#Akaashi Keiji x reader

[foreveia]

in full bloom ⤨ akaashi keiji

⨭ genre; fluff, college!au, flower shop!au, valentine's day special!

⨭ pairing; akaashi keiji x fem!reader

⨭ word count; 4.9k

⨭ descriptions; akaashi comes into your flower shop every day and buys you a single flower, and now that it’s valentine’s day, you finally find out why.

⨭ warnings; painfully sweet tooth rotting fluff, profanity (?)

⨭ a/n; part 1 of my valentine's day special drop !!! in other words here's some painfully fluffy romance to cushion ur valentines (if ur single) or be an extra gift of the day (if, unlike me, ur not). lucky u guys—i'm so painfully single that i pumped two of these bad boys out. <3

song i listened to writing this: 'happening again' by katherine li

one.

Working the morning shift usually sucks. Working the morning shift alone usually extra sucks. 

But in this case, morning shifts at Furudate Flowers are actually quite lovely: it’s always calm, domestic, peaceful, still in the way only early mornings can be. For four blissful hours in the morning between 7 AM and 11 AM, it’s just you and the blossoms in bloom—no chaos, no rush, no impatient customers tapping their feet like you’re the only obstacle between them and a groundbreaking love confession. Just the quiet hum of soft jazz playing over the shop’s speakers, the crisp morning air filtering through the half-cracked window, and the comforting scent of earth and petals settling into your skin like a second layer. It’s almost always empty.

Almost.

“Good morning,” Akaashi greets, voice smooth as always, as he steps up to the counter. 

8:30 AM, on the dot. He’s never late, never early. Just always right on time.

“Morning,” you reply cheerfully, setting down the small notepad you had been scribbling new orders in. “What’ll it be today?”

He doesn’t answer, but you don’t need him to: you already know what’s coming. He’s made it a daily routine, as he has for the last month or so, coming in the shop and really taking his time to scan the selection, head tilting slightly as he considers his options. It’s something you’ve come to expect—this quiet deliberation, the way his eyes flick over each flower like he’s searching for something more than just petals and stems. You’re half-starting to think he goes through this whole process just to mess with you.

But, finally, he reaches out and plucks a yellow tulip from its vase, holding it up for you to see.

You raise a brow. “Going for something bright today?”

He hums in response, resting his elbow against the counter as he spins the flower between his limber fingers before calmly asking, “What does it mean?”

“There’s sunshine in your smile,” you respond instantly; you don’t even have to think about it. 

Akaashi blinks. Then—the smallest, softest twitch of his lips. It’s not quite a smile, but it’s something close, something just as pretty.

You don’t get a chance to comment on it, though, because he does what he always does: gently tucks the flower into its brown paper wrapping, smooths out the creases, and, without hesitation, extends it toward you.

“For you.”

Your fingers pause before taking it, eyes flicking up to his face. “Y’know, most people buy flowers for themselves or for other people,” you muse thoughtfully, twirling the tulip by its stem. It’s gorgeous, even as it’s a few days away from full bloom. “You’re the only one who buys them for the florist.”

Akaashi doesn’t falter. He doesn’t even look embarrassed or sheepish, like you might’ve expected someone else to. Instead, he just shrugs—calm, composed, like this is the most natural thing in the world. “You’re the only florist who can tell me what they mean.”

It’s such a simple response. So straightforward. So… Akaashi. And yet, your heart does something annoying. You promptly tell it to shut up.

Instead, you exhale a small, amused huff, shaking your head as you slide his receipt across the counter. “You’re either a hopeless romantic,” you start, watching as he reaches for his wallet to slide over a five dollar bill. “or a weirdo. I’m still trying to figure out which.”

Akaashi tilts his head, considering. Then, as he tucks his change back into his pocket—just before he turns toward the door—he says, “Maybe both.”

And he heads out, just like that. 

You glance down at the flower, then at the others on the shelf, the budding collection in various stages of bloom. 

You’re not sure what to make of it. It’s not like you mind the attention (he’s kinda cute), but you can’t figure out the angle. Is this some elaborate inside joke you’re not in on? A weirdly prolonged experiment? A test to see how long it takes for you to lose your mind? 

Or is it… flirting?

The windchimes by the door jingling snaps you from your thoughts. It’s another customer, here to pick up a bouquet, and you’re reminded that you are in fact on the clock and at your job. As attractive as Akaashi is and as sweet as his flower routine is, you have priorities, and right now, it’s on getting that bag.

