#timeskip bokuto x reader

[capricornlevi]

bokuto x reader // sfw, gratuitous fluff, established relationship // wc 1.6k

planning birthdays is just one of bo's many talents <3

an: this is a little birthday present for my favourite bo stan in the entire world @brainrot329 ! she is a ray of sunshine and one of the best people i know and it is an honour to write a bo fic dedicated to this wonderful human !!!

you had never figured bokuto for much of a chef. you've been together for four years, lived together for two, and so you feel you know him pretty well by now -- the man has multitudes of talents, but preparing food is not one of them.

he has no trouble with eating, obviously, since pretty much every team barbeque ends with him being physically dragged away by a teammate or long-suffering coach, begging for someone else to be allowed their pick of the steaks.

but his appreciation for food does not extend to cooking or baking, shopping for ingredients or meal planning. his lack of culinary proficiency is not from any form of uselessness or incompetence -- he's good at pretty much anything he turns his hand to, plus the msby nutrition team supplies most of his meals anyway -- he just doesn't have much of an interest. which is more than fair; nobody can be expected to be good at everything.

but this is also why you find it to be very shocking that today, your birthday, he has offered to prepare you a four-course meal to mark the special occasion.

he had informed you of his plan this morning over pancakes at your favourite diner while you were mid-sip of coffee. as you smiled and expressed gratitude, you had to put in a copious amount of effort to prevent your jaw from dropping open and accidentally spitting coffee everywhere.

again, it's not that he's incapable of achieving this task. he’d likely be very capable should he puts his mind to it, but it's just ... this is his first time cooking. you don't attempt the tour de france before learning how to ride a bike, and you can't imagine that a four-course meal (with accompanying wines, he informs you) is the easiest introduction to the culinary arts.

but he seems certain, and the last thing you want to do is discourage this newfound enthusiasm.

the rest of the day was spent out with friends and family as bo headed home to get everything ready. he didn't give many hints as to what the rest of the evening would entail, but he did say that he knew you'd love it.

(and you will; regardless of the final product, you can see how much effort he's put in. you just hope you won't arrive home to the scent of singed hair and an eyebrow-less bokuto standing forlorn in the kitchen.)

when your college friends took you out for cocktails in the early hours of the evening, you stuck to just two margaritas so as not to take away from the rest of the night. they dropped you back home with gifts in hand and plans to meet up again next week to get your nails done – a strange suggestion since you haven’t gone to the salon as a group in years, but you wave it off. 

now, standing at your doorstep, you take a deep breath before twisting the handle and letting yourself in.

the place smells ... nice. really nice. it's a medley of scents from multiple dishes but they all come together to paint a very positive picture; hints of citrus, the buttery aroma of your favourite pasta sauce, something sweet you vaguely recognise as being your grandmother's french vanilla cake recipe.

suddenly overcome with a sense of awe and burning anticipation, you make a beeline for the kitchen.

you find everything in it to be clean, perfectly presented, except for bokuto himself. he stands by the countertop, spatula in hand, covered with a light dusting of flour and with a scorch mark on his light-blue shirt.

"never promised it'd go completely without a hitch, did i?" he grins, expression as close to bashful as you've seen it. setting down the utensils and dusting himself off with a kitchen towel, he closes the distance to take your hand, guiding you to your seat at the table. with a professional flourish he pours you a glass of sparkling wine, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head once you've sat down.

"you enjoy that while i go change," he mumbles against your hair, "and i’ll also make sure I'm not still smouldering."

you laugh as he walks away, heart swelling in your chest as you survey the space around you.

he's bought a bouquet of your favourite flowers from that little old florist who lives three doors down from your apartment, the one whose displays you always admire when you head out to work in the mornings. he has your favourite album playing on vinyl, the low reverberations of the music filling the candle-lit kitchen.

distantly, you wonder if bo's fire incident came from the cooking or the decoration.

but before you have much time to consider, he's arrived back in the kitchen with a fresh shirt and almost-tamed hair, paired with that signature bo smile that lights up all of his features.

"ready for course number one?" he exclaims, clapping his hands together as he heads over to the counter space. once you voice your assent he produces two dishes as if from nowhere, heading over to the table and setting yours down in front of you.

you find yourself looking down at a perfectly presented salad, crisp leaves and a citrus dressing that reminds you exactly of the one you had --

"on our first date!" you burst out before even taking a bite. "this is the salad from that bistro by college!"

the bistro where he had taken you after finally mustering up the courage to ask, waiting until after you both had graduated to make his move. you're still not sure why he was so anxious since your class had no qualms about intra-departmental fraternisation, but you're just glad he went for it eventually.

he nods, clearly relieved you picked up on the connection.

the salad is wonderful, a light and refreshing starter for the evening, and you inform him as much.

your response clearly encourages him. he gets up again to start heating the next dish, pouring you a glass of wine beforehand for you to nurse while he gets things ready.

this time, he presents you with a bowl of soup. the same type of soup ...

"that you made for me that time i got the flu!" he informs you this time, voice achingly fond as he watches for your reaction. "and no word of a lie -- it cured me."

his earnestness draws another laugh from you, the soothing smell of herbs and vegetables bringing you back to that afternoon.

you had never seen bo so sick before and you haven't seen it since. with the combination of his healthy approach to life and sheer stubbornness to remain top of his game, he ends up avoiding most illnesses, and so when he called his coach to inform him he wouldn't be making 8am practice, you knew things were serious.

he ran a temperature, cheeks flushing an adorable shade of pink that you would have appreciated more were he not suffering, and had started shivering by noon.

"you need to keep your strength up," you had whispered softly to him, setting a glass of water down at his bedside and perching yourself on the edge, watching as he slowly started eating the soup. it was difficult with a sore throat but he managed to polish the whole thing off.

that soup was the only thing he could stomach for forty-eight hours, eating it for every meal until his shivering subsided and his muscles stopped aching.

it's one of the few dishes he knew how to prepare before tonight, since he insists on making it with you whenever either one of you starts to show any signs of impending sniffles.

once the soup has been finished and cleared away, the third course is presented with another glass of wine and near-giddy smile from bo. just as you had guessed from the hallway, he serves up your favourite pasta dish, the recipe having been scribbled down on a napkin after the chef from the aforementioned first-date bistro was kind enough to let you have it. 

bo managed to replicate it perfectly, albeit not without slightly singeing the accompanying garlic bread (explaining the scorch mark on his shirt).

as you take your first bite, you realise that he was right earlier when he promised that you'd love this.

it wasn't that the food was michelin quality (though it was undoubtedly delicious, especially for a first-timer) -- it was the thought that went into every dish, every ingredient, every element. the effort that went into telling a story with each course.

you've never felt as loved as you do in this moment.

that is, until he brings out dessert in the form of your grandmother's french vanilla cake. it’s been frosted to the best of bokuto's ability, with 'happy birthday my love!' edged in pink font and surrounded by flickering candles.

there's also a design under the words. a little shape, something you can't see without squinting.

he carries it over to you proudly, though with a slight tremble in his hands you can't quite understand ...

after blowing out the candles, you lean in to examine the cake closer.

it takes a few seconds for it to land, to determine what bo attempted to draw in icing format, but once it hits you ...

"is that a ring?"

your heart pounds in your chest, each word leaving your lips in a flurry as you try to gauge whether or not your exhilaration is merited.

and in lieu of an answer, bo sets the cake on the table before getting down on one knee, producing a velvet-bound ring box from the pocket of his new shirt.

[4unnyr0se]

Could I ask for Akaashi, Osamu, Kenma, and Bokuto + them giving oral?

❥ til your teeth rot! | akaashi, osamu, kenma, bokuto

warnings: timeskip! characters, fem! reader, cunnilingus (duh), praise, degrading, overstimulation, face sitting, semi-public sex, osamu's accent, kenma is v lazy, fingering

MDNI | 18+ content

word count -> 1.8k

a/n: i wrote this when i was having tummy issues so i'm sorry if its awful

got a request? my ask are open!

❥ Keiji Akaashi | Slow and steady

Akaashi eats your pussy like it’s made of glass like it could break at any moment. Every flick of his tongue, every sucking motion on your clit is calculated based on your previous reaction. Did you mewl louder when he harshly sucked on your sensitive bud? He’ll apply more pressure next time, hopefully earning another one of your adorable moans. 

Just because he was calculated to give pleasure does not mean he was inexperienced or selfish. Absolutely not. He could never dream of denying you anything you so plainly desired. All you had to was flash him those beautiful, sparking eyes of yours, and you would be on your back, legs spread, and moaning like an amateur pornstar while Akaashi made you cum for the second time that day.

He never rushes you through your orgasm, he doesn’t think that being intimate with you is some kind of game. It’s a puzzle that he simply wants to solve. His tongue is achingly slow against your folds, making the most precious moments between the two of you last longer. He is savoring each bit of your sweet nectar, and he fucking loves it. 

K-Keiji!” you sobbed, your hands flying to his neat mess of dark curls, desperate for purchase. Your legs were wrapped around his shoulders, just in case he would try to flee. Akaashi fucking loved it when you trapped him between your legs, it made him feel like the two of you were the last people on earth. “Gonna cum!”

Akaashi smiled against your folds, his tongue pausing momentarily. “I know, pretty girl. Wanna fall apart on my tongue again? I love it when you do that.” he praised, diving back to make out with your core. His tongue slipped past your entrance, the tip of the wet muscle gliding in and out with ease. His soft hands squeezed the inside of your thighs, rolling the supple and soft flesh between his fingers. 

Your head was rested on the pillow beneath you, hair growing knotted and messy whilst your thighs trembled in Akaashi’s grasp. His nose rubbed against your clit so deliciously, the additional stimulation pushing you over the edge. Your orgasm washed over you as you cried in pleasure, his name leaving your lips over and over again. Akaashi purred at the sensation of your release coating his mouth and tongue, pulling away once your high had subsided.

“Amazing job, pretty girl. You did so well for me.” he praised, wiping your slick from his chin. He leaned down to give you a quick peck on the lips, lingering just long enough for you to taste your own release. “See how delicious you are, darling? So unbelievably perfect for me.”

❥ Osamu Miya | No time to lose

Osamu eats your pussy like he has somewhere to be at all times like he’s in a hurry. Being the owner of a popular rice ball spot keeps him occupied most of the time (as well as dealing with his pain-in-the-ass older brother), so when he finds a free moment to be intimate with you, he makes sure he makes himself efficient. 

Even though Osamu is the more relaxed and lazy twin, he’s never lazy in the bedroom. His usually tired and ‘over this’ attitude would melt away the second you two shared a longing kiss, his body being taken over by some kind of insatiable desire. He’s driven by his motivation to make you scream his name for the shop next to him to hear. His tongue lashes at your pussy like a man starving in the middle of a desert. 

If there’s a rare lull in customers entering and exiting his onigiri shop, he’ll change the ‘open’ sign to a ‘come back later’ sign and text you to be in the back of his shop ASAP. And, of course, you’re there in less than ten minutes, your skirt flipped up and your hands supporting your weight on the steel countertop as his tongue ravishes your cunt, drinking in your slick like honey.

“Stay fuckin’ still,” Osamu groaned into your heat, slapping the inside of your thighs. “I can’t make ya cum if yer wigglin’, sweets.” that was a lie. He was a liar. He could make you cum regardless of how much you were moving, he didn’t matter to him. But if you writhed around so much that it caused some ingredients to fall onto the floor, then it became a problem. 

“S-sorry ‘Samu! Fuck!” you moaned, your hands gripping onto the steel material of the counter for dear life as his tongue hungrily, your sweet nectar coating his tongue beautifully. It was the best alcohol he could ever wish to taste. “M’close!”

“Ya better fuckin’ be. I only got five minutes before those fuckers wonder why the shop ain’t open,” his words sent vibrations through your core, your clit painfully pulsating. The rough pad of this thumb swirled around the sensitive bud, pressing against it harshly. “Be a good girl and fuckin’ cum already, yeah? Gotta open up soon, sweets.”

Osamu finally flattened his tongue in the way that drove you over the edge, still swirling your bud with his rough thumb. “That’s it, good fuckin’ girl,” he groaned, lapping up your release eagerly. “Taste so fuckin’ good for me.”

He pulled himself out from between your thighs, wiping off his chin with the backside of his hand. Osamu stood up and pecked the top of your head, playfully slapping your soaked cunt. “Get outta here, I got customers to serve.” he also had to sanitize his countertop hard. 

❥ Kenma Kozume | Suffocate him

Kenma will only eat you out if you sit on his face. Not hover, not dangle, fucking sit on it. Despite being a CEO and a popular streamer, this man is lazy as hell. Typically, you do all the work during sex. Bouncing on his cock, sucking him off, etc. But on the rare occasion Kenma wants to eat you out, you still have to pull a heavy load. He is not getting up off his ass by any means, so you might as well cooperate with him. He’s stubborn as a fucking mule.

