#hqfluff

- you’d probably bring up the idea of period sex after he’d have “massaged” your boobs because you told him they were sore. but now you’re just sore and horny.

- at first, he’d be a little nervous because he’d know you’re more sensitive down there during your periods and he wouldn’t want to hurt you.

- but he’d eventually agree once you give him puppy eyes and tell him that it would help relieve pain from the cramps. And how can he say no to making you feel better.

- so he’d let you grab his hand and lead him into the bathroom, slowly stripping yourself off your clothes as he does the same 

- he’d be way too gentle, making sure that even his bare chest doesn’t brush too hard against your sore breasts. 

- would rub small circles into your side as he latches onto one of your nipples, gently licking and nibbling on it before giving the other one the same treatment.

- you’d quietly whine for him to touch you and he’d let his hand wander downwards. Softly spreading your folds, he’d press his thumb right against your bundle of nerves, rubbing circles into it and making you jolt your hips into his hand. 

- “shh I’ve got you puppy, let me take good care of you.” 

- he’d pick you up and hold you against the wall as he lines his large cock with your entrance, a loud groan leaving his mouth as he enters you, and his head falling into the crook of your neck as he presses soft kisses onto your collarbone in line with his deep thrusts.  

- “does that feel good baby?”

- “fuck Kou- yes- I- I’m close”

- going even deeper, he’d drop his head to suck one of your sensitive nipples into his mouth while he let’s his hand snake down in between you two to play with your clit. your orgasm would hit you like a tide as you arch your back, eyes rolling into the back of your head, as you desperately clutch onto Bokuto’s shoulders. 

- Bokuto would make sure to pull out right before he cums, spilling his seed onto your stomach. 

- he’d hold you closely in his arms for a bit before carrying you out the shower. Drying you off with the warm towel he already had ready from the dryer, he’d let you change into a fresh pair of underwear and one his oversized shirts. 

- he’ll be cuddled up in bed as you come out, a glass of water placed at your nightstand and his outstretched arms waiting for you to come and warm him. 

It probably would be better if Bokuto just screams at your rudeness and runs off or something. His silence only makes you feel guiltier by the moment. You know everything you just said is a complete and utter lie. 

“Do you take me to be a fool too?” Bokuto finally asks. He doesn’t have the same brimming aura as before. It’s so uncharacteristic and unbecoming of him. Unlike his “emo-mode” in high school where it borders on humorous and you know he can pick himself back up. His shoulders are crestfallen and sullen.

“Sorry. That’s not right of me. I’m sorry. I’m just upset.” You sigh and apologize. Bokuto doesn’t acknowledge it and continues with his questions.

“How do you even work in that condition? Does Akaashi know this?”

He doesn’t stop, each question after the other growing louder and more desperate. “Why didn’t he say anything? Does that man bully Akaashi too? Why didn’t you say anything? Why do you let yourself be abused and insulted like that? What's your workplace like?!” 

“Bokuto.” You try to respond and tell him your script. I’m perfectly okay. I’m a grown woman, I can take care of myself. This is normal. Don’t worry. Your breath gets caught in your throat and you try to hold back the tears that threaten to glaze your eyes.

“You know,” Bokuto’s voice drops very low and let “People might sometimes see me as just a dumb brute and a man-child. But I still know bullshit when I hear it. You can lie to other people, tell them you’re having the best time of your life. Can I ask to hear the truth instead? How is my friend doing?”

You open your mouth to respond, but no words come out this time either. Instead, your stomach is very eager to present an answer. I’m hungry. It shouts out to the world. It takes a moment for both you and Bokuto to process where the noise came from. Maybe it is exactly what is needed at the moment because your stomach grumbles again, and Bokuto begins to laugh. 

“Hey, hey, hey! Still hungry aren’t ya? I could use something too. Let’s run to the convenience store. We can get ramen like the old days.” He grabs your wrist again and prepares to run. 

“Bokuto.” You resist following after his first sprinting step. Bokuto turns and you gesture to your heeled footwear. “I can’t run in these.” 

“Oh.” He realizes suddenly. “Sorry, let’s just walk. Are your feet okay?” 

“It’s okay, they’re okay. I’m used to wearing them now.” 

You two walk down the street. Your strides are much slower than the normal hustle steps you take. Bokuto matches your footsteps. 

“I’m not really okay.” You admit quietly,  answering his question from before. You don’t continue further and Bokuto doesn’t press further. 

The convenience store is a remarkable place for many different reasons. In the morning, an office worker running late might grab a coffee, breakfast, and lunch to go. Later during the day, students come after school for a soda or an ice cream on the way home. In the evenings, the overtime folks come for a quick meal before going back to their pile of work. And in the dead of the night, those hungover come for some relief to sober up. Behind the counter, is usually a high school or university student, juggling their stressful schoolwork and a convenient way to earn some cash. It’s almost like a rite of passage. 

