa!!

sighs I am a sucker for this man...

୨୧ ꒰ warnings ꒱ smut (mdni), pet names [baby], soft sex, slight cockwarming, f!reader

୨୧ ꒰ word count ꒱ 0.8k

"I've been waiting for this all day," Sakusa lets out a low groan, punctuated by a swift jut of his hips. You settle down fully on him, a soft moan falling past your lips at the sweet stretch of his thick cock.

The intimacy of it all is what is most dizzying, most pleasurable, Sakusa thinks. He moans when you start to roll your hips, a shaking hand flying to catch at your hip. Sakusa softly shakes his head, instead tugging you down to lean over his body.

"Let's just stay like this for a bit," he sighs, voice thick with want and love as he pulls you into an embrace. His arms around strong yet gentle around you, your bare chests pressing together as you still your movements. It is wholly private and personal, how Sakusa trails his lips down your cheek, the softness of his mouth brushing against your ear. His steady breathing is comforting as his breath fans across the nape of your neck, one of his hands affectionately cradling the back of your head. Encouraging you to rest your face against the crook of his neck, Sakusa trails his fingers across your back, drawing teasing, loving shapes against you.

"Feels so good," you murmur against him. Sakusa lets out a soft hum, and you can feel it against your chest. The action is soothing, further intensified by his hands running down your body, coaxing you against him.

His fat cock is hot inside you, pressing against your most sensitive parts, stretching past the aching throb of your walls. You can't help but whimper a bit as you shift your hips, burying your face in further against Sakusa as his tip nudges against that one spot that has you rolling your hips ever so slightly.

"Shh, it's okay baby," Sakusa soothes, rubbing his large hand over your back. The pads of his fingers are slightly coarse as they dip across your every curve, adoring the feel of your body against his as he holds you.

His touch is addicting, causing a spark of fire to flare bright inside your chest. Your heart swells as a million butterflies pound against your chest, the warmth spreading across your body a testament of your love for him.

A soft gasp of his name falls past your lips when Sakusa's hands move to your hips, slowly, gently rolling them over his aching length. The airy gasp that spills from his tongue as you grasping at him, gripping onto his broad shoulders as you lick and kiss at the skin of his neck.

"T-that feels good," Sakusa groans your name, his eyes knocking back to the ceiling as your soft lips work over his skin. He feels you tenderly bite down against his collarbone, tongue laving over the spot just as quickly, and pleasure shoots down to his cock at the sensation.

"Are you okay?" your lover murmurs, soft curls brushing against your face as he leans down a bit. His lips, always so gentle when he makes love to you, graze across your forehead, and you clench down a bit on him at the breathless moan of your name that he whispers against your skin.

"Always," you reassure him, nudging your nose against the column of his throat. Sakusa has always been so pretty, with moles and beauty marks decorating his pale skin. While you continue slowly, gently, grinding your hips over his cock, you begin pressing languid, drawn-out kisses to each individual mark on his shoulders, his neck.

As your lips drag across his skin, leaving fleeting, delicate kisses against him, the musk of his cologne invades your senses. It's mature and slightly dark, and the presence of it lingering on his skin has you moaning, rolling your hips a bit faster.

At your sudden actions, Sakusa's hands fly to your hips, attempting to ground himself. The sheer pleasure of being buried inside you, your tight, wet heat sucking him back in over and over, is overwhelming. It's nearly enough to knock the air out of his lungs, and Sakusa is sure the room is spinning when you start lazily bouncing on his cock, sweet whimpers of his name being brushed against his ear.

"You okay?" you moan against his ear, lips pressing there for a soft kiss. You never halt your motions, slowly sinking down on his cock, then rolling your hips in a loose circle, intent on feeling all of him. His fat shaft drags along your walls, stretching you out in the best possible way as a broken moan of your name is shuddered between shaky breaths.

"N-never better," Sakusa grits his teeth, groaning as your tight heat gushes around him, walls fluttering as if attempting to milk him dry.

And Sakusa continues making love to you, the darkness of your bedroom shrouding you both in a comforting embrace—almost as soothing as his own.