So you sigh, setting the tulip down carefully before turning back to the register, and decidedly, push him to the back of your mind.

two.

Akaashi is beginning to think this might be the worst idea he’s ever had.

Or, at the very least, the most pathetic.

This thought occurs to him as he sits at a too-small table outside the university café, half listening as Kuroo and Bokuto argue about dinner plans while Tsukishima makes quiet, cutting remarks in between bites of his meal. It’s the usual nonsense: who’s cooking, who refuses to cook, why Kuroo swears that his econ degree is better than business majors but can’t manage to budget their groceries for the week. Akaashi is used to the noise, the way their conversations spiral into oblivion. Normally, he’d step in, smooth things over, steer the conversation back on track.

But today, he’s distracted.

He drums his fingers against the table, thinking about this morning. The flower shop. The way your eyes lit up when you saw the yellow tulip. The soft hmm you made when you twirled it between your fingers. He wonders if you kept it. If it’s sitting in a cup of water somewhere behind the counter. If you even care enough to keep track of the others.

His friends, unfortunately, notice this brooding.

“You’re quiet today,” Tsukishima notes, barely looking up from his book. It’s not an accusation as much as it’s an observation.

Bokuto perks up immediately. “Ohh, you’re right! Akaashi, are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re thinking about the florist,” Tsukishima deadpans, spearing a cherry tomato with his fork.

Kuroo’s eyes light up. “Ohhh, that’s what this is about? Your little crush on the flower shop girl?”

Akaashi doesn’t respond. Which, in hindsight, is the worst possible thing he could do, because his silence is basically an admission of guilt.

Kuroo grins. “Damn. So, what’s the update? Have we reached the realization phase yet, or are we still on ‘maybe if I give her flowers for long enough, she’ll develop psychic abilities and confess first’?”

Akaashi frowns. “You know, I don’t actually need your input on this.”

“Sounds like you do. Your method is tragic,” Kuroo snorts.

Akaashi pinches the bridge of his nose, willing himself to be patient. He’s beginning to regret ever telling them about this.

Bokuto pats him on the back, offering brute affection as he always does. “Has she said anything? Did she give you any signs?” 

“I don’t know,” Akaashi sighs, drumming his fingers against the table. 

“You don’t know?” Kuroo echoes, brow furrowing in disbelief. “You’ve been giving her flowers every morning for over a month, and you don’t know?”

Again, Akaashi fails to respond, only offering a half-hearted shrug.

Tsukishima finally looks up from his book, resting his chin on his palm. “So… your plan is to keep giving her flowers and hope she figures it out?”

Akaashi presses his lips together. “It’s… a gradual approach.”

“It’s an unclear approach,” Kuroo cuts in with a slight scoff. “You can’t expect her to read between the lines forever.”

“If it were me, and I was getting free flowers every morning with no explanation, I’d just assume you liked messing with me,” Tsukishima supplies unhelpfully. 

Akaashi frowns at that. Because… is that what you think? That he’s just messing with you? That it’s some elaborate joke? A weird habit?

Bokuto, still ever on his side, shakes his head. “No way. I think she knows it means something.”

“Then why hasn’t she said anything?” Kuroo raises a brow.

“Why hasn’t he said anything?” Tsukishima counters, flipping a page in his book.

Kuroo turns back to Akaashi, clearly delighted by this new angle. “That’s a good point. Why haven’t you said anything?”

Akaashi exhales slowly. He could answer that. He could admit that despite his usual confidence, this whole thing is different—because it’s you. Because he likes the way you talk about flowers like they hold real meaning, because he likes the way your brow furrows in quiet concentration when you’re wrapping bouquets, because he likes—

Well. That’s the problem, isn’t it?

He likes you. He has, for longer than you could know, which makes saying any confession absolutely terrifying.

Kuroo watches his expression shift and leans back, arms crossed. “Okay, look. Hypothetically speaking, if you did confess, what’s the worst that could happen?”

Akaashi doesn’t hesitate. “Rejection.”

“Okay, besides that—”

“Humiliation,” Tsukishima supplies.

“Besides that—”

“The crushing weight of knowing he misread every interaction and made a complete fool of himself in front of the girl he likes?”

Akaashi takes a slow sip of water. “Thank you, Tsukishima.”

Tsukishima shrugs. “Just saying, it’s a risk.”

“But what if,” Bokuto starts, leaning forward, eyes bright, “she does like you back?”

Akaashi pauses.