“Hey, come look at all these selections. What are you feeling like having?” Bokuto asked while you two browsed down the aisles of instant food, and the shelves of freshly made ready to eat bentos. Bokuto picks up some familiar items. “Do you remember this one? You ate two of these and practically threw up on the way home once. Or this one? We both hated that.” 

Trust Bokuto to remember the weird details. You pick out an instant ramen bowl, some other packaged side dishes. Bokuto also eagerly picks out the same selection. “Seems like our tastes just haven’t changed!” 

You two bring your items to the register. The student worker sets aside his work, smiles, and greets the two of you. 

“And two cups for coffee please.” You add, fishing out some cash from your wallet. 

“Ah wait, I can pay.” Bokuto starts digging through his gym bag. 

“Don’t worry about it. I got it.” 

As the cashier scans one item after the next, you notice a familiar lanyard hanging from his neck. 

“University of Tokyo? What’s your major?” 

He looks at you while still scanning your items. Multi-tasking. “Japanese Literature and Culture.” 

“Oh, same here, well...graduated. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you, first year?” 

He nods. You remember the late-night shifts, where the lack of customers meant you were able to earn passive money while studying by the register. Sometimes things were quiet, and other times, some extremely interesting folks came by. You have seen people laugh with friends, cry alone, and listen to others vent to you about their coworkers while ringing them up at the register. Either way, those weren’t easy times. But compared to you right now, those were maybe better times. 

“I worked at a konbini for a bit too. Keep it up, everything will get better. Trust me.” You say, taking your items. A small bar section at the back of the store allows you and Bokuto to cook the ramen and brew some cheap coffee. The disaster of a ‘dinner’ feels distant already in your memory. You and Bokuto chat some more about the nostalgia of the convenience store. The normally painful three minute wait for ramen to cook flies by. 

You take a bite. Beautifully processed, gourmet msg goodness. The chew and the flavor far beyond what money can buy. You two eat in silence. Only the sound of slurping noodles and soup fills the space around you. Each exhale into the bowl brings a warm steam to your face. You had your fair share of this midnight indulgence during university, overtime, or other late nights too tired to eat anything else. 

During those years, you had to spend the three minutes waiting for the ramen to cook alone. Once you fell asleep waiting and woke up the next day. It’s been a long time since the duet sound of slurping noodles next to you. It’s strangely heartwarming, how the sound of eating is suddenly comforting. Maybe you really have spent too much time alone. After finishing the bowl, you brew some coffee for you and Bokuto. He opens the packets of mochi and hands you one. 

“When I saw you at the game. I was just really excited. We haven’t talked in so long, I didn’t even imagine that you would find time to come.” Bokuto begins.

Guilty. You only did it because it’s work-related. 

“Even if it’s because of your work, I’m happy you know. Hey, I don’t mind an extra audience member any time.” He changes his tone to try and liven the dead mood. 

“But today, I finally got a chance to take a good look at you.” He doesn’t continue. You look up from your coffee. You know. Your dark circles, probably made darker from your makeup smudging. Your complexion is dull and grey. Your frame is hollow. “When I held your wrist, I thought I was going to hurt them. You used to be…” 

Athletic? Confident? Lively? 

“I’m different now. I know I changed. Not in the way I imagined myself. It just became this way one day.” You go back to sipping your coffee. 

“You told that guy ‘things will get better’. Did you think that for yourself too?” Bokuto asks. “It’s alright if you don’t feel like talking either.”

You stare at the dark liquid in the cup and your distorted reflection. You no longer feel a need to lie or hide. The empty convenience store and  Bokuto’s presence make you feel like you are a safe place where you can be honest for once. 

“I did. I still sort of do.” You start. It’s not easy to express verbally what you have kept hidden even mentally. “I know I’m burned out, and after the second time, they are probably just using me. I can’t really say ‘no’. I don’t know how. I just tell myself to not complain because there’s a lot of other better and smarter people out there who aren’t as lucky as I am. I imagine my coworkers being disappointed at me, or one day realizing that I’m not good enough. I get scared. When they tell me I did well...or that I’m helpful, I just feel like maybe I’m worth something. That...I have achieved something.”

Bokuto hands you a tissue, which you gladly accept and bury half your face in it. You continue to tell him what happened to you after graduation from high school. How you struggled academically and financially in your first year of university. How the competition ate away at your sanity day by day. 

The days you stopped running, eating, sleeping in order to study just a bit more. The day you realized friends stopped asking you to hang out. How you fought tooth and nail to get an interview at your current company. You told him how your face hurt from smiling all day, how you actually wanted to cry when coworkers stacked their work on top of you. 

The first time a senior threw a manuscript at your face telling you to do it over after a client complained. The joy and pain of seeing Akaashi join the company as well. You share everything with Bokuto like one would with their personal diary. Bokuto sits by you quietly, continuing handing you a tissue from the box he ended up buying because the go-to packet ran out. When you can not speak coherently because you are in a sob, he pats your back gently and waits for you to collect yourself. 

“See, Bokuto. This is who I am now. I’m different now.”

“See. This is who I am now. I’m different now.”