Kenma was a selfish lover, and he didn’t want to change that. He liked being taken care of and not putting much effort into it. He’s already so successful. Why should he do more work than he already is? That’s so exhausting. But how could he refuse when his pretty girlfriend practically paws at him to help get her off? He’s lying on the bed in a minute, gesturing to you to tear off those pretty red panties and take away his ability to breathe.

“Ride my fucking face,” Kenma groans into your core, squeezing your ass with hands as your hips buck into his mouth wildly. He loved it when you got like this, so desperate and needy for his tongue. His tongue plunged into your sobbing cunt over and over again, eliciting the cutest moans from your pretty lips.

“Fuck, Kenma!” you whimpered, your hands grasping the mahogany headboard like it was the last lifeboat on board. Your ground your clit onto his nose, mewling pathetically as his tongue lashed at your most intimate parts. Kenma savored your sweet honey, adoring how it nicely coated his tongue. Maybe he should make you fit on his face more often. 

His deep brown hair stuck to his forehead, the skin slick with sweat as the tip of his tongue traced meaningless shapes on your clit, occasionally nibbling at the sensitive bud. He knew you were close. The way your entire body was shaking was a dead fucking giveaway. That, and his name practically being screamed repeatedly, was also a good sign. “Gonna cum? Do it, princess. Make a mess on me.”

And you did, your orgasm spilling all over your boyfriend’s cute face. Your writing stopped, with Kenma slapped your ass, indicating that you should get off. You sighed and chose to straddle his lap, pecking his nose gently. “Thank you, baby, that was amazing.”

“Did you think we were finished?” Kenma groaned, resting his arms behind his head. “You got me really fucking hard, princess. How about you take care of that for me, yeah?”

❥ Kotaro Bokuto | Pure addiction

Boktuo fucking loves eating you out. Whenever you mentioned that you were horny, he would drag you into his bed and plunge his face into your thighs until he got you to coat your inner thighs with your release. He could never get enough of you and how good you tasted. How you would only crave his tongue and his fingers on your most imitate parts. 

He didn’t fucking care when or where you were horny, he was more than happy to make you scream in pleasure. Whispering to him in a cafe? He locked the bathroom and had you sitting on the sick, your dress bunched up at your hips, and your stockings ripped so your soaking cunt could be displayed just for him. Woke up at two in the morning from a wet dream? No problem, he had you riding his face while he jerked his fat cock to the sounds you made. Did you also wanna suck him off? No problem, baby! You were sixty-nining until the rooster screeched. Truly, Bokuto was addicted to eating you out. 

“Why are you covering your mouth, baby? I wanna hear your moans,” Bokuto groaned into your cunt, eagerly lapping up your slick like a man gone mad. Your trembling body was pinned against the bathroom door of your favorite restaurant, your skirt pushed upwards, and your soaked panties dangled off your ankles while Bokuto whispered pure filth into your cunt. “Don't you wanna let all those people out there know how good my tongue can make you feel?”

“Ngh, we’ll get in trouble, Kotaro!” you whispered, doing your best to keep your voice at an acceptable level while your boyfriend spelled his name with your tongue, eliciting a sharp squeak in return. “F-fuck, don’t stop!”

“Yeah? You wanna cum on my face in a public bathroom, hm? God, you’re so fucking hot. How’d I get so lucky?” he purred against your clit, swirling the tip of his tongue over the throbbing bud. “You taste so fucking good, holy shit. Way better than lunch.”

His index and ring finger bullied their way inside of you, curling at the spot that made you instantly cum all over his face. He didn’t stop sucking on your folds when your orgasm hit, his fingers still scissoring deep inside of your broken cunt. Your hand slapped over your mouth, covering out your molten cries of ecstasy.

“Good fucking girl, I’m so proud of you.” Bokuto praised, licking off his tongue as he stared at your ruined state. He pulled your panties up and your dress down, kissing your forehead tenderly. “Now, do you wanna go back home and cum again, hm?

[act-nat-ural]

First Sight

@dira333: what if you're related or friends with the Miya twins and they accidentally or not set you up with someone on the msby roster? Meian is really cute if you know the manga, but there's also Sakusa, Hinata or Bokuto

word count: 1782

Osamu had already closed Miya Onigiri for the day, yet his two favorite moochers were still sitting at a booth consuming his food for free. He sighs, having already locked the doors, and put the chairs on top of the tables. He takes a seat next to Atsumu and joins your guys’ conversation. “I’m just sayin’,” Atsumu starts, “If yer so lonely, go out an’ meet someone. It's not that hard.”He finishes his sentence by taking a gigantic bite. He nods to himself like he made a great point, though you and Osamu are giving him side eyes. 

“And how would ya know that? Ya haven’t gone on a date in over three months.” You point out.

Osamu snorts and adds, “Last relationship I remember you cryin’ like a baby, saying’ that ya would never love again.” 

Atsumu scoffs and mumbles a “Shuddup!” while you let out a deep sigh and rest your head on the cool surface of the table. “It's not fair.” You whine. “I've got like, no love life. Why don’t ya set me up with yer hot friends?” 

They share a look for a minute, then at the same time say “No.” You scoff and slam a hand on the table. 

“Why the hell not!” 

Osamu raises his hands in defense while Atsumu enters ‘big brother mode’. “Yer our only sister, and I love ya too much to set ya up with the idiots I call friends. Yer too good for them!” You roll your eyes but he continues. “Omi probably has some secret girlfriend already, Shoyo only thinks about volleyball, and Koutaro’s.. Well, he's.. I dunno. But I don’t trust them with ya!”

You groan and give Osamu a pleading look. “Please?” He gives you a deadpan look.

“It's a hard no. I’d have to kill Rintaro if he even looked at ya wrong.” You groan and throw your hands in the air.

“Gimme a break! I’m a grown woman, I can handle myself.” They both burst into laughter, so you kick Atsumu under the table.

“Owch! Hey!” 

–

You were watching a movie at home by yourself when you heard your phone start to buzz. You glance away from the screen to see ‘Samu’ in bold letters pop up on your phone. You pause the move and check the text he sent you.

Samu: Hey. You still looking for a date?

Your eyes widen and you start to squeal. “Yes! ‘Samu for the win.” You start to celebrate prematurely when your phone buzzes again. 

Samu: I have an idea but Tsumu wouldn’t like it lolol

Your smile drops and you grab the phone to respond.

You: what does that even mean…

Samu: Sooo have you ever met his team before?

You: no, I’ve met Kiyoomi but only briefly. why?? who are you thinking of?? Omg 

Samu: that desperation is exactly what made me think of him LMAO

You gasp in offense and angrily respond, 

You: WTF DOES THAT MEAN 

Samu: anyway! 🙂 I was thinking of inviting some of the team to my place for dinner or something, you wanna come? you can’t tell Tsumu you’re coming though or he'd throw a fit or smth.

You chew on your lip in thought. On one hand, you really want to meet someone. On the other, if it ends up not working out, it could really make things awkward for your brother and his friends. You pause. He’ll be fine.

You: I'll be there :) love you!

Meanwhile, Osamu sighs and leans back against the headboard. “She better not say I never do anything for her. Hmph.”

Samu: love you too 🙄

–

Osamu was drying his hands when he heard the doorbell ring. “Comin’.” He opens the door and there stands Atsumu, Kiyoomi, Shoyo, and Kotaro. Atsmu gives a cheeky grin, holding up a case of beer.

“I come bearing gifts.” Koutaro blinks in confusion.

“But I bought it-”

“Shush.”

Osamu moves aside so they can all come in. “No one else comin’?” Kiyoomi shakes his head.

“Shugo was going to but he got caught up with something. The rest all had other arrangements.” Osamu nods in understanding. Shoyo immediately beelines for the kitchen.

“What smells so good? I’m starving!”

Kiyoomi furrows his brows stating, “You ate the whole way here.”

Just then, the doorbell rings again. This time there is no need to open the door, because you just so happen to have a key. “Hello!” You stroll in like you own the place. Osamu has to fight to hold his laugh in when he sees the look on Atsumu’s face. 

“I didn’t know what to bring so I just brought cookies. I think I burnt them though.” You mumble. Kiyoomi gives you a nod in acknowledgment as you set the platter of charred baked goods on the counter. “Soo… are ya gonna introduce me?”

“Samu. What is she doing here?” Atsumu chokes out. You scoff.

 “I’m literally standing right here.”

“What? I can’t invite our own sister to my apartment?” Osamu gives an innocent shrug. 

“This was supposed to be a guys night!” Atsumu complains childishly. 

Shoyo pipes in, “I don’t mind! The more people the better. Right, Bokuto? ….Bokuto?”

–

If you had asked Koutaro then, he would have sworn he had never seen a more beautiful girl. The moment you walked in the door it was like he lost all of the air in his chest. He almost texted Keiji to ask what a heart attack felt like. His heart thumped in his chest and he could feel his hands start to get sweaty. Pretty girl. I’m not good around pretty girls. 

He didn’t even realize that he was being spoken to until Shoyo poked his arm. “Huh? Wha? Oh- Yes. Stay. Please.” Everyone just kind of stares at him for a moment before moving on. He accidentally stares at you while you get introduced to Shoyo, yet you don’t notice till Atsumu tries introducing him. You give a shy smile and a wave, and that's all he needs to see to know that he's a goner. 

–

You had never taken a good look at Koutaro Bokuto before this, and boy do you wish you had. Everything about him had you feeling weak in the knees. He was very built, taking up a large portion of the sofa that he was sitting on. You had snuck a glance at his back while walking in and Jesus. That man was built like a Greek god. His golden eyes seemed to never leave your figure, and he kept giving you a dopey smile. You give a small smile back and wave, hoping you don’t make a fool of yourself. Later, you swore you saw Osamu give you a thumbs up, but he denies it.

Everyone else flocks to the kitchen to start getting something to eat, yet you and Koutaro stay behind. You hesitantly sit down beside him, a few feet away. You both give sheepish smiles directed at the other, not sure what to say. Just then, Osamu comes back. “Darn. We’re out of soy sauce. Koutaro, (Name), do ya guys mind going to the market and grabbing some?” He says, not very convincingly. 

Shoyo gives him a confused look and starts, “But there was some-” 

“Shush.”

Koutaro immediately shoots up from his seat. “Yeah, we can get it!” He gives you a beaming smile and you can’t help but return in. He lends you a hand up from the sofa, practically bouncing with excitement. “We’ll be back soon.” Osamu gives you a wink and pats your back. 

“Take your time.”

You and Koutaro are silent for a while as you walk to the nearest market. You notice that while his strides are larger than yours, he slows his pace to match yours. He shoves his hands in his pockets and takes a glance around

“So, what do you do for fun?” He turns and asks suddenly. You hum in thought.

 “I guess I hang out with my brothers a lot. I watch movies alone sometimes. Work has kept me busy recently, so I haven’t been doing much recently.” He nods in understanding.

He clears his throat before inquiring, “You don’t watch movies with your boyfriend?” 

You smile and shake your head, laughing. “No, I don’t have one.” He stops walking and gawks at you.

 “Seriously?! You're single?!” You raise your eyebrows in surprise and nod slowly. 

“Yeah.. why? Is it that surprising?” He shakes his head yes enthusiastically. 

“I totally thought you’d be married or something, you're so pretty.”

You go quiet. “Really?”

“Yes! Really! Man, I thought I had like no shot.” He adds. You both freeze and look at each other wide eyed.

 “Huh?”

 “What?”

You sputter and point at him. “Ya just- ya said ya thought-” 

“I- well-!” You both stand on the sidewalk, fidgeting with your hands. He scratches his head and blushes. “Are you free tomorrow?” 

You had never said yes faster in your life.

– 

You two were dying of laughter, wiping your eyes from tears. “Man, I wish I had sisters.” You say. 

“Yeah, they're pretty cool.” He says matter of factly. You both had gotten sidetracked and never ended up going to the market. Currently, he and you were sitting on a pair of swings at a local park. Your phone buzzes softly and you apologize to him before checking it. 

Tsumu: where tf did you go 

You: don’t cockblock me <3

Tsumu: PARDON?

You click your phone to silent before turning back to Koutaro. “Now, where were we?”

–

It only took a few dates before he asked you to be his girlfriend. You agreed, of course. You would've said yes if he had asked the night you met, if you were honest. Atsumu begrudgingly gave Koutaro his blessing to propose a couple years into dating. Osamu was a bit offended that he didn't ask him, considering he was responsible for you two meeting.

Koutaro was terrible at keeping secrets, so he ended up proposing the second he got home after ring shopping. You felt a bit ambushed, having been washing dishes in unwashed pajamas, but it was still a definite yes.

Currently, Atsumu was walking up to the mic to give a speech during your wedding. You rest your head on Koutaro’s shoulder, and he intertwines your fingers. Atsumu pokes the microphone and the feedback screeches, bothering everyone.

“Ahem. Now, if anyone knows me, they know I love my sister. That, and I only want what's best for her. That having been said, I would like a ‘thank you’ for this marriage, considering it was my idea to get ya together.”