It’s not like he hasn’t considered it. There have been moments—tiny, almost imperceptible things. The way you smile a little brighter when you greet him. The way your fingers linger when he hands you a flower. The fact that, despite the shop’s wide variety of customers, he’s the only one you tease, the only one who gets a huff of amusement when he asks about each flower’s meaning, just so he gets to hear you talk about it in that sweet, enthusiastic way of yours.

It could mean something. It could also mean absolutely nothing. The uncertainty is paralyzing.

Kuroo, seeing the hesitation in his expression, grins. “Alright, new strategy. Pick a flower that spells it out for her. Something so obvious she has to get it.”

“Something that means ‘I love you’ or something!” Bokuto agrees.

Akaashi glances between them, unimpressed. “You want me to go from subtle daily gifts to I love you overnight?”

“Bold moves, man,” Kuroo says, smirking. “They get results.”

Tsukishima, surprisingly, doesn’t dismiss the idea outright. “You could do something a little more direct,” he muses. “Even something simple. Just make sure there’s no room for misinterpretation.”

Akaashi exhales, tilting his head back against his chair. “You all make this sound so easy.”

“That’s because it is easy,” Kuroo says, stealing a fry off his plate. “You’re the one making it complicated.”

Akaashi doesn’t argue. Because, really, they’re not wrong. He is making this complicated. One flower a day. One careful selection every morning. And yet, if you still don’t know… well, maybe it is time to change something. 

Across the table, Kuroo and Bokuto are grinning like they’ve already won.

“You’re thinking about it,” Kuroo announces. “I knew we’d get through to him.”

“I believe in you, Keiji,” Bokuto says, clasping a hand on his shoulder. “Make us proud.”

Akaashi just sighs, shaking his head.

But later, as he walks across campus on his way to his next lecture, as he pulls out his phone and scrolls through a list of flower meanings, as his thumb hovers over one in particular. He realizes, reluctantly, annoyingly, begrudgingly, that his idiot roommates might have a point.

Maybe. Just maybe.

three.

Evening shifts at the flower shop are chaos incarnate. 

It’s the kind of chaos that makes you miss your quiet, peaceful mornings. Instead, you’re knee-deep in last-minute Valentine’s panic, dodging frantic couples, watching bouquets disappear faster than you can restock them, and narrowly avoiding an existential crisis over whether red roses are actually romantic or just wildly unoriginal.

At least you have Yachi and Kiyoko, your favorite two co-workers, to suffer with.

“Everyone’s really revved up for Valentine’s,” you say, finally watching the clock tick to 9 PM so you can flip the Come in! sign on the door. “It was actually crazy today.”

“That’s what happens when you work at a flower shop in February,” Kiyoko hums, wiping down the counter with methodical ease. “Not that it’s a bad thing.”

“I almost got trampled when we restocked the red roses,” Yachi mutters, sinking onto a stool near the register. “One guy was so desperate, he tried to haggle. Like we’re some kind of flower black market.”

You snort, rubbing your temples. “Yeah, I had a couple who came in fighting, stopped long enough to pick out a bouquet, and then continued arguing while paying. The romance is thriving.”

Kiyoko shakes her head, but there’s an amused glint in her eyes. “Valentine’s does things to people.”

Probably one of the sole perks of being single: not having to worry about Valentine’s Day and its expectations as encouraged and promoted by capitalism. You even offered to work the day-of, considering that it’ll just be a whole day of fulfilling orders that have already been wrapped and arranged throughout the rest of the week. There’s several bouquets already ready, that just need to be handed over to whatever happy person they’re going to—it’s the kind of thing that, despite your loneliness, makes the day just the slightest bit endearing. 

You sigh, stretching your arms over your head. “At least that’s the last of it for today. I might actually get home before midnight.”

Yachi peeks at the leftover stems and petals scattered across the counter. “You still have to clean up, though.”

“Don’t remind me.”

Kiyoko finishes wiping down the last of the workspace before leaning casually against the counter. “So,” she says, tilting her head and peering at you over the rim of her wireframes. “What flower did Akaashi give you today?”

“A yellow tulip,” you answer, gesturing to where you’ve arranged the collection of flowers he’s gradually gifted you into a small bouquet. It sits in an ornate glass vase on a shelf behind the counter, just slightly out of customer view, but from where your co-workers are standing, they can clearly see the new addition, proudly displayed in the middle of the bouquet like a golden gem.

