#bokuto series

[clubkira]

DEAR FUTURE HUSBAND .ᐟ

── FIANCÉ!JNT / FEM!READER SERIES┊͙HAIKYUU!!

my one and only all my life!

꒰ premise ꒱ : the nhk’s special broadcasts centered around the jnt ‘monster generation’ lineup’s future wives-to-be!

꒰ content ꒱ : haikyū!! / f!reader. JNT & staff. mini-series. established relationships. horrendously downbad fiancés. fluff (with suggestive moments).

series soundtrack. dear future husband : meghan trainor.

⁞ ‘✎ — vie’s love letter ؛ ଓ series updates irregularly. extremely suggestive at times (no explicit smut). mentions / allusions to sex or intimacy. sfw + fluff.

꒰ haikyuu!! masterlist. ꒱

── DEAR FUTURE HUSBAND .ᐟ (01)

⌗ relationship advice with ; atsumu miya. rintarou suna. wakatoshi ushijima. shoyo hinata.

the nhk gives it’s viewers a peak into the love lives of the jnt’s lineup, interviewing the future wives of the jnt to crack the secret to a happy relationship! ❤︎

── DEAR FUTURE HUSBAND .ᐟ (02)

⌗ truth or drink with ; koutarou bokuto. morisuke yaku. kiyoomi sakusa. tobio kageyama.

the nhk is hosting another special broadcast featuring the fiancées of the jnt’s lineup! and this time, it’s truth or drink! ❤︎

── DEAR FUTURE HUSBAND .ᐟ (03)

⌗ would you rather with ; motoya komori. kourai hoshiumi. aran ojiro. kenma kozume.

due to popular demand, the nhk has organized another live special with the monster generation’s fiancées! tune in for this segment of would you rather + a surprise game with our special sponsor! ❤︎

── DEAR FUTURE HUSBAND .ᐟ (04)

⌗ QnA with ; tetsurou kuroo. hajime iwaizumi.

the fiancées of the jnt’s staff get a turn in the limelight in an all new special broadcast, a couples QnA spanning their several happy years of romance together! ❤︎

── DEAR FUTURE HUSBAND .ᐟ (05)

⌗ reading thirst tweets with ; tobio kageyama. wakatoshi ushijima. kourai hoshiumi.

this nhk segment is brought to you by the schweiden alders! thirst tweets with the jnt alder members, but not of them— they’ll be reacting to thirsts for their fiancées! ❤︎

── DEAR FUTURE HUSBAND .ᐟ (06)

⌗ two truths and a lie with ; shoyo hinata. atsumu miya. koutarou bokuto. kiyoomi sakusa.

with the jnt’s msby members comes two truths and a lie! it's a battle between two lovers; who knows the other better? ❤︎

── ONESHOTS .ᐟ

coming soon !

── EXTRAS .ᐟ

HEY, FUTURE HUSBAND . . . ( ASK EVENT )

⌗ event status : closed!

FIANCÉE’S JOBS

⌗ answered ask !

reblogs are appreciated .ᐟ ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა

© property of shoyostar / thomae 2023. all rights reserved.

[oh-katsuki]

bird of prey (tendou x reader)

series masterlist | ao3

Pairing: Tendou x Reader, Bokuto x Reader

Series Summary: Satori Tendou is your best friend, but you fuck for fun.

Chapter Title: Act I, Scene 1 — Play Like Lovers

Chapter Summary: Satori likes your current arrangement. You're friends, arguably the best of friends, and sometimes you fuck. Well, it's more than sometimes. Like rabbits, really.

Chapter Content Warnings: afab!reader, college au, friends with benefits, no strings attached, angst, oral sex (m!receiving), teasing, bokuto is in this too, ushijima mentions, mentions of breeding, mentions of pregnancy, slowish burn (?) they're already fucking tho so romantically speaking, teasing, dirty talk

Word Count: 6.7k

A/N: i missed tendou and ended up deciding to write this. i don't have any chapters prewritten so updates will likely be slow, but im trying out a new thing so bear with me. it's probably better read on ao3, but im posting it here too. formatting is the bane of my existence. enjoy <3

next >

Satori likes the cold. He always has. He likes the bite of it. The way it makes his skin feel when he’s been standing outside long enough that the cold begins to feel hot across his cheeks.

There’s a certain solitude to winter that Satori appreciates. It’s as if the world has had a blanket thrown over it and everything becomes muffled and quiet. Sometimes winter makes Satori feel like he’s on another planet, floating through a silent universe in a perpetual winter. He especially feels this way when it snows. He loves the world when it’s like this, calm and quiet and so hazy that he can’t see the street sign a block down. 

Satori blinks winter from his eyes, furrowing his eyebrows as they begin to water to fight the cold. He inhales, tucking his hands further into his puffy jacket as the crisp air fills his lungs. It’s a quiet night. The first snowy one of the season, and snowflakes fall like little diamonds onto a thinly coated sidewalk. 

He doesn’t have a particular destination in mind. Satori is just wandering, savoring the feel of the evening as he strolls through his neighborhood. There are a scant few people outside. It's a weeknight and the neighborhood surrounding campus is eerily quiet in these small hours of the morning. Only the occasional drunk or a couple loved up and leaning on one another, their hands intertwined in the pockets of one of their coats. 

Tendou thinks that he could only become one of those two options. The drunk seems to have far less to worry about, stumbling across the sidewalk before coming to a stop on a slanted curve and letting his head fall onto his crossed arms. Not that Satori would want to be him. Don’t get him wrong. He’s not judging. How one man lives his life is absolutely none of Satori’s business and, in the same way he prefers people don’t mind what he does, he won’t mind what the neighborhood drunk does. Still, on a sliding scale of difficulty, the drunk seems to—for the moment—have it easier in Satori’s eyes. Only one person to worry about. 

It’s nearing three in the morning and the world has taken on an eerily slanted feel to it. Satori likes the world like this, calm and quiet. No one to talk to or worry about, only the sound of his boots against the thin layer of snow. There’s no crunch, as it hasn’t stuck yet, but if it keeps snowing like this, Satori thinks that it might. He looks forward to it, tilting his head up toward the sky and feeling the soft sting of bitter cold snow as it falls on his cheeks. 