“Liar!”

note: i just realized i keep writing the twins shushing people lol. Bokuto is so fun to write for 😭 he’s so silly

[zumicho]

SEASON ONE: EP2 — RED FLAGS ALL AROUND

it smells like seaweed.

no, this isn’t the ocean. the indoor kitchen has a nice enough view.

it smells like soy sauce too. add sesame oil, tuna, mayonnaise, and pickled plums to the mix. osamu’s hands are busy — assembling and flipping, wiping beads of sweat off his forehead with the back of his palm, adjusting the MSBY baseball cap that neatly tucks his choppy summer cut away. he looks in his element. a chef? father of two? one of those. she makes a mental note.

the porch floorboards creak: a signal for incoming trouble.

bokuto almost tumbles into the doorway as nishinoya follows close behind, both faces plastered with ear-wide grins.

bo - pupils the size of jupiter - juts out his finger. “look.”

two ladybugs, perched on the pad of his pointer.

“what you missed out on.” noya quips. one climbs into her palm.

“where’s shoyo?” she asks him.

the two give each other an uh oh face, then they’re sprinting back outside, knocking over a few articles of furniture before leaving her with him again.

osamu: who was previously oblivious to her presence (whether or not he was faking, is an entirely different conversation). was scoffing. “got stood up?”

she’s rolling her eyes. “why do you ask? going to play knight in shining armor and go with me instead?” the corners of her lips tug.

he’s dumbfounded. or so it seems. whatever it is — the silence is making her nauseous. did he not expect that? was it too much?

“jeez, can’t take a joke? I don’t go for guys with buzzcuts.” that’s not what she wanted to say. his hair looks.. fine. nice, even. still: there’s nothing more satisfying than landing a blow to a man’s ego. especially when the chance waves itself in front of your face.

samu opens his mouth, but her date’s walking down the steps before he can snark out a reply. her attention is diverted. stolen. there’s an odd weight in his chest when her back is turned toward him.

he decides he doesn’t like it.

they’re exchanging a look. unreadable. he’s watching (involuntarily). she walks up closer, and for a moment — osamu freezes.

they’re going to kiss? when they just met?

her hand meets her hip.

“why are you wearing a tie to the beach?”

osamu is wrong.

kuroo goes pale.

author’s note: I’m aware the pacing for the last chapter was rough, there will be improvements trust 🤝 I tried writing this from 3rd pov how do we like?? I want this to feel like watching a show

GUESTLIST @causenessus @guitarstringed-scars @cloudybillows @s1ckntw1st3d @suna-rins-sunshine @hyenagoated @hibernatinghamster @yogurtkags @acowboykisser @yukatoraa @fishrene @iwaizluv @iluvmang @neoclb @kr1nqu @lvtilzs @wave2mia @zahrawr-writes-fanfics @bubooo @bectoshi @gra-eae @cr4yolaas @cloooudddy1 @jaynawayna @ryuverse @miliondollagirl @soulfullystarry @fiannee @yumiecheesecrackers @ast4rg1rl @eujoana89 @whenanafallsinlove @arraxthatsonjah @staileykout @kaiiibxby @miiyas @serossidechick @chososcamgirl @yuminako @diorzs @muyyie @krissiekris

[dira333]

Family matters - Akaashi Keiji x Reader x Bokuto Kotarou (Platonic)

Another one in my series of “This is my boyfriend and this is my boyfriend’s best friend” - I think I’m going to allow requests for this series as well… This is for @tetzoro and her Summer Olympics Collab

Keiji’s familiar enough with Onigiri Miya to order at the right time - which maybe says a lot about his eating habits - so he can get a few minutes of conversation in as he waits for the food without bothering other customers.

Today’s no different.

Osamu grins at him as he steps inside, black cap turned around so he looks more like a hipster than a renowned cook and business owner.

“How’s the baby?” He asks and the granny at the table by the window turns immediately. She’s a regular as well.

“Akaashi-san?!” Her eyes are huge. “You are expecting?”

“No, it’s not… it’s not like that. It’s a joke.”

“Oh!” She sounds clearly disappointed. “Well, tell your wife my regards.”

“Will do, Miyamushi-san! Will do.”

He sends Osamu a glare but the man just chuckles as he forms another perfect Onigiri.

“And how’s Atsumu?” Keiji asks then, pointedly. 

“I wouldn’t know,” Osamu comments calmly, prepping the take-away container.

“As if he doesn’t call you each day-” As if to prove him right, Osamu’s phone starts ringing, the ringtone clearly put in by Atsumu himself, playing “Yeah! I'm the victorious, you're the victim. Got so many trophies, man…”

Osamu scrambles to grab it, lest it blasts the song through the restaurant.

“What did I tell you about changing ringtones on my phone? … No, I didn’t have my phone on silent for the past week, I- well, it doesn’t matter, why did you call anyway? … Yeah, of course, we’re watching tonight, Akaashi’s here as well-”

-

“How’s the Baby?” Kuroo asks you at the door, shrugging off his perfectly tailored blazer.

You laugh. “Anxious, but who’s surprised? It’s a big thing to play in the Olympics.”

“How often has he called?”

“Who?” Tsukishima asks from the living room couch. “I’m taking bets, you want to join? You can play for Hinata, Kageyama, Bokuto or Atsumu.”

“Don’t be mean,” you tell the younger boy lightly as you pass him, playfully tapping his shoulder. “Besides, who are Hinata and Kageyama calling?”

“Sugawara, of course. He’s keeping me up to date.”

“Where’s the rest of the party,” Kuroo asks, looking around. “If I had known we weren’t going to be that many, I would have dragged Kenma along.”

“Oh, no,” you shake your head, “Akaashi and Osamu are currently picking up a few other guys and their girlfriends, I think? I don’t know the exact number but too much for Kenma. But I invited him over for the breakdancing competition, that’s just going to be me and him.”

Your phone pings with an incoming message at that moment and you excuse yourself to the kitchen, starting a call.

“You’re going to be fine,” are your first words.

“Are you sure?” Kotarou doesn’t sound like himself. More like he’d been shrunk in the wash a few times.

“Absolutely. You know how many people are watching you, cheering you on.”

“Not that many,” he points out with a voice you know too well. “Volleyball isn’t that big of an event. And even if, they won’t focus on me. Do you know who we’re playing tonight?”

“Honey, you have two-toned hair and you’re beefy enough to hide both Kageyama and Hinata behind you, you won’t be able to go unnoticed.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. Absolutely.”

“Even though we’re playing against Germany? They’re scary-” A gentle hand picks the phone from your grip. 

“Bokuto-senpai, you’re going to be just fine.” Keiji mutters calmly into your phone, pulling you closer. “We all believe in you.”

-

Germany wins. 

You’re not the only one consoling one of the players via a phone call and if Tsukki spends a good amount coming up with a strategy for how they can still get gold, he’s pretending he didn’t.

“Did you know what happened today?” Keiji asks as you’re getting ready for bed, knocking his hip into yours as you brush your teeth.

“Wht?”

“When I went into Onigiri Miya, Osamu asked me how the baby was doing. He was referring to Kotarou, but Miyamushi-san thought we were expecting. She was pretty disappointed.”

You snort, washing out your mouth.

“He really is our baby, isn’t he?”

Keiji pulls you closer.

“Does it bother you sometimes?”

“Not really. He’s one of the best friends you could have. However we have to make sure he won’t get jealous if we decide to get real babies. Smaller ones, you know?” You grin up at him. “Or a pet.”

“I think he’d definitely get jealous if we got a pet. Are you ready to give him just as many head scratches as you’d give our hypothetical cat?”

“Are you?”

[millenialfanfictionaddiction]

Breaking Through:

Future Mrs. Sakusa

Sakusa Kiyoomi x Fem! Reader (she/her)

Warnings: mild swearing, all fluff

AN: this is an anon request and a sequel to Being Itachiyama’s Manager: Breaking through Sakusa’s Walls. I did change up the request a little from proposing at a game to a more private proposal just because it fit with the scenario a little better 🥰

Well congrats Yn 👏🏻

You’ve made it through your first year as MSBY’s manager

Honestly, your survival wasn’t assured

I mean, just look at the working hazards

*cough* BOKUTO, ATSUMU AND HINATA *cough*

If you don’ constantly hear, “yN i NeEd HeLp” 🙄

But seriously though, acclimating to this team wasn’t your only chore

You were also navigating your relationship with MSBY Spiker, Kiyoomi Sakusa

Now as we all know, you and Sakusa have been dating for quite a while

High school, college and now pro-volleyball

Seriously it’s been almost like 5 years that’s you’ve been hanging onto Sakusa

It hasn’t always been easy

His constant concern for germs and his annoyance of his idiotic teammates were a struggle

You’d gone through some tough times in college and beyond

Dealing with losses of games and a grueling Olympic journey

It was a lot to say the very least but your love and commitment to Kiyoomi held strong 💪🏻

Now Sakusa knew he wasn’t an easy person to deal with

Heck before you came along, Komori was literally the only one who could deal with him

You might have been the opposite of him but you meshed well

You learned to deal with his quirks and his need to cleanliness

He learned to deal with you and your extreme desire to keep Hinata, Bokuto and Atsumu alive 🙄

He knew you were the one a long time ago and he loved/adored you more than anything!

He had long been thinking about the next step but he wanted it to be perfect

He knew you deserved the best and he was going to give it to you

He had been saving up for a ring for a while now and he’d managed to keep it all a secret

Until one day when Meian and his girlfriend announced their engagement during practice

He watched as you became so excited for them, giving them hugs and admiring the ring on her finger

“It’s gorgeous!! Shugo you did such a great job!” You cried as you celebrated for your friends and teammates

Sakusa couldn’t help but imagine how excited you would be for your own engagement to him

He loved the idea how you wearing his ring and eventually his last name

And Sakusa wasn’t the only one to notice your excitement 👀

Because Atsumu had seen it as well and being the little shit he is, he most DEFINITELY was going to bring it up

“Sooooo Omi, when are you gonna put a ring on YN’s finger?” Atsumu asked later in the locker room as the team changed

You were happily cleaning up the gym like you did normally, clueless to the entertainment behind closed doors

“Sumu back off! Don’t pressure him,” Barnes scolded as Sakusa tried to ignore Atsumu

Way easier said than done 🙄

“What? I saw how excited Yn looked when she saw that ring! You can tell she’s itching to get engaged. Come on man, it’s been what, like 5 years with her? Don’t you think it’s time to lock her down?”

An audible sigh filled the locker room as everyone tried hard to ignore Atsumu

Again, easier said than done…

“YN doesn’t care about stuff like that! She’s loved Omi and I’m sure she’d be happy if they never got married,” Shion adds as Atsumu shakes his head

“Whatever you guys say but I know women and women want diamonds!”

“Says the man who can’t lock down a girlfriend to save his life,” Meian interjected at the locker room burst into laughter

Sakusa shut his locker, not making a sound as he made his way to the showers

Unbeknownst to the guys, he’d been thinking about asking you and with your anniversary approaching, he thought it would be perfect

Since he didn’t want the stress and potential cover of his operation to be blown, he asked Komori for help

He wanted to make your engagement perfect

He’d come up with the perfect idea and he made the plans to the T

On your anniversary, he texted you saying he got caught up with volleyball stuff and that Komori would drive you too the restaurant

You agreed because you truly believed Kiyoomi was busy

But when Komori pulled up to Itachiyama’s volleyball gym, you looked at him confused

He just shrugged as you narrowed your eyes and got out of the car

You were wearing a beautiful dress, looking like an absolute dream as you walked to the doors

Getting closer, you noticed a picture on the door

It was a team picture from your second year at Itachiyama when you had first met Kiyoomi

You smiled at the picture, remembering how you first grew attracted to the finicky winged spiker

Opening the door, you saw candles, flowers and what looked to be an aisle lined with photographs

You made your way thought the gym, looking at every picture and reliving every memory

They were all pictures come your relationship with Kiyoomi

Your first date, graduation, first apartment, and first day with MSBY

Your eyes began to well with tears as you relived all the memories

Looking over, you saw Kiyoomi standing at the end, looking extremely handsome in a gorgeous suit

“Kiyoomi, this is beautiful!” You cried as he smiled and wiped your tear away

“That’s not all Yn,” he said, getting on one knee as your eyes widened and your mouth fell open

“YN LN, I’ve known since high school that you were the one for me. You’ve put up with me for years, supported me in everything I do and I couldn’t ask for better life partner. Would you do me the ultimate honor and marry me?” He recited perfectly as you nodded, tears streaming down your eyes as you cried tears of joy

He slipped the beautiful ring on your finger and stood to his full height of 6 FOOT 4 INCHES and kissed you 🥹

Honestly dreams!

