haikyuu-simp-station

[haikyuu-simp-station]

I FORGOT I HAD AN IDEA FOR HAIKYUU FICS WITH 80s SONGS—

Maybe I’ll do it when I actually have the time but AAA, I just have them in my notes. But like,,, would y’all be interested in reading them?? 🫣

[haikyuu-simp-station]

boy graduate bo (now official)

[haikyuu-simp-station]

PICKING HIM UP AT THE AIRPORT

pairings: bokuto, ushijima, atsumu, hinata, and kenma

warnings: too much fluff, teeth rooting cuteness, small amount of cursing?

summary: you pick him up from the airport and he loves it and you

a/n: lets hope that these are good bc i don't know anyways enjoy! these are mostly proofread but i can't guarantee anything lol

ღ BOKUTO

You waited patiently with the occasional twitch coming from your fingers or the occasional pacing of your feet every couple of minutes across the airport floor. Strangers passed by with judgmental looks in their eyes, but you barely paid attention to them as your eyes focused on the crisp white airport gate in front of you.

Bokuto was coming back from a month-long training trip with the team, and you decided to surprise him by picking him up from the airport. Though the idea was nice at first, having to wait for him was difficult. It had felt like hours since you arrived and there was no real indication of when Bokuto was supposed to land. The only person you were relying on was Atsumu who told you an hour prior that they were close to landing and now it’s been almost forty-five minutes and no sign of his plane anywhere.

The skin around your thumbnail was becoming raw as your teeth picked at what little skin was left. The nerves in your body were buzzing at the thought of seeing Bokuto when his plane finally came into view, and they announced that they were landing. Your heart jumped to your throat forming a small lump as you take small steps towards the gate entrance hoping that he will see you in the crowd of people.

We both have been talking about this moment for the past month as Bokuto begged to come home early a week in claiming he missed you too much to function or to even train. You strictly told him that he couldn’t leave his team behind just for you which caused a long pouting session on the phone with promises to be fulfilled when he came back. The loud sound of a click rang through your ears as the gate finally opened releasing the team of Black Jackals to the cold air of the airport.

Someone in the distance of the gate was yelling out, “Out of the way! Gotta go see my little owl! Move out the way, Atsumu!”

A large smile spread across your cheeks as your eyes followed the cute boy with two-toned spiked hair, oblivious to the surroundings around him. In his rush, he barely noticed the small body that decided to step into his line of sight causing a small collision.

“Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t wat-,” he stopped mid-sentence as his honey eyes met yours causing a loud gasp to pass his lips with a large, bright smile to match.

“(Y/N)! You’re here! You’re actually here!” he cheers while his arms wrap around your waist adding a tiny spin. Giggle pass your lips as he twirls your body around the airport like it was only you two in the world.

“I’ve missed you so much, little owl,” he whispers into your ear as he finally sets your feet back onto the ground.

“I’ve missed you more, baby,” you whisper back with your fingers wrapping around his cheeks.

He giggles before placing a loud kiss on your lips causing a small giggle to pass your lips onto his.

This moment was worth the wait just to see his honey-comb eyes sparkle as he rambles about how dreadful it was to be without you for the whole month. The world was warm around you as he wraps his arms around you again pulling you into the place that you have wanted to be in again since the moment he left. The little spot on his chest where you can hear the loud thump of his heart beat against yours.

ღ USHIJIMA

Time passes by slowly when someone you miss is miles away and all you wanted to do was see them again. Ushijima was only gone for four days but it felt like an eternity in your heart as this was the longest you two had been apart from one another. The sheets felt cold at night without Ushijima’s body next to yours to keep your thoughts at bay and provide warmth on frigid nights. The house felt quiet without his voice ringing through the halls and kitchen talking with simple words and gestures. Luckily, the time had finally come for him to come home and get back to you. You wanted to pick him up at the airport as a nice surprise for his return back the best way possible.

Texting Kageyama, you found out the details of when the plane would land and convinced him to not tell Ushijima or anyone about your surprise to Ushijima at the airport. The shakiness in your hands increased as it got closer and closer to his plane landing. The nerves in your body started to fill your mind as you thought that this might be a stupid idea and that he might not want to see you as soon as he got off. You were drawn away from your spiraling thoughts when the loud sound of a gate opening drew your body up from the chair you were waiting in. His team starts to roll out one by one till you saw his tall figure and olive bed hair pass through the door. Your heart jumped to your thought as you watched Ushijima move quickly through the airport with his head facing the floor and headphones plucked in his ears. He was on a mission to come and see you as soon as he got off and was not going to let anything get in his way.

Panic began to roll in you as he trailed on without looking and it didn’t appear that he was even going to notice the area surrounding him. Your eyes meet Kageyama’s as he also watches Ushijima continue to walk without a second glance towards you. He gives you a silent, blunt nod as he quickly jogs over to Ushijima causing him to finally survey the area around him. Pulling his headphones out and follows Kageyama’s finger as he points towards you causing a slight giggle to pass your lips with a small wave towards him.

Ushijima’s eyes widen as they finally met yours causing the heart in your chest to skip a beat watching his olive eyes light up under the airport ceiling lights and watching a small, rare smile pass his lips. His legs move quickly to you as he felt his heart pound through his chest as he finally got to you once again. Feel you once again, hold you again, and love you in the same space again.

Shivers and excitement run through your body as he stands in front of you with his hands moving to wrap around your cheeks and pressing a solid kiss on your lips. It was rare for him to display any affection in public except for the occasional forehead kiss or hand holding. This was the thing you least expected him to do in the middle of the airport, but you weren’t going to deny it sent your heart pounding and brain fuzzy from the feeling of his lips moving in sync with yours. The kiss was intense but had a softness surrounding it as he rubbed his thumb slowly along your cheekbone and one arm wrapped around your waist pulling you in closer.

The team cheered and hollered loudly in the background, but it sounds like buzz as you pulled him closer drawing him deeper into your own little world.

He slowly pulled away with his arm held tightly around your waist and pulled you impossibly closer to his chest.

Resting his forehead on yours, “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? I almost walked right pass you,” He smiles and presses a small kiss on your lips, “It was a wonderful surprise but next time tells me, so I don’t almost leave without you.”

A loud laugh leaves your lips as your arms wrap tightly around him to hug him tighter to you, “Okay, I promise I will do that next time. Now let’s go home, love.”

He smiles wider and whispers, “Right, let’s go home.”

His hand intertwined with yours as he ignored the chatter from his team as he was only focused on you and the sight before him never wanting to forget this moment that he was waiting hours for just to see you again.

ღ ATSUMU

Atsumu was like a puppy. A really energetic and bubbly one at that. He was also constantly seeking attention in the sweetest way as he would wait around and silently beg in the corner for your attention. It would be at any time when you were concentrated on work or even invested in a show that you both agreed to watch. You would always giggle and joke with him as he whined and cuddle into your neck begging for any kind of attention and affection that he could receive from you.

Now, it felt like the roles were reversed.

You felt like the puppy seeking attention and love from its owner. Every time Atsumu called you while he was away, you had a fifteen-minute whining session of how much you missed him and wanted him back. He had been away for a week but in your mind, it felt much longer as those phone calls were fairly rare while he was away. It was most days just moping around the house waiting for the bleached blonde to come home. Now it was just more waiting around as you stood outside his gate to pick him up. This waiting game was getting old. All you were hoping for was to see his beaming smile and warm eyes meet yours again.