—

Teeth, tongue, the press of your body arching up to meet his. It’s hot today, the way you move. Rushed like you’re trying to get something done. Music plays quietly from your computer on the desk and your hands fumble blindly around his body, eyes screwed shut as you let your tongue explore the inside of his mouth. 

“You’re eager,” he coos, detaching himself from your lips. 

“Sh, sh, sh,” you mumble, pulling him back down to you by the back of his neck and delivering a sloppy kiss. “Keep your voice down.” 

“Why?” He asks back, still connected at the lips. 

“My housemates don’t know you’re here,” you answer, pushing on his shoulders. 

Tendou gives in, letting you turn him over on the bed so that his back is against your headboard. You settle over his hips evenly, placing yourself like you belong there. He wouldn’t be surprised if you felt that way. This is regular enough that you end up like this a lot. Straddling his thighs with your hands on either side of his face. 

You tilt your head, kissing your way down his jaw. Your lips press onto the side of his neck and he can feel the way your tongue darts out to taste the salt on his neck. Your hands roam freely up the other side of his neck and across the back of his head, almost like you can’t feel enough of him fast enough. They raised goosebumps along his skin, teasing the parts your mouth isn’t touching.

“And I don’t really want them to find out,” you say into his neck. Tendou feels the hum in his collarbone and shutters. 

“And why’s that?” He breathes out, his lithe fingers coming up to pull your hips down against him. Tendou figures that if you’re going to rock your hips back and forth like that, you might as well do it like you mean it. 

“They’ll give me shit for hooking up with you all the time instead of getting a real date,” you answer through your breathing. “Something about self respect.” 

Tendou leans his head back against the headboard, looking at you over the tops of his cheeks. You’ve pulled up his shirt and your body is curled over itself, your mouth smearing down his heaving chest as far as your posture will let it go.

He supposes that’s fair. 

“Suppose you haven’t told them that the no strings attached thing is mutual?” He teases, tilting his head to the side to let you continue to kiss at his neck. 

He slides his fingers under the fabric of your sleep shirt, cool fingertips hitting your warm back. Tendou presses his palm flat on your lower back and you shiver away from him, pushing your chest up against his. He likes the way you move. Something about it scratches an itch he’s got. Like watching marbles in a chain reaction. 

“I have,” you say, reaching between the two of you to undo his pants. Tendou slips his fingers into the waistband of your sweatpants, cupping your ass in his hands. “They just don’t believe me.” 

“Hah,” he laughs, tilting his chin forward to kiss you again. He likes the way you taste. “That’s funny.” 

“Ugh, can we like,” you pull away from him, your eyes glazed over and your eyebrows furrowed. You keep one hand on the back of his neck, the other splayed on his chest and Tendou idly rolls the fat of your ass across his fingertips.

“Can we like, what?” He imitates through a grin, tilting his head. “Not talk about this?” You say, rolling your hips. “Because I really want to fuck you right now and it’s sort of killing my vibe.” 

Tendou chuckles at the way you drop your head and roll your hips against him, tipping his head back again as he lets out a low groan. 

“If it means we get to fuck then sure thing,” he drawls, guiding your hips over his crotch by the fat of your ass.

You groan, exposing the hollow of your throat to him as you lean backwards. Tendou leans up to meet you, placing his lips near your pulse point. He bites down on your neck lightly and savors the slight gasp you let out, salving the ache with a quick swipe of his tongue. You cling to him like velcro, rocking your hips over his hardened cock through your clothes. It’s so desperate that it’s almost juvenile, though you’re both well past the phase of being too prudish to not take them off. 

He sighs, sliding his hands from your ass and up your back. He cups your shoulders around your body, letting you move your hips against him. Tendou finds that he likes to let you do what you want. There’s really nothing you can’t take from him and as far as he’s concerned, nothing’s off limits. He’s playing a game and right now, letting you win is the most interesting option.

You reach between them to pick up where you left off, fumbling in his pants to palm at him over his boxers, still rocking your hips against the inside of your wrist. Satori groans lightly at the weight of your hand. He likes it. His dick just fucking fits. 

You slide your hand back and forth, teasing him the way that you know he likes it. God, in moments like these, Satori is convinced that you’re perfect. You and that perfect body, that perfect fucking pussy. All of it just sort of clicks. 

The sexual chemistry between the two of you is palpable. It really always has been. Even when the two of you swore up and down that you were just friends, Satori knew that eventually you’d fuck. And of course, he was right. Months later and here he is, leaning up against your headboard after sneaking in through the window while you give him an over-the-boxers handjob that feels better than what he can do to himself for some reason. 

You need it almost every night, and if it isn’t every night, it’s at least three times a week. You’re always together anyways, might as well throw some heavy petting into the mix while you’re at it. That’s just as well with Tendou. Personally, he’s always willing to fuck you if you need it. Especially when you need it. You just get this pretty look in your eye. It’s a lot like the one you’re wearing now, mouth slightly open as you free him from his boxers and swipe the precum from the tip of his dick with your thumb. Satori shudders. It’s perfect. 

“If you’re going to fuck me, you should just do it,” he says, his face contorting slightly as you grip his cock in your hand and begin to shift backward between his legs. 

“Shut up,” you retort, looking at him through your lashes. “I know you love this shit.” 

“Yeah, fuck-” he groans as you take the tip of him into your mouth. “You’re right. I love a tease.” 

Good conversation. Good sex. A good friend. There’s really nothing more he could ask for. 

Satori brushes the hair from your face, holding it back on your forehead so that he can see the way your mouth takes him in. It’s soft and warm and you hollow your cheeks around his cock in a way that drives him insane. You look so pretty down there. So giving and malleable. And get this, you do it because you like it. God, how fucking sexy. 

He likes the way you look from this angle, your eyebrows knitted together and your ass up in the air. He can see the way you rub your thighs together, small pulses that tell him that when he finally gets down there, you’re going to be soaked. You feel good too. Soft skin, soft mouth. 

Satori lets out a groan, reaching forward to play with the meat of your ass. He kneads the skin there, rubbing his thumb back and forth against it as if he were just trying to feel it. It hides your face from him for a moment and Satori is sad for the loss, but your ass is soft and giving and you push it back against his hand like you like the way he touches you. Of course you do, Satori only touches you in ways he knows you’re going to like. It gets him off. 