HOORAY I just read ur bokuto x reader p4 it was really cute :3 sorry havent updated in awhile i got busy with life… but i never forget to keep u in mind 🫶 love ur work as always, very memorable writer to me -🐈🐈‍⬛

[final] bokuto teaching inexperienced!reader

only fitting to respond to you for this last one. ughhh ilysm 🥹😭💕💕

warnings. heavy nsfw, minors DNI

details. fem!reader / first time / soft kissy missionary / safe sex / BIG praise kink!bokuto / himbo!bokuto / sweet, dumb!bokuto / inexperienced!reader / possessive!bokuto / f!rec oral / guided handjob / kuroo's sister!reader / 2.3k words / last installment

links. my masterlist. my ao3. more haikyuu. part one here. part two here. part three here. part four. request box

You tilted your head, eyes narrowed a little at the generous, clear bulge in his tiny shorts.

"Can I see it?"

He fisted the sheets in his excitement that you were thinking the same thing, biting his cheek so he didn't shout. Just by the obvious elation on his face, you could tell he was in the process of holding back a million bad responses.

Instead, he let his hands talk, lips crashing against yours all rough and thirsty as he pulled it out. You didn't want his kisses, though-- you grinned as you avoided what you could, so you could see.

Propped up on your elbows, you looked from his vigilant stare, trailing down his sculpted, smooth body down to his cock between your tummies.

It looked heavy.

You quickly learned that it was hot, too, as he guided your palm around it, and used your hand to pump himself. Your heart was racing- it was so weird, and you liked it so much, and he liked it even more.

Bokuto always stood by the idea that 'it always feels/tastes/sounds better when somebody else does it.' The kind of guy to only drink out of other peoples' cups, ask other people to read things out loud to him, massage a part of his shoulder he could get but won't.

While you didn't know what you were doing in the slightest, and he was controlling your pace, even the harsh grip, it still felt 40x better than all the jerking off he usually did.

His tongue got confident, and a bit curious, diving deeper past your teeth. He was just trying in whatever way he could to be inside of you. The weight of his body became more substantial.

You loved feeling his strength falter, his lust heightening, compelling him to get closer.

When he pulled away, he looked a little crazy- like he forgot to smile, or something. It was the nature of his eyes to not look very friendly, but it gave the impression that he was really holding himself back.

"Are- you okay?"

"Just-," He takes a sharp breath, eyes squeezing shut for a second, like he's recalibrating, "Feels really g-ood."

He wasn't prepared in the slightest for the smile you gave him. It was sweet, and prideful, and too cute with his cock in your hand.

That tortured look was back, briefly before he shoved his face in the nook of your shoulder.

"Fuck-! I need you s-o bad," He whined, pitiful, "Are- h-ahh, you ready yet?"

You could try.

With a question like that, asked so sweet, so sugary- you hummed against his hair, not quite understanding what 'ready' meant.

You hardly noticed how he plucked a condom from his shorts, somewhere in the mess of sheets to the left of you- and slid it on between clumsy kisses. Lots of practice must've made the process second nature.

It was difficult, to say the least, adjusting to him. His eagerness was already so spoken for, and you realized too late that you probably did need more time.

Bokuto could feel it too, though.

He could hear it in the thinly-veiled fear, making your voice waver, break, as you asked him to be gentle with you.

"Even if it takes all night," He kissed your nose while you couldn't move away, "I'll wait for ya."

Rough hands, so used to force and recklessness, practiced paying attention through running smooth lines across your skin.

Those hard kisses turned softer, slower, across your jaw and down your throat. He moved at a near imperceptible pace, just to get you accustomed to all of his size.

"Sooo pretty," He whispered to himself, forehead heavy on yours as he closed his eyes, "Fuck..."

The discomfort was just starting to be overshadowed with better, pleasurable, buzz. Your legs were slowly relaxing, a jelly-like feeling that spread from your thighs, squished comfy next to his hips, down to your toes.

Bokuto was capable of deliberate and soft sex. He wasn't always an animal, and he wasn't ignorant to somebody else's needs.

He was just excitable, and stupid. But all he needed was a whisper, a hint, or a reminder sometimes.

You kissed the tip of his nose, a way of telling him you were okay. Your fingers started to rake through his spiky hair, and the little smile on your face waited for him to he open his eyes.

"Shit--," He stole another few kisses from you, "Oh, you're so- mh- you're soo cute."

Between kisses, his tongue lagged, always proceeded by a sharp sigh. Almost like he was struggling to multitask. It made you curious when it started to get more frequent.

"Sh-it--h-ahh--," His curse broke into a shocked whine-- he stalled, deep.

Your higher, cuter sound at how good it felt did nothing to help to bring him down.

