[bokutoko]

BANG! the name is abs.

RULES for a cowboy to live by.

here, you can read the collection of folktales passed down generations—stories about WHERE THE WILD THINGS ARE.

⤷ and in this part of town, we got some favorites—CHEERS!

℧ dancing in the dark (miya osamu)

℧ with love (kita shinsuke)

please do not copy, alter, or repost my work. ©bokutoko 2025.

[dumdogs]

the fat osamu jokes kinda piss me off because you guys don’t take it seriously enough and you don’t appreciate how sexy fat osamu would be

[bokutoko]

MORALLY GREY COWBOY ISSEI?! PLEASE I'M BEGGING. I HAVE A WHOLE DAY SELF SHIP AU FOR COWBOY ISSEI SO THIS IS A NEED NOW, NOT (just a) WANT ANYMORE

also, I hear that whoever wears the hat rides the cowboy 😏

HEHEH… you’re so right 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ and I love that for you omg LFGGG

btw started a new account to write, just needed a fresh start! go follow @whiskeysummers

[bokutoko]

Suna or issei

heh… issei as a morally grey cowboy… interesting…

[bokutoko]

Give me a character. It can literally be anyone. PLEASE. I’m writing something and I don’t know who it should be for😭

[bokutoko]

ABS MY HEART!!! I’m happy you’re alive! I have some Osamu ideas for you 😈😌💕

I JUST REALIZED IM 2 MONTHS LATE TO THIS ASK BUT PLEASE KNIGHT MAY I KNOW THE OSAMU IDEAS???

[nectardaddy]

BITTER . . . kyotani “mad dog” kentaro + f! reader

                     𖥔    CHAPTER EIGHT : NO ANSWER    𖥔

warnings : 18+ to read, addiction, major mention of drugs/vivid descriptions of drug use, thoughts of relapsing, language, very toxic relationships, this entire chapter is a very hard read please take care of yourselves <3 if you are currently battling addiction you are not alone, I've linked resources if you want to check them out: narcotics anon and samhsa

She coughs after doing the first line. She doesn't think she'll ever get used to the sensation, like sand, and the perpetual feeling of needing to sneeze. But it's quickly replaced with euphoria and she shakes away the coughs and sniffles with a toss of her head. 

Hunched over the kitchen counter, powdery residue stuck to the cheap, fake marble, she feels the desperation leave her body in an instant. The cut up straw she used leaves her finger tips and falls to the ground when she leans back into the chair. Her whole body feels numb, like she's floating. She stays like that for as long as she can, in bliss, in relaxation, until she feels her stomach turn from the drop. 

She's been at the kitchen counter now for hours. 

She would do a line, sit back and enjoy the high, then do another before she felt the need to vomit from the come down. Rinse and repeat. 

She's been awake for almost two days now, as 48 hours crept closer, the more cocaine she did just to stay awake. Normally, she'd balance it out with sleeping pills, but she's all out so she keeps doing lines before she gets the shakes. 

If she keeps this up, she's sure to die within the next couple months. End up another junkie that overdosed that no one cares about, the ones where people will say it's a relief to see another addict off the streets. 

But even though she's strung out, she doesn't want to die. 

She hates herself a little more with every line she does. “Just one more, and I'll be done,” is what she tells herself every time. But the baggie is nearly empty and she feels her sanity slip with every minute that passes. 

She’s pulled from her thoughts and swallows hard when the bell above the door of the gas station chimes. It's almost midnight and she's propped herself up by her elbows on the counter, she didn’t realize she zoned out until the silhouette of two men enters her peripheral. The droning of the freezers makes her eyes heavy, and she decides to stand up and stretch before she falls asleep. Her muscles are tight when she raises her arms above her head, and she groans once her shoulders pop. 

She smells the men before she sees them - weed. Earthy, tangy, and strong. One's shorter than the other, with his hood up and his head down; the other is tall, platinum blonde, and obnoxious as he talks loudly through the aisles. More friends from high school - Kenma and Lev. 

Kenma was always quiet, kept to himself with his eyes glued to his game boy. The only sound she ever heard from him was the ticks and chimes of whatever game he was playing in the hallway.  He was friendly, a friend of Kuroo's was a friend to all she guessed, and she remembers he used to tell her all the good spots parties were happening (though she never saw him go to one.)