You spent the night and weekend celebrating with your new fiancé before venturing back to work Monday morning

Sakusa was actually shocked that you’d somehow managed to keep your engagement a secret

Only your families and of course, Komori knew

But that went all out the window the moment you stepped into the gym

“STEP OUT OF THE WAY LOSERS BECAUSE IM THE FUTURE MRS. KIYOOMI SAKUSA!” You screamed, showing your rock to everyone within your eyesight

Bokuto and Hinata 👉🏻🥹🥹😭😭

Meian, Inunaki, Barnes and Thomas 👉🏻🥳🍾🎉

Atsumu 👉🏻😏

Sakusa 👉🏻 😐🙄

Don’t worry Yn, he’s secretly so happy 🥰

[the-cosmic-teapot]

Eternity and So Much More

Bokuto x reader

WC: 2392

TW: Self doubt, insecurity, marriage talk, long term commitment, reader needs a hug and kiss, bokuto is amazing and really affirming, I tried to keep this as gender neutral as possible (engagement ring description, but not story crucial-like a sentence max) , open ended

*proof read by my man in arts husband, its his fault for typos :)

Summary: Bokuto had a very important question to ask you, but you don't see yourself in the best light.

A/N: Hi pals, this is my first time publishing anything outside of a really cringy period on Wattpad when I was 13 (no longer available for my own sanity). I am not typically a writer, so I apologize in advance, but I love Bokuto so much yeah. I hope you like this! Feedback is always welcome!

~Cosmic

Being in a relationship with a pro athlete is difficult because more times than not, they prioritize their careers. It’s what they have been working towards for the longest time and they will do almost anything to stay on the court. This is especially true with one, Bokuto Koutaro. You could ask anyone about the large, owlish man and his devotion to volleyball; they would all say the same thing: he is meant to be on the court. Knowing this did not stop you from being in a relationship with him. If anything there was a sense of pride because of his passion for the sport. There were countless missed dinners and events because of extra practice, but this did little to dissuade you from falling for the outside hitter. With all of the missed dates there were  thoughtful gifts or a lavish trip with him for time together to make up his absences. 

You knew it was coming, Bokuto's proposal, because he is not the most subtle person and he is not great at hiding things. It had been about a week prior when you found the ring in his sock drawer when doing his laundry.  It was a beautiful, yet simple princess cut diamond ring with a few accent stones around it, and here you are, at dinner with Bokuto and some friends, both old and new. Most of the night was filled with laughter and smiles, as is most of the time with Bokuto, except this time there was a pit in your stomach you couldn’t explain. Was it something you ate? Maybe it was social anxiety from being around all of Bokuto's high school friends, who you’ve seen on a few occasions. You only really knew Akaashi because of how close he was with Bokuto. Yet, in spite of this feeling you pushed through dinner with a smile.

As the appetizers and entrees came and went Bokuto insisted on getting dessert for everyone. The pair of you settled on a chocolate cake with ice cream. While the desserts were being prepared Bokuto gathered the attention of everyone and began speaking of the love he has for you, and your beauty. As he continued his speech, the pit grew deeper and deeper. His little speech concluded in tandem with the arrival of dessert, where you saw the same ring that was hidden among his socks sitting on the top of the cake slice. Then you look at Bokuto already on one knee as he asks the question, “Will you marry me?”

At this moment you didn’t have any words. Why weren’t you saying anything? Could you say anything at all?

~~

The first day of your third year at university felt the same as the others. You noted that campus was a bit livelier than normal, but this would surely die down after a couple of weeks as people lost motivation to go to class. As you walked into your first lecture hall you chose your seat with care as you would be using it for the rest of the semester. After all, humans are creatures of habit. 

When you stepped outside of the lecture hall at the end of class, you could swear you felt like a mummy leaving its crypt and stepping into the sun for the first time. Apparently you stood in place a second too long because a large man was not paying attention at the stop in traffic and bumped into your back causing you to trip and fall. As you stood back up and turned to face the cause of your fall he immediately began apologizing and saying he will buy you coffee or a pastry as his way of apologizing. Initially stunned by the sudden change in your position to seeing a large man practically on his hands and knees begging for your forgiveness for a small nudge was, admittedly, quite a scene to behold. You insisted that you were okay and there were no bruises or scratches, but he looked like a kicked puppy saying something about how he has harmed you and his mother and sisters will certainly skin him alive for not making it up to you. So you agreed to his offer of coffee, seeing as you do not have class for another hour and a half. On the walk over to the cafe you learn his name, Bokuto, and he is a starter for the men's volleyball team. 

~~

Everyone was staring at you now, waiting for an answer. You see the glints of love and true passion in Bukotos eyes; the same look he has when he plays volleyball. Why couldn��t you say anything? What was wrong with you? Here there is a man who loves you, and all you can do is just stand there. Thoughts of inadequacy swarm your mind; you’ll never be pretty enough, you’ll never be charismatic enough, you’ll never be enough for him. 

~~

  After getting coffee with Bokuto, he seemed to be part of your life. Initially it was small things like him asking you to study with him because he “gets distracted, and it is nice to have someone to keep him on track”. This typically ended with getting nothing done because of how easy conversations flowed with him. Eventually this turned into movie nights with his friends. By the end of that semester the two of you were practically inseparable. 

Sometime during the break you realized how you had grown to care for this large puppy of a man. Your days away from campus, as well as Bokuto, seemed more dreary, like something was missing. The days away made you truly notice an absence you didn’t know you could miss. Despite this, you still managed to have a relaxing break.

Bokuto was also stuck with his thoughts of you and what you were doing. He misses your smile and laugh, he misses how you would roll your eyes at some dumb joke he had made, but most of all, he misses how you care about him. Through high school he was used to girls flocking to him because of his volleyball talent, but none of them seemed to care about who he was as a person. You care about him as Bokuto Kotaro, not Bokuto Kotaro the volleyball powerhouse. You care about the little things, ensuring he stayed hydrated and made sure he always had someone cheering him on. He loved those things about you.

By the time you got back to campus and got fully moved into your new dormroom, Bokuto called and asked to get lunch because he was, as always, starving. By the end of the lunch you were sure Bokuto enjoyed your presence because of how he mentioned it at least five times when walking you home. As you get to your complex's door you debate inviting Bokuto in to watch a movie or something, but a small voice crept in saying that he probably had other, better things to be doing. So you bid him a farewell and went up alone. 

~~

As Bokuto stares at you with anticipation and nothing but adoration in his eyes staring into your own, you are at war with your insecurities. How could he want you in that way? It wasn't because you were the prettiest or because you were the most popular. It definitely wasn’t because you were the best at anything; what was it? You know he loves you, but honestly you don’t fully understand why. 

After about a minute of staring at you Bokuto began to feel a pit form in his stomach, a rare feeling for him that he wasn’t too familiar with. The last time this happened was when he asked you to go on a date with him; an actual date too, not the platonic hangout sessions from when you were first getting to know each other. Was it taking you so long to answer because you thought he wouldn't be a good husband? Was it because he can be forgetful and so focused on volleyball? Those couldn't be it, you always said that it was something you loved about him, his dedication and drive. Why weren’t you saying anything? What was holding you back?

~~

It had been one year since you met Bokuto, the start of your last year of university. Thursdays became takeout and movie night with him, just him; no one else because “I want to spend time alone with my best friend”. You thought it was sweet that he wanted to take time with just you, but it hurt when you assumed he didn’t see you romantically. You’d be stupid not to have a crush on him, he is so charismatic and funny, not to mention he looks like he was shaped by the gods, in contrast to his puppy like demeanor that would make a statue smile.

On one such Thursday Bokuto was antsy, more than normal. About a third of the way into your movie pick, you had to pause the movie. His fidgeting was getting on your nerves and you could no longer bear to ignore it. In response to you pausing, Bokuto just stared dumbly at you instead of saying anything. This was odd, there was seldom a time Bokuto was without words. 

“What’s your problem tonight?’ you asked, a little agitated. “We can change the movie if you’re not into it.” 

“I just...” He paused for a bit and continued, “ I um, I think I’d like to take you out.” You stared back just as dumbly at him for a bit. “ I don’t mean, like, kill you. I mean like a date… If you want…” You sat on his couch in one of his hoodies with Thai take-out in your lap while he thought this is something he wouldn’t mind seeing all the time. He impatiently awaited your answer, fidgeting with his hands. 

After what felt like an eon (a few minutes in actuality) you responded, “Really? Me?” It was strange to be asked out by someone who was like Bokuto. You weren't the typical drop dead gorgeous type athletes like him usually went after, at least in your own eyes. 

“Well, yeah… that’s why I asked you.” He stated very matter-of-factly. “Why wouldn't I want to date you? You know me, and still want to be my friend after I embarrassed myself at that party. You also still want to study with me even when I don’t know what’s happening, and you dont mind helping me with my classwork even though you’re taking more classes than me.” 

He went on like this for 5 minutes before you finally snapped out of your haze to interrupt him and respond. “I didn’t know you cared that much about me...” You sat on your words before landing on “Okay”. 

You thought you had broken the owlish man when that four letter word left your mouth. He just sat and stared at you before breaking out into the biggest smile you’ve ever seen on him, this is including when he scored the winning point for nationals last spring. In an instant he was off of the couch, as were you, bouncing around the room shaking you along too. 

~~

Feeling the stares of your friends and his, you felt nauseous. You loved Bokuto, but could you accept this? What happens if it falls apart, could you live through that? What if a few years later he finds someone better than you, how could you live with that? You just stood there. Your legs felt as if they weighed a million pounds and your jaw a billion more.

Bokuto was freaking out because he was sure you’d say yes immediately. You’d talked about your futures after graduation and you said something along the lines of wanting him in your life forever. Did he misinterpret that? He got your dream ring from one of your friends who was kind enough to help him. What did he do to screw this up?

“I-I…” you took a breath, “I don’t know” you finished close to tears. After giving an answer you needed to get out, looking at Bokuto was painful because he was heartbroken and confused. You gathered your things and ran out of the restaurant.

Bokuto followed closely after you without grabbing anything. He ran a hand through his hair as he stepped out onto the sidewalk spotting you instantly.

He tentatively approached you as if you were a scared stray cat. “Hey… are you okay? What happened back there?” Bokuto was close to tears too, his usually bright eyes were so serious now. “Are you not ready for this? I thought that conversation after graduation meant you wanted this… I’m really sorry if I got that wrong.” He wouldn’t stop talking. You felt like actual garbage, here he was apologizing to you for what were your own inadequacies. 

“I’m not-” you take a breath, “I’m not good enough for this, or for you. You are a pro athlete, you’re way out of my league, and I’m just someone who fell in love with you. I am not special in any way, I’m not extraordinary, I’m just me.” You pause for a second before continuing, “You deserve so much better than me, you are amazing and deserve the universe, and I’m not that.”

“I don’t see it that way.” Bokuto said simply. “You’re amazing because you are you. I love the way you get focused and bite your lip when you do. I love the way you care for me and make sure I am taking care of myself. How you make the effort to know my friends and family.” He continued while holding your wrist as if to make sure you don’t vanish into nothing. “Most importantly, I love you because of how you love me.” He concluded with a huff, Bokuto was frustrated that he needed to tell you all of this, but if he had to repeat these affirmations to you over and over like a mantra he would without hesitation. 

“Are you sure?” You question, biting your lip and avoiding Bokuto's eyes that always seem to find yours. “Yes, of course, I wouldn’t say anything I didn’t mean” He answers immediately after. “I want you in my life for eternity and so much more.”

[seijohsorbet]

ok but let's talk about the fact that ENNOSHITA is one of the strongest three in HAIKYUU at 35. The other 2 being Daichi and Iwaizumi. HOW DID ENNOSHITA END UP STRONGER THAN PEOPLE LIKE USHIJIMA AND BOKUTO!!! HOW?!?!?!. (Also sorry I've been away for awhile!!)

[cherrysurf]

Welcome to the Evara resort!

Glad you made it here safely hope you enjoyed your flight! don’t forget to read the the rules and intro! before you pick

now it’s time to pick one activity and one drink….

remember if it’s crossed out it’s off the list! apologies in advanced (if it’s crossed out but highlighted feel free to read the request)

-Here is a list of all of the inclusive activities we offer here at evara

paddle boarding

snorkeling

windsurfing

beach volleyball

waterskiing

comedy show

dance party after dark

sunrise yoga

-Here is our lovely selection of drinks

classic pinacolada

sunset margarita

strawberry mint mojito

Cold modelo beer with a lemon

mango shots with chamoy & tajín rim

Blue lagoon vodka slush

-a few non alcoholic beverages we offer!

Mango strawberry mint lemonade

peach agave iced tea

[cannibalsrider]

Goddess-

"i could be in music club instead of still managing the team"

status: tba(it’s soon likely in a week while I get it setup)

tags: Atsumu x manager!reader, Post timeskip!atsumu x Hairstylist!fem!fem reader, childhood friends to lovers, end of third year to somewhere

warnings: language, anime spoilers probs, grammar mistakes, everyone might be a bit OOC, slight parental issues, silliness,one-sided pining for awhile, sometimes might seem fast pasted but I'm only gonna do a set amount of chapters for it, warnings will vary for each chapter

taglist playlist

meet yn and the crayon eaters, and the danger train + didn't kita make this?

season one

coming soon

tba

..