You watched him bite his own wrist, a small concern furrowing his brow.

Craving more, and only knowing one way to cheer him up, you rolled your hips up and locked your ankles around him with a squeeze.

"W-ait, waitwaitwait," He seethed, "Ahh- fuck-- stop moving babygirl- stop moving."

The person he looked down at was no longer a shy little nerd, incapable of handling his flirty second nature. Your mouth was curled into a coquettish grin, your pecks soft and affectionate and too much, scattered around his face.

He had to cum so bad that he felt sick. He had to look through you- draw blood to his palm, just to clear his filthy mind.

"Do I really feel that good?" You giggled- beyond flattered by his tortured expression.

There was no beat between the end of your sentence and his hushed response, "Yes."

You knew about vague stereotypes of guys with shitty endurance. You didn't have first-hand experience until you watched his expression shift, swirling, panic and euphoria taking one another over again and again.

He 'ruined' his orgasm by keeping your needs first. He knew you couldn't take what he wanted. His body was like iron, forced motionless, like a statue, except for the rapid, uneven rise and fall of his chest.

It looked like a delicious mix of pained and sexy as he came, almost perfectly still, so he didn't hurt you.

A kind of psychotic, intrusive desire made you tense-- the curious, hungry want to get rid of the condom between you. How much better would that have felt without it?

The sheets groaned, fabric snagging and snapping, under his grip. His body was all flexed up for you to watch. You knew he was trying to keep you in mind, so you didn't try anything too cute until he started relaxing, again.

"Hm-mmph--, fuck--," He groaned, a tremble in his arms as he slowly pulled out.

His exhaustion was short-lived, only manifested in a breathiness in his chuckle.

"Good thing I brought two."

This time you saw him take out a second one- but it wasn't just two. He had a whole row of condoms in his pocket this entire time.

You giggled at how he tore the second one off. What could he have possibly been thinking to bring seven along?

Bokuto harnessed some pornstar-like efficiency, tearing the outside open and pumping the latex onto himself with no waste of energy.

"Y'know," He cocked his head to the side, silly, despite his thumb sliding over your clit, "I've never cum that fast."

"Mmn-h-- Ah- that's- that's good--," You struggled.

A useful thing to know, sure, but it's not like you really cared- he never got soft. It was a non-issue because he was still clearly up for more.

He filled you back up so easy and slow, his thumb prodding stuttery waves of pleasure where there was once pain. He watched it with an air of pride about him. He sat up straighter, focused on where he disappeared into you. He soaked in all your twitching until he got his fill.

Only when he was satisfied did he lean down to his elbows to check on you.

Your had to fill your hands with his perfect muscles, all bouncy and twitchy at how overstimulated you got him. He was huffing, swallowing his groans so he didn't look uncool-- restrained or not, he would've looked just as cute.

He just wanted to fuck you good. For you to remember it well.

"Mmnh-! You're so big-,"

Those giant, fuck-me-harder eyes kept his shoulders tight. His hand was gripping your hip like a vice and bringing you down onto him.

His cock sank deep, a grumbly sound under his quiet, breathy whining-- your breath caught, and you had the brief revelation that you had been missing out on this for so long. How long had they been friends for? Years?

You wanted to make up for all the lost time. You locked your ankles around him for the second time, your hands pulling him back so you could put some hickeys all up and down his thick neck.

Though you had some vague idea that he loved when you hugged him close, you didn't understand the depth in which it turned him on.

It was one of those quick-affirming, sweet and wordless praises that resonated so hard with Bokuto's insatiable need to be validated.

He had to ask. He wanted more, he wanted to hear you.

"That feel good?" His hand cupped your entire jaw, forcing your eyes on his, ever so focused.

Your grip on his forearm was like an ant trying to push over a tree. It would never budge. And when it didn't, it took very little time to realize you actually liked it there. Your reflex did nothing to serve you, but you kept your hand still to prod at the muscle.

The breath you took to answer him was wasted on another moan.

"Ah-h--,"

"I want ya to tell me," His insistence was daunting, but filled with need.

"I--,"

Your nails were digging into his skin, and you were gasping, trying to tell him you were close- but none of it came out properly.

It was all just improper, uncontrollable, unmasked whining.

A bit late, he was witness to your adorable realization that you were cumming. He murmured a small, infatuated, "Aww..."