Lev was the opposite. Loud, obnoxious - some things never change - and he used to hit on her every chance he got. He was kind when it counted though, but she could only take him in microscopic doses before they would squabble again. Unfortunately for her, he was one of the first to realize her addiction, and found her at the back side of the gym doing lines. The only thing he told her was he hoped to see her next year so they could graduate together - she'll never forget it. 

Lev comes up to the counter first and flashes her a smile as he sets down an arm full of candy and snacks. His eyes are bloodshot and he reeks; if one could get a contact high from someone standing next to them she would've. “Shit,” she mumbles, but it goes unheard.

“Dude! How’ve you been? I haven’t seen you in ages!” His voice is just how she remembers it - unbearably annoying. 

“I’ve been fine,” she sighs. She takes his items one by one, the beeping of the scanner becoming monotonous until the shorter man walks up. He puts down an energy drink and gives her a small smile

“Are you still-?” Lev's voice screeches her to a halt, and the miniscule smile she had for Kenma immediately fell. She's used to the question, she gets it all the time from friends who haven't seen her in ages. But the feeling is different coming from the pair, from Lev, because he actually gives a shit about her and isn't asking to save face.

“Don’t ask shit like that, dumbass,” Kenma butts in and cuts her a look, an almost “I'm sorry” before he jabs the man in the ribs. 

“Ouch, asshole! I was just wondering!” His voice is a screech, and the brunette only rolls his eyes. He flicks his eyes back over to her, and behind sheer stupidity, she finds worry. “I haven't seen you in so long, I just figured…” 

“I'm 6 months clean.” She's direct about it and drops eye contact, pressing keys on the register since she was done scanning their things. She couldn't look them in the eye, neither of them, because shame would be her biggest vice yet. 

They both smile, Lev more warm than the other. Kenma opens his mouth to say something, but the other cuts in and he sighs. “Sick! We should hang out again!” It's comforting to not hear an “I'm proud of you” or “good job,” but she rolls her eyes at the thought of spending another second with the blonde. 

“Hard pass, Lev,” she groans, “now pay your total so I don't have to look at you anymore.” Kenma snorts at her comment, and she looks over to see him smiling to himself. Lev searches through his pockets, rifling through his sweatpants and jacket before he stops and looks to his friend.

There's a sheepish smile on his lips and Kenma huffs, “broke ass,” he mumbles before he hands her an undetermined amount of money, crumbled from being loose in his pocket. She takes it with a chuckle, but her laugh trails off when she watches him give Lev a look. A way of silently saying “go away” and she feels her heart sink. 

“What do you want, Ken?” There's a stirring emotion in her gut, not to be scared but to be wary of what he says.

“Heard you knocked Mad Dog on his ass a few weeks ago?” Her mouth goes dry, and she's at a loss for words. The man answers the question he can see rattling in her mind, “Kuroo told me.” 

“Is this what you came here for, dickhead? To ask about me punching someone?” 

He shrugs, “no, we're high as shit.” Curt and to the point, but he keeps going, “Look, it's none of my business, but why're you hanging around that guy anyway?” 

“Everything is your business,” she groans, “and I don't hang around him. We had anger management together.” 

He goes silent, and she answers the question she can see him ask silently. “Court ordered. I was clean when it happened.” 

“That guy's bad news,” Kenma sighs, “every time I talk to him it's like he's itching to rip my throat out.” 

“What business do you have with him?” 

He shoots her a look, she rolls her eyes but understands all the same. “What business do I not have with him?” 

“Can you just say what you want to say, Ken?” 

“All I'm saying is… be careful. He's burned a lot of people before, I don't want you to be one of them.” 

“I can handle myself.” 

“I know.” His fingers tap against the counter absentmindedly and she looks over. The tapping is sickening, something’s eating away at him and it makes her want to heave. He stops when he notices her looking. “Kuroo told me some other things too.” He looks over to the man now pacing the store, unconcerned by the conversation the two were having. 

“Like?” 

He leans in and puts his elbows against the counter, “Yaku's got himself into some deep shit.” He looks her right in the eyes when he speaks, and it sends a chill down her spine. She was never afraid of Kenma, but he knew people, had his hands in every pot he could - but most importantly, he knew everything. 

“You've talked to him?” She blurts out the question before thinking and she immediately wants to take it back. But there's a worried voice in the back of her head that misses him, that hopes he's ok, that hopes he's still alive despite the copious amounts of drugs.