..

..

..

..

..

season two

[capricornlevi]

fine lines & sunflowers - bokuto koutarou x reader

summary: you really should have known better than to make a bet with kenma -- now, you have to face your worst fear: getting a tattoo. To make matters worse, the artist - bokuto, your friends inform you - is apparently renowned for being unforgiving and harsh to newcomers. you need to see for yourself if he lives up to that reputation. timeskip bokuto!tattoo artist AU x reader.

cw: explicit sexual content, reader has a phobia of needles (not discussed in detail, but mentions of the phobia in the context of getting a tattoo), alcohol consumption (all sex is sober & consensual)

NSFW, 18+ - MDNI - MINORS and AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT!

wc: 8.2k

a/n: this is a birthday gift for my wonderful friend sofia @brainrot329 who is the world's most dedicated bokuto simp & also the most incredibly kind person i know ! happy birthday sofia !

___

The first thing you notice about the Black Jackal Tattoo Shop is how the neon sign above the entrance is so bright that it hurts your eyes. 

It’s late in the evening, the sun having set fully just over an hour ago, and the pavement is bathed in a bright purple glow that outshines any of the streetlights. It’s distracting, so much so that you wonder how their neighbours haven’t complained about it – but glancing at the bustling bars and liquor stores nearby, you can’t imagine they much mind. 

The second thing you notice is just how busy the place is. Even at this hour, every single one of the tables is occupied and there’s a line of people at the far end of the shop clearly awaiting their own turn. This was the last slot they had available and so you knew they were in high demand, but this goes beyond your expectations.

It’s just fifteen minutes before your appointment and so you hope that the queue will have thinned out by the time you head in. Obviously, you don’t mind waiting for a short while, but you don’t want to be here all night – more time spent queueing means more time to overthink. 

More time to start panicking. 

More time for you to chicken out or bolt away from the shop as though your life depended on it.

Even now, your legs threaten to buckle underneath you. Your pulse hammers in your ears, every shaky breath takes a great deal of effort. You’re terrified at what awaits you. 

But a bet’s a bet, and you lost it. You need to get this tattoo in order to face your friends with your head held high. 

And so it’s with a great deal of relief that the third thing you notice about Black Jackal is its obvious cleanliness. You swear you can see the floors sparkle from your vantage point on the other side of the street. The walls seem freshly painted - a nice dark blue colour, covered with golden-framed pictures of various intricate tattoo designs - and the artists are all sanitising the tables thoroughly when switching clients. 

Of course, you can’t tell all that much about a place from outside their door, but they certainly present themselves very professionally – nausea-inducing neon lights aside. 

You feel your phone buzz in your pocket. Reluctantly, you fish it out and check the notification despite knowing exactly what it will say.

Kenma: No backing out!

Kenma: But good luck <3

You wince and swear under your breath. Your long-time friend can be profoundly annoying at times like this, but you still type up a quick response to sate his curiosity – he’s probably waiting at his apartment with Kuroo and the others to see if you’ll actually follow through.

You: I’m waiting outside, I’ll text proof when it’s done

Three dots appear followed by a near-instantaneous response.

Kenma: Yay! Just don’t piss off Bokuto lol 

You sigh as you slip your phone back into your pocket and head to the nearby chain café to kill some time. 

In hindsight - perfect, glorious hindsight - you probably should have known better than to bet a professional streamer that you could beat him at Mortal Kombat. But in your defence, you’ve been playing the game since childhood and have won almost every single time - your win-to-loss ratio is somewhere in the region of ten to one - and it was far from Kenma’s favourite game, he rarely streamed it, so you figured you stood somewhat of a chance. 

And then one night, after far too many homemade cocktails served by Kuroo and Kenma in their shared apartment, you issued a challenge to the latter: the long-awaited Mortal Kombat tournament, best two out of three, and the rest of your friends would act as judges to ensure all rules were being followed.

If Kenma lost, he had to shave his head live on stream. His worst nightmare.

You, on the other hand, have always had a very vocal fear of needles and so you both quickly came to the same conclusion; if you lost (and you figured it unlikely), you committed to facing your own nightmares by getting a tattoo. 

To the shock of only you, Kenma won easily.

You sat in horrified silence for about a half-hour, only speaking up to accept the consolation shots of straight liquor that your friends diligently provided. 

You were just about to knock back yet another tequila when Kenma softened the blow just a little.

“You can pick the design, y’know,” he pointed out with a smile that only betrayed a hint of smugness. “I won’t make you get anything embarrassing.”

You scoffed, setting the empty shot glass down on their battered old coffee table. “I don’t even know where to start.”

“Heard that Black Jackal place across town is decent,” Alisa piped up. She’d been in your corner for most of the bet, so you took her opinion to heart.

The next day, once the worst of the hangover had passed, you messaged the shop on Instagram.

“ Hey!” you’d begun, wondering if they could sense your nerves through the screen. “ Just wondering if you have any upcoming slots for a small fine line?”

You already had an idea in mind for the design, having spent the morning browsing online with Anisa; firstly, it had to be the tiniest tattoo physically possible. Secondly, in an area that didn’t hurt that much – you picked your forearm, where the websites rated it on the low-medium scale for pain (though you had your doubts). 

You also had a fondness for sunflowers (as evidenced by the heavy-handed decor in your bedroom), so you spent hours perusing the “small sunflower tattoo” tab on Pinterest. 

You had narrowed it down to three or four possibilities which you promptly screenshotted and forwarded along with your message to Black Jackal, receiving a reply a short while later. You partially wished they’d just ghost you so you could put it off a bit longer, but unfortunately, they were very enthusiastic to help. 

“ Absolutely! We have a slot with Bokuto at 8.30 on Friday?”

Begrudgingly, you agreed.

You informed your friends of your plans the next day, announcing it over dinner with everyone in attendance as proof of your dedication.

Once you read the reply aloud, Kuroo inhaled sharply.

“ Bokuto ?” he asked, incredulous. His tone of voice concerned you deeply.

“Yes?” you answered slowly, scanning the room to see everyone’s expressions. “Why? Is there something wrong?”

Kuroo winced. “Nothing.”

Obviously, you weren’t too convinced. 

“Doesn’t sound like nothing.”

Your friend started to worry his lower lip between his teeth. “It’s just …he’s … renowned for having, uh, very high standards, basically. Kinda has a scary reputation.”

“What do you mean?” you frowned, mind already conjuring up an image of this apparently terrifying Bokuto. 

“I think I heard something like that … he takes the craft very seriously,” Lev piped up, sympathy written all over his face. “He’ll call you out if you’re too nervous or shaky.”

“And if you faint …” Kuroo trailed off uncomfortably and your blood ran cold in your veins. “My sister got her ankle tattoo there and nearly ran out in tears.” 

You had scowled then, rolling your eyes to act as though you didn’t care, but your heart started to race at a thousand miles an hour. 

“Just behave like you know what you’re doing and you’ll be fine,” Kenma interjected, at least trying to be helpful. “You’ve nothing to worry about. You’ll be in and out in like twenty minutes.”

You nodded half-heartedly, lifting your fork to your mouth and grimacing at the sudden cardboard-like texture your meal had taken on.

Half an hour. How bad could it be?

Now, standing at your original spot on the pavement with a warm latte cupped in your shivering hands, you start to think you weren’t half as scared then as you should have been. 

A tattoo. A tattoo. On your body, forever , and they do it with needles. 

And to top it all off, your tattoo artist is apparently a cranky perfectionist who scoffs and jeers at newbies. Wonderful.

You check the time and see you’ve about five minutes to go before you’re due inside. You knock back a large swig of your coffee, surmising that the extra shot of espresso will be of help rather than hurt.

Once the cup is empty and you feel your legs are stable enough to carry you, you cross the street. 

Approaching the entrance step by step, you feel the neon light wash over you as you reach for the handle. The mahogany door is surprisingly light - or maybe your adrenaline has given you superhuman strength - and before you’re even aware of what’s happening, you’ve closed it behind you and floated across the tiled floor to reach the front desk.

The receptionist seems to be finishing up a call and so you idle by the desk, trying to force something resembling a poker face.  

As she starts to take notes while speaking on the phone, you can’t help but notice the incredible sleeve of black-and-white designs all up her right arm – you’ve seen them before on Black Jackal ’s online portfolio. If memory serves, Bokuto was tagged as having done most of the work.

After about thirty more seconds she politely hangs up the phone, fixes the claw clip holding back her dark hair, and scribbles something on a piece of paper before looking up at you with a bright smile. Her enthusiasm seems so genuine that, for a moment, it takes the edge off your fear.

“Hi, I have a slot at 8.30?” you say, clearing your throat. “With Bokuto?”

Recognition dawns on her face. She says your name as a question – you nod, confirming.

“I was the one talking to you on Instagram!” she beams, gesturing for you to take the consent forms, “Bo took a look at the pictures you sent on and has a couple of stencils ready for you if you want to take a look while you’re waiting?”

You force a smile and nod again, accepting the additional papers she hands you. She asks if you need to hang up your jacket; you shrug it off, the cold air making the bare skin on your forearms prickle with goosebumps. 

As if it’s necessary, she follows up by gently asking; “is this your first tattoo?”

“Yes,” comes your choked reply. 

She leans in to take your jacket, giving your shoulder a quick reassuring squeeze as she does so. 

“You’ll be fine, I promise! If the discomfort was that bad, I wouldn’t have gotten all these,” she holds out her arm for you to get a closer look at the gorgeous patterns. “The hardest part is getting in the chair, and you’ve pretty much done that already!”

Her smile reaches her eyes and you feel immensely grateful to have her in your corner if you do faint on Bokuto’s table. 

“Thank you,” you reply sincerely, heading over to one of the benches at the end of the room to start perusing the forms. 

It’s all fairly standard for a disclaimer. None of the potential complications listed on the sheet gives you any cause for concern since you’ve stocked up on all the products you’ll need for aftercare.

Plus, it’s not the after part that scares you. It’s the during part, with the buzzing and the needles and the judgmental glances you’ll get if you let out a yelp - 

“Hey! How’re you doing?” a resoundingly cheery voice calls out above you. “You nearly done with the waivers?”

The unexpected greeting shocks you so much that you nearly drop the clipboard. You look up to see a very tall, very broad man grinning down at you expectantly, tattoos covering his arms except the parts obscured by his white t-shirt and black gloves, a shock of silver hair held back with a metal hairband to keep it from falling into his eyes as he works. Something on his mouth catches against the light, glistening – a silver ring on the right-hand side of his lower lip, shifting as his smile widens. 

He seems … different than you expected. More animated, more enthusiastic. 

“I’m Bokuto - Bo, if you prefer - and I don’t know if Kiyoko mentioned it, but I did up a few stencils … ah, you have them there, great!”

You sit there, blinking up at him and then flickering your gaze over to the door as if mapping out your exit strategy in case this interaction turns sour. 

Maybe the mean part comes later. Maybe it only starts when you’re up on the table. 

“Anything you want me to go through with you first?” he asks when you don’t reply, a thick brow arched in anticipation of your answer. 

“Uh, nothing on here,” you reply, cool as you can manage, holding out the consent form for him to take back to Kiyoko. You hadn’t had a chance to look at his designs yet, but you don’t think you really need to; the one at the top of the pile matches your mental image perfectly. “And I think I’ll go for, uh, this one … here . If that’s okay.”

You hold out your chosen design and he takes it, somehow still smiling despite your demeanour being flighty at best.

Frosty and rude, at worst.

“Great! My favourite too. I know we’re not supposed to say that - client is always right, ‘course - but I was hoping you’d pick that one! Wanna get started?”

He gestures to one of the middle tables before snapping off the gloves.

“These are just the ones I use to clean up,” he answers your unspoken question once you’ve gotten up from your seat and glanced at his tattooed hands. “I’ll sanitise fully before we start.”

You weren’t looking at the gloves. You were looking at the intricate art covering what seem to be strong and giant hands, but you see no point in telling him that.

You slowly approach the table as Bokuto goes to deliver your forms. 

Turns out, what you saw from the street didn’t even do the place justice; the area is surgically clean, not a speck of dirt of to be seen, and the plush surface of the table looks as close to comfortable as you could have hoped for. The ceiling is covered with grey tile and the overhead lighting complements it, bright enough for the artists to have visibility but not glaring to the point it gives you a headache like the street lighting did. 

The framed pictures on the wall are even more beautiful up close. 

The art by Bokuto’s station especially . 

You hop up and sit at the edge of the table, hands clutching the side of the cushion for dear life as if falling off could kill you. 

The artist at the table to your right glances over, his face impassive even through the black medical mask that he’s wearing. When you turn your head, the artist to the other side does the same, casting you a look that’s entirely neutral except for his dark brows which seem to be permanently furrowed.