His lips pressed hard to your temple, and he let you pull him in, offering only the bulk of his shoulder as consolation for his deeper thrusts. It was a taste of what he could give you if only this wasn't your first, if you had been used to him from the start.

An orgasm had never felt so filled out, before. Like it was larger than you, stronger than anything you'd be able to craft on your own, from just your fingers. It was him. His cock, but moreso was his intensity and devotion to getting you there and fucking you all the way through it.

His hand was still cupping the bottom half of your face, but not covering your mouth. God, he wanted the entire world to know how good he made you feel. Especially Kuroo. Fuck that guy for keeping you a secret.

"Good girl, ohh- you did so good," He was slowing, still seeing those last, shallower, mellow waves through with dedication, "Sound sooo pretty."

Those eyes were softer, but still eating you up, savoring you while you were all messy for him.

Were you dating, now? It felt like you had been shot forward about ten years with this guy.

A light buzzing -the muted ring of a phone- was somewhere near you, interrupting your giggly, feel-good vibe. Again, and still just as surprising, Bokuto slowly pulled out of you and made quick work of that second condom.

He patted around the sheets for the source of the sound.

"Oh!"

He let the ringing continue- he had to get his idea out immediately: "That totally reminds me! I should get you a vibrator or something."

Jaw slack, you weren't given the opportunity to respond, before he answered. You lay there, a bit shivery and empty-feeling, as he hugged your thigh over his own.

"Hellooo?"

It was quiet. There was a faint, urgent, tone on the other side.

"Ummmm..."

His fingers tapped against your skin. He was lost in deep thought of how to respond. You were glad you couldn't hear the words being spoken, because you knew it was not going to be a pleasant earful.

"Yeah-... I mean, we were just talking... and... stuff."

Bokuto got droopier. He sank, sitting on his heels, still sitting butt-naked and hugging your thigh. You squeezed one of your blankets to your chest and frowned.

"It's nothing personal, man..."

He held the phone away from his ear as he was verbally berated, a pout making his whole face look cartoonishly sad. It was difficult, on your end, to understand that he could both be super into you and want to stay friends with Tetsurou.

"Would it make it any better iiiif I told you we were dating now?"

Bokuto winced and slid his free hand back and forth over your leg as consolation, for himself.

"Yeahyeahyeah, I gotchu, yeahyeah. Okay'bye," He hung up at the soonest crafted opportunity.

"Soooo," He sighed, distraught, instantly making up any distance between you. He dropped so much weight atop your sore body and covered you like a warm, weighted blanket, that you struggled to get air in your lungs.

"He's... not... happy."

The big dummy on top of you deflated with each word in a dismal decrescendo.

You had to wriggle around to find somewhere to breath from; room for your chest to expand at least a little.

"I thought you knew that?"

Bokuto made a high humming sound, feet kicking in the air, "Mmmmmmyeahhh, kinda, but..."

You freed one arm to wrap around him, so you could play with his hair, "He can't stay mad forever. He'll see that you're not- harmful- I guess, eventually."

He let his brow relax, shoved hard into your shoulder, and took in your new comforting scent.

Part of you couldn't blame your brother for assuming the worst. It took until incredibly recently for you to understand the full scale of Bokuto's fixation.

Despite all his sad body language, he couldn't have been that worried, because he was already back to sly, tongue-centered kisses on your neck.

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Business as Usual

Based of this. Ceo!Kiyoomi x Reader

cw: fluff. smut. breeding. oral sex (f!receiving). reader is an aspiring actress. reader is a foreigner but it isn’t specified from where. ceo!kiyoomi’s most recent business venture is building and opening a museum. probably for tax reasons lmao. misogyny (not by kiyoomi). Kiyoomi’s implied to have issues with his father. men talking business 😫. joke talk of killing.

wc: 3.5k

Ahh, something sweet would be nice…

Kiyoomi’s already squeezing grooves into the back of your thighs before you can formally acknowledge him. “I have a case of chuppets in the freezer you can go at.”

Your gasp is muffled by the floor, half turned from where your bottom half is lazily propped up on the edge of the bed. “You do?”

“You like the strawberry kind, right?” You nod as his fingers creep toward the crotch of your panties. “They’re all yours.”

He can feel the area carpet vibrate from where your groan seeps in appreciatively. “You’re a god, Omi!”

The squeak you let out is pitched as he lands a hard smack on one of your cheeks.