It felt empty and cold every night going to bed for the past week without him by your side with the only remnants being his cologne on the sheets. You missed the press of his body against yours with his long legs intertwining with yours under the bright moonlight of the night. You wanted to hear his heartbeat against your ear again, soothing away any negative thoughts and worries and bringing a calming state to your heart and mind.

The sound of a gate opening drew you out of your thoughts bringing your attention to the boys with black shiny jackets exiting one by one.

“(Y/N)! I’m here!”

His loud, cheery voice rang through the airport causing most of the boys and people around him to grumble lowly. But you didn’t care. Hearing his voice meant he was back. Back in the same air and space as you.

You instantly run towards him, jumping into his arms with him swiftly and easily catching you and resting his hands warmly underneath your things.

His chuckle rang through your ear as the smell of him drew you in deeper into his neck seeking the warmth that you have been desperately needing.

“Miss me, baby?” he cheekily whispers into your ear.

The overflow of emotions from his arrival only allowed your body to nod and draw him closer by his neck. The lump in your throat grew larger with small tears lining your waterline as everything became a reality in your mind that he finally made it back to you.

“Aww, baby, don’t cry. I’m here now don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere anytime soon. I got you.”

ღ HINATA

It really shouldn’t be so hard to find someone with the brightest smile that could rival the sun matched with ginger hair that grows brighter every time you see it. But somehow you managed to miss him as he got out of the gate and traveled through the large crowd.

“What do you mean you’re already off the plane?” you quickly asked with the phone pressed close to your ear.

“I already got off the plane and I couldn’t find you, so I started walking around to find you but now I’m lost,” he explains shyly into the phone.

Small grumbles leave your lips as you begin walking towards the direction that Hinata said he was in. The airport was crowded as many had the same idea Hinata had which was to come back home for the holidays and it appeared that everyone was being picked up by someone. Your head felt dizzy as you scanned the area for a head of bright ginger hair and tan skin.

Standing on the edge of your toes, you try to see over the crowd of people that all were standing in the same area and those trying to get their flights on time. The boiling frustration was starting to build within as it appeared that Hinata was nowhere near the area he said he was. A loud groan slipped through your lips as the space between your ears was becoming fuzzy with the crowd becoming larger and the distance between everyone becoming smaller.

“(Y/N)! Over here!”

A loud, sweet voice filled the space in your head as it yelled across the large space causing most people around us to turn their heads and send dirty looks. Your lips spread into a large smile, hitting your eyes, as you finally see Hinata in the distance with his bright, sunshine smile his hands waving widely high in the air.

“Shoyo!” You cheer as your feet quickly move towards him earning more strange looks from those surrounding us. As you made your way in front of him, you quickly pull him into a hug as wrap his arms tightly around your waist, drawing you closer to his chest finally getting the warmth and love you have been seeking for weeks.  

His hands felt warm against your back as he began rubbing soothing circles through your shirt. This is the sweet Hinata you’ve been waiting to see and have been counting the days, hours, and minutes till he came home.

He gently pressed his lips against the skin of your jaw and cheek as you peacefully and tightly held onto him drowning out the world around you with the only focus being on the boy in your arms.

“I’ve missed you so much,” you whisper into his ear.

His smile pressed against your neck as he nuzzles in, “I’ve missed you too.”

ღ KENMA

It was rare for Kenma to go out anywhere even if it was to the grocery store or convenience store to refuel his body. However, he knew that he had to attend to this even though the very thought of leaving his safe space with you made him shiver with fear. The idea of leaving behind the home that had the scent of warm apples and wood made his heartache. The only thoughts on his mind the whole trips were you and the warmth of your smile that thawed out his heart every time he saw it.

Today was the day he was finally going to see it again. It made his body jitter with the excitement flowing through his body of seeing you again. He thought he would be able to enjoy the moment more if the flight over wasn’t so dreadful. So many people were on his flight including a baby who couldn’t seem to calm down, a woman who was talking loudly on the phone about the affair she was having, and the man two rows down was snoring so loudly that is almost drowned out the screaming child.

Kenma glanced down at his phone to see that the flight was only for another twenty minutes before it landed home. Only twenty more minutes till he saw you. Till he got back to the safe space of his game room with you laying across the bean bag next to him watching him play with a heavenly glint in your eyes. Twenty more minutes till he got to smell fall in the summertime. Till he got to see your smile again and feel your arms around him once more.

…

Slowest twenty minutes ever. It felt like an eternity before they actually landed and got off the plane. Heading over to baggage claim, Kenma shifted his eyes everywhere in search of you. He wanted to see you first. He wanted to feel you in his arms again and smell the scent of apples coming off your hair.

“Kenma! Over here!”

That sweet voice, he knew it anywhere. His body quickly turned around to see you standing there brightly underneath the summer sun with the biggest smile on your lips. The movements of his body were quick as he made his way over to you disregarding the people around him. All that mattered was you. Wrapping his arms around your waist and burrowing his face in between your neck and shoulder, Kenma felt like he was at home.

“How was the flight?”

“Awful,” he whispers, “Never want to do that again.”

“Aw don’t say that it couldn’t have been that bad,” you joke as your fingers weave into his hair as he pushes his face deeper into your neck.

“No. I’m not doing it again. Couldn’t stand being away from you,” he says while pressing a small kiss on the side of your neck.

A small chuckle leaves your lips, “Alright, if you say so. I missed you too, hated being away from you too.”

His lips spread into a small smile as he pulls himself up to face you. He didn’t know it was possible, but it seemed like you got more beautiful since the left. The sparkle and warmth in your eyes were hard to miss when you looked at him and it only made his heart fall harder and deeper. The space between you and him quickly shortened as he presses his lips against yours in the middle of a crowded airport with the sunlight beaming down through the windows and loud announcements drowning out the sound of the people.

When he pulls away, the small smile reappears on his lips as he wraps your hand into his with a small kiss pressed to it.

“Let’s go home,” he whispers as you nod along with the brightest smile on your lips. “Let’s go home, darling. Me and the cats have missed you.”

 ✿ ushiko ; do not steal, copy, or plagiarize my work

reblogs, likes and comments are appreciated!!

[haikyuu-simp-station]

So, you’re telling me— Bokuto went to college, and got a degree. Sakusa COULD have been playing for the Adlers. Oikawa has nicknames for others so he can keep his distance. Or to be friendly in Iwa’s case— and so many more things—

My whole world has been flipped upside down—

[haikyuu-simp-station]

shy omi in a hoodie ♡

[haikyuu-simp-station]

happy ushijima day 🦅

[haikyuu-simp-station]

“What’s on your mind tonight? You seem distracted.”

Sakusa is close to your ear when he speaks, and you’re unprepared for the sudden feeling of his warm breath ghosting against your cheek. You can’t help but shiver at the sound and sensation, leaning unconsciously closer to him and the low tremor of his voice. He chuckles at your reaction, finding it sweet, and noses gently at your temple in a rare (though still tastefully restrained) show of affection.

“Are you not having a good time? Would you like to leave?”