You swirl your tongue around his cock, your other hand gripping the base of him and moving along with your mouth. When you do try to take him all the way in, you cough lightly around it, raising your head to catch your breath before lowering your mouth back down. His lower stomach ties itself into knots. That familiar swell begins to mount in him and his muscles tense against his will. Your mouth works him until that slow moving wave pushes against whatever barrier it needs to break for him to finish. 

You stop before he gets to cum and Satori feels that swell of pleasure recede into the back of his gut. He pouts momentarily, his chest heaving as you discard your sweatpants and crawl back over him. 

Satori places his hand over your cunt like it's a habit. He rubs over your slick folds with four fingers, evening applying pressure across your whole pussy because he knows that it frustrates you. In response, you let out an exasperated groan and grind down against his hand. That only makes it better when he finally centers in on your clit, two fingers dipped between your lips to rubbing at the throbbing bud. 

He plays with it for a moment, moving his fingers in a continuous circle. You’re so wet that Satori doesn’t even need to lick his fingers, but he does anyway because he wants to taste you. Slowly, he raises them to his lips and sucks your pleasure off of them, eyeing you while he does so. Then, he places his other hand on your chin and gently forces your mouth open, sliding his two fingers across your tongue. 

The muscle gives under the weight of his fingers. Pleasantly, delightfully, you let him mold you. You let him open your mouth further and stick them deeper—all the way into the warm, wet back of your mouth—until you gag around them. It’s an awful sound. Wet and desperate and it leaves you panting when he pulls them out, but Satori likes you messy. He likes you when you’re drooling for it, saliva pooling under your tongue for just a taste of what he gives you. 

Don’t get him wrong, it’s not a power trip thing. It’s borne out of pure fascination. Like the way scientists like to study molecules, Satori likes to study you. You’re interesting to him. The first to follow through on sex only being sex because Satori—well, Satori fucks you like he loves you. And he loves that you don’t get caught up in it. 

You’re desperate for it today. Satori can tell because you don’t even let him finger you before you’re guiding the tip of his cock to your entrance. 

“What? No condom?” He drawls through a sly grin. 

“Not tonight,” you pant, screwing your eyes shut. Satori’s hands move to your hips, squeezing the fat there and admiring its delightful give. “Don’t have one.” 

“What ever happened to safe sex?” He says through gritted teeth, craning his neck forward to get a good view. 

“You worried you gonna get me pregnant?” you give a breathy laugh, sinking all the way down on him. 

“Depends, you gonna let me finish inside?” he asks through a locked jaw as he feels the warmth of you envelop him. 

“Fuck no,” you say, beginning to move your hips. 

Satori inhales through his teeth, leaning backwards and holding you by the hips. You take the lead tonight, rolling your hips forward with slow, almost calculated, flicks. He guides you, his fingers gripping at the side of your ass, pulling it apart as best he can. He likes the way it feels when he holds you like this and wonders briefly what it looks like from the back when he lets you fuck him like this. 

The music from your laptop is drowned out by the quiet sounds of your breathing. The only thing Satori really hears is the both of you, stifling moans to prevent your housemates from figuring out what you’re up to. He grits his teeth. 

Satori has always been on the more vocal side of things. Talking, moaning, laughing, things like that. This though, this is hot too. Like this, he can hear every little change in your breathing. He can hear every time he hits that particularly sensitive spot inside of you. Shit, he can even hear his own breathing, labored and low and mirroring your desperation like you’re both cut from the same cloth. 

He loves being inside of you. It’s comfortable. It always feels good in a way Satori has found is hard to come by. You’ve got a good pussy and an even better attitude about it. 

When you get close, you always take in a sharp and fast inhale. It’s like a tell. Something that gives away just how good you feel. Satori loves the sound of it. Sometimes, he’ll edge you three or four times just to hear it, just to savor that sweet intake of breath. Tonight though, he’s going to let you have it easy. You deserve to have it easy tonight, as desperate as you are, and this is fun for him too. This position makes it easy to feel just how tight you get when you’re close, pussy clamping down around him at a fast interval even with the upward pumps of his hips. 

He’s too impatient to let you fuck him on your own. Satori lets you have it your way, but he wants it his way too, accenting the roll of your hips with subtle pumps. He grips your hips, his fingers sinking delightfully into the fat there and holds you at a good enough angle to fuck. The weight of your breath comes heavy, that little accent and then a slow crawl from your lungs. You shudder, mouth falling open. And Satori, well Satori watches. In fascination, in awe, in sheer pleasure. 

“Oh shit,” you breathe, glancing at him. “Yeah, yeah.” 

Oh, he loves that. Those little nothings that you babble when you’re breathless and climbing towards that high. Satori can’t get enough of it. Your voice, the cadence of it, how heavy it sounds on your tongue when you force out the sex-laced words. 

You crumble quickly. It’s almost desperate the way you push your hands onto his chest and let your head fall forward, cunt clenching down hard around him as you stop the roll of your hips to shudder. Your thighs press harshly against Satori’s sides and he digs his fingers into your hips to keep from cumming inside of you. That’d be pretty bad, though he can’t say that it’s not endlessly tempting. 

You don’t waste a moment pulling yourself off of him, wrapping your hand around is cum-slicked cock and beginning to pump. You squeeze the head of it and Satori lets out a low groan. God, you’re being so quick about this that it would almost be jarring if Satori didn’t find it so fucking hot. You’re like… desperate for it. Christ, he thinks he’s gonna cum. 

“Can I finish on your face?” He grits out. 

“No,” you reply, teasing him by pressing your thumb over the head of his dick. “On your chest. I like it when you make a mess of yourself.” 

Then, a familiar, teasing smile lights up across your face. Your breath is still heaving and it makes the expression feel more genuine. Satori leans his head back against the headboard eyebrows pulled upwards in his pleasure. 

“You’re fuckin’ sadistic,” he laughs out. 

It’s half a groan, his voice strained and thick with his imminent high. He reaches up to toy with your tits, anything really that he can grab. Satori gets handsy when he’s close and he feels the way pleasure mounts in his lower stomach like water fills a bucket. 

Then, he peaks, his cum spilling out over his chest. Satori makes an effort to muffle his voice when he does, gritting his jaw and squeezing the flesh of your tit as an outlet for the pleasure of it all. The mess he’s made is warm, spilling into the ridges of his abdomen and the soft lines of muscle there.He’ll have to shower again when he gets home. For the moment though, he just watches his chest heave as you let go of his dick and reach to put two of your messy fingers in his mouth. Satori obliges, swirling his tongue around them. 