“I gotta meet a couple of investors for lunch so I’m leaving one of my cards for you to order whatever you want from home.” Kiyoomi pulls you apart until your lips part from under your underwear, glistening for him like they should. “But I’ll be back before it gets too late.”

You sway your hips as he pulls your panties to the side, already rubbing tentative circles. “You’re still pretty wet from earlier,” And you can’t help but whine as he pushes two of his fingers inside. “How long do you think you can stay in this position?”

Your eyes nearly cross when he crooks his fingers. “Ah, as long as you need me to.”

His suit pants hiss against the bed sheets as he climbs in behind you, hands still firmly gripping onto your ass cheeks as he positions himself on the bed.

“I got twenty minutes before I need to be walking out the door.” Kiyoomi’s breath is hot against your bare cunt. “So, I’ll try to make this fast-“

The lewd squelching of his tongue parting you from the back would be enough to make you shiver if not for the way he laves you up. Scouring your hole with his hot tongue and groaning at the taste of you, pressing forward to dig himself deeper.

“F…Fffuck! Omi…!”

He’s insatiable as he digs you out with his tongue, lewd as he guides your hips up to tongue at your clit. The depravity at which he slurps you up is so unabashed that you’re already tensing up for an orgasm, and reaching back when he props you up with his hands; zeroing in on your clit to get you to cum in his mouth.

You must’ve already been too riled up from his treatment earlier this morning, it doesn’t take long till you’re nearly sobbing against the floor. Calling for him as he guides you into an orgasm.

“Fuck! I’m-… m’ cumming, Omi!” You pant. “m’cumming! m’cumming!”

The way he grunts into you has another shock wave zipping through the bend in your spine. “Mhm..”

You’re reaching back to push him away when the feeling starts to become overstimulating, but he’s already up on his knees again. Already pulled out of his pants and hungrily lining himself up with your clenching hole.

Kiyoomi doesn’t give you any time to prepare, he’s shoving himself in between breaths and making you choke on your tongue.

He hisses through his teeth. “Oh fuck.” He braces his hands on your sides and starts his pace. “….Oh my god. Fuck.”

Your fingers dig thin miscolorings into the carpet as his thrust knocks the wind out of your lungs. Whining out when he dumps most of his weight on your back and starts grinding in as deep as he’ll go.

He’s in your stomach. “Mhf… angel..” He presses his lips into your shoulder. “You feel so fucking good for me, baby.”

God, the sounds you’re making under him has his eyes rolling back in his head, let alone how you’ve already started milking him for all he’s worth. He could never get sick of this perfect little pussy. His perfect little pussy. So hot and tight and made just for him. He doesn’t even know how he’s gotten this far without it. Especially when he knows how to press all those perfect little buttons on the inside to make you squeal for him.

Kiyoomi supports himself on his arms again to tweak his angle, balls clenching when you start to whine out so prettily. “Kiiiiyomi!”

You reach back so suddenly to push against his button up that he has to pin your arms down to keep you from running away from it. “….s’okay baby you can take it.” He pounds in a few particularly forceful thrusts that turn your whines into hiccuping sobs. “Fuck. Look at you such a…. Good girl for me. Good fucking girl.”

He has to hold himself back from cumming too quickly when you start to clench up. “Omi! Omi! Omi!” You’re shrill. “s’good, Omi! ….m’cumming, Omi! ….I love you, Omi!”

“Oh fuck.. Fucking shiiit!”

You’re already milking him empty when you start to cum. Hiccuping at the way you clench around his hot seed as his thrusts deepen and he fucks you like he’s trying to get it to take. Even reaches into your panties to rub coaxing circles into your sensitive clit just to prolong your orgasm. Grinding himself in until he's certain he’s painted your insides with his spend, and even then he still keeps at it.

He’s still rocking into you when your sobs turn into overstimulated mewls, hot tears making puddles into the carpet.

Kiyoomi lazes a few hot kisses into your inner neck as he softly collides his head with yours. “Mh, I love you too, angel.” He breathes. “So much.”

“You mean it, Omi?” He’s the luckiest man alive.

He finally lets himself fall limp as he peppers a few chaste kisses over your ears. “More than anything.”

He’s never letting you go.

•••••••

There’s a less than usual air of ease around him when he greets Yukko and his associate Kanon.

So much so that the former of the pair lets out a relieved breath as he shakes hands with the young tycoon - and sees he doesn’t revile at the extended contact.