You shake your head a little, lifting your glass of champagne to your lips. It’s far from your first drink of the evening, as the gala is anything but in short supply, and your cheeks have felt warm for at least the past hour as you stood beside Kiyoomi while he and his fellow v-league players mixed and mingled with other athletes and industry professionals. Sakusa Kiyoomi isn’t really one for mingling, much to the surprise of no one, so it’s mostly been quiet save for the few brave individuals willing to approach him, or the occasional greeting of his friends.

Your partner’s hand settles on the curve of your waist, pulling you a little close to him as his lips brush the shell of your ear.

“Then what’s got you so quiet?”

You swallow, dropping your gaze. Even in spite of all you’ve had to drink your mouth feels a little dry when you do finally speak, though your voice is kept soft.

“Ushijima-san is… quite handsome, isn’t he?”

Keep reading

[haikyuu-simp-station]

Office worker Akaashi

[haikyuu-simp-station]

No thoughts, just teaching virgin!Bokuto to eat pussy

I saw a hc where reader gave virgin!bokuto a handjob, and thought about another scenario with the same smitten himbo

pairing: virgin!bokuto x f!reader (no gendered pronouns used, but afab anatomy)

genre: smut, a tiny bit of crack in the beginning

word count: 1k

tw: smut, pure smut, oral (f!receiving), fingering (f!receiving), oral (m!receiving implied), virginity loss, experienced!reader,

____________________________

Virgin!Bokuto who has watched too much porn because his sex drive is through the roof but with all the volley pracrice he barely has time to date. 

Virgin!Bokuto who tried to read erotica novels in the bookstore to figure out the “way to pussy”, but popped a boner a minute in and ran away so quickly he didn’t even notice that he forgot to put the book down.

Virgin!Bokuto who after a date with you had to retreat to his personal video favorites, imagining you in all the scenarios.

Virgin!Bokuto who made the most awkward moves during your makeout sessions, rubbing at your pubic bone and looking at you expectantly. 

Virgin!Bokuto who got purple as a beet when you giggled and asked him if he wanted you to show him the right way.

Virgin!Bokuto who nodded shyly and gulped as you pulled your jeans and underwear down.

______

“It’s okay, Kou, - you smiled, parting your legs before his flushed face, and guided his hand to your pussy. - Touch me. Take your time”. 

Bokuto suddenly felt his throat going desert dry and gulped, eyes trained on your glistening folds. He hesitantly brought his hand to your pussy, barely touching the labia. You could feel him shaking, his short breaths going straight to your exposed core. 

“Yes, good. Ah…  - your hand landed on his hair, caressing the spiky locks. - Can you find my clit?”

At that, Bokuto stilled, raising his eyes to your face. He heard drunk Kuroo joking about how hard clits are to find, and once even googled ‘pussy chart’, but seeing the pussy in real life, up close, not the porn-like to top it all off - he was a bit smitten to say the least. 

His thumb moved up and pressed down, a little to the left from where it would be perfect. 

“Almost, baby. - and he pouted at that a bit, eliciting a short airy laugh out of you. - It’s here”. 

You gently guided his thumb to the left, and rolled your hips teasingly, letting out a subtle moan. The whole situation - this precious boy, big as a damned moose, so shy and hesitant around you, - it made you wetter with every passing second. 

Bokuto’s lips parted, and he rubbed on your clit again, just a small circle, feeling your cunt twitch under his touch. 

“Yes, Kou-ahh! - your eyes snapped from lidded to wide open as you felt something wetter and softer slide up your folds. - So eager, baby. Go on”

Bokuto just hummed, burying his face deeper between your thighs, lapping chaotically at your entrance, making sure to hit your clit with every swirl of his tongue. Your grip in his hair tightened and you rocked your hips, grinding down his face, moaning louder as his nose bumped against your bud. 

Bokuto was the sweetest little mess, his beefy arms embracing your thighs, almost childish eagerness to make you whine and fuck his face making his brain fuzzy. He didn’t even notice when he started grinding his hips on the mattress, not leaving your cunt to breathe. His fingers dug deeper into your thighs, not letting you move even a half inch away from him, lapping at your sweet cunt like a mad man. 

“Bo, ahhh-, sweetie! - your grip in his hair tightened and he groaned as you pulled him away, meeting his already fucked out face. - Sweetie, wait. Use your fingers too”. 

He tilted his head to the side, and you noted that these few minutes were probably the longest you’ve seen your new boyfriend silent. You cupped his cheek for a second, smearing your juices on his face, and let your hand fall to his, gently taking his index finger and pushing it in your soaked entrance. He didn’t miss how you bit your lip as his second knuckle went in, his eyes open wide and lips parted in attention. 

“Now curl it, baby, like you call me closer. - you shifted slightly and gasped when his fingertip brushed against the special spot”

“Like that?” - he followed your order, licking his lips at concentration and barely holding in a groan at how good you tasted. 

“Yeah, ahh, u-huh, like that, dear, - a shudder ran through your body, your thighs nearly clamping down on his wrist, and Bokuto grinned, repeating the motion over and over, taking in every expression you made. - Now get your tongue to where it was”

And he obliged, dedicating every part of him to forcing moans and gasps out of you. You fell back on the pillows, hands gripping his hair tight, as you sinked in pleasure this inexperienced, but very eager boy was so obediently providing. Shivers coursed through your frame, and you whined, mumbling encouragements that Bo’s mind barely registered. Too engulfed in this whole scene, too drunk on you he was to note how his own hips dug deeper into the comforter on your bed. Eager and overstimulated boy made it his mission to bring you to climax on his first try, and damn was he on the right track. 

With the way his tongue drew new patterns on your clit, you fisted his hair, pulling him snug against your cunt, and chanted “Faster, Bo, just like that, yeah, ohhh-”. 

Bo only followed the order, doing exactly as he was told, and in seconds time your whole body tensed, thighs clamping on his head and you nearly screamed his name, your orgasm hitting you like a train. 

“Bo, - you whined, too sensitive for him to continue, - Bo, - oh god, shhh, that’s it, too sensitive”. Pulling him away, you crashed your lips against his, tasting yourself on his tongue and groaned. “Bo, you were so good”

He looked at you with his eyes open wide, a little glassy from what you guessed was arousal, and smiled shyly, too overwhelmed to speak. 

“Want me to return the favor?” - you grinned, and he could only nod, hands shooting down to his belt.

[haikyuu-simp-station]

heart-shaped bolts | bokuto koutarou (m).

as a joke, you signed up to beta-test a sex bot. however, after receiving the large package weeks after applying, the joke happens to bring you to happiness and pleasure.

genre, tropes, ratings. fluff, angst, & smut | porn w/ plot, robot!au, sex bot!au, forbidden love!au | mature read: mdni! + 6.3k words.

contents. dom!bokuto, sub!reader, bondage + sensory deprivation, degradation, dirty talk, praising, spanking, pleasure dom!bokuto, rough sex, unprotected sex?, creampie, cum eating, oral (both receiving), overstimulation, orgasm denial, bokuto is versatile mf, choking, pet names (bokuto calls reader princess a few times), ice play, face sitting, etc.

extras. playlist.

notes. this was supposed to be purely soft at first, then bokuto started doing things to me. :) + thank you to @poohbea and @lawscorazon for beta-reading this fic and making sure i don’t post bs.