Their behaviour is closer to what you expected Bokuto’s to be like; not quite rude, not quite mean, but so professional and deadpan that you can’t help but feel your inevitable breakdown would inconvenience them greatly.

“So, you decided on the placement?”

Somehow Bokuto’s voice startles you again, having been too fixated on his coworkers’ reactions, but you hide your surprise better this time. You don’t jump, just lift your head and look at him; true to his word, he’s putting the final touches on the sanitisation process before starting any other preparation. 

“Hm?”

He grins, not too bothered at having to repeat himself once more. “Have you picked where it’s gonna go? Because I might have to make some changes depending on your decision.”

“Oh, the inside of my forearm” you blurt out, holding it out to show him.

Your brusque and sudden response means it’s his turn to look up in surprise, but there’s no judgment on his face when he does so. Instead, it softens, golden eyes taking on a hint of sympathy. 

“You nervous?” he asks, more quietly this time.

“ No, not really, ” but your answer comes far too quickly, your face heating as the words leave you. The vice-like grip that you have on the table only further disproves your answer.

He chuckles knowingly as he pulls on a fresh pair of gloves. “You wouldn’t be the first, y’know.”

“I’m not that nervous,” you object futilely. “Really.”

Bokuto takes his seat and pulls it closer to you; partly because he seems to think eye contact will help (it does) and partly to shield you from any eavesdroppers at the tables next to you (he does so successfully).

“Seriously,” he says, quieter again. “You have absolutely nothing to worry about. If it’s too much, we stop. If you need a break, we stop. If you have any questions, I am more than happy to answer. Anything at all, no matter what. That sound okay?”

You nod instinctively but find yourself meaning it. He has a surprisingly calming presence, intimidating reputation aside. 

Maybe Kuroo isn’t a great judge of character.

“I’ll walk you through it, ‘kay? Just so you know what to expect,” he starts, and another nod from you shows you’re ready to hear the rest. “Firstly, since you want it here,” he leans over and points to your inner forearm, “we’ll need to have you lying on your back with your arm held out – we could do it sitting up, but this is more comfortable for us both since it’ll minimise any shaking.”

The table is quite comfortable. You’re with him so far.

“Then,” Bokuto continues, business-like but still kind in his delivery, “we’ll sanitise your arm and make sure the skin’s ready to be tattooed - it’s only a small area, so it shouldn’t take too long - and then we pop the stencil on. If you’re happy with it, I’ll get the last of the equipment ready and you just hold still for a while – it’ll be over before you know it. Sound good?”

The way he spells it out is a lot less intimidating than some of the resources you’ve read. He’s not being condescending, either, which is a huge plus – you know what you’re getting into, you’re not a child who needs to be consoled, but you’d just prefer for someone to speak to you like a human and just lay it out so you can mentally prepare.

Which Bokuto just did. Perfectly.

So in lieu of an answer, you lay down in the position he described, and try, for the first time, to return a smile.

He seems delighted as he pushes his chair back out to double-check the supplies.  “Alright! Let’s get this started!”

Staring up at the ceiling, you try to count the tiles to keep your mind occupied. Bokuto’s hands are gentle as he cleans the skin and applies the stencil but your arm still tenses under his touch.

He notices. “All okay?”

“Yep,” you murmur, starting your counting again. 

One tile, two, three -

“This look okay to you?” he inquires, and you pull your eyes away from the ceiling to check the design.

To his credit, it’s perfect. A bit bigger than you expected, but you can see now that changing the size would mean losing out on some of the detailing. 

It’s better than any of the ones you’d seen on Pinterest and you tell him as much. He laughs heartily, with such sincerity and energy that it’s almost contagious.

You rest your head back down and start focusing on counting the next set of tiles. 

No panicking. Not now. You’re nearly there.

Four tiles, five, six, seven -

Bokuto makes a few small adjustments. Your breath quickens. 

It’s so close to being over. Just grin and bear it. 

Eight tiles, nine - 

The needle starts to whirr.

It hits you all at once: a gut-wrenching burst of panic so strong it feels as though it could stop your heart from beating, and you bolt upright before the needle makes contact with your skin, already shaking like a leaf.

Everything’s too much now. The lights, the sounds of buzzing needles, even the low mumbling of the people conversing at the tables next to you – it all mixes into a terrifying cacophony that overloads your senses.

But contrary to what Kuroo and the others had told you, Bokuto doesn’t scold you. He doesn’t laugh, either. He doesn’t even look disappointed. He’s pulled back a little - just enough to give you some breathing space - but other than that, he’s the same. A soft smile, kind eyes, and it gives the impression that he has all the time in the world to help you. 

As nice as it is, it somehow adds to your humiliation. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” you whisper, still trembling. You cover your face with your hands. “I’m sorry . I just … need a moment.”

“Why are you sorry?” he asks, genuinely puzzled. He sets the needle down in its place. “There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

What does he mean? He just saw your reaction, how is he so unbothered by it?

“Well, mostly sorry for … for that, ” you answer with a humourless laugh, finally moving your hands away from your face. “For freaking out, for losing it just there … god, I nearly jumped off the damn table .”

He huffs out a short laugh. “And? You wouldn’t be the first, that’s for sure – not the first today, even.”

You rub your eyes forlornly. “I just - it got very real all of a sudden. Too real. I’m sorry.”

He waves off your apology kindly but firmly. 

“No more sorry, alright?” 

Adrenaline still coursing through your veins, you find it in yourself to agree quietly. No more apologising. That much you can do. 

“And just so you know,” he continues. “I’m not in the business of tattooing people against their will. If you’ve changed your mind, that is absolutely and completely fine – can’t stress enough how fine it would be. We can even try another day, I can get this stencil off you-”

“No, no,” you interrupt, your mind clearing just enough for you to object. All things considered, you actually really, really liked the look of the stencil on your skin. You want this tattoo. You want to be able to go back to your friends with your head held high. You want to do this for yourself. “I want to do it today.”

“Okay,” he notes in agreement, meeting your gaze. “Then how are we gonna make this work?”

It’s quiet for a moment as you consider your next step. You wonder if Bokuto knows just how much this eye contact is helping to keep you from dying of embarrassment. 

You start to explain your fear in a way that hopefully sounds more articulate than the vague screaming that’s going on in your head. 

“I don’t know if this makes sense, but it’s not the pain that bothers me so much as the needle. All my life, it was never the shot itself that freaked me out, just the sight of the needle coming towards me.”

“I get it. Pain isn’t the issue, really, but looking at this ,” he gestures to the tattoo gun, “isn’t helping you get your mind off things?”

You swallow thickly. “Yeah, pretty much.”

“Well, how about you tilt your head the other way? Akaashi’s about to clock out so you won’t be looking at his mean face for too long,” - at that, the man next to you stops cleaning the table and scowls - “and if you want, I’ll just keep talking so you’re not just staring at the wall for half an hour and you’re not focusing on the sound of the needle. If I need you to check anything - linework, shading - I’ll ask, and try and keep the needle out of the way for you. Whatcha think?”

Maybe it’s just the surge of intense emotion starting to subside, but the offer could just bring you to tears. There’s no pressure, no judgment. Just support and encouragement. 

You can do it. You know you can do it. 

“Sounds doable,” you answer after a slow, steadying breath. You lay down and tilt your head, seeing the tables next to you now clear. “Let’s do it.”

And this time, you don’t so much as flinch. 

The tattooing itself doesn’t really hurt at all. It’s not the most comfortable sensation in the world, but it’s not painful by any measure, likely helped by the fact that you don’t catch sight of the needle for most of it. 

Bokuto talks to you, and you find yourself chatting back with increasing casualness. The topics vary; work, family, how Akaashi used to be equally frightened of needles even though he vehemently denies it. It helps keep your thoughts clear. 

You ask him the tattoo questions that you weren’t able to find the answers for on Google, knowing his reply will be honest. 

He tells you a few college stories. One or two of them sound eerily familiar, but you don’t question it.

He asks you about your friends and about the bet that led you here. You give him the condensed version, explaining that the result was actually a lot closer than your friends had said and that if you had gone for best three out of five, you might’ve just won it. 

You ask about his lip ring, if it hurt to get it done. He says it didn’t. 

Your anxiety ebbs and flows throughout, but you don’t let it surface. Every time you feel panic surge through your chest you just ask Bokuto another question, letting his deep voice carry you away from the fear. 

Just as you’re about to chime in with another question about his first tattoo, he interrupts first. 

“ And … all … done.”

It feels as though only two or three minutes have passed, so thick shock envelops you as you ask incredulously, “ done ?” 

“Done,” he confirms, setting the needle down and starting on the aftercare. “If you’re happy with it, that is?”

You glance at your arm and can’t hold back a gasp at what you see. It’s as though Bokuto reached into your mind and recreated your idea perfectly.

You spend a few minutes admiring it as he cleans up, chatting excitedly as the thrill is yet to wear off, and you feel a strange disappointment knowing it's time to part ways.

Still, you don’t let it show, thanking him and tipping generously when it's time to settle up, saying your goodbyes to Kiyoko too before collecting your jacket.

Once you’re out the door, you snap a picture of your outstretched arm with the perfect tattoo in centre frame and send it into the groupchat, riding the high of your achievement. 

You: Told ya <3

Seconds pass before the replies start to flood in. 

Kenma: Holy shit you actually did it, I’m impressed

Lev: And she delivers! 👏

Alisa: ^^^^^ shut UP we knew she’d follow through 

Alisa: it looks amazing ahhhhh!!!!!

Kuroo: who’s “we” in this scenario

Alisa: shouldn’t u be saving this energy for twitter fights tetsuuuu 

___

To commemorate you successfully facing your fears, the gang all make plans to go for drinks the next day. In fact, Kenma’s so impressed that you followed through on the bet that he agrees to pick up the tab – Kuroo is delighted with you as a result. 

The table is reserved for the entire night and Alisa, Lev, and Yaku are driving separately there so you’re able to travel in one cab. Kuroo and Kenma spend the entire journey inspecting your tattoo, fully visible with the short-sleeved dress you chose for the evening since the protective wrap has been removed.

“Holy shit, it’s real, ” Kenma mutters, peering closer at the sunflower design.  

You laugh a little, taken aback at the continually disbelieving attitude he has towards it. “Yeah? Lots of people have tattoos - Lev has one. Alisa has four. ” 

“Yeah, but,” Kenma answers with a shake of his head. “It was your worst fear. I would have never shaved my head, y’know? Over some little bet, are you kidding?”

“Oh, you would have,” you grin, glancing over at Kuroo’s knowing expression. “We might have needed to be a bit persuasive, though . ”

Out of respect and perhaps just a bit of fear, he’s the first to leave the taxi once it’s parked and he makes a beeline to the counter to get your first drink.

The bar is busy but not too crowded, typical for this early in the night in this part of town – close enough to Black Jackal, come to think of it, and you could probably see the purple neon lighting if you peered out one of the windows. 

You let yourself enjoy the buzzing atmosphere as Alisa and Yaku take you out back to go dancing. The hours trickle by without you noticing. 

Once you’re teetering at the edge of being out of breath, you decide it’s best to get another drink. The others all join you, with Kenma going first to make sure the tab’s still open. 

The queue by the bar counter has thinned a bit since most people have made their way to the open floor to dance and chat. It’s relatively peaceful, so you tell yourself that’s the reason why you’re able to pick out the familiar head of silver hair with such alarming quickness. 

There are about six or seven people standing between you, most of whom seem to be other artists from the tattoo shop, but Bokuto’s the only one you zone in on. 

It makes sense that you’d bump into him in this place. Obviously, he’d come here after finishing work since it’s so close by. You’re not sure how you didn’t expect it.

You’re also not sure why you feel a sudden and peculiar sensation brewing in your chest, radiating out in waves, intensifying every time you think you’ve caught his eye.

You grab Alisa’s arm, pulling her to the side to inform her of the sudden development. 

“Bokuto’s here,” you whisper into her ear, sounding almost startled for some unknown reason. Your own tone of voice takes you by surprise. 

“What?” she calls out as she leans in closer, unable to hear you over the music. “ Whatcha say? ”

“Bokuto’s here, but I need a moment before I go say hi, ” you whisper louder this time, almost at regular volume. You can only hope that nobody but Alisa understands the implications of what you’re saying. 

But naturally, Kuroo picks up on your conversation with relative ease.

“Bokuto?” he asks far too loudly, glancing around in an entirely unsubtle way. “Where? Did you know he was coming?”

Heat floods your face and neck. “ Yes, Bokuto,” your scowl deepens, “and no, I didn’t know he was coming, you utter-”

Kuroo raises his hands in defence, a mischievous smirk etched on his face. “Hey, just asking! Maybe you took a shine to each other, how was I supposed to know?”

That hits a nerve for reasons you don’t quite understand. You keep your face as impassive as possible to avoid detection – you don’t really want to explore these feelings in such a public setting since you don’t even know what they are. Residual nerves, maybe?

