–I have quite a few of these almost complete stories.. So I thought submitting them to the best dang Haikyuu blog (Thank you for all you do, Lana and Kay!) would help me get motivated to write more. My actual blog is @eyesthatbuythetimes, so stop by if you want, there’s very little Haikyuu there, so. Here ya’ll go. I also have a NSFW Butler!Akaashi piece, as well as ANOTHER NSFW Mafia!Oikawa piece if ya’ll want em.–
(There is an alcohol-mention, let’s assume Reader and Bokuto are of age.)
To say that you’re a regular at Pointe is a strong understatement. It’s been at least 3 months since you and your friends discovered this club at the suggestion of a coworker, and you’d found your way back again and again. Was it the crowds of beautiful people mingling that made it special? Was it the crystal-colored cocktails that sent your head spinning? No.
It was because he always went on at midnight.
The dim house lights go completely dark as spotlights illuminate the center of the performance area. Your friend lightly punches your arm, smiling and waggling her eyebrows. Murmurs from the crowd die down as a bass beat reverberates from the speakers, and through your body, sending goosebumps up your bare legs. The beginnings of “Quickie” by Miguel creates a ripple of cheers. You smooth your dress down to give your nervous hands something to do. A few seconds pass until a striking man strides out onto the stage.
He is dressed in a pinstripe suit, immaculately cut to accentuate his broad shoulders and powerful thighs. The fabric stretches deliciously across his form as he moves. It was Bokuto: the star of Pointe’s Saturday night lineup, and man did he know it. The host describes tonight’s theme: The kinky CEO of a powerful company, ready for some “office fun.” You snort at the host’s explanation, he’s never done this roleplay before. A smirk crosses his lips, and the front row of patrons shriek in excitement. You take a second to grab your martini off the counter as the pinstripe jacket falls to the floor. You take a sip and let the alcohol’s sting distract you from the roll of his hips.
As the music builds, he slowly unbuttons his white dress shirt as he steps off the stage. A woman reaches towards him as he walks. He stops. He gives her a wink, and rips the rest of the shirt off. Swoons, whistles and shouts followed as Bo flexes, letting her run her hands up and down his torso as she pleases. Her friends giggle and cheer her on, and you can see his golden eyes flickering with pride. But oh, is he a tease.
The girl tries to move her hands towards his pants, and he jumps back nimbly, turning back to the crowd to perform an outrageous move, sending his legs into the air, his core keeping him balanced in a freeze.
“Sorry, you gotta pay for that!” he laughs, a hooting laugh that sends his head backwards. His jawline could cut glass.
You roll your eyes, acting disinterested; when in actuality, you felt jealousy prick your spine. You take sip of your drink again, failing to realize that he has turned his attention to another. Your friend lets out a drunk howl suddenly. He’s towering over you now, flexing his pecs as he places his hands on his hips.
“Hey, I’ve seen you before haven’t I?”
You nearly choke, the alcohol tinging your nose before you could answer. He lets out another musical laugh, hooking his thumbs into the edge of his suit pants; he then cocks his head to the side, his rustled hair sticking upwards, the gel shiny in the spotlight.
“I may have visited here a few times..” You feel a flush rise in your cheeks. He notices and narrows his eyes.
Those annoying suit pants finally hit the ground mere feet from you. This leaves Bo in a gold spandex G-string, the sharp line of his Adonis belt causing your breath to hitch. His whole body is pristine, his bulge so tantalizing close.
He sees your gaze drift downwards, and he confidently replies, “I’d never forget a face like yours… ”
The whole club has its eyes on you, now sharing the spotlight with the infamous Bokuto. You feel a rush of admiration–and a familiar something else–at his compliment.
“You must say that to all your fans…”
“Hardly. You’re a babe.”
“If that’s true, then is this all I get?” The words fall out of your mouth before you have a chance to think. His confidence only feeds yours. “I thought you were Pointe’s star, so..? Show me.”
His whole face lights up, the show-time smirk morphing into a full notorious grin.
With little to no effort, Bo yanks your chair out to where he stood, your hands desperately clinging to the sides so you wouldn’t fall off. You weren’t quite ready for this. Your nails dig into your palms as he pushes your legs apart and takes the space between them.
“You’re not gonna get shy on me now, are ya?”
His hands are large and rough as he easily holds both of your arms behind you. A soft click makes you realize that yes, in fact, he did have handcuffs. What they had to do with CEO Bo, you didn’t really care. The crowd whoops, but all your senses drain as you look into the golden eyes taking you in fully for the first time. He raises himself onto your lap, grinding his hips into yours. He overwhelms you with his energy, throwing your legs over his shoulders easily.
Next thing you know, his face is inches from your neck, warm breath fanning against your skin. You wish he would lean just a bit closer. His hands move gracefully from your sides down to your cuffed hand as the song, that you had barely registered, starts to fade. He shoves a piece of napkin into your palm, then whispers into your ear..
“I need to see you again. Meet me there after the show..”
He backs away. You could see his chest rising and falling heavily, the gold in his eyes almost blown out by the black of his irises. You feel yourself growing even hotter, waves of pleasure radiating towards your core as he clicks your handcuffs off, and makes his way back onto the stage. The crowd cheers once more as he bows, that shit-eating smirk back on his face, and retreats backstage.
You open the smushed napkin and read the scrawled directions. It leads to the Marriott CrossKeys, a high-end hotel a few blocks away from the club. In smaller script, he writes…
“Wait for me in the lobby, I’ll be there by 2.”
Your friend awkwardly drags your seat back to your table, laughing about how you finally got to bust a move with THE Bokuto. You hide the note from them as the night continues, thoughts of his toned arms caging you in against a wall. Alone, at his mercy. Time drags on, and you find yourself calling an Uber early, feigning a stomach-ache as your friends stay behind. The man all of Pointe knew as a star, wants you tonight.
To be continued…
–Syd
We’ve had this piece for a long time now and don’t know why it hasn’t been published! But in response, if you do have those sexy butler or mafia pieces, we’d love to see them! 😉
-Admin Lana
How did I forget to reblog the beginning of that Bo piece? You really have amazing talent!!
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