Yachi, predictably, gasps. “You kept them? I didn’t know that!” She practically launches herself over the counter to get a better look, clutching her hands to her chest; you forgot that it’s been a while since you worked a shift with her, your schedules rarely seeming to overlap. “Oh my god, that’s so romantic.”

You huff, crossing your arms. “I mean… what else was I supposed to do with them? It felt weird to just toss them out.”

“But you arranged them,” Yachi insists, turning to Kiyoko for backup. “Look at this! She made it into an actual bouquet!”

Kiyoko, ever composed, simply tilts her head in consideration. “It is a little telling.”

“It’s not telling anything,” you argue, leaning against the counter. “It’s just… I don’t know. He gives me flowers every morning, and it’s a nice routine.”

Yachi wiggles her fingers dramatically. “A romantic routine.”

Kiyoko hums. “It’s certainly an interesting one. And you’re sure he’s just being friendly?”

You hesitate. Because, really—are you?

“I mean… maybe?” you say, trying not to sound too uncertain. “I don’t know. He’s really calm about it. Never acts embarrassed. Never even hints that it means anything.”

“No way!” Yachi shakes her head, her blonde ponytail swishing. “No way. Guys don’t just casually give a girl a flower every day for a month and not mean something by it.”

Kiyoko nods. “She has a point.”

You groan, rubbing your face. “But what if it isn’t romantic? What if I get my hopes up and it turns out he’s just… like that?”

Yachi places a gentle hand on your arm, looking dead serious. “If he was just like that, he’d be giving everyone flowers.”

“And yet, you’re the only florist he buys them for,” Kiyoko adds.

That thought makes something flutter in your chest. You shove it down. 

“I don’t know,” you mumble, twirling a stray petal between your fingers. “It just… it doesn’t feel like a confession. I think you guys are reaching.”

Yachi gasps, scandalized. “Reaching? No, you are in denial.”

“I mean, what if he just likes flowers?” you try, grasping at straws. “Or what if he’s just being nice?”

Kiyoko gives you a look. The kind of look that says she sees right through you and your bullshit.

Yachi, meanwhile, clutches her heart dramatically. “You cannot be serious.”

You huff, shaking your head as you start gathering stray petals into a pile. “Look, I’ll admit it’s kind of cute. He… is pretty cute.”

Yachi blinks, before she points at you, “Oh my god, you do like him!”

You pause, mouth opening—then closing. Okay. Fine. Maybe you do like him. A little.

He’s attractive. He’s polite. He listens when you talk about flower meanings and never rushes you when you’re busy. There’s something deliberate about the way he does things, something intentional. And that’s what’s so frustrating—because if this is flirting, if this is some kind of long-winded confession, then it’s frustratingly vague.

So you just sigh. “Even if I did like him, it’s not like I’d do anything about it.”

Kiyoko hums. “And what if this is him doing something about it?”

You stare at her.

Yachi nods aggressively. “Exactly! This could totally be him making the first move!”

You hesitate, fingers lingering over the pile of petals. “But then… why hasn’t he just said something?”

“Maybe he’s nervous. Maybe he doesn’t know how you feel,” Kiyoko offers with a small shrug. 

Yachi grins. “Or maybe he’s just waiting for the perfect time to confess.”

“You’ve been reading too many romance novels.”

Yachi doesn’t even deny it. Instead, she beams, taking your shoulders in her hands and shaking you a bit. “Listen, if he comes in tomorrow, and his flower has a romantic meaning,” she pauses, largely for what seems like dramatic effect. “I win this argument.”

You snort. “Yeah, okay. Sure.”

As if that’s gonna happen.

***

When the bell above the door jingles the next morning, Akaashi steps in like clockwork. He scans the rows of flowers once, twice, before finally, leaning over and picking out a single red camellia. 

I love you.

Your breath hitches.

God, Yachi is going to be insufferable.

four.

The life sciences library is, without a doubt, the best one on campus.

Not just because you’re an assistant there, and not just because it’s the only one on campus with a café: because it’s the one in the very center of campus square, making it the best place for people-watching. And right about now, mid-February when the entire campus is blooming with romance, it’s the best time for it.

You come in, dropping off your bag with purpose behind the check-in desk, muttering a small greeting to Makki—he’s sitting behind the computer with a face of purpose, though he’s really just playing 2048 (you’re not sure why he’s pretending to be locked in; it’s not fooling anyone). Mattsun pages through an old encyclopedia someone left on the drop off counter. Somewhere in one of the sections, you spot Iwaizumi shelving books, and Oikawa predictably distracting him from doing so. 