“Why would you think that, Tetsu? You’re the one who expected I’d faint on the table.”

Kuroo has an immediate answer to your question. 

“I kinda figured you’d get along, to be honest,” he admits with more than a little smugness. “So wouldn’t be too surprised if you had invited him.”

You baulk at his suggestion. “No, you didn’t! You said he’d be a dick!”

He laughs heartily, throwing his head back as he does so, and you start to piece things together. 

“Do you - do you know him?”

“Yep!” Kuroo chirps. “Played volleyball with him in college.”

Your eye twitches. If you hadn’t been friends with Kuroo since your schooldays, you’d probably hurl your drink at him out of sheer frustration. 

Even as it stands, the jury’s still out on the drink-throwing. 

Hearing Kuroo’s howls of laughter, the others have now made their way into the conversation. 

Wonderful. You’re starting to worry the loud music won’t be enough to obscure the conversation from the parties concerned. 

“I was messing with you!” Kuroo clarifies, though it’s not really necessary at this point. “Bokuto’s a good guy. You probably could’ve spontaneously combusted with fear and he would’ve been the one to apologise for stressing you out.”

“You what?” Alisa gasps. She was out of the loop up until this very moment; her indignation on your behalf is quite satisfying. 

“I thought you all knew!” Kuroo replies after knocking back half of his beer, cheeks flushed from the alcohol. As if his tongue needed to get any looser.

You scoff. “I didn’t! Nobody ever knows when you’re messing with them!”

“And how did Kenma and Lev know what you were talking about?” Alisa asks, throwing an accusatory look at her brother.

Kenma shrugs, answering on Lev’s behalf too. “There are a few artists down there with a reputation for being harsh, and I assumed from Tetsu’s reaction it was Bokuto … but I actually was thinking of someone else, I guess. A friend of a friend with a bad case of resting-bitch-face? A - Akaashi something?”

You glance at the surly-looking man standing next to Bokuto and it all finally falls into place.

“So I acted like a complete freak for no reason?” you ask despairingly. 

With a grimace, you remember your monosyllabic answers to Bokuto’s initial questions, how you acted like a deer in headlights at every step of the process, how it took intensive intervention on his part to even get you back in the chair. 

Your friends jump to your defence. 

“You weren’t a freak- ”

“I’m sure you weren’t that bad-”

“Tetsu, you can be the actual worst- ”

It seems as though the rest of the group were about to settle into scolding Kuroo when you catch sight of Bokuto approaching, grinning as usual, lip ring glinting in the low lighting. 

It takes a second for you to actually comprehend he’s heading towards you and not Kuroo. 

Mercifully, the rest of your friends seem to realise it as soon as you do; they start to collect their drinks and get out of your way, Kuroo stopping for just a moment to greet his old friend - you still can’t believe you hadn’t figured it out earlier - before whispering something in his ear that makes Bokuto’s gaze flicker over to you. 

Oh, if he’s told something embarrassing, you’ll actually kill him. Before you can react to whatever Kuroo’s said, he turns and gives you a quick wink before joining the rest of the group on the dancefloor.

“Hey!” 

Bokuto’s greeting is cheery and bright, which should be encouraging were it not for the fact that it seems to be his default setting. 

His hair is loose now, the metal hairband clearly only for work purposes, and the silver strands that frame his face seem so impossibly soft you have to fight back the urge to run your hand through it.

Here. 

At a bar, in front of everyone.

Oh, so that’s what that feeling is.

“Hey!” you try to return his enthusiasm, ignoring the twisting in your gut from the looming realisation that you have a crush on the man you were terrified of not twenty-four hours ago. 

And he knows you were terrified of him, too. Probably still thinks you are. 

“So, Kuro was just telling me you know each other?” Bokuto beams. “Shoulda let me know! Could’ve told you a few embarrassing stories about him from college … and I probably did, come to think of it, but didn’t give any names yesterday. More than happy to now, though?”

A frazzled laugh slips out in spite of everything. “Yeah, we’ve been friends since we were little kids.” You pause for just a moment, considering his words. “But I’ll definitely take you up on that offer if it’s still open.”

“Oh, it absolutely is. Do you have about six hours spare to hear them all?” he hesitates for a split-second, looking more nervous than you think you’ve seen him. It passes soon, however, when he gets the words out; “... maybe over a drink?”

Oh . 

Okay. 

So it’s not just you who feels like this.  

Relief hits you first. Then a little gleeful sensation that you haven’t felt in a long while, followed by a burst of anxiety – but you’re not going to overthink this part, you assure yourself. There’s no point. It’ll just get you as worked up as it did yesterday, and then you’ll be filled with something worse than fear or embarrassment: regret . 

Besides, Bokuto seems just as he did during the session yesterday. There’s no impatience, no ‘ oh god I have to calm down this random person who’s gotten themselves stressed out for no reason’, no sign that he’s feeling anything other than enthusiasm at getting to have this conversation.

And so you happily add two more drinks to Kenma’s tab. 

“By the way … Kuro never actually told me that he knew you ,” you explain finally, once Bokuto’s finished one of his college stories. You’re not drunk, barely even tipsy, but the glass of wine has definitely made it easier for you to flirt back. “If I’d known, I probably would’ve tried to put on a braver face yesterday.”

“Are you kidding? You took it like a champ.”

You roll your eyes without any malice. “ No , I didn’t.”

“You did!” he insists. 

“I didn’t. ”

“Yes, you did.”

You scoff. “Well, if I did, it’s thanks to you .”

His eyes glint as they scan your face. “Whatcha mean?”

“You kept me sane. Couldn’t have done it if it weren’t for you, honestly.”

You lift a hand and rest it against his tattooed forearm, surprised at the taut muscles that flex under your touch. 

Brave. You can be brave for the second day in a row.

“You up for another?”

___

After you buy two more drinks, things move so quickly that neither of you even gets to finish them.

You’re not sure who made the first move - it might have been him, with the way his eyes sought out your lips at every possible opportunity; or it might have been you, with the way your hand didn’t budge from its place resting against his arm - but all that’s important is that one of you did make it.

Or maybe both of you did.

But it doesn’t matter, because now you’re outside the bar with your back pressed up against the cool stone wall, making out like a couple of desperate teenagers.

Despite the cold air surrounding you, everything feels hot; Bokuto’s lips crushing against yours, his tongue tracing against your kiss-swollen mouth, his hands on your waist as they pull you closer. 

Your skin almost burns under his touch. You get lost in it. 

It’s only when he pulls away, expression torn as though it pains him to do it, that you manage to collect your thoughts into some coherent order. 

You’ve long moved past the tipsy sensation you felt earlier, but your head spins for a different reason as you brace yourself against his strong shoulders, feeling light-headed in the best way possible. 

“Wanna-” he begins, pausing as if worried you’ll say no. You’re already nodding before he even finishes the sentence, and he laughs before leaning in to kiss you again.

“Where do you live?” you ask, pulling back a millimetre or two, and he answers. “My place is closer,” you explain then, tugging him away towards the street to flag down a taxi. 

In the cab, you check your phone as Bokuto rests a hand on your thigh, hoping to fire off a quick text to Alisa to let her know where you’ve gone.

Instead, you see that Kuroo, obviously having felt a little guilty from earlier, has sent you a couple of messages expressing his remorse. 

Kuroo: You okay?

Kuroo: Sorry for messing with you. Bo’s a good guy. he won’t give you a tough time about anything

Kuroo: I think you’ll really like him

You grin. He has no idea. 

You: All fine, and all is forgiven 

You: Your peer pressure paid off for once

You: Just don’t do it again or I’m pretty sure Alisa will kill you :)

With that, you slip your phone back into your pocket and rest your hand over Bokuto’s.

The very moment you pass the threshold of your apartment, his mouth is on you once again; the cool metal of his lip ring contrasts with the heat of the kiss, sending pulses of desire through your core. Your flick against it with your tongue and his eyes darken delightedly, pupils blown out with desire matching your own. 

It doesn’t take long for the two of you to reach the bedroom, shedding clothes down the hallway as you do so - a shirt tossed here, a pair of shoes thrown there - and soon you’re collapsing onto your bed in a messy tangle of limbs and bitten-off moans.

After a few moments, lifts his head up and grins, eyes travelling around your room. Your head rests against the pillow as you try to follow his gaze to see what exactly he’s looking at.

“Makes sense,” he mumbles fondly. “The design for your tattoo.”

Glancing at your sunflower-covered bedspread, the pressed petals framed on the wall, and the various other splashes of sunny yellow decorating your room, you accept his point with an airy laugh.

However, you’re not willing to dwell on it for too much longer – there are more pressing things at hand. Finally, you lift a trembling hand and tangle it in his hair, finding that it’s somehow softer than you even imagined.

You move your lips to this throat to kiss and suck and bite, and without you having to ask, he tips his head back to allow you more room, whispering your name in a heated and desperately low voice. He hisses as your pecks against his skin turn a little firmer, knowing there’d be a mark left were it not for the tattoos trailing up his neck. Now that he’s not wearing anything, you see the design trails down the broad expanse of his chest, over his firm pecs, further down until - 

He pulls you up into his lap and you let out a startled yelp that quickly turns into an almost pitiful mewl of pleasure. You rock back and forth against one of his impossibly thick thighs, marvelling at the solid muscle of his body as he takes your hips in his hands and guides your movements. 

You spend the next few minutes like this, grinding helplessly against him as tears prickle at the corners of your eyes, with him just watching you with an expression that can only be described as awe-struck. He pays no attention to bulge in his own underwear, even though it’s so hard it looks almost painful – he is fixated on you, on your reactions, on the movements that draw desperate little breaths from you and the ones that make your back arch further. 

“Feel good?” he asks, almost dazed, hands running slowly up and down your thighs as you fuck yourself against him. 

“Mmhmm,” you answer – redundantly, given the other sounds that flow from your lips, “need more, though, p-please.”

He doesn’t need any further instruction, flipping you to lie flat on your back and going to spread your thighs which part easily for him.

Turns out he’s more than talented with his tongue as well. 

After what seems like hours of him taking you apart - of you gasping when the lip ring grazes against your sensitive flesh, of you begging for his fingers which he angles just right, of him voicing his own approval at your moans and taste and the way your thighs tighten around his face - he finally sits back on his haunches and gives you a look that you instantly recognise.

Eagerly, you roll onto your side and fetch a condom from the box in the nightstand. When you hand it to him, he finally, finally, slips out of his underwear - you can’t help how your eyes widen at the sight - then only just about manages to put on the condom before you hook your legs around his lower back and pull him on top of you. 

Although he lets out a chuckle at your enthusiasm, he angles you so carefully, and you realise with a soft ache in your chest that he’s trying his best to avoid touching the still-raw skin near your tattoo.

“It’s fine,” you whisper breathily. “It doesn’t hurt anymore.”

He replies by raising your arm so it’s resting by your head on the pillow. “Still, if you need to take a break or stop, just say, ‘kay?”

You agree without hesitation. 

Then, he brings his hips down until they’re flush against your own, his cock slowly and tantalisingly pushing through your folds to allow the anticipation to build (and for you to adjust to his size). But after how long he’s spent preparing you, he’s met with absolutely no resistance – on the contrary, you find yourself mumbling incoherent, slurred words that sound an awful lot like begging. 

“Can - can you-”

He kisses your jawline, the sensation of the ring making you shiver once again. “Can I what, hm?”

“Can you please-” a short, shallow thrust has you gasping mid-sentence, “ please fuck me?”

You almost cry out when he starts to thrust in earnest, slowly at first and then quicker and quicker once he fully surrenders to his own desperation. The obscene sound of skin slapping against skin mixed with breathy moans and gasps start to echo around you, along with the tell-tale banging of your headboard against the wall. 

His thrusts grow hard, almost punishing, but the way he cups your face tenderly in his hands shows that his intentions are not to overwhelm but to give you what you need; you hadn’t realised it, but your hips had started to cant up to meet his every stroke. 

He praises you, too. Tells you how good you feel, how well you’re taking him, how he could do this forever. Every word out of his mouth makes you grip him tighter, your nails undoubtedly leaving marks against his shoulders. 

It doesn’t take long for you to come for him again. He doesn’t stop or slow down his movement; he lets you whimper and cry out against his muscled chest as you come down from your high, holding you close as his thrusts turn sloppy and erratic. 

He curses through gritted teeth as he comes, letting out a low moan that sends aftershocks through you. He thrusts deep and stays there; his face in that moment, so blissful and fucked-out, is one of the most gorgeous things you think you’ve ever seen. 

You stay like that for a while, boneless and utterly content, before he goes to remove the condom and wash up as you catch your breath.

When he returns, there’s no awkwardness. No overthinking. You ask for him to stay the night, and he does. He sleeps soundly in your bed with his arms wrapped around you.

It’s a strange sort of comfort you don’t often find with people, let alone someone you barely know. But he makes it easy to get to know him, and you’re all too delighted to learn more.