“Hah, you’re disgusting.” 

“You’re the one who likes it, sweetheart,” he drones, reaching to take some tissues from the nightstand and wipe up his mess. 

“Throw those in the bin,” you say, laying down on your bed as he stands. 

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” 

Satori stretches for a moment, inspecting his clothes to ensure that the mess was minimal. He turns to look at you on the bed. Your eyes are closed, arms above your head with your sleep shirt riding up on your body, revealing a small glimpse of your fleshy stomach. God, he almost wants to fuck you again. 

“Move over,” he says, bullying his way into the bed next to you. 

“Fine, but you can’t stay for long,” you reply, lifting your head and putting it back down on his chest. You face the ceiling, picking at your nails. “I gotta shower and finish up a paper.” 

“You have a paper to finish but you called me over to fuck?” 

“Duh,” you reply. “Needed some sort of stress relief.” 

“Most people just eat a bowl of cereal or something,” he says through a smile, his lips curling up in the corners. 

You huff and roll your eyes, letting out a short and genuine laugh. “Whatever, you just can’t stay too long, ‘kay?” 

“You got it,” he chuckles, rolling his eyes lightly. 

Satori tucks his arm under his head, watching your ceiling fan as it spins in circles. He hates the ceiling in your room. You’ve got popcorn ceilings, something that Satori is particularly disdainful of. It’s why he likes having you over at his place, with its smooth and well painted walls. Plus, you can fuck as loud as you want and there’ll be no one there in the morning to hound you both over it. 

You can’t stay for long. 

He never really understood why you always tell him that. Even without it, Satori never really does. 

—

Satori’s morning routine isn’t really a routine at all. On days where he has nothing to do, he rolls out of bed at whatever time he pleases. Sometimes that’s 12 in the afternoon and other times that’s 5:30 in the morning. 

He tries his best to avoid early morning classes. Truthfully, he tries his best to avoid classes at all, but hey, when you’re getting a degree, that’s not really an option. Satori’s been relatively successful in that endeavor, keeping most of his class schedule well within the 11 am to 4 pm range, except for one pesky little discussion. Once a week, on Tuesdays, Satori has to drag himself out of bed and be in the classroom at 8 am sharp. 

It’s not that he isn’t driven, or isn’t a morning person. Satori just isn’t a rules person, which doesn’t exactly function well within a societal structure. There are always rules. Ones that tell you when to cross the road, where to park your car, when to be somewhere or when not to be somewhere. The fact that he has to get up early on Tuesdays makes him needlessly resistant to getting up, even if he’s awake already. 

Satori blinks away sleep in the quiet of his room. He’s woken up about fifteen minutes before his 6:50 alarm and now stares blankly at the ceiling with his arms tucked behind his head. What a drag, getting up like this and going immediately into the daily slog, not that anything can be done about it. 

He inhales, preparing himself to sit up, before actually doing so. His muscles scream at him, sore with sleep and aching for a good stretch which he gladly obliges with a loud yawn. Cartoonish, almost. Satori laughs to himself as he pulls his body from the bed. 

His room is messy. Clothes are strewn about haphazardly across the floor and various items that he’d picked up to mess around with are out of place. He exhales, shaking his head a little bit and telling himself that he’ll clean it when he gets back. It’s not that he minds the mess. In fact, Satori likes a little organized mess. Like what you and him are doing. That’s messy in the most delightful way. But right now, his room is a little too messy, verging on the precipice of dirty, which Satori hates. 

He tosses on a soft, long-sleeved t-shirt. It’s the kind of shirt that he’s had for a long while, the ones that feel smooth on his skin. The fabric is so worn that it falls over him almost like tissue paper and he loves the feeling. His black jeans are hanging over the back of his desk chair and he grabs them quickly, shrugging them on over his hips with two quick steps and a pull. The ink on them is faded and though they started their life black, they are now almost a dark gray and look even lighter at the knees and backs of the thighs. He thinks he’ll have to get a new pair soon. Gray doesn’t look as nice with other colors as black does. 

The sink in his bathroom is nearly empty, save for one single face wash, his toothbrush, and some toothpaste. He uses all of them in that order, hardly glancing up to look at himself in the mirror except to fix his scraggly long hair. He fiddles with it for a moment, running his fingers through minor tangles that worked themselves into his hair while he slept, before deciding that it looks good enough. The rest of it will sort itself out during the day and fall flat. 

His dish is in the sink from the night before and he briefly loads it into the dishwasher and runs it, chiding himself mentally with an eye roll for not doing it the night before. There’s always a 50/50 chance in the morning that Satori has forgotten to run the dishwasher and it antagonizes him as much as anything can antagonize Satori, which really isn’t much. 

There’s a black puffer jacket hanging by the door of his modest apartment. It’s a size too big for him, but it’s warm and looks nice on his figure, so he sees no use in telling his mother that she’d gotten the wrong size. It was a gift from her at the beginning of the winter season last year, along with a hat that Satori never wears. The jacket, at the very least, gets some use on account of it suiting his own personal style. 

He’s grateful for it when he steps outside of his apartment, shrugging it closer to him as the familiar bite of winter rushes up and under his skin. The sun has only just risen and the world is cast in a familiar orange, pink, and purple glow that makes it feel like a painting. Satori doesn’t mind being out in the world when it’s still asleep. Especially not in the early morning hours just before the sun comes up, when the world is cast in blue as if it were covered in film. Today though, it’s late enough that the world is now wide awake and the bustle of it gives Satori a headache. 

He passes businessmen on their way to work, girls in school uniforms rushing to make it through the gate of their school on time, their loafers smacking the floor with a delightful and intrusive clicking sound. His campus is only a few blocks away, around two corners and a straight shot until he hits the main building. He got lucky with his apartment’s location and sacrificed nice amenities for its proximity to his classes. The apartment itself may be crap, but Satori finds it worthwhile for how near it is to the things he cares about. That, and it doesn’t have popcorn ceilings, thank god. 

The snow hasn’t stuck yet, which means that the sidewalk is damp with melting ice as the sun begins to warm the pavement beneath it. His shoes will get damp like this. The converse do little to repel the water, instead soaking it in like a sponge. He’s careful to avoid puddles, but should he hit one, Satori won’t dwell. They’ll dry at some point. 