It’s a normal day. Just you and your band of library assistants, who really do everything in their power to avoid responsibility. 

You settle in behind the desk, tapping the keyboard to wake up the circulation computer. There are a few books waiting to be checked in, but nothing urgent, so you take your time, stacking them into neat piles. It’s quiet—save for the faint hum of the café, the occasional rustle of pages, and Oikawa’s exaggerated sighs as Iwaizumi pointedly ignores him in favor of shelving books correctly.

Routine. Normal. Everything as it should be.

And then, as you reach into your bag for a pen, your fingers brush against something soft. Something delicate.

You blink, pulling it out.

The red camellia.

The petals are still perfect, even after being tucked between your planner and a stack of readings. You must’ve slipped it into your bag absentmindedly before heading to campus, but now, seeing it again under the library’s cool fluorescents, it catches you off guard.

The meaning lingers. I love you.

You should stop thinking about it.

But it’s hard, especially here, where romance feels unavoidable. From your spot at the front desk, you can see couples huddled over textbooks, murmuring in hushed voices. Someone just dropped off a stack of biology books, a bright pink sticky note still attached to the top one, scribbled with something that looks suspiciously like a love confession. Even Mattsun, who barely looks up from his encyclopedia, lets out a low whistle when he spots a couple sneaking a kiss behind the botany section.

“Valentine’s,” he comments idly. “Can’t escape it.”

You hum noncommittally, fingers still curled around the camellia.

Makki finally pauses his game to glance over. “What’s that?”

You hesitate before answering. “A flower.”

He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I have eyes. I meant, why do you have it?”

You should brush it off. Say it’s nothing. But the weight of it feels heavier today—the quiet way Akaashi had handed it to you, the way his fingers lingered just a second too long.

“…Someone gave it to me,” you say finally.

Makki and Mattsun exchange a look, and you realize your mistake immediately.

“Akaashi, right?” Makki says, smirking.

You stiffen. “How did you—”

Mattsun grins. “You think we don’t see him in here all the time? Guy spends half his life reading in that corner.” He gestures vaguely toward one of the back tables near the windows. “It’s honestly embarrassing how obvious it is.”

Your face warms. “It’s not—”

“Relax,” Makki interrupts, leaning back in his chair. “It’s kinda cute.” Then he snorts. “Though, if you haven’t figured it out by now, I’m starting to think you’re a lost cause.”

You groan, dropping your forehead onto the desk as he and Mattsun laugh. 

“Do you really think it means something?” you ask quietly after they finally stop making fun of you. 

Mattsun raises a brow, flipping the encyclopedia shut with a thud. “You’re joking, right?”

Makki leans forward, resting his elbows on the desk like he’s about to break the most obvious news in the world. “He’s been giving you flowers for a month.”

You shift uncomfortably, tracing a fingertip along the edge of a petal. “Yeah, but—”

“But what?” Mattsun interrupts. “You think he’s just doing it for fun? Some kind of—what, botanical enrichment project?”

“Oh, I’d love to see that research paper. ‘Floral Gifting and Its Effects on Clueless Library Assistants,’” Makki snickers.

You scowl, but the heat creeping up your neck betrays you. “…It’s not like that.”

Mattsun sighs dramatically, tossing the encyclopedia back onto the counter. “You’re killing me. I mean, if some guy was giving me flowers every day, I’d at least start questioning my life choices.”

“You don’t have any,” Iwaizumi calls from the stacks, not even looking up.

Mattsun gestures vaguely in his direction. “Exactly. And yet, even I know what’s going on here.”

Makki hums, tapping his fingers against the desk. “Listen. I don’t know what’s going on in that overcomplicated brain of yours, but if it were me, I’d start thinking about what I want.”

You hesitate. That’s the problem, isn’t it? You have been thinking about it—more than you’d like to admit. About the way Akaashi looks at you when he hands you a flower, like he’s waiting for something. About how, lately, you’ve started waiting for it too.

Mattsun stands, stretching lazily. “Anyway, I give it two days before he gives up on subtlety and just confesses outright.”

Makki grins. “You’re being generous. I give it one.”

They wander off before you can argue, leaving you alone at the desk, still holding the camellia between your fingers.

You should put it away.

You should really stop thinking about it.

But instead, you turn it over in your hands, feeling the softness of the petals, the steady thump-thump of your heart a little too loud in your ears.

Maybe, just maybe, you’ve been a little slow to catch on.

five.

Valentine’s Day is always a steady hum of movement.