Thank you, Y/N Y/L/N, for deciding to try out one of our SexBotz prototypes. We’re grateful that you’ve taken the time out of your life to test out the efficiency and effectiveness. Your beta-testing will last for approximately 30 days and throughout that time, we expect you to update us on any issues and defects that you’ve experienced throughout. Of course, you’ll be compensated for your time, efforts, and feedback. If there’s any emergencies and important matters that need to be handled immediately, please contact us at support@sexbotz.com. 

Keep reading

[haikyuu-simp-station]

I really do want to write things out but my online courses and work is just sucking the life out of me 😔😔

Also I plan on putting my masterlist and rules posts up soon- hopefully, asks will come up too

[haikyuu-simp-station]

STRAWBERRY KISSES

“tsumu stop it” you say muffled as you try to swat him away.

“noo yer’ lips taste so yummy” he whines continuing to press kisses against your own lips.

atsumu has been kissing you for the last five minutes already. you thought it was cute at first but he just wouldn’t stop. no matter how many times you try to move he wouldn’t let you. it’s kinda hard to push off a 6’1 volleyball athlete player off of you.

“why do ya keep kissing me tsumu. my lips are gonna be sore.” you attempted to push him off of you again with struggle.

“cause ya lips taste good baby. like strawberries.” he stated finally pulling himself off to look at you. you can see some of the red tinted chapstick plastered onto your bf’s lips as he stood straight.

“maybe because i put a strawberry flavored chapstick on ya dummy.” gently pushing his body when you started to walk away. “wait baby c’mere i still want to kiss you. ‘m not done yet.” atsumu whining even more as he caught up to you. wrapping his arms around your waist to keep you from going anywhere.

“tsum why don’t you just use some of the chapstick and put it on. instead of kissing me for it.” you reasoned hoping he can agree. “no it’s not the same baby.” he said with pleading eyes so you can cave in. “but tsumu my lips are gonna be dry after. you can keep it and use it if you want.” “it’s fine babe we can apply more after we’re done” your bf said.

“please baby just one more kiss and ‘m done. i’ll leave you alone and you can do whatever you need to do.” you knew that was a lie. he wasn’t going to let you leave with one kiss but it didn’t sound like such a bad idea anymore.

“fine one more and that’s it” you said. squealing as atsumu wraps his arms around you tighter bringing you into a passionate kiss. “thank you baby” he lightly said in between.

maybe you’ll let him get away with it this one time.

[haikyuu-simp-station]

Ushiwaka receive

[haikyuu-simp-station]

All the Familiar

wc: 6.9k

pairings: bokuto x f!reader

contains: camboy!bokuto, sort-of-shy!reader, childhood friends to lovers, post-timeskip bokuto, slow burn but at a fast pace, mutual suppressed feelings, mutual pining, fluff, eventual love confessions, masturbation (m.), pillow humping (m.), accidental orgasms (m./f.), size kink (m./f.), nervous!bokuto, soft oral sex (f. receiving), desperate oral sex, handholding during sex, consensual sex

warnings: minors dni

a/n: i just stumbled upon some information today that explained why this fic wasn't getting much traction (it was bc of a certain banned tag) so im reposting this under different tags so that this post doesn't get muted again !

artwork [18+] by @sukunastiddies

He was familiar; a smile ensconced by small dimples, eyes of gold. And he was your close friend of many years, shared nights and early mornings spent at the other’s side since the beginnings of middle school.

Bokuto was familiar, but familiarities often change.

You had not forgotten when such a thing happened. He had been nervous, eyes flitting around the room, his knee bouncing impatiently.

“Kou?” you asked him, setting your mug of warm tea on the table. His own remained untouched.

Bokuto startled, hand twitching where he had placed it over the lower half of his face. He looked up.

“You wanted to talk about something,” you said. “Is everything alright?”

He had waited so long to tell you, unsure of how to say it—if he should. But you were his friend and he trusted you. Would you think lowly of him if he were to tell you?

The inhale he took was a trembling one. Bokuto began to think this a mistake: rapping his knuckles at your door late in the night with a heavy hand and a heavier heart, he felt dirty for the secret he held, what he wanted you to know. This was not an incited conversation, prompted by your finding of one of his videos. For all Bokuto was aware, you had yet to see them and he would rather it remain that way.

His frantic words tumbled from his throat, as if thrown from a stupor, “I make videos.” He looked petrified, a deep blush curling his face.

Your brows pinched, “What?”

“Like—” Bokuto winced, dragging his hand down his mouth to rest it at the column of his neck “—like… porn.”

You opened your mouth to speak, then closed it; your eyes had widened. “Oh,” you said, gently to not deter him.

His fingers lifted to smooth back tresses of silver and black, his own stare kept to the table as if ashamed.

“Kou, that’s alright.” You were smiling at him now as you rose from your seat, crossing to him. “That’s perfectly fine.”

He felt your hand on his arm, squeezing reassuringly. Bokuto’s mouth had thinned, his brow lowered. Your fingers touched his cheek, his chin.

“Please look at me,” you said, resting against the edge of the table in front of him.

Bokuto had never been one to deny you. He lifted his eyes, stopping when they found yours. You looked at him so adoringly, so tender in the way you touched him, Bokuto thought it a reverie.

“You’re not…you’re not weirded out or anything?” His voice nearly cracked like an adolescent; his knee continued shaking.

“No, no I’m not.”

He chuckled fretfully, though relieved. His arms curled around you without thought, holding you tight to him. From your standing position, and his sitting, Bokuto nearly reached your own height; your chin fell to the crook of his neck, your arms lifting from beneath his to settle on his back.

“Thank you,” he murmured into your hair.

You breathed out a laugh, “I’ll always support you—you know that.”

He let go, but his hands kept curled around your shoulders. An odd expression veiled his features, before quickly diminishing.

“Did something happen to cause this conversation?” you asked.

“No, I just…wanted you to know. I hate keeping things from you.”

-----

Bokuto left soon afterwards; you had classes in the morning, as did he. And when he returned home, he lowered himself onto the cloth-bound couch, propping his laptop on the ottoman. He began editing the video he had taken the night prior, of him humping his pillow desperately, pressing his cock into the fold he had created. Bokuto deleted eleven sections of recording where he had moaned your name in the haze of his lust.

He sighed, “Shit.”

-----

A month passed since he told you, and nothing had changed. No faint wariness tainted the time you spent together; no discomfiting conversations ensued. All was well and normal as it should be.

If only Bokuto would have checked the hour.

It was two in the afternoon on a Saturday. You had the spare key to his apartment, the result of his constant misplacing of his own, and you always knocked before entering, always made sure to tell Bokuto when you would be over. You had knocked three times now and he had yet to call out to you.

You shook your head, turning the brass key over and nudging open the door.

He’s likely in the bathroom, you thought, or taking a nap.

Bokuto was on the couch, on his knees, one hand holding the armrest tightly, the other around his cock. His eyes were shut, brows knitted, mouth open in a silent moan; his head was tipped down as he bucked lazily into his hand.

You stood in shock for a brief moment at the sight before you, of your closest friend panting and whining as he stroked himself.

“I—I’m so sorry,” you stumbled out, backing to the threshold of his apartment, your fingers fumbling for the knob.

Bokuto’s head tore upward, reddened cheeks burning deeper, gold eyes brimming with sheer panic. The adrenaline elicited the familiar feeling of the edge to an orgasm, and he tipped over terribly. He came with a choked moan that fell to a low keening, spilling onto the towel below. When his hips eased from their twitching, Bokuto tilted his head back, an arm propped on the top of the couch as he rubbed at his eyes.

