Bokuto training to be the best he can be. So he can stay at the top of his game. So he can compete on the biggest of stages.
But he also does it so he can make easy work of lifting his 6 foot husband, so he can carry and hold and flip Akaashi as they have sex.+
Because Bokuto just can’t get enough of the arousal in Akaashi’s eyes as he throws him on the bed, how those long legs instinctively fall open for him at the display of strength.
He’s addicted to just how loudly Akaashi moans when Bokuto lifts him so effortlessly,+
pinning him against the wall as his husband clings to his shoulder blades, nails embedded in Bokuto’s back, body clenching around him at how easily Bokuto holds them there.
He’s thrilled at how flustered and pliant and easy Akaashi becomes when he flips him.+
Bokuto knows all the angles and positions his husband needs and longs for. He knows all the ways he himself likes to look at Akaashi’s body as he fucks him, all the ways Akaashi feels best around him. So he moves and arranges him with no warning,+
flipping and turning holding Akaashi in place with ease, fucking him slow and deep, fast and rough, eagerly watching how Akaashi trusts and spreads and bends for him.
Bokuto was given and hones that body of his for two reasons: to play Volleyball and to love Akaashi Keiji
I want a 3k tread dedicated to this idea 🤗
I’m sorry for my quietness, I’ve been a way for a little and missed a lot of the exchange, so I hope I can catch up 💕
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#BokuAka Akaashi taking the game for them with a perfect setter dump, so calm and calculated and exact. And Bokuto rushing him in a surge of joy and pride, roaring Akaashi’s name as he scoops him up, lifting him under the back of his thighs.
And Akaashi follows his lead,+
wrapping legs around Bokuto’s waist, arms around his neck, clinging to him. He lets himself be held there, breathing in the smell of Bokuto during a match. He’s not one to be loud, to be overly expressive or draw attention to himself. But playing alongside Bokuto,+
playing for Fukurodani, winning these kinds of victories; it releases something in him, his tendency to be well mannered and restrained falls away and feels a shout leave his own throat, hand punching the air, other gripping Bokuto’s hair+
There’s half a second before Bokuto turns from the stove and Keiji can observe him from the doorway, leaning against the frame with his legs bare, wearing nothing but+
a MSBY jersey and satisfaction
As he watches him he thinks of himself at 16, when Keiji thought his love for another man, this man, would stay buried and shame ridden deep in his chest. All that adoration choked down, the desires sitting unrealised behind his eyelids+
He never dreamt of these easy mornings, where Bokuto would turn to look him as if Keiji’s were the second dawn
He never thought he’d wrap fingers around Bokuto’s thick forearm as food is pressed to his lips, bite after bite taken +
CW: NSFW, wet and messy, over stimulation, married bkak
Akaashi Keiji likes it on his knees.
It’s one of his favourite positions. He thrives in the hint of vulgarity of being taken crudely, of Bokuto filling him as deeply as possible,+
fucking him till his bones shake, elevating his usually quiet tones until they are loud and all encompassing.
He’s always so unhindered in these moments. Lost in his and Bokuto’s pleasure, allowing himself to have everything his body wants. And what he wants is Bokuto+
splitting him open, his own cock hanging heavy and swollen between his legs, trailing precome onto their sheets. He wants to feel Bokuto pounding against his prostate till his vision turns white, so he’ll come untouched;his pleasure reliant on his husband’s cock +
#BokuAka Bokuto looking so good in a sweatshirt and sweatpants, strands of hair falling across his forehead slightly from where he washed it after practice. He rests his head in Akaashi’s lap, the soft orange light warming his face, turning his white eyelashes golden.+
He stretches, the hem of his sweatshirt lifting, powerful arm folding behind his head to curve around Akaashi’s hip. He grins, sinking deeper into ease when Akaashi’s palm caresses the exposed skin of his stomach. Eyelids heavy as Akaashi’s long fingers repeatedly trace the+
line of white hair that runs down his belly to vanish beneath the waistband of his sweatpants.
Bokuto looks up at him now in the same way he did at 18, always obvious in his want of Akaashi’s attention, always watching Akaashi with unbridled fascination.+
Akaashi has so many soft sweaters he wears in the colder half of the year. Some are tight and form fitting, perfectly hugging his waist and shoulders. Others are oversized and chunky, the big sleeves falling over the backs of his hands. +
The wool and cashmere complements Akaashi’s dark curls and glasses, accentuating his natural elegance. He dresses them up with plaid trousers and ankle boots, or down with Bokuto’s slightly-too-big-for-him sweatpants.+
Bokuto can’t get enough of Akaashi and the sweaters he wears. They all look so good on his husband and Bokuto loves every single one. Touching them constantly, knowing exactly how each one feels under his hands and cheek. Fingers playing with the weave of the fabric,tracing the+
CW: crowded commute, so soft, pinning HS BKAK, anxious Akaashi, Bokuto helps, inspired by beautiful fan art by @S4ya5 linked at the end 💛
They travel home together most days. Akaashi’s chest aching at every slight brush of their knees, eyes trailing+
over his captain's profile, Bokuto silhouetted perfectly against the dying light filling the train windows.
Despite the pounding of Akaashi’s heart, there’s a calmness to those moments he adores, a comfort found in sitting beside Bokuto as they move from+
one place to another, ease enveloping him as he listens to Bokuto recounting their day.
But today the train is more crowded than usual. They have to stand near the doors and Akaashi can feel his unease building as more people push their way on. Bokuto’s voice fills the space+