He pauses, “I thought you cut him off for good?” 

“Jesus christ Kenma, if you know so much just come out and say it.” There's a growing frustration in her voice and her jaw clenches; she doesn't know how or why he knows something like that, frankly, she doesn't want to.

He can tell she's scared, frustrated, and tired; she's almost a mirror image to herself in high school before she relapsed the first time. He wants to pity her, but pity only digs people's graves as they wallow in their own self hatred. He sighs, “alright, alright. He's on Mad Dog's and Tetsuro's shit list. He stole some drugs, like, last week and nobody's seen him since.” 

She feels her chest tighten and her heart sink; despite what Yaku's done to her, she still wants what's best for him. Wants to see him well again, sober again - not in a ditch somewhere from a fight club ringleader and a drug dealer. “What's that have to do with Mad Dog?” 

He gives her a look, “I'm getting there- for some reason he's taking this shit personally, and before you ask I dunno’ why.” 

She lets a huff pass her lips, “I thought you were the guy who knows everything?”

He pushes himself back from the counter and scowls, “you're lucky I know this much. The guy's batshit insane, doesn't tell anybody anything except Yahaba, who's a raging cunt.”

She lets a silence fall between them, her eyes looking over to Lev who's coming back to the counter in small strides. “Why're you telling me this?” 

Lev finally joins him at the counter, looming over him before resting his elbow on his shoulder. She could tell the blonde already knows about everything that was said, and when Kenma couldn't find the words, he answers for him. “Because Yaku's a piece of shit and hasn't been your friend for years.” 

“Dude- chill out-” She hears Kenma's voice trail off as she gets tunnel vision. The statement hits her like a blow to the chest, and her vision goes blurry. She doesn't realize what it is at first, the sudden emotion that pulls at her heartstrings and feels like a gaping wound. But her eyes get blurrier as Lev keeps going. 

“He'd fuck up whatever good you have going for you right now. If you want to stay sober, shit, if you want to live - please, stay away from him.” 

It's sorrow. 

She hates that she cries when she's angry, but she thinks this is a whole new low for her. She thinks she's sad, but isn't quite sure, all she knows is that she hates it. At least anger hurts in a way that's comforting and hot, but sorrow feels like a cold slap to the face. A tear slips down her cheek, it isn't hot like the ones she feels when she's angry. Isn't searing her skin to the point her skin crawls - she hates this. 

She takes a breath, grabbing onto the counter like a lifeline before the two men come back into her vision. Still blurry, but she feels something shift. Hatred for sadness was a fine way to feel angry, why be sad when she can feel the comfort of rage? “Eat shit, Lev.” She spits, “get the fuck out of the store and shove those concerns right up your ass.” 

She gets home around 3 in the morning, but her thoughts hammered in her head the entire rest of her shift as soon as Lev and Kenma left.

Yaku was a good person, just led astray. He doesn't know what he's doing. 

She changes her clothes like she's on autopilot, staring off into space as the guilt starts to eat away at her piece by piece. She thinks Lev is wrong, that Kenma is wrong, that everyone who looks at the short blonde has got it all wrong. 

Yaku was a good person, just led astray. He doesn't know what he's doing.

Her eyes start to flick around her apartment absentmindedly and her stomach is turning. She snaps out of her daze when her eyes meet with her phone. She calls Yaku. 

No answer. 

Yaku was a good person, just led astray. He doesn't know what he's doing.

She calls him again. No answer. 

Yaku was a good person, just led astray. He doesn't know what he's doing.

Again. No answer. 

Yaku was a good person, just led astray. He doesn't know what he's doing.

Then a familiar feeling sets in her stomach, one she hasn't felt so strongly in six months. She takes a breath. 

She calls again. No answer. She puts her phone down.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” she muttering to herself as she starts pacing her apartment. She feels herself slipping, and her eyes keep darting to her phone with every creak from the shitty floors. 

She comes to a halt and picks up her phone again, “come on you asshole, pick up!!” She calls again. No answer. 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

 10.

     10.

         10.

               10.

 She knows what she wants, she knows how to get it. It may very well be in her apartment still, all she would have to do is look. 

She stops again and flips open the phone for the last time. She swallows hard and flips through her contacts, stopping at the one she wanted before glancing over her apartment. 

She hits call.