“Sakusa-san,” Yukko bows. “You look better than new.”

Sakusa bows back manneredly. “Appreciated, Yukko-san.”

—-

Sakusa folds his napkin over his lap as they wait for the drinks.

“We’re avid supporters of freedom of choice, the two of us.” Yukko fixes himself in his seat. “It’s a human right.”

Kanon nods. “And your speech on autonomy and liberation at the Kenshin’s banquet really stood out to us. It’s so reassuring to see you setting a standard for this newer generation and putting yourself out there as someone who stands with the people.” He presses. “Very few young men with your upbringing can say that they’re brave enough to do the same-“

“Educated enough, even.” Yukko finishes.

Sakusa pulls his seat closer to his chair. “You don’t have to praise me for something like that. It should be a given.” He hums cooly. As if the speech wasn’t written by his foreigner girlfriend the night before, beat into his head and recited in his ear even as he said it. Not that he doesn’t agree with the message though. “We’re the few people fortunate enough to have a voice when it comes to these things - we should exercise it whenever we get the chance.”

“You’re exactly right!” Yukko waves his finger at him. “There are so very few people like us - like you - who have a seat at the table. And so little of the seats go to someone who means any good with it.”

“Which is why we wanna invest in The International Institution of Innovation,” Kanon adds. “And why we would like to suggest an exhibit to accompany our investment,”

Sakusa nods as they continue. “Japan’s history as - a lot of the world’s history - is ballasted and rewritten with elitist biases in mind. So many little people who’ve done big things, cultural things, buried by mediocrity or the praises of people who lived their entire lives being praised. Worse, having the things they spent their entire lives dedicated to, miscredited to some rich guy who didn’t lift a finger.”

“Our people have worked with a few of the families of these people. There’s a-“ Yukko taps a few keys into his laptop before turning it in Sakusa’s direction. “A few small museums of our own we’ve built in Portugal, Brazil, we have one in an American city you’ve most likely heard of as Las Vegas.”

He reaches over to quietly slide through the pictures. And Kanon huffs a bit in disbelief. - Whoever said this guy was a pain to work with obviously must’ve bumped into the wrong guy. “They’ve garnered a lot of attention in the respective areas. A lot of what they call “Left wing movements” in the United States cite it a lot when referring to landmarks in the state.” Yukko says.

And landmarks they are. If this is what they call small then he must work in a shoebox?

“You haven’t considered opening one up in Japan until now?” Sakusa furrows.

“You know the climate in the world right now.” Kanon sighs. “With the rise of crime, certain political tensions,” There’s a familiar pattern of vibrations that ring off in his pocket, he reaches for it instinctively. “We didn't wanna risk building one in the current political climate and having it destroyed by opening.”

Sakusa raises an eyebrow. “So building an exhibit in my museum is more cost effective.” And he’s not afraid to look as unimpressed as he is. “You know, on the off chance that my museum gets destroyed in this current political climate.”

Well, it’s not like you wouldn’t be able to afford it. “Well, we’re more than willing to do our part on the expenses if something like that were to occur.” We’ll pay what we lose and dip. “And our investment excludes what we’ll pay to build the exhibition.”

“You’re paying to have your names on a plaque.”

Yukko chuckles somewhat. “In short terms, yes.”

Sakusa fishes his phone out of his pocket as their server approaches. “In long terms?”

Kanon slides him the check.

Yup. Sakusa grazes his thumb against that familiar strip of press. Those are some pretty long terms.

“Are we ready to order?”

Sakusa checks his messages as the two men speak before him.

Angel: i hope ur having a good lunch!! i got u a sooprise <3

Kiyoomi: It’s alright. I wish I was home with you more than anything.

Kiyoomi: A sooprise? Now I’m excited.

Angel: i wish you were here too :( i can’t wait till ur back so i can give you a kiss on the forehead

Angel: i hope u like it!! i know u haven’t had it in a while

Kiyoomi: I haven’t had it in a while? What’s something I haven’t had in a while?

Kiyoomi: Oh! Are we talking about the last time you sat on my face?

Angel: we are not, my love. but good guess

My love. He smiles.

“What about you, Sakusa-san?”

Sakusa glances at the server before looking off for a moment, answering curtly. “Okaki, please.”

He nods. “Alright! And anything else?”

“No, thank you.”

He leaves with a bow.

Sakusa inhales deeply as he sits his phone on the table. Picking up the check and holding it before glancing at the two sitting before him. “You two are very generous.”