He can see the school up ahead. Satori isn’t really a fan of the building style. They’re stuffy and a bit reminiscent of the industrial buildings just outside of the Sendai city limits, but Tohoku University is a good school and Satori thinks it would have been a waste to not accept his admission. As the buildings grow closer, Satori can see the bodies of students wandering. Some talk in small groups and others, the more independent of them, walk hurriedly to their classes with heavy backpacks slung over both shoulders. Their backs curl forward a little, feeling the pressure of the weight.

Right through the quad, through the double doors, and up to the second floor. That’s the path Satori needs to take to get to his classroom, though he’s about 10 minutes early. He pauses just outside of the building, tilting his head to the side as he spots a familiar silhouette. A smile creeps onto his face, lips curling in the corners as he recognizes you. 

You’re having a conversation with someone, though Satori can’t quite make out who exactly it is. They’re standing partially behind one of the trees, their broad figure concealed by the trunk of it. As he approaches, he recognizes the other person to be Bokuto Koutarou, one of the core members of the university’s volleyball team. What an odd pair to be seen together, and so early in the morning too. Then, Bokuto leans down and pecks you on the cheek and Satori is more confused than he’s been in a while. When did you get close? When did you start seeing him? 

A pit forms in his stomach, though not the kind he’s familiar with. Messy, messy. 

“Bokuto, huh?” he says as he approaches behind you, watching with you as the other man walks away. “When did you and him get so… close.” He drags out the last word, hissing out the S through a small smile. 

“That,” you start, “is none of your business. It just sort of happened.” 

Satori gives you a coy smile, tilting his head in your direction. 

“Does he know?” He questions genuinely. 

“Know what?” 

“About us,” he croons, leaving no room for misinterpretation. 

You give him a pointed glance, an eyebrow raised. He knows the look. It’s the one you give him when he’s said something stupid or far too obvious. 

“We,” you emphasize, “are friends.” 

“Oh yeah,” he nods, tucking his hands into his pockets and leaning back as he follows your step. “We’re really good friends. And we fuck for fun.” 

You laugh. It’s a shrill laugh, and totally comfortable. He can’t see an ounce of tension in your shoulders and they’re relaxed in the way they usually are when the two of you speak. Satori looks down at you over the tops of his cheeks and a sly grin spreads across his face. 

“Well,” you say, though it seems to not have any real purpose in your sentence. It’s almost like an admittance that he’s right, which he knows he is. “What does it matter if he knows, anyway? What’s there to know?” 

Satori stops walking, his hands buried deep into his pockets. His head hangs forward and his jaw is open in faux confusion. The strain in his neck posing like this is worth the smile you give him, he thinks. 

“That we fuck,” he states, saying it almost as if it’s a shock to him as well. 

You stop to  roll your eyes and Satori quite likes the way that the expression looks on you. Fed up, but pleasantly so. It gives your features a somewhat light, carefree sense. You look away from him for a moment, almost as if to accentuate just how nonsensical his manner of speaking is, before looking at his face and narrowing your eyes. You size him up and then give a small grin, almost mischievous in nature. 

“He suspects,” you say. “But it doesn’t seem like he thinks too hard about it. I think he might if we were like… ex’s or romantically involved, but we’re not, so,” you shrug your shoulders. “Besides, it’s not serious enough for him to mind yet.” 

“Yet?” Satori raises his eyebrows and gives you an incredulous smile. 

Despite his demeanor, he feels something odd. It’s almost like his stomach is about to drop, and an unsettling feeling of dread begins to loom over him. You turn to look at him over your shoulder, impossibly pretty eyes giving him a very square look in the face.

“Yet,” you confirm, your tone a bit sharp as if to warn him that he’s stepping too close to the line. 

He’s not sure what he’s done to warrant that kind of reaction. Satori thought that he’d come off rather disconnected, aloof in the way that your agreement is, but it’s entirely possible that he’d sounded insecure. He furrows his brows at you, almost like he’s confused himself, and then shrugs in a non committal way. 

“Right,” he says, beginning to spin on his heel in an exaggerated manner. “Well, you have fun with Mr. Center-Of-Campus,” he smiles, continuing his sentence,” and I… will be going to my photography lab discussion.” 

“You do that,” you laugh, putting up a hand to wave. “I’ll catch you later.” 

“I’m sure you will,” he says, to which you respond by giving him a tired look and a shrug, like you’re admitting to the implication that you just can’t go without it. It being whatever the hell kind of sexual relationship exists between you two. 

Neither he nor you turns behind to glance at the other. Satori starts off back in his original direction and you dip into the building next to his. He’s sure that if he looked, you’d have your fingers looped through the straps of your backpack, probably greeting someone or other that you know on campus. 

You’re popular in a way that Satori isn’t. Truthfully, Satori is more notorious than liked and people know him for his strange, roundabout way of speaking and the knowing look in his eye. It doesn’t bother him to think that. He’s heard the way people talk about him, either directly from you or from walking up to a conversation a few moments too early. It doesn’t suit anyone to pretend that he doesn’t know and he doesn’t really mind knowing. It helps to weed out the people he wants to be around versus the people he doesn’t.

You, however, are very well liked. Sociable and blunt in your way of speaking. People like being around you, not just because you’re easy to look at, but because you’ve got a casual demeanor about yourself that makes people feel unjudged and at ease. It’s actually one of the first things that Satori had ever noticed about you, the way that you settle into a conversation as if you’d always been meant to be a part of it. No need to switch subjects or guide it to a more suitable position, you seem to blend effortlessly into social scenes, whether you notice it or not. Maybe it’s because you’re very true to yourself. You don’t recognize yourself as a perfect person and, as a result, you never hold the expectation that someone else should be perfect. 

Satori thinks you’re like-minded in that way, though his interpretation of other people’s flaws is more rooted in his treatment by others. People are quick to judge and in all his years of being judged, Satori has just come to accept that that’s the way things are and he can’t blame humans for simply being human. Still though, he has the same idea that people’s flaws aren’t a reason for judgment. They just… exist and that’s fine. 

He slides into a desk along the wall, quickly glancing around the room at the people who have already filed in. He’s only a few minutes early and most of his class are already in their seats with their cameras on their desk. Satori doesn’t know many people in this discussion and the majority of his class is either made up of girls that are too afraid to introduce themselves, or pretentious boys who spend too much time thinking about what tortured artists they are and too little time on the actual composition of their photos. 