The real rush had been in the days leading up to it—four days of wrapping, arranging, preparing. Now, on the day itself, there’s nothing left to scramble for. Just bouquets waiting in labeled slots, each one tagged with a name, a time, a destination. Customers filter in throughout the morning, exchanging receipts for flowers, smiling as they walk back out into the crisp February air.

It’s not chaotic, not like the frantic energy of last-minute shoppers earlier in the week. It’s gentle. Purposeful. A day of fulfillment rather than panic.

By midmorning, most of the orders have already been picked up. You stand behind the counter, the lingering scent of roses and eucalyptus settling into your skin, fingers lightly tapping against the register as you watch the occasional customer come and go.

And then, at exactly 8:30 AM, the bell above the door chimes. You don’t have to look up to know who it is, because Akaashi Keiji is nothing if not consistent.

But when you do, you’re taken aback. Today, for the first time in over a month, he hasn’t come in with his hands shoved in his pocket, ready to pick out a flower for you. Matter-of-fact, he’s not even holding a single flower. 

He’s holding a bouquet.

Your breath hitches.

It’s beautiful.

You inhale sharply. Your fingers curl slightly against the edge of the counter.

“Good morning,” Akaashi says, voice as smooth and even as always. But there’s something beneath it this time, something quieter, heavier.

You stare. You don’t mean to, but you do, because he’s standing there with a bouquet in his hands and a look in his eyes that makes your heart feel like it’s folding in on itself.

Finally, after a very long moment, you find your voice. 

“You—you brought flowers,” you say, dumbly.

Akaashi exhales a small, amused breath, tilting his head slightly. “I did.”

“For me?”

A ghost of a smile. “For you.”

Your brain is working slower than usual. Maybe it’s the boredom post-morning, maybe it’s the sheer absurdity of seeing him standing there, framed by the morning light, holding a bouquet like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Like it’s meant to be in his hands.

You glance down at the arrangement again, eyes flickering over the petals, cataloging their meanings instinctively.

Pink peony—Romance, prosperity, a happy life together.

White gardenia—You are lovely.

Baby’s breath—Everlasting love.

Red camellias—I love you.

Your stomach flips.

Akaashi shifts, carefully adjusting the bouquet between his fingers. “I, um.” He pauses, choosing his words cautiously. “I’m not the best at expressing things. Not in the way I should.”

You blink at him.

He doesn’t look nervous, exactly—Akaashi Keiji doesn’t do nervous—but there’s a certain deliberateness to the way he speaks, the way his fingers tighten slightly around the stems, the way his eyes hold yours like he’s making sure you hear him.

“The flowers,” he continues, “have been saying it for me.”

Oh.

Oh.

Your breath catches. The weight of the past weeks—the past month—settles all at once; every morning encounter, every carefully selected flower, every soft, fleeting moment that felt like nothing and everything all at once.

You should’ve known. You should’ve realized sooner.

Akaashi watches you carefully, his expression unreadable, but there’s something expectant about the way he waits. As if he’s prepared for anything—for rejection, for silence, for something in between.

You exhale, a half-disbelieving laugh slipping out before you can stop it. Your fingers finally reach forward, brushing against the edge of the bouquet, skimming over the soft petals. You don’t know what to do with all the warmth curling in your ribs, with the sudden overwhelming feeling of affection, so you simply say, “You could’ve just asked me out, you know.”

The corner of his mouth twitches. “I know.”

“Would’ve saved you a lot of money on flowers.”

“Probably.”

“But you didn’t.”

“I didn’t.”

You shake your head, still absorbing, still processing the fact that this is happening. Akaashi Keiji has been confessing to you for over a month without saying a word.

And yet, now that he’s here, standing in front of you, looking at you like this moment has always belonged to the two of you, you think that you wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

Slowly, carefully, you take the bouquet from his hands. The weight of it feels right in your grip, like something meant to be held. And then, just as carefully, you turn toward the arrangements behind the counter, fingers brushing over familiar stems until you find what you’re looking for.

A single red chrysanthemum.

Love reciprocated.

You pluck it from its vase, hold it up between you. Akaashi’s eyes flicker down to the flower. You watch as the realization settles, as something in his expression shifts, as the tension in his shoulders melts.

Then, finally, he smiles. Small, barely-there, but real, soft, familiar.

And for the first time, it’s you who hands him the flower, as you murmur back, “It’s for you.”