He stays for a while the next morning. He cooks breakfast, you make the coffee.

Things are much more straightforward from that point on.

___

You get your second tattoo exactly a year later. 

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t still a little nervous at the prospect of a needle so close to you, but it pales in comparison to the anxiety of your first one. This time, you find yourself looking forward to it more than you do worry. 

“Ready for round two?” Bokuto asks, pressing a kiss to your forehead before starting to get the station set up. The shop is closed, the manager having let you stay late for the occasion, and the peace and quiet only add to your newfound level-headedness. 

Just you and Bokuto. You can do this. 

You nod without hesitation, lying back on the table as though you’re a seasoned veteran. “No freaking out this time.”

He rolls his eyes in mock annoyance but the affectionate laughter cuts through it. “Still think I’m scary, huh?”

You shrug. “Not as much anymore.”

“Well, guess I can live with that.” 

When the needle starts to whirr, it doesn’t make you jump. There’s no feeling of panic or dread.

This tattoo is over quickly, like the last one, but it’s far more meaningful – you like sunflowers, sure, but you like this one better. You didn’t need to over-analyse the design since you can see exactly what it looks like on someone else.

Bokuto has an identical one freshly tattooed on his ring finger. 

[shoyospikes]

gonna watch the hq movie this week

IM SO BEHIND I FEEL LIKE EVERYONES ALREADY WATCHED IT 😫

[tahiti-island-dream]

Pickup Line Madness Pt. 5

Type: Fluff
Pairing: Bokuto x reader, Akaashi x reader
Summary/Request: the hq boys try pickup lines/ Bo scares you, Keiji tries his best

~MAIN MASTERLIST~  ~HQ MASTERLIST 2~

Bokuto

Akaashi

[zumicho]

SEASON ONE: PILOT — FAMILIAR FACES

author’s note: osamu’s not an asshole he just doesn’t deal well with attitude guys I promise my man is fine he’s respectful and polite (most of the time) !! + the episodes will get longer promise. to prevent confusion I recommend reading the contact names before the convo, & the tweets from bottom to top (the correct order lol)

GUESTLIST @causenessus @guitarstringed-scars @cloudybillows @s1ckntw1st3d @suna-rins-sunshine @hyenagoated @hibernatinghamster @yogurtkags @acowboykisser @yukatoraa @fishrene @iwaizluv @iluvmang @neoclb @kr1nqu @lvtilzs @wave2mia @zahrawr-writes-fanfics @bubooo @bectoshi @gra-eae @cr4yolaas @cloooudddy1 @jaynawayna @ryuverse @miliondollagirl @soulfullystarry @fiannee @yumiecheesecrackers @ast4rg1rl @eujoana89 @whenanafallsinlove @arraxthatsonjah @spencerpng @staileykout

[psychokittycat101]

Guys I need help, I want to read fanfics where Y/n is either the Manager of MSBY or All Japan Team, please help me I can’t find any 😭

[millenialfanfictionaddiction]

Being Bokuto’s Pregnant Partner:

Going Into Labor

Timeskip! MSBY Kotaro Bokuto x GN! pregnant Reader

Warnings: Pregnancy, swearing

***everyone’s pregnancy experience is different. This is a combination of my experience as well as personal friends accounts

WC: ~2k

AN: not sure why I wrote this but it just kinda came to me 😅 also I know the picture isn’t timeskip Bokuto but also, tell me this ISNT timeskip Bokuto 🤔

Honestly, this is probably the worst case scenario. You’d prepared yourself for everything leading up to this point, the bags were packed and ready, the car seat was installed, you’re postpartum popsicle pads were marinating in the freezer. You had been ready for this baby to come, but what you were ready for was your water to break an hour before an MSBY Black Jackals game.

Your husband, Kotaro Bokuto, was the Jackals winged spiker and you knew exactly how much he loved the game of volleyball. In fact, you probably knew this more than most. At your wedding, Kotaro insisted that you include “volleyball” wherever you could in your vows. So while most people said “in sickness and health”, you said “in sickness and health, through volleyball season”. Not that any of that bothered you, Kotaro loved his sport and you had grown to love it too. You loved going to games, cheering your man on and even traveling with the team occasionally. So when you and Bokuto planned to start a family, you tried to plan accordingly and out of volleyball season. However, things don’t always go as planned, which is why you were knee deep in play off season with a 38 week belly the size of an entire volleyball team.

“Shit!” You cursed as you went to your bedroom to change pants and try to form a plan of attack. Your doctor had told you that if your water had broken that you needed to try to get to the hospital within a few hours. So far, you hadn’t had any contractions but you knew that your situation could change at any moment. While you were pondering your next move, your phone rang. Picking it up, you slide your finger across the screen and answered.

“Hey Yn, I just wanted to let you know what seats I’m in so you don’t have to wander around,”Keiji Akaashi, Bokuto’s best friend said.

“Umm slight change of plans Keiji, my waters just broke,” you respond, teeth gritted.

A short pause followed by a sigh broke through the receiver as Akaashi spoke, “did you tell him yet? Have you called the hospital?” You could tell he was walking, hearing voices and his breathing increase as he made his way out of the stadium.

“I just changed my pants when you called. I was about to call the hospital. I’m not having contractions right now so I think we are good,” you repeat as Akaashi gives you a hum of confirmation.

“And you’ve called Bokuto?” He repeated as you grew silent, you lack of a response all Akaashi need for confirmation.

“YN?”

You had been thinking about how to approach the subject of your water breaking with your dear husband. While of course you knew Bokuto would want to be there, you also knew he’d be upset if he missed his game, especially since you weren’t in active labor.

“I know I need to tell him Keiji but he doesn’t need to come to the hospital right now. He could still play in the game and if things change, I’m sure Meian would let him leave. There’s plenty of subs that can take his place,” you say, finishing up the last minute tasks before you find a way to head to the hospital.

Silence filled the call as Akaashi thought through your plan. He knew Bokuto as well, if not better than you did and he knew your plan was thought out.

“Ok Yn, how about you call him and I’ll come take you to the hospital and stay with you until he gets there?”

You sighed in relief as you sat down on the chair in your kitchen and nodded to yourself, “Thanks Keiji! Text me when you get here and I’ll meet you downstairs ok?” You bid Akaashi farewell as you pulled up your husbands contact and hit call.

It rang twice before the cherry voice of your hyped up hubby filled the air.

“Hey hey hey baby! Did you need help finding Akaashi?” He cheered, the background noise of the locker room filling the call.

“Hey love, umm so please don’t panic,” you say through gritted teeth as the receiver goes silent, “my waters broke at home. But- BUT I’m not in labor and I’m feeling fine! Akaashi is coming to get me and take me to the hospital.”

Silence continued to fill the phone as you pulled your phone away from your ear to check that the call was still connected. You had never heard Kotaro so quiet in all your life, not even during his worst emo mode.

“Kotaro? Are you still there?”

Suddenly a panic “WHAT?” sounded in your ear as you pulled the phone away. You shouldn’t have been surprised as you heard Kotaro shouting and his teammates gather around him.

“Bokuto what the hell man chill out!” You heard Inunaki shout into the phone. You could hear the incoherent ramblings of your husband in the background as his teammates tried to calm him down.

“Put the phone on speaker!” Someone shouted as suddenly several male voices boomed.

“Hello? YN, what’s wrong? You good? Bokuto is pulling his stuff from his locker and we don’t know what’s going on,” Meian asked as you sighed deeply and palmed your face. You knew this would happen, which was why you thought carefully about even telling Kotaro in the first place. Sure you wanted him there by your side but you also knew your labor might be long and that your husband wasn’t exactly know for his patience.

“Hey Shugo, first off, I’m fine but my waters did break. I’m not having contractions and Akaashi just texted me saying he’s here. He’s taking me to the hospital,” you repeat as you grab your big and keys.

“Well shit, umm ok what do you need from us? The game starts in 45 minutes,” he questions as you head to the elevator, feeling more water leak from between your legs. Thankfully you have put a pad on when you changed your pants.

“Ok first off, don’t panic. If Kotaro wants to play in the game he can. I’ll probably be at the hospital for a while before anything happens so we have a lot of time,” you say as Meian silently listens, “I don’t think it will do any good to have a hyper Kotaro just standing around while the hospital is getting things going.”

“Makes sense Yn, ok I’ll talk to him and see what he wants to do. I’ll have coach keep his phone on the bench, if you need anything, call him ok?” Meian repeats as you nod, heading into Akaashi’s car.

“Thanks Shugo, I appreciate it!”

“No problem Yn! Good luck!” He says before hanging up the phone as Akashi begins to drive off the hospital.

Meanwhile, your husband is freaking out, and ready to run to the hospital if he has too. He wants to be there, wants to support you in anyway he can.

“Bokuto, YN’s fine. Akaashi is taking YN to the hospital as we speak. It’s going to take a while so, if you want, you can play in the game and then leave for the hospital,” Meian suggests as Bokuto’s head shots up to meet his eyes.

“I CANT JUST LET YN ALONE!” He screeches as Sakusa rolls his eyes, stepping forward to sit next to him.

“Bokuto Yn is fine. Trust me, just because their waters broke doesn’t mean the baby is coming right now. My partner and I were in the hospital for 2 days before our kid was born,” he said trying to calm his feral teammate down.

“But what if YN has the baby and I’m not there?” Bokuto sobs, big golden eyes glazing with tears.

“Dude that’s not going to happen ok? Akaashi has Yn and he’s going to call if anything happens. If it does, you can leave right away. It’s literally 10 minutes to the hospital from here,” Atsumu says, trying to reassure his spiker, “plus if we win this game fast, then you can get to the hospital sooner.”

Bokuto perked up, his eyes drying instantly as he stood quickly, “well come on then! We’ve got a game to win!”

It had been 2 hours since you’d arrived at the hospital. The doctors and nurses had been fussing over you so much that you hadn’t even had time to turn on the Tv to watch your husbands game. Akaashi had left quickly to grab something to eat while you were getting set up.

“Can you turn the TV on please? My husband is playing in a game and I’d like to watch if possible,” you asked the nurse as she politely nodded and grabbed the remote, handing it to you.

You listened to the drum of your babies heartbeat as you quietly relaxed into the bed, the nurse starting the pitocin to help further along your progress. You flipped through channels, unable to find the game as you silently pouted. The nurse looked down at you as you continued to search.

“What does your husband play?” She asked.

“Professional volleyball. He’s a spiker for the MSBY Black Jackals,” you happily hummed as you continued to search for the game.

“Oh I knew I recognized your surname! Your husband is Kotaro Bokuto right? Sorry to tell you this sweetheart but that game ended 30 minutes ago,” she responded as you looked at her with confusion. As you went to speak, the door of your hospital room burst open as Kotaro stood in his MSBY gear. Your eyes widened at your husbands state as he raced to your side, grabbing your hand and squeezing.

“Kotaro? What the hell?” You shouted, shocked at your husbands state as Akaashi silently came into the hospital room.

“Hey hey hey baby! How are you doing? Are you ok? How’s the baby?” Kotaro shouted, ignoring your questions as you looked from him to Akaashi. Akaashi had sat down, shaking his head back and forth.

“I’m fine Ko, but umm back to my question,” you chimed.

“Oh the game? Yeah we won in straight sets,” Kotaro cheered as he pulled the chair close to you.

“Kotaro you won three sets straight in an hour and a half? Is that even possible?” You questioned as Akaashi nodded.

“Bokuto was unstoppable YN. First two sets finished in under an hour.”

“The last one took longer because the other team was stubborn but I blasted through with liners and cross shots. Plus Hinata and Sakusa were on point too!” Bokuto smiled, “I would have been here even faster if I wouldn’t have been stopped by the reporters. I told them you were in labor and that I had to go!”

“And you didn’t think to maybe shower or change before you came?” You noted as your husband looked down at himself, seemingly not noticing his disheveled and sweaty appearance.

“Oh I totally forgot about that!” He grinned as you rolled your eyes and Akaashi palmed his face.

“We’ll go and shower in the bathroom ok? I’m not having you hold our baby when you are gross and sweaty!”

“But YN- what if something happens while I’m showering?” He pouts as you grab his hand and squeeze.

“Ko, I promise nothing will happen, now go before I need you,” you prompted as your husband jumped up and ran to the bathroom, grabbing his bag on the way. The door shuts and those shower sounds as you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“We’re you nervous he wouldn’t get here YN?” Akaashi asked as you shook your head.

“Not really, I was more nervous I’d get a call from Meian saying that he went full emo mode during the first set and that did turn on the TV to see my husband sulking on the bench,” you laughed as Akaashi chuckled.

“I don’t think anything but winning that game and getting to you crossed his mind YN,” Akaashi responded and smiled, happy your husband was finally with you.

“Nah YN, I really don’t think anything could bring that guy down right now. He’s on cloud 9.”

“You’re right Keiji,” you sighed as you waited for your energetic husband to flock to your side.