He wishes that Ushiwaka had been able to take this class with him. Satori had suggested that he try to enroll at the beginning of the spring semester, but with the class being an upper division, Ushiwaka didn’t have the previous coursework to be able to do it. Besides, Wakatoshi isn’t really in school for the classes, but rather because he’d been scouted by the campus’ volleyball team to play for them and Wakatoshi had gone because it was a good opportunity to get into the professional division. In that sense, Satori feels that he’s falling behind his friend. After all, Wakatoshi knows what he wants, but Satori only knows what he likes. 

This class is pretty irritating. Not just because he has to get up and leave for it at the asscrack of dawn, but also because he feels that the discussions lack any real insight. Every week, they’re expected to upload their photos onto their computers and bring them to class, then, they spend the entire hour going around and discussing goals for the project and what could be improved with their current techniques. It would be useful if Satori didn’t find that so many people half-assed their photos the day before and then brought them in with some made up philosophy on why the snow in the crack of the sidewalk symbolizes their incessant need for human connection. 

He doesn’t think this way because he’s innocent of half-assing. In fact, Satori half-asses a lot. Sometimes because he can’t be bothered and other times because he finds the work less valuable than something else he could be doing. Still, he likes taking pictures and this is a class centered entirely on developing a personal work portfolio. It’s easy for him to do the assignments because it’s essentially what he does in his free time anyway, so there are times when he feels that maybe these people just don’t care too much about school at all. That’s a fine thought to have, he thinks. Most artists think like that in some way or another. 

Satori wonders if it’s the same in your major. Do literature students phone it in and do you find it irritating? He thinks you probably aren’t bothered by it if they do. It wouldn’t be in your nature to get worked up over the actions of others. You hardly even get worked up over your own actions and he thinks it would be weird to see you get in your head over someone else. 

He sits through his class though, explaining the photo he’d taken of you in the early morning after you’d spent the whole evening talking and touching each other. Your face is obscured and your belly is pressed down against the mattress. It’s really only an off centered photo of your back, displaying the lovely curve of it against the crumpled white bed sheets and a bit of your hair. There may not be anything special about the photo to anyone else, but Satori remembers how badly he’d wanted to photograph you then. 

Intimacy is pleasant to him in small doses. He likes to play pretend when it comes to loving and he’ll touch you like he loves you, let you touch him like you do, but Satori doesn’t ever think he’ll do it for real. At least not right now when he is so consumed by catching up to his peers in some arbitrary way. Still, the picture is a pleasant reminder to him that intimacy exists even in the most mundane of moments. Arguably, it is most present in them. 

He doesn’t say all of this to his class though and someone describes the photo as almost pornographic, which he supposes that it is. It gives the impression of two people just after they’ve gone to bed together and he laughs to himself because that’s exactly what it is. Satori just shrugs his shoulders at the comment. That’s just about what your physical relationship to each other is, isn’t it? Almost pornographic in nature, indulging in each other the way lovers might without ever stopping to think if romantic love factors into the actions at all.

[kewpie-aisle]

𝕔𝕙𝕒𝕣𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕟𝕖𝕨 𝕨𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕤

pairing: Bokuto Koutarou x gn!reader

notes: suggestive language, mental stripping, general horniness, yoga poses, workout talk, minors do NOT interact pls

wc: 1.5 words

AN: I saw this artwork by @akiisks and every neuron in my brain said, Bo had to be the next installment in the series. Mm mm mm I love ONE owl themed gym bro. banners by @cafekitsune my hero you like what you see series other parts: Atsumu

The gym in the early morning hours was always quiet and peaceful. Majority of the MSBY players preferred evening or late night workouts, considering it a cool down for the day. The early morning hours introduced a peace and lull that was necessary for those that start the day with energy to expend. Calming overactive minds and bodies, both gifts held by the outside hitter of the team. 

Bokuto needed the cool down early in the morning, to ease down his energy levels to a “normal person”. That’s what Akaashi has always put in his head since they were younger, unsure what it means but the morning workout is now a routine for the man. As he got older it became an anchor to familiar times which helped him navigate unknown feelings and obstacles; riding through any crashing wave in peace. That peace has recently been shaken up.

Pulling out his headphones, he reaches for the gym door, coming to a halt when the sounds of the room touch his ears. There’s someone else in the gym already. He checks his watch to see it’s 4:30 am. Frustration is what he should feel, with a disturbance in his routine, but he could feel anticipation flush across his face and tickle the tips of his ears with heat. It’s not just someone in there, he had high expectations on who beat him to the gym. With a heavy pull, the door swings wide open and his eyes scan the floor, easily finding the source of the noise. Lo and behold, there you were. 

The new MSBY athletic trainer, who had joined a month ago. Clad in fitted black workout gear, long sleeves compression shirt and shorts covering each dip and curve of muscle and skin. Edge of the shorts seamlessly meeting the start of skin down your thighs and shins, glistening in sweat. Bokuto gulped down a lump in his throat, slammed by waves of uncertainty uprooting his anchored mind. 

With your headphones on, canceling out all noise in the room, you had missed Bokuto entering. You woke up that morning with more energy than usual. Chalking it up to new hire jitters, but that’s not what it was. Surrounded by players with large egos wasn’t new to you, it came with the territory of being an athletic trainer. Hell, even if you’d stayed in personal training, there’s no escaping the egos of gym bros. Everyone lifts more, knows more, trains better than you. With a smaller stature than most, you’d gone your whole life always being underestimated. Working out had always been a safe relief for pent up frustration and anger, letting you maintain a calm for the rest of the day. A godsent gift in your chosen profession. The MSBY Black Jackals’ team reputation was known far and wide in the industry. The most polite and friendliest team, hungry for growth. The “Eternal Rookies”, a moniker agreed upon by journalists and teammates alike in the volleyball world. It had been just the right move for you, but your professionalism had been shaken up from Day 1, when you met the rising star outside hitter, Bokuto Koutaro. 