⨭ closing notes; my best friend proof read this and she was so mad i didn't write their valentines date lmao so pretend that they go on some sweet lil excursion as seen off camera. ANYWAY love u all love keiji love that lowk this is my first valentine's single in a hot minute and im still hot and funny i hope (jk humble me rn)

[bubybubsters]

i love this man

𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞’𝐬 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 – 𝖠𝗄𝖺𝖺𝗌𝗁𝗂 𝖪𝖾𝗂𝗃𝗂

𝗛𝗢𝗪 𝗛𝗘 𝗔𝗦𝗞𝗦 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗢𝗨𝗧 :

◞ 💋 ﹒ He thought about how to ask you for weeks, carefully considering every possibility. He knew he didn’t want something loud or overly dramatic—it wasn’t his style. But at the same time, he didn’t want it to feel like just another regular day. He wanted it to feel special.

◞ 💋 ﹒ When Bokuto suggested a big, public confession—maybe yelling it across the gym during practice—Akaashi just stared at him blankly. “I’d rather not make them regret knowing me,” he said dryly.

◞ 💋 ﹒ He thought about all the little details that made you you—the way your fingers absentmindedly traced the edges of your notebook, the way you smiled to yourself when reading something you liked, the way you always seemed to appreciate the quiet things in life.

◞ 💋 ﹒ That’s when he realized… he didn’t need some big moment. He just needed something personal.

◞ 💋 ﹒ The night before Valentine’s, he carefully wrote a small, cream-colored note card. It wasn’t overly poetic or dramatic, just a few simple but genuine lines:

I’d like to spend Valentine’s Day with you. If you say yes, meet me outside after school tomorrow at 5:00 PM. If you say no…. That’s okay too. I just wanted you to know.

◞ 💋 ﹒ He tucked the note inside your book when you weren’t looking, placing it between the pages of the one he always saw you reading. He knew you would find it. And then he waited.

𝗪𝗛𝗔𝗧 𝗛𝗘 𝗣𝗥𝗘𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗘𝗗 :

◞ 💋 ﹒ He thought about what kind of date would make you feel comfortable. He knew you weren’t someone who needed flashy, extravagant gestures to be happy—you preferred quiet, meaningful moments.

◞ 💋 ﹒ When he found a little bookstore café tucked away in a peaceful part of town, he knew that was the perfect spot.

◞ 💋 ﹒ He reserved a corner table near the window, where the streetlights would cast a warm glow onto the pages of any books you picked up. The air inside smelled of coffee, old paper, and vanilla—subtle, comforting.

◞ 💋 ﹒ He thought about how much you loved small details, so he made sure this place had all of them. A soft atmosphere, the hum of light conversation in the background, and the kind of space where time felt slower, more thoughtful.

◞ 💋 ﹒ The gift was trickier. He wanted something meaningful, something that would remind you of him whenever you saw it.

◞ 💋 ﹒ When he finally found a beautiful, leather-bound version of one of your favorite books, he didn’t hesitate. It was perfect.

◞ 💋 ﹒ He imagined you running your fingers over the embossed cover, the way your face would light up when you realized it wasn’t just any edition—it was something chosen just for you.

◞ 💋 ﹒ On the inside cover, he wrote a simple but sincere message:

This reminded me of you. Happy Valentine’s Day. —Keiji

◞ 💋 ﹒ He wasn’t nervous about the date itself—he was nervous about making sure you felt how much he cared.

𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗗𝗔𝗧𝗘 𝗜𝗧𝗦𝗘𝗟𝗙 :

◞ 💋 ﹒ Akaashi stood outside at exactly 5:00 PM, his hands tucked into his coat pockets, exhaling softly as the crisp evening air settled around him. He told himself that if you didn’t show up in the next ten minutes, he would head home. No pressure. No expectations.

◞ 💋 ﹒ And then, at 5:02, he heard footsteps.

◞ 💋 ﹒ When he turned, his heart did something strange—a quiet, steady kind of excitement settling in his chest. You came.

◞ 💋 ﹒ He gave you a small, genuine smile. “You’re right on time,” he said, even though his watch said you were two minutes late. He wouldn’t have cared if it had been two hours.

◞ 💋 ﹒ As the two of you walked side by side, the city around you felt calmer than usual. Maybe it was because of the time of day, or maybe it was just being next to him. Either way, the silence between you wasn’t awkward. It was easy.

◞ 💋 ﹒ When you arrived at the bookstore café, your eyes widened slightly as you took in the warm, inviting space. Akaashi noticed. He always noticed.