“Fuck,” he whispered beneath his breath. “Fuck.”

You had pressed yourself as close to the wall as possible, your stare pinned to his kitchen, your feet, anywhere but at his direct vicinity. He was stammering his apologies, buttoning his pants and reaching for the black shirt he had thrown onto the floor.

“I thought you were coming over Sunday,” he said, regret thick on his tongue. He was grasping for words, beginning sentences before biting them off. Bokuto reached for his phone beside the TV, he had been holding a live session. And the comment section had imploded.

Looks like someone got caught. She sounds real pretty.

Get the girl to join.

You should fuck her good.

He ended the live, pocketing his phone with a wince.

“I can—” you began “—leave if you need me to. We can reschedule for another time.” You were offering him a genial smile, slight in its curvature, but you were uncomfortable, evidently so.

Bokuto watched you shift, he watched as you wove and unwove your fingers. He had made you uneasy, he thought, and he was upset at himself for this.

“No,” he said suddenly, a plea, “no, you don’t need to go, it’s okay.”

Bokuto and you had entered an unknown tract. The boundaries of a friendship were distinct, absolute; they had become muddled now.

It was quiet in his apartment, cleaved here and there by an interlude of Bokuto speaking—menial things, nonsensical things. He did not mind lapses of silence, but silence was to be content in the other’s presence. This silence was to be tense; and Bokuto did not like this silence.

He picked the towel from the couch, placing it in a washing machine. He cleaned his hands. He straightened the apartment, he kept busy as he spoke, a blush burned into his face.

“—and you should see the neighbors to the right,” he said, chuckling with tensed shoulders. “They have this dog they carry around in a stroller. It’s just a tiny little thing, I’m sure they tuck it in goodnight, too.”

“Kou,” you murmured, eyes following him as he occupied the living room, moved to the kitchen, then the hall, fixed his shoes by the door.

“They’re sweet people though, they really like Akaashi, always wanting to make conversation with him when he comes to visit.”

“Kou,” you said more distinctly.

“He asked me how you were doing just a few days ago—Akaashi, I mean—said he’s been wanting to call you, but his own classes have been piling work to his ears.”

“Koutarou.”

Bokuto stilled, his throat bobbing as he swallowed and looked to you. He was in the living room, adjusting the couch pillows again.

You had migrated to the kitchen table some time after Bokuto had washed and dried three plates that had not been dirty. His table was set low to the ground and you sat cross-legged on a pillion, your forearms braced upon the wood.

“Yes?” he asked, softly, eyes regarding you with worry. He was scared for what you would say.

You gestured to the seat opposite you, “Can you please sit down?”

“Yeah—yeah, of course.” He lowered himself before you, folding his hands in his lap. The red tincture remained on his cheeks and ears.

“Look, we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to; we can pretend it never happened, if that’s what you want.” You paused, gauging the tensing muscle of Bokuto’s jaw, his conflicted expression, and continued. “I meant what I said before.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, “I should’ve…” His words flitted off. He should have done many things differently; he should have checked his phone; he should have been in his bedroom, instead. Bokuto apologized again, his knee had begun bouncing, “I’m sorry.”

You laughed beneath your breath, lightheartedly, to ease Bokuto, “Can I ask you something?” He did not hear how your voice wavered, did not see your hands shake; you were nervous, restless. Watching Bokuto reach his climax—face twisting in surprise, the uneven rise and fall of his chest—had brought about a warmth to your body, to between your legs. You had always thought him handsome, kind, willful and passionate. He was the boy who thanked you with innocent hugs, who fell fast asleep with a cheek pressed to your shoulder. The boy who asked his older sisters how to braid hair simply so he could braid yours.

But Bokuto had grown to be man, evident in his large stature and honed body, how he held his chin and entered a room.

You blanched at the sudden thought. If Bokuto noticed, he said nothing.

“Sure,” he nodded his head, shifting on the cushion. Bokuto sat hunched, expectant eyes awaiting you.

You blinked, returning your attention to him before you asked, “Why did you choose to get into the industry?”

It was an unanticipated question, but he answered, nonetheless. Bokuto explained that it had initially been a bad joke, the product of a night of heavy drinking; him and Kuroo bet one another on who could produce the most views from a single anonymous masturbation video. Bokuto had won. And he found himself wondering how else it could prove beneficial.

“Do you make them alone or with someone else?” you asked, and you did not know why you had. You immediately wanted to retract your words at the rise of Bokuto’s silver brows.

“Alone,” he said slowly, “I wouldn’t feel comfortable enough with someone I didn’t know.”

Your face warmed, you nodded in understanding.

You should fuck her good.

The comment tugged on Bokuto’s sleeve like an insistent hand. He rolled his shoulder back.

-----

Bokuto called in an order for lunch to be brought to his apartment and the two of you ate together. The tension had long since stippled away.

“I forgot to tell you about this one guy I saw at the gym,” he said excitedly, speaking around a full mouth.

You pricked your food onto the fork and crooked a brow, “Oh?”

“Yeah, he had been benching some heavy weights and it must’ve been too much. I looked over and he was near purple trying to get the bar off of him—ran over there as fast as I could and helped him out.” Bokuto was smiling widely, dimples pressed in proud at the edges, “Then he got pissed at me and said I ruined his rep.”

You stifled a bark of a laugh.

Bokuto shook his head, chuckling, “The guy threatened to have me kicked out permanently for harassment.”

“Harassment?” you repeated.

He hummed, drinking from his plastic cup.

“You should’ve just punched him at that point.”

Bokuto balked, suppressing a grin, “That’s terrible, I would never do that.”

“What’s the point of all that time spent working your body if you can’t even defend yourself?” You pointed the end of your fork toward him, shaking it like a chastising finger.

The corner of his lips tilted upward. Bokuto moved quickly. You did not anticipate him to rise from the table and cross to you; you did not expect him to lift you so easily from the ground. He picked you up by the waist and you yelped in surprise as he settled you over his shoulder. Your fork fell to the table, Bokuto shook beneath you with laughter.

“Kou!” You fisted at his shirt, wrinkling the blue fabric. One of his hands laid heavy at the small of your back, the other he placed at your thighs. “You ass.”

It was futile to writhe in his hold. You grasped tightly to his shirt, lifting it as you scowled.

“I won’t drop you,” he said, walking to the hall. “Promise.”

“Where are we going?” you asked exasperatedly, his steps jostling you.

“I wanna show you something.”

“Show me what, Koutarou?”

He smiled, “You’ll see.”

Bokuto continued down the hall, his shoulder warm beneath your abdomen, and brought you to his bedroom. You narrowed your eyes in question but said nothing. He let your body slip back, hands bracketing your waist to place you on the ground; your own held his shoulders for support. He grinned down at you and turned away.

“What—” you did not finish your sentence as Bokuto plucked something small from the lounge chair beside his closet, biting at the inside of his cheek elatedly.

“Look what I have,” he crooned in delight. Bokuto held a plush toy in his hands, its stitching frayed, colors faded.

Your eyes widened. It was an old gift from Bokuto, one he had earned from a rusted prize machine for you. You had thought it lost.