Yukko raises an eyebrow. “Is there a ‘but’ coming?”

“No.” He shakes his head. “I’d like to add your exhibit to my museum.”

The two men both let out a collective sigh of relief. Now that the richest twenty-six year old in all of Asia has agreed to have their names engraved next to his on a project like this. - Even if it did cost them an arm and a leg. You know, from the stories they’ve heard, they were expecting to leave with their tails between their legs after offering to impede on a project orchestrated by the most “Pragmatic Rich Kid in the country.” But he’s… surprisingly personable. Even without mention of the sheer intimidation he exudes.

He’s certainly nothing like his father.

“That’s amazing to hear, Sakusa-san. We’re honored.” Kanon sighs.

Yukko nods. “And trust, you will be involved in every part of the construction process. We want to be as transparent as possible when installing this exhibit.”

“Do you have any blueprints drawn up?”

Yukko hums excitedly as he pulls his laptop toward him again, tapping loudly as he searches for the file. “We do!”

Sakusa patiently waits as he fishes through his laptop, glancing at the server as he comes back with their food.

His phone buzzes across the table.

Angel: You better be eating more than Okaki!

He visibly blushes.

Kanon furrows at the expression of the young billionaire in front of him as his associate busies himself with his laptop, following his eyes toward his phone.

Disregarding the text from his girlfriend?! He gasps at the picture on his lock screen.

“Is that _____?” Kanon asks. “Oh god she’s so talented!”

Sakusa nods a little abashedly as he reaches for his phone. “Are you a fan?”

“My daughters love her. Oh well, my sons do too but not in the way my daughters do - If you know what I mean.” He laughs as Sakusa’s back straightens. He knows his sons, knows they’re about his age if not a little older. Knows he might have to have a talk with them one day too.

“We saw her just recently at the Blue Ribbon Awards. Can you believe she won?” Yeah, after watching you work yourself to the bone just to come back with so little to show for it. “I for sure thought Tomomi Minoru would’ve had it.”

I’m sure you haven't heard that a million times.

“But who wouldn’t take it a little easy on a woman like that?”

Or that.

It’s nearly painful how much Sakusa’s trying to keep himself from outwardly scowling. Especially when Kanon starts to open his mouth again, familiar hearts in eyes most men seem to adopt when they’re drooling over the woman he’s in love with. “I’ve gotta be what - twice her age maybe. But we’re all men here? The woman’s a doll. Talk about lucky work. Especially for a foreigner.”

Oh yep, he’s scowling. “I wonder what she looks like in person.” Yukko asks absently. “You think she’s as pretty as she is on T.V. or do you think it’s the make-up they usually cake on there…”

“She’s breathtaking.” Sakusa says flatly.

Kanon tilts his head as Yukko glances over. “You’re kidding? You’ve seen her in person?”

“Yep.”

“Well, I mean,” Yukko sits his laptop back on the table as he reaches for his drink, wincing as he sips. “Sakusa-san’s Sakusa-san. He’s most definitely got the funds.”

“Ohhh. Did you book her?” Kanon chuckles a little slimily. And the connotations of that are clear. So much so that Yukko rolls his eyes when he nudges him. “She’s just old enough for someone your age, right? Still young but not too young.”

Sakusa inhales.

“No. I don’t have to book her.” He admits tightly. “Since we sleep in the same bed.”

The two men freeze in place.

Kanon opens his mouth for a long silent moment until he’s pushing out his breath in little clips of his voice. “O-Oh… You two are-“ Sakusa nods. “Oh! Oh my god! I’m… I’m so sorry-“

“I hear it all the time.”

“Yeah but it’s still not good that I said it!” Kanon glances at a frantic Yukko.

“We didn’t mean to come off so disrespectfully!” Yukko flushes.

Sakusa shakes his head. “The blueprints.”

“W-What?”

“Show me the blueprints.” He gestures to the laptop.

Yukko clumsily turns it in his direction.

•••••

He’s barely through the door when you’ve already found your place in his arms. And he melts over you like butter, you let yourself be wholly suffocated by him.

You’re warm as you hum into his chest. “Hi, baby.”

“Hi, angel.”

“How was lunch with your investors?”

Kiyoomi exhales as you stand on your toes to help him out of his suit jacket, conditioned draft in the air scented by that new conditioner he likes seep into his nose and turn his brain into mush. “It was… lunch with my investors.”