Kyotani answers, confused, and he's met with an immediate shaky breath on the other line. “Yeah?” Not knowing what else to say, as she doesn't say anything. “Hello?” 

“I'm gonna do something really stupid,” her voice cracks at the end. He can't tell if she's crying, but something’s upset her so much that she called the one person that was her enemy. 

He looks over at Yahaba, a silent gesture as walks off out of ear shot. “You alright?” There's another pause, and for a moment he thinks she's hung up. But a loud, pained groan finally comes through. 

“No!” Her voice cracks again as she yells through the phone. There's a sense of anguish in her words, a pain that mixes with the crack in her voice - now she's definitely crying. He can hear it. “Yaku won't fucking answer his phone! And my friends came into my job just to tell me he's a piece of shit person, but-... but he just doesn't know what he's doing! He's not a bad person!” 

“Why are you-?” But it hits him in his chest why she's calling him in the first place. Makes his stomach drop when he connects the dots as to why she's crying, why she's angry. “You at home, Weezer?”

“Yes! And I've called Morisuke so many god damn times and he won't fucking answer, so I called you instead.” She's spiraling and can hear it in her words. Can hear her rummaging around her apartment, with tears in her eyes, searching for anything to help her. “I can't relapse again, Kyotani. I can't. I want so bad, but I can't!”  

He leaves without telling Yahaba where he's going. She tells him her address, panicked. It's a 20 minute walk from the warehouse to her, but he cuts it down to 15 by running. The entire time was spent on the phone with her, and every second he felt her slip right through his fingers. 

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@tsukisangel

[bokutoko]

hi everyone do people still like haikyuu

[bokutoko]

hello world. i live.

[bokutoko]

hi i’m actually alive now what’s up pookies

[bokutoko]

hello world. i live.

[bokutoko]

7/11

character: atsumu miya (timeskip!atsumu)

wc: 1k

content/warning(s): cursing, angsty-ish to fluff?, pining!atsumu; atsumu saves the day with a free slurpee to ease your heartbreak

Lying in bed with tears staining your pillow, you ignored everyone around you. Breaking up with your shitty ex after finding out of his infidelity had you sounding like a badasa, but there you were afterwards, crying alone in your room.

Your roommates periodically checked on you with water and a snack, but otherwise, they gave you your space for a few hours. Your mind was a whirlwind of negativities, constantly reminding you of how worthless you were.

There was a knock on your door, but you had no energy to get up. Instead, you called out a meek, “Come in,” then winced at your own voice. The feeling of being so vulnerable and sounding so weak made you nauseous. 

“Hey there, sweetheart,” Atsumu greeted as he opened the door, using the same comforting name he always gave you when he knew you were upset. Your body immediately relaxed at his appearance. “Ya doin’ okay?”

You sniffled, meeting his gaze—it was strangely softer than what you were used to from him.  

“What’re you doing here, Tsumu?” You’d texted him on the walk back after catching your ex, but you didn’t bother checking your phone once you returned to your apartment. He crouched down to the edge of your bed, staying eye level with you, and you sniffled again. “You’re supposed to be in practice right now.”

“I know, but you’re here hurtin’ right now. Can’t leave ya all alone in yer thoughts now, can I?” He answered with a teasing smile, his hand brushing along your arm—an action that always helped calm you down.

You took a couple deep breaths. “I’m fine,” you tried to assert, but the crack in your voice betrayed you. Atsumu’s hand wandered upwards, where he tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear. 

“Ya don’t have ta lie ta me. Ya suck at it anyway,” he chided, seeing straight through your bullshit. As always. 

Instead of laughing, your lip quivered, tears welling up in your eyes once again. “I just feel so stupid.” You bit your bottom lip in a feeble attempt to keep yourself from bursting into tears again. 

“Yer not stupid. Far from it, for yer information.” He argued, pulling you in for a hug. Your arms wrapped around his chest, breathing in the warm scent of his cologne, as you cried into his shoulder, surely leaving stains on his shirt. Atsumu quietly shushed you and rubbed gentle circles into your back, contrary to his typical bone-crushing hugs. 

“That asshole’s not worth yer tears, ya know.” 

You mumbled a muffled, “I know,” into his shoulder, attempting to slow your hiccups into deeper breaths. 