“My mom found it in some boxes she was cleaning out. I guess she mistook it for toys I had been getting rid of in middle school and put it in storage when you forgot it at my house that one time.”

“God,” you took the toy he offered out to you, turning it over, “I thought I’d never see this thing again.” A breathless laugh.

Bokuto would give you every object in the world to see the amused expression you bore again and again.

You’re so lovely, he thinks, I would give you everything if you asked it.

He returned your smile, stepping forward to play with the furred ears of the plush.

-----

Bokuto was panting, whining brokenly into his pillow. He did not record himself tonight, this was solely for him. His fingers held the base of his cock tightly, hips pressing as far as his hand would allow before pulling back.

He had walked you out of his building and to your car when you needed to return home. And then you had gestured for him to bend down. Scalding warmth marred his cheeks and ears and throat in the form of a blush as you took his face in your hands and pressed a chaste kiss to his forehead.

“Be good,” you had joked, patting the side of his face before entering your car and driving out of the lot.

He would be good for you. He felt so good because of you. Bokuto stifled a whimper.

His hand twitched, cock bobbing at the memory. It was a simple kiss, platonic in its brevity; Bokuto should not have come so undone by it. He did not think of what your lips would feel like elsewhere but his forehead, it had been too innocent of a kiss. It had been the kiss you share between laughter, in tired sleep, drudging mornings. In a hello and a goodbye.

Bokuto moaned, peering down at his hand, the head of his cock that slipped through. He had not been this aroused in so long; he wanted to enjoy this.

-----

“Well, shit,” Kuroo swiped a thumb beneath the point of his nose. “So, she knows.”

“Yeah,” Bokuto said quietly, “she knows.”

They sat beside one another on an old bench, the park trees crowding above with bare limbs, the cold nipping their hands and faces.

Kuroo’s brows pinched at his friend’s tone, “Did something else happen?”

He frowned, lips pressing tight. Bokuto peered around the empty park, “She—” he looked over his shoulder “—she walked in on me…” and glanced pointedly to the ground.

Kuroo tilted his head, eyes widening, and clicked his tongue. “Oh, you can’t be serious.”

Bokuto did not speak. He drank from his hot coffee instead.

“You’re serious. Oh my god, you’re serious?” He shifted to better see Bokuto, “How the hell did that even happen?”

Bokuto shook his head, sniffling from the chill, “I forgot when she was coming over, mixed up the days. I’m so stupid, I felt terrible after it happened. She’d been so nice about it when I first told her—she didn’t care—and I put her in such a fucking uncomfortable position.” He exhaled deeply, lungs filling with guilt, “I’m a bad friend.”

“No, you’re not.” Lifting a hand, Kuroo placed it on Bokuto’s shoulder in consolation, “You’re not a bad friend. It was an accident, Bo. And she’s one of the most understanding people I’ve ever met; she would never hold something like that against you.”

“I—I came the second I saw her in my apartment…” Bokuto was shaking his knee, scrubbing haplessly at his face. He refused to look at Kuroo. He was so embarrassed, so fucking ashamed. It was an unnecessary detail, but this was the first that Bokuto had discussed the incident beyond you.

Kuroo lapsed into a quiet pause. He opened his mouth, pondered his words, closed it again. He eventually settled on: ��Oh.”

“Yeah,” Bokuto mumbled.

“That’s…” Kuroo began, then lifted his head. “Right in front of her?” he asked, as if he could not believe it.

Bokuto pinned him with a withering expression that said, Yes, now please stop asking.

“Okay,” said Kuroo carefully. “Okay, and how was she afterward?”

“She offered to leave; I asked her to stay. I couldn’t bear the thought of her going without some sort of explanation.”

“And did she? Stay, I mean.”

“Yeah, she stayed and I bought us lunch. It was her, actually, that sat me down to talk. I was so damn nervous, thought I was gonna throw up. But…she was fine, I was fine. We got over it and ate and spent time together.”

Kuroo nodded, sipped in thought from his own cup. They were silent for a moment before he said, “Are you in love with her?”

Bokuto fumbled terribly, whirling on Kuroo with a slackened jaw. “What?” he asked.

“Just a question,” Kuroo shrugged, crossing one ankle over the other in front of him. “I’ve seen the way you look at her, you know, even when we were younger. You care about her, that’s obvious enough, but you get so caught up in your head when you’re with her.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he grumbled.

“If Akaashi or I had walked in on you, it would’ve been a shock—sure—but so what? It wouldn’t have been an issue and we both would go about our days. However, her walking in on you shouldn’t be such a damn big deal. She’s just a friend,” Kuroo leveled an amused grin toward him, “right, Bo?”

-----

It was eleven in the evening when you received a text from Kuroo.

Heard you found out, he said.

Yeah, he told me about a month ago, you replied.

I’m betting he was too embarrassed to give you the username he posts the videos under.

You stilled, typing back with reluctance. No, he didn’t.

You want it?

A flush warmed your body, your very blood. You could nearly hear the taunt of Kuroo’s words. No, you said.

Liar.

A minute passed, then two; you believed that had been the end of the conversation, until he sent a link.

He could be toying with you. He could be pandering for a way to get a rise out of you.

He holds live sessions every Saturday, sometimes in the middle of the week, too, if he’s feeling up to it. Just take a look for yourself, said Kuroo

The warmth burned now. And how do you know this? you asked.

I don’t watch his shit, if that’s what you’re thinking. He tells me.

You eyed the link, wary. A ruse or not, it felt wrong to even consider watching Bokuto in such a vulnerable position. So, you did not consider it, you turned off your phone and picked up a book.

It had not been enough to distract you. You kept reimagining that day you found Bokuto on his couch as if the thoughts were becoming intrusive. His body, his hands, the way he moved—

You rubbed harshly at your temples, growing irritated. He was your friend, he was such a sweetheart, and a gentleman through and through.

Someone is getting off to the thought of him, the sight of him, another thought latched itself as it laughed with delight. How do you feel about that?

I feel that it’s none of my business, you seethed.

No, you don’t. You’re jealous.

You rose from your bed and showered.

When you returned, dripping in rivulets of water, frustrated, you took up your phone. Half an hour, you had spent bathing yourself. Half an hour, and Bokuto was likely done with his live session.

You should look, the thought returned, he wouldn’t even know. What’s the harm? Satiate your curiosity, and you won’t ever need to be curious again.

It’s wrong, you said.

And, yet, you’ve seen it before.

Your phone was heavy in your hand, weighted with a lead you could not see. Yes, you had already seen him reach an orgasm by accident; he had even wanted to tell you of his side occupation; but he had not invited you to watch.

It did not matter if you loved him, if you thought of how he held you, how he might take your hand—how he might fuck you. This was not for your viewing.

-----

A few more months appeared and scurried away. Your relationship with Bokuto remained normal, if not a bit cautious. He was more careful with his touch; his tight embraces became short and sweet hugs from the side; his thigh did not brush yours when you sat beside one another; his hands did not play idly with your hair or fingers or clothing.

He was the most familiar, but familiarities were beginning to change once more.

“Kou,” you said, peering over at him as he stood by his closet.

He hummed in acknowledgment, lifting a gold patterned tie and a black patterned tie up to his throat.

“Has something been bothering you?” you asked.

Bokuto found your stare in the mirror before him, pausing, “Well, I am having some trouble trying to choose which tie would look best.”