Most guys that looked like that were always wolves in sheep’s clothing, regardless of team reputation. But Bokuto had surprised you in every area, clumsy yet straightforward and honest. Earnest in practice and a trusted leader during games. Strong and smart but humble and kind. And agonizingly good looking. Work days became an every day battle to not ogle the man every second he was in your sight. Coming to the gym in the morning was your refresher, a clean way to start the day to ensure you're energized throughout. But it seems Bokuto also frequented the morning time, so you had been adjusting to come earlier and earlier to try and avoid him. Waking up at 3 am from a particularly delicious dream, was enough reason to head straight to the gym to clear your head. Taking a quick break you glance up to the mirror to ensure proper stance, eyes widening seeing the very devil from your dream getting off the treadmill and preparing for his routine. Head down, completing incline chest rows, your entire backside on display for Bokuto. He had finished his cardio and started his lat exercises, fortunately unfortunately the machine was positioned to maintain the weights area in direct line of sight. He had wanted to power through his routine, crushing on the trainer was a childish distraction and completely unprofessional. Having childlike fun is one thing, but entering frustrated territory was completely unlike him. The heat that sat in his core, rising up, coating his entire torso in a voracious fire with desire he’d never felt before. He hated it. He’s always been in control of all his emotions and desires, but you shook every semblance of proper thought from his head. Failing miserably at keeping a focused mind, he dove into the siren’s song and watched you closely throughout his workout. Wiping down machines, adjusting weights, huffing through his sets, but eyes trained on your body throughout it all. He had watched you wrap up and make your way to the yoga mats for cool down stretches. 

With only a nod of acknowledgement, the two of you hadn’t exchanged any words in the past couple hours of working out. Maintaining distance in balanced routines for the day, a dance playing out in the gym. But the tension was palpable, suffocating in the already stuffy gym air. You watched a bead of sweat drip down his chin into the crevices of his pecs. Wondering if it had traveled down his abs and through the defined v-line you could glimpse every time he raised his arms. You licked your lips in hope for a taste, even if in your imagination. The craving for a taste increased, because you had felt his eyes on you the entire time. Watching every movement, eyeing you from top to bottom and back. You could feel the ghost of his hands running over your body. Leaving behind a tantalizing trail of heat everywhere, yet not placing a single finger on you. As you leaned down into downward dog, Bokuto had stopped to take a water break, eyes washing over your body in haste. A smirk playing on your lips as you feel yourself fall over the edge of your self control. “Bokuto-san, could you help me stretch out my back?” 

The last gulp of water catches in his throat, coughing as he averts his eyes. Finally breathing air back into his lungs he turns his attention to the voice calling for him. Headphones now out, he hears you repeat your question, as if it hadn’t been bouncing around the walls of his mind already. His throat somehow dry despite finishing off his entire bottle, he makes his way over. Watching as you adjust yourself into pigeon pose, left leg fully stretched out and right leg folded out and tucked in. Opening up your hips to stretch, you motioned him to push down on your back. Palms on your back he leaned down on you, folding you completely over, without any resistance. Your chest flush against the mat and arms spread out forward. With a slight push up off you, he stands up to watch over your form. Drinking in the ease of your stretch, mind running with other ways he could be folding you to take him in completely. A jolt running right to his core when he meets your eyes to see a flush on your face, still pressed against the mat as you watch him. 

“Ya like what you see Bokuto-san?” The words slipped out of your mouth before you could stop yourself. The heat of the room, the thrum of your heart in your ears, blood rushing to multiple places at once, has all your senses on high after your workout. Bokuto’s weight against you had set your entire back on fire, engulfing you completely and you ached to feel him over you again. “My form, it looks ok?” You tease as a flush comes across his face. With a lick of your lips, you roll over, legs spread open wide. “Can you help stretch out my front too...I can fold into another position if you’d like?”  The question crashed over Bokuto, anchor ripped out of the ground, untethered and washing away into the depths of the ocean. He closed the distance in a few short steps before pulling you up into him, lips against his in an instant. Tasting you finally, feeling you with his hands, swallowing you completely. His parched throat slowly soothed as he drank you in, the way he needed.

Relentless moans falling out of your lips, echoing in his mind. He looks down at you ruined, but you reach your hands out to wrap around him to bring him closer for more. He closes his eyes to fall right in, a new anchor rooted in your waves pulling him as close to you as possible.

[nek0mabokk]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐘, 𝐒𝐄𝐓 . . . 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 !

𐀔 content: rom-com, some of this are smut so be 18+, a collection of scenarios with different characters. All characters are over eighteen.

𐀔 pairing: haikyuu characters x f!reader

𐀔 summary: you're the Nekoma's manager, in every scenario it's gonna be a different person or maybe a continue of a previous one.

smut ( ౨ৎ ) fluff ( 𐙚 )

𐙚 I. sweet like strawberries - bokuto koutaro x f!reader

𐙚 II. hot as the sun, cold as mercury - kuroo tetsurou x f!reader

III.

IV.

V.

VI.

VII.

VIII.

IX.

X.

[touchlikethesun]

i’m trying to break out of it but, when it comes to their relationship dynamics, so far no fic has managed to top the one skiing au where bokuto and akaashi try and convince kuroo and tsukki to be in a poly relationship that i followed religiously back in 2015, like. (almost) no other fic has managed to tap into what i find so appealing about that group’s whole dynamic, their humour their earnestness their chaos as four, the way akaashi and tsukki balance kuroo and bokuto’s energy (except everyone knows the real trouble is tsukki and bokuto), and like the individual dynamics are incredible too, every pairing just worked so well, even ones i wouldn’t have considered before like kuroo and akaashi. like how in 100k words did this author manage to develop every relationship just so damn well??? there should be way too many moving parts, at least one of the dynamics should have fell flat or fell to the background but none of them did ughhhhh oh my god it’s so good i just need like. a dozen more fics exactly like it rippppp like i’m watching s2 (again yes ik) and all i can think about when i see the four of them interact is “wow that author really nailed their dynamics, what they wrote is exactly how those four would be in 10 years time” god fanfiction is incredible

[lowkeyremi]

Temper Tantrum

Soft whines left little Akemi’s lips as she was finishing up her tantrum somehow being three has been her biggest job yet and she wasn’t even close to being four. She kicked her father’s seat once more trying to get what she wants.

Bokuto has been on toddler duty all week because you’ve been out for a work trip. Bokuto sighed and readjusted his rear view mirror so he could see his daughter and look her in the eyes. “Akemi, princess we have to go to the doctors. Mama said we need to pick up your eczema cream.” She was not having any of it. She screamed, kicked the seat, and pulled her hair.