He bends himself nearly in half to nuzzle his head into the crook of your neck. “They wanna build an exhibit in my museum ‘cause they don’t wanna risk building their own and having some terrorist take it down.”

Your tone is so mirrored to his from earlier that it evokes a chuckle. “So they’ll risk yours?”

“Mhm.”

You mumble something sour into his shoulder. Lucky him he’s well versed enough in your native tongue to understand the phrase “Assholes.”

Kiyoomi kisses hot spots behind your ear. “They’re fans by the way.” He grimaces a little sourly into your neck. “Big fans.”

“Hm? I came up?”

He hums. “Kanon saw your picture on my lockscreen and proceeded to shove his foot in his mouth.” Kiyoomi breathes in a long whiff of you before blowing out temperedly. “Was under the impression that you did bookings.”

You chuff airly as you rub up and down the expanse of his arms consolingly. It doesn't really phase you to be slobbered over by men anymore, hasn’t really since your debut back as a fresh faced eighteen year old. But Omi’s still really new and unkind to the rubbernecking that includes being associated with a woman like you, let alone to love you.

“Bookings, huh?” You snicker as he nods his head silently. “I mean… to his credit I have put on a show for you once or twice.”

He scoffs before pressing one last firm kiss into the crook of your neck and standing up to his height again, pinching your cheek as he starts for the rest of the penthouse. “Yeah, but those are for my eyes only. - And they’ll stay that way.”

Kiyoomi sets his things on the marble of the lounge room table with a sigh. He’s been working nearly every day since the construction of his museum finally came into fruition and he couldn’t feel any less drained from it. Decent contractors have become harder and harder to find in this new age of impermanence and variability, and everybody who’s anybody seems to have their own two cents about his choice of structure or how they could be a part of it somehow. If he were a less honorable man - or a more unsavory man much like one he knows so particularly, he would’ve hired any three star contractor who could draw a decent circle, put all his focus into charming investors, and underpaid his workers just to save a few extra pennies. But he isn’t that. And a businessman like him prefers to be as close to the business as possible; wants to see his efforts turn out the way they’re supposed to.

He pouts a little to himself. But he also wants to spend time with his baby too.

“I’m gonna be beating them off with a stick for the rest of my life, aren’t I?” He exhales. “Is that the price I pay for loving a beautiful woman?”

You press a light kiss into his bicep as you glide for the direction of the kitchen. “Like you didn’t make the cover of Vanity Japan’s Handsome and Wealthy this spring.” You poke. “I’ll have to start burning incense before I visit you at work just so I don’t catch the evil eye from any of your female employees.”

He chuckles a little tiredly as he trails behind. “You’ll be fine in any case. Not like I didn’t start growing Aak the minute we made it official.”

“Very funny.”

“I know right-“ He sniffs.

His mouth immediately starts to water.

“Did you…?” Kiyoomi glances at the plates laid out on the kitchen counter. “Cook?”

You smile brightly. “Sooprise!”

Kiyoomi doesn’t know how to respond.

It smells… heavenly. Like freshly cut ingredients and even spices, pervading the air so warmly that his skin prickles before settling comfortably under his button up and he’s nearly inclined to openly salivate at just the smell of it.

You fish a spoon out of a pot near the stove, scooping the contents of it carefully into a bowl. “I know how long it’s been since you’ve had a home cooked meal and you’ve seemed so stressed lately.” You lean into him when you feel his chest press against your back, reaching up to caress his jaw as his arms fasten themselves tightly around your waist. “So I bought a few groceries instead of takeout and made something from home!”

You can’t help but grin when he starts to dig his nose into the crook of your neck again. “I hope you like the surprise.”

“If you ever leave me I’ll kill us both.”

You guffaw wholeheartedly.

reblog for one trillion dollars 💵 🤑💰💸

goodbro

what's the point of living if i can't be someone's "sweet nemesis" and "darling god" ??

Odysseus: *gently hands Athena baby Telemachus*

Athena: …you were PREGNANT AND YOU DIDNT TELL ME?!

Odysseus: what?- no-

Athena: DO YOU KNOW HOW DANGEROUS THAT IS?! I WAS TRAINING YOU!

Odysseus: no I wasn’t the one-

Athena: THAT POOR BOY WAS PROBABLY SO SQUISHED IN YOUR HELMET! LOOK AT HOW SMALL HE IS!!