You rose from your seat on his bed and crossed to him, picking the gold patterned tie from his hands. “This one,” you said with a small smile. “But I meant as of late. You’ve been…off.” His hands were moving the tie, manipulating the fabric to create a meticulous knot; you watched this instead of meeting his eyes.

Bokuto swallowed thickly, “Have I?

“Yes,” you said, “just a bit.” You adjusted the lapels of his suit jacket, following the sleeve until you reached his hand. He automatically lifted it for you, and you admired the intricacies of the watch on his wrist. “This is beautiful.”

“Thank you,” he said, but the words were as delicate as a breath. You were holding his hand in yours, thumbing the sleeve upward to admire the silver band. It was near torturous watching you in silence, standing ever so still, because he wanted you to continue. He did not want you to stop.

Your hand was so small in comparison to his, in comparison to him. And you were so heartbreakingly pretty; adorned in a dress that he wanted to slip from your body, carefully done hair that he wanted to thread his fingers through, makeup that he wanted to near ruin.

Bokuto took in a trembling breath and hoped you would not notice. He had asked you a week ago if you would like to accompany him to a friend’s birthday dinner, and you had said yes.

But with the way you looked tonight, he might just keep you home and to himself.

-----

In hindsight, he should not have worried about the dinner. It went well, and everyone adored you; he offered to pay for your meal, to which you declined, and he in turn took your card and held out his own to the waiter with the most endearing of smiles.

He should have worried for what came after.

You sat by his side on the couch, cheek pressed tiredly to his shoulder, your heels placed at his front door, your dress hanging in his closet. It was late when the two of you returned from the dinner; Bokuto had insisted you stay the night.

Don’t want anything to happen to you, he had said. Truly, he was torturing himself at this point, but it was a pain he had begun to crave. To have you within an arm’s reach; to have you nestled at his side on the couch; to have you wearing his clothes to sleep in; and to not do anything at all. Like a game of wills.

“Tired, huh?” he asked you, bumping your leg with his own. The TV droned on, its light shifting across the planes of his and your faces.

You sighed, “Yeah.” He was so warm, the give of his muscles so soft beneath your cheek like a lull.

He propped his chin atop your head, peering around his apartment—remembering that day. Bokuto had thought he saw hesitance in your expression when you returned from changing clothes and he had patted the space beside him on the couch, before he hurried to assure you that he had cleaned it months prior.

The cleanliness had not been your cause for uncertainty. It was the sole fact that your body flushed at the memory of what, precisely, Bokuto had done on the couch.

“You should go to sleep,” he finally murmured, nudging once at your temple with his nose to wake you further. “Take my bed, I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“Kou,” you said flatly, voice addled with dreariness, “this is your apartment. I’m not gonna take your entire bed.”

He hummed, as if amused. “Yeah, you are.” Without thought, he rose from the couch and dragged you upwards, leaning down to curl an arm beneath your knees and behind your shoulders.

A surprised call of his name escaped you, and Bokuto brought you to his bedroom. It was all so painfully similar to that day that felt so long ago and, yet, felt like only yesterday. Two lamps on either side of his bed illuminated the room from when you had flicked them on earlier to slip out of your dress and into a shirt of his that nearly hung at your knees. You bounced gently when he settled you on the bed. And Bokuto placed his hands by either side of your head, suspending himself above you lazily.

He smiled crookedly, teasingly, and you pushed at his face, scoffing.

“You’re terrible,” you laughed, and he laughed with you.

He was such a glutton for you. If only you knew. Maybe he would tell you. Maybe he never would.

Bokuto pulled away, but you caught the bottom of his dress shirt, still tucked into black slacks that he had yet to change out of.

“Wait,” you said suddenly, quietly. He stilled, halfway unfurled from above you.

His brows rose, “Hm?”

“You never…” you began. “You never answered my question, from before we left.” At the confused tilt of his chin, you continued. “I asked if there was something wrong, that you had seemed distant.”

“Oh,” he amended. And he remembered; he had avoided the question because he already had his answer. But Bokuto hated lying to you, so he simply had not said anything. He straightened and you sat up, legs bent at the edge of his bed.

“Kou?”

He inhaled, as if he meant to speak. Bokuto had become so hyper-aware of you after that embarrassing incident that every little touch, every brush and smile and whisper from you had sent him into a desperate frenzy. He had been on edge, cautious, ever careful. But now he touched you with abandon, like a man on the brink of death grasping for his fill of greed before he keeled over. Bokuto could not fathom the idea of you reciprocating his affections; it was a fool’s dream.

Your eyes searched his.

“I…” And here he was, swallowing his sentences as he had been before.

You shifted, sheets rustling, head tipped back to look up properly at him.

“I don’t know how to act around you sometimes,” he said, and he was not quite sure he should have. He continued nonetheless, “You make me nervous.” Bokuto spoke as if it were a confession, an imploring sin.

You blinked, “It’s just me, Kou. It's always just been me.”

“That’s not what I mean,” he whispered, smiling as if sad. He ran a hand down his face, glancing away; a nervous habit that you recognized.

You reached out for him again, rising to stand in front of him.

“Goodnight,” he said, and it was genuine and kind and he did not know if he could look at you without falling to his knees and asking for anything you would be willing to give him.

“No,” you grabbed his wrist, tugging gently, “no, don’t do that.”

And he stayed. How could he ever deny you?

“Tell me what’s wrong,” you said.

God, you were a sight to behold. Peering up at him, wearing his shirt. He nearly groaned. And by some stupid whim, he spilled his heart for you.

“I’m in love with you,” he breathed. It was as if everything simply ceased; to exist, to move, what did it matter when he had finally uttered the words that had bled his thoughts for years?

Your lips parted, eyes widening; your chest rose as you inhaled. Bokuto looked like a beat dog before you, tail between his legs and a darting stare.

“Oh, Koutarou,” you whispered as your hand lifted to cup the curvature of his cheek.

And how you spoke, he thought you were being pitiful. But your thumb stroked his skin, your fingers lowered until they reached his chin, his lips. His breath hitched; his throat bobbed painfully.

“Please look at me,” you said. And he did, his jaw tensing at your touch. You smiled, placed your other hand on his chest. You were near on your toes trying to reach him.

He folded his hand over the one you had placed along his face, leaning into it, closing his eyes for a brief moment. When he opened them, they found yours.

You always thought his eyes were a paradox. Golden irises that belonged to the forest’s underbrush, atop a leaf-laden bough, beneath the black of water—irises that belonged to a predator. And he was anything but; he was so tragically sweet and gracious. And he loved you.

He took your hand, brought the tips of your fingers to his lips and kissed them softly. Bokuto believed he had spelt the beginning of an end for himself; he did not realize your touches were not out of sympathetic pity.

But you very nearly whimpered at the gesture. He had scarcely kissed you.

“Kou,” you murmured. “Kou, please.” You did not know what you were asking for. Anything, you thought, I would take anything.

“Goodnight,” he said again. “I’m sorry if—”

He was cut off by your grabbing of his face, your eyes shuttering in confusion. “What are you doing?” you asked.

Bokuto noticed it then: your flushed cheeks, your breathless voice, the uneven rising of your chest. You were a mirror of himself, how he felt.

Oh.

How could he be so foolish?