Your owl hair husband took his seatbelt off and hopped out the car. He opened Akemi’s door, his voice was soft when speaking to her — the last thing he wants to do is make a scene in a grocery store parking lot… “Akemi, papa needs you to be a good girl and stop kicking the seat, yeah?” She spits at him and folds her little chubby arms. He’s shocked to say the least, his daughter isn’t usually like this around him but to be honest he’s at work more than he’d like to admit so she’s probably like this with you at times.

“I no wanna go to doctor! I wanna go to park!” Just as she says that she starts to itch which is an obvious sign they need to go pick up her cream. “Papa won’t take Akemi to the park because she isn’t behaving.” Bokuto’s voice is much stricter now, he assumes he should buckle down because spitting on people is unacceptable. Her big doe eyes glass over and big fat tears stream down her face.

“I be good girl Papa! I will!” She’s rubbing snot and tears all over her face so she looks like a hot mess. Kotaro wants to cry too. He convinced you that he could watch her for the week and that no nanny was needed. As hard as it is to take care of a three year old he certainly does not regret it. He’s learning so much about his daughter, and if there’s one thing that’s become obvious to him it’s that his daughter has his occasional mood swings and your attitude. She’s the sweetest thing ever but when you mix those two together nothing good comes from it.

“Listen pretty girl, spitting on people is a big no no. Who even taught you that?” He awaits her answer and uses his hoodie sleeve to wipe off her face. “So- s-so I learn it from Kaido at.. at- at…” she forgot what daycare was called so your husband stroked her hair softly and finished her sentence for her. “Daycare?” She nodded her head and her tears stopped.

His golden eyes looked into big doe eyes and he sighed. “Don’t do bad things you see other kids at daycare do, okay? I don’t think your mama will be happy if she hears you’re spitting on people.” Your little girl frowned, she doesn’t want Mama to know. She can be bad but she’s on another level now that it’s just her and Papa.

“No tell Mama! Pwease I be good! I be good girl!” Her eyes were sore from crying and she was scratching her arms. Kotaro grabbed her bag and took out her mittens and placed them on her hands. Not without struggling though. “I won’t tell Mama, if you promise to be good while we are at the doctors.”

She tries to take her mittens off and your husband stops her. “Keep them on, we don’t want you to scratch.” She whines once again, “I’m itchy Papa!” He hums and closes her door. He returns to his seat and buckles himself up. “I know you are sweet girl, that’s why we are going to pick up your cream.”

As your little squirt promised she was good the rest of the day, so after they picked up her eczema cream he took her to the park and got her gelato. (This man spoils her rotten.. come on gelato?)

[cloverque]

up on tokio hill (msby bj)

synopsis: your days as japan's top vtuber are over after a spicy scandal. with your contract terminated (and lease expiring), you decide to leave the past behind and relocate to osaka. located in the quiet suburbs of tokio hill, you move into a share house owned by your uncle, under the impression that your fellow tenants are unassuming and withdrawn like you. unbeknownst to you, four famous athletes are living under one roof. and with you in the picture, this makes five.

multi-chapter series ft. msby bj and other hq!! characters (social media + writing)

slice of life, shoujo-genre ish, the boys always get into questionable situations

masterlist.

prologue

ch 1: the newbie is our new housemaid! (not)

[dexlexia]

the monster (energy) series

currently writing a series of fan fics, with multiple characters, in multiple scenarios. The series will focus on smut, and every chapter will be its own story. You can read in any order!

each chapter is named after a zero sugar monster energy drink. from zero ultra (white can) to peachy keen (peach can). each have their own warnings and tags, so please be advised. may be updated out of order, so keep checking back for updates

this is an 18+ series, each exist as one shots. some may or may not heighten your baby fever. <3

- d

zero ultra - kotaro bokuto

ultra paradise - roronoa zoro

ultra fiesta - satoru gojo

ultra rose - ryomen sukuna

ultra sunrise - katsuki bakugo

ultra violet - jotaro kujo

ultra gold - vash the stampede 

ultra watermelon - arataki itto

ultra blue - aki hayakawa

ultra red - keigo takami (hawks)

ultra peachy keen - atsumu miya

[jeanlsvs]

# HQ Boys (+ Kiyoko) Reacting To Your New Post..

🍓including; mattsun, kiyoko, & bokuto

# Mattsun

# Kiyoko

# Bokuto

lovely ladies @‘s:

@/paristrenyce

@/afro.blv

@/77kae

as always reblogs & comments are much appreciated!! 😁

[owlyflufff]

something about Akaashi letting out a smile the first time he witnesses Bokuto being clumsy, forgetting to look where he’s going and greeting the end of the volleyball net with a “THWACK!”. Immediately the smile disappears as quickly as Bokuto turns his attention to him. 

something about Akaashi’s smiles slowly turning into laughter at Bokuto’s antics. The soft sound of him holding back a laugh transitioning into a small puff of air to a chuckle that could barely be heard, yet Bokuto seems to notice.

yet every time, every instance where Bokuto tries to catch a glimpse of it, Akaashi is already looking away, walking out of his direction or already quipped with a call out (”Bokuto-san, it’s perpendicular not pericular”). 

those little moments of laughter turn into fits, uncontrollable fits of laughter Akaashi tries so hard to hold back at the sight of Bokuto messing up. 

he doesn’t know when it ended, nor does he know when it started, all Akaashi knew was that he let it be. 

those lopsided smiles rested on his lips for as long as he wished, those suppressed moments of laughter was let known to be seen, for Bokuto to see. 

And Bokuto hasn’t seen a more beautiful sight. 

something about Keiji’s smiles growing wider and fonder as the years go by, letting his love and devotion to his partner be known without shame. Clapping his hands as Koutarou does so himself, lifting his hand just a little bit for the beam gesture to be seen. 

and as he sees his Koutarou on the television, standing on the global stage with a ring wrapped around his neck, he doesn’t need to shout or smile or laugh or let his love be known for all the world to see. 

for nothing needs to be said or done when a matching golden ring rests on his finger, a promise of a thousand smiles, laughter and moments yet to come

[staledirt87]

I like to think that Bokuto brought his whole "120%" thing to the Black Jackals, cause in manga 43 they're on the bus and Hinata and Atsumu are watching Kageyama's stupid curry commercial, Bokuto is sleeping next to them. Then the bus stops and Bokuto shoots up all excited and Atsumu asks if his only settings are 0 and 120.

I love them