“C’mon, lemme see that pretty face,” Atsumu cooed playfully, pulling you back from the hug. He took in your appearance: your red, slightly puffy eyes, your clammy, tear-stained face, your swollen bottom lip.

You laughed, and Atsumu thought he could sing after hearing a hint of happiness from you. “I probably look horrible.”

He chuckled, “A bit.”

You elbowed him in response, eliciting a stifled groan from Atsumu, and he quickly changed the subject. “Ya know what today is?”

You checked your phone: July 11. You looked back, meeting his bright eyes and signature smirk.

“Ya wanna get a free slurpee?” 

—

As you both sat outside the 7-Eleven, you were wrapped in Atsumu’s MSBY jacket due to the summer’s chilly night breeze and your frozen drink. He willingly reluctantly gave it up, scolding you with, “Ya should’ve brought yer own damn jacket.” However, he couldn’t hide his reddening cheeks at the sight of you in his clothes. 

With the scent of cinnamon—the scent of Atsumu—flooding your senses, a quiet sigh escaped your lips, your body relaxing once again in his presence. 

Atsumu’s lips quickly turned blue from his slurpee, which led you in a fit of giggles after he winced from a brain freeze. 

“Don’t laugh! I hope ya get one too!”

There was soon a peaceful silence between you two for a little while, just sitting together on the curb, watching the moon as you drank your slushees. But there was something slowly eating you away in your mind, feeling weighed down by newfound insecurities. 

“Is there something wrong with me, Tsumu?”

Atsumu’s head snapped toward you, his brown eyes meeting your glassy ones. His face pursed, looking genuinely offended. “‘Course not. There’s never been anythin’ wrong with ya,” he lectured, and you cut your eyes at him in disbelief.

“That’s not what you told me back in high school. You called me a weirdo back then.”

“Ya were—” he answered, and you feigned a pout, “—But I meant it affectionately.”

He noticed your skeptical look and he sighed, continuing, “Ya know what I mean, though. Yer funny, yer kind, yer real pretty, and yer so damn smart. Any guy would lucky ta be with ya. There, does that make ya feel better?”

You smiled to yourself, your face feeling warm from the onslaught of compliments. You scooted closer to Atsumu and hugged his arm, leaning into him. “Thanks, Tsumu. Maybe one day someone’ll see all that.” You turned away, looking to the sky to admire the stars, all while Atsumu was looking down, admiring you.

Ever since the both of you were in high school, you had this borderlining unrealistic expectation of love, where you wished for a Prince Charming to come in and sweep you off your feet, so you could live out your own happily ever after. 

And Atsumu knew he was not royalty in any sense of the word, so he was alright with being your knight in shining armor—to comfort you, to make you laugh, and to help you pick up your broken pieces. All in hopes that you might one day notice him, that you’d decide you no longer wanted a prince, but a knight instead. 

But until then, he’d settle with sipping on convenience store slurpees at midnight with you, making you smile and laugh in any way he knew how. 

masterlist | navigation

please do not copy, alter, or repost my work. ©bokutoko 2024.

[bokutoko]

cowboy osamu au…

[bokutoko]

time to enter my mind palace

[bokutoko]

hi hello world i forgot tumblr existed

[boyl0ser]

sometimes i see people post bugs that they’ve seen in their homes and i think damn. it’s a good thing that happened to them and not me. because if i saw that bug in my house. i’d kill myself.

[bokutoko]

cowboy osamu au…

[anppann]

“It’s raining, let’s go back”

[bokutoko]

RULES FOR A COWBOY TO LIVE BY.

1. A COWBOY IS TO REMAIN RESPECTFUL AT ALL TIMES.

i tolerate NO hate of any kind on my blog. i am more than happy to use the block button.

2. IF A YOUNG BUCK WANTS SOMETHING, THEY HAVE FREE WILL TO ASK FOR IT.

just because you ask for something does not mean it will be fulfilled. i do not take formal requests, but feel free to brainrot in my asks :) if i like it enough to write something about it, i will.

3. AS OF RIGHT NOW, THIS IS A HAIKYUU WRITING PAGE ONLY.

i do enjoy other shows, but i am currently not writing for anything other than haikyuu.

4. IF YOU DON’T LIKE ME OR WHAT I SAY AND DO, THE BLOCK BUTTON IS EASY TO CLICK.

navigation.

please do not copy, alter, or repost my work. ©bokutoko 2025.