He reached for you, your hands fell to his abdomen, and his framed your face. Bokuto was so close now, he rested his forehead against yours.

“Need to hear you say it,” he murmured, and he spoke like a man desperate. He moved his lips to your cheek, the line of your jaw, beneath your ear. He caught the scent of that perfume you always wore and sighed.

Your fingers curled into his dress shirt, your thoughts already hazing over at the barest of his ministrations. “I love you,” you said, “always have.”

And when he kissed you, when he pressed his lips to yours, it was so gentle, so light. Bokuto was warm and he let a hand fall to the small of your back; he was pleased when you arched into him, pressed further against him.

You both breathed heavily when the kiss broke.

And then you said his name. And something snapped.

Bokuto lifted you, set you on the bed with reverence, placed himself above you. He was pressing kisses to your lips, your throat, fisting the shirt you wore —his shirt—and splaying his fingers across your hip. You looked so small beneath him, vulnerable in the pleasured twist of your face. This time, he did groan; he groaned against your pulse point at the column of your neck.

Everything seemed to burn. You pressed your thighs together at the ache that had begun to form. And it hurt in the best way.

He peered down at your thighs, understood why they curled to be close to your body. He felt himself strain at his dress pants.

Bokuto kissed you a little longer, hands trembling in restraint where they found your waist, arms, stomach and hip. Your fingers had wound themselves into the fabric below his collar and remained there; he realized then that you were nervous—as nervous as he had been before.

He pulled away. “Hey,” he said softly.

“Hi,” you whispered on a breath.

The tips of his fingers, calloused from his time playing volleyball in the past, smoothed strands of your hair, tucked it behind your ear. “Are you doing okay?”

Your want was a palpable thing, taken form in kiss-swollen lips; each beat of blood sent a throb to your cunt. It was near incapacitating how turned on you. And you could feel yourself getting wet, dampening your underwear.

You nodded at his question and Bokuto gave you a reprieving smile. Before his kisses lowered to your collarbone, between your breasts, your stomach. “Good,” he said between kisses, “good.”

Your breathing stuttered when he stopped below your navel, you still wore his shirt. It was almost lewd how you locked eyes as he lifted himself, held your knees on either side, a question in his expression.

If you asked, he would stop this all right now. If you asked, he would press his mouth to your cunt and make you cum on his tongue. He would love to do the latter; he would love to do it over and over and over until you were writhing away, tugging at his hair because you could not take anymore.

And then you nodded shyly again, and he spread your legs easily, settled flat on his bed. He wrapped his arms around the plush of your thighs, tugging you down. You might have squeaked at the sudden pull, but it subsided to a gasp at the feel of his warm mouth simply hovering.

You shifted your legs on instinct and Bokuto tightened his hold.

“Kou,” you keened, and you sounded so desperate to your own ears when he placed a brief kiss at your clit, over your underwear; too light to provide friction, but heavy enough to leave you squirming.

It was astonishing the way Bokuto had been so subdued when he confessed. He was far from it now, molding your body to him, pulling little whimpers from you at the kisses on the inside of your thighs. He wanted more. He wanted to hear so much more.

Bokuto ran a knuckle up your slit, feeling you through the cotton. He could see the damp spot of your underwear, could feel it; his hips canted against the sheets and he pressed his knuckle further on your clit. You moaned softly, smothering it with the palm of your hand. And he grinned up at you, feral in the way his canines showed.

You did not notice he had lifted up from your cunt before he was right above you.

“Are you sure?” he asked and you knew this would likely be the last unless you asked him to stop.

“Yes,” you said, “please.” You were surprised he heard you at all.

Bokuto gave you a sweet kiss on your cheek. It was such a naïve kiss in comparison to what he wanted to do to you. He did not give you time to breathe before he laid his tongue flat against your cunt, focusing on your clit; he seemed intent on pushing you to an orgasm simply over your underwear, as if he had something to prove.

The whimper that slipped from you was a broken one. He licked at you, tightened his hold on your thighs, the force of his muscle pressing into the fat of your legs. His shirt had pooled at your waist with how he tugged you down, unaware of his own strength in a lusted haze. You grasped for anything; his sheets, his pillows, his soft hair. This sensation of his tongue lapping and grazing was something entirely new to you—you were not going to last long.

But that was what he wanted.

A certain dig of your heel against his back had him biting lightly at the inside of your thigh, a gesture that might have said, “Be patient.” You gasped, regardless, lifting your head to find he was not waiting to look up at you. He was far too busy playing with your cunt, rocking his clothed cock in time with his mouth to provide himself some form of relief against the bed.

You might have been embarrassed, you might have been chagrined at the sight of Bokuto between your legs, if not for how fucking good he made you feel. This was your closest friend, this was the boy you grew up alongside.

Your thoughts fled the moment Bokuto pressed his tongue right there and you made a whine that had you blushing red. And then he moaned against your clit, sucking harshly on it. You managed to keen his name before Bokuto understood you were close. Your legs strained at his hold, your back arching, mouth falling open as the beginnings of your orgasm began to lash at your body.

He found your wandering hand that reached for him and slid his own into it. Bokuto squeezed warmly, glancing up to find you.

“Come on,” he said, “I’ve got you.”

Your eyes widened, and then you were trembling terribly, reaching the precipice of your orgasm, breathing out whines and pants and gentle moans that you tried to contain. Bokuto only moved his tongue harder and you near shouted at the change.

His hand remained in yours as he let you ride out the remnants of your ecstasy on his deft fingers, instead, moving to hover over you once more.

“I know,” he murmured by your ear, nudging you to look down with him at his hand that worked your twitching cunt, “I know, pretty girl.”

You could not form words, you could scarcely speak but for the sounds Bokuto strung from you. And when he shifted to your side, fingers drawing light patterns over your clit, you shivered at the overstimulation that prickled and numbed. Your weak hand tapped at his wrist and Bokuto finally pulled away.

“Just like that,” he whispered, as if in awe.

Your head lowered to his chest, legs moving to lift but finding they could not. You were shaking in the after-effects of your climax and Bokuto had not even touched your bare clit.

He cradled your face, brought your body closer to his. Bokuto’s cock was still hard and straining, but he paid it little mind. You looked down with a heavy-lidded gaze and Bokuto followed your stare.

“Don’t worry about me,” he said, “I’ll…take care of it later.”

You were breathing hard, panting shallowly at his collarbone, the pristine white shirt that covered it. You noticed he was equally as flushed, as affected by you as you were of him.

“Will you stay with me?” you breathed out. Bokuto understood what you meant and found that your words held two meanings—of which he would agree to both.

He drew you tighter to his chest, as close as he could possibly have you. “Of course,” he said, “of course.” And you looked so vulnerable at his side, so soft and warm and lovely. “Let me help you get cleaned up.”

[haikyuu-simp-station]

pretty boys holding pretty flowers!

[haikyuu-simp-station]

osamu to suna: I love laying my head on your chest when you're sleeping so I can hear you breathe

sakusa to atsumu: I recorded you snoring so you can hear how fucking loud you are and why I can't fucking sleep

[haikyuu-simp-station]

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

sighs I am a sucker for this man...

୨୧ ꒰ 001. ꒱ smut (mdni), pet names [baby], soft sex, slight cockwarming

୨୧ ꒰ 002. ꒱ w/c: 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.