◞ 💋 ﹒ “I thought you might like it here,” he said simply, watching for your reaction. When you smiled, something in him relaxed. Good. That’s what I wanted.

◞ 💋 ﹒ The two of you spent the evening flipping through books, sharing quiet conversation over coffee, and occasionally reading aloud to each other whenever one of you found a particularly interesting passage.

◞ 💋 ﹒ There were no grand speeches, no over-the-top romantic moments—just small, quiet things. The way he absentmindedly refilled your drink before you even noticed it was empty. The way he watched you from over the top of his book when he thought you weren’t looking. The way his voice softened slightly whenever he said your name.

◞ 💋 ﹒ Near the end of the night, he finally pulled out the book he had picked for you, sliding it across the table with a calm, steady expression.

◞ 💋 ﹒ “I thought you might like this,” he said, watching your fingers brush over the spine, your touch delicate like you were already treating it as something precious.

◞ 💋 ﹒ When you opened it and saw the note inside, your expression shifted—something quieter, softer.

◞ 💋 ﹒ You looked up at him, and in that moment, he felt it. That silent understanding that this wasn’t just a simple Valentine’s Day gift. This was him telling you everything he hadn’t said out loud.

◞ 💋 ﹒ The walk home was slower. The cold air made your breaths visible, little clouds of warmth disappearing into the night. Every so often, your shoulders brushed against each other, a subtle reminder that neither of you wanted to rush this moment.

◞ 💋 ﹒ “Did I do okay?” he asked, his voice quieter than usual. It wasn’t a joke or teasing—he genuinely wanted to know.

◞ 💋 ﹒ When you nodded, he let out a slow breath, like he was finally allowing himself to relax. “Good.”

◞ 💋 ﹒ Without thinking, he reached out—just briefly—his fingertips brushing against yours before letting his hand drop back into his pocket.

◞ 💋 ﹒ If you took his hand instead, he would pause for a fraction of a second, eyes flickering to you in surprise before his fingers curled around yours, his grip warm and steady.

◞ 💋 ﹒ He wouldn’t say much after that. He didn’t need to. The slight squeeze of his hand was enough.

◞ 💋 ﹒ “Happy Valentine’s Day,” he murmured, his gaze lingering on you for just a moment longer before looking back ahead, a quiet, content smile forming on his lips.

[tiza0925]

okok hear me out but Akaashi dating reader and she has a spit kink 👉🏻👈🏻 you don't have to write anything about it but i would love to hear about it from you! (i love your works sm 💗)

…i think you’ve just woken something inside me, anon 🫠

Intimate | 18+

Warnings/Tags: nsfw, afab/female!reader, praise kink, jealous!reader, dom!Akaashi, raw sex, multiple orgasms, slight dumbification, squirting, pussy slapping, petnames, little bit of choking, overstimulation, creampie, spit kink ♡ SET IN A TIMELINE WHERE ALL CHARACTERS ARE AGED-UP AND OVER 18

Pairing: Akaashi Keiji x Female Reader

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

You’re not a jealous person, you swear.

Your relationship with Akaashi is the most secure relationship you’ve ever been in—not once has he ever given you a reason to doubt him. 

To not trust him. 

He’s shown you nothing but respect, kindness—god, so much love and patience—ever since you two started dating. 

But—

Your jaw ticks as you watch a random girl get a little too close to him—watching how she laughs a little too much and looks at him with stars in her eyes. 

You can’t blame her, though—you look at him the same way—he’s good-looking and deserves to be appreciated for that. 

But that doesn’t mean it still doesn’t get to you whenever you see other people do it. 

Especially this particular girl who seems to refuse to leave his side ever since you two arrived at Kuroo’s house party. 

Because apparently—she’s close with Bokuto. 

Which means she knows Akaashi. 

But you barely hear Akaashi talk about her so it’s either he doesn’t see her as close as she thinks they are—

Or he’s hiding something from you. 

But that would be ridiculous—it’s Akaashi. 

He wouldn’t.

Right? 

You take a sip from your drink, then you turn to the person who’s currently talking to you—you think her name is Yachi—and you give her a slightly apologetic look as you walk away and straight towards him. 

And the girl that’s seemingly too giddy with whatever Akaashi is saying. 

It’s why you come up to his side with a small smile at the other girl, your arms around his waist, and Akaashi stops mid-sentence to look at you with a slightly concerned look—his one eyebrow raised as he asks in a soft murmur, “You okay?” 

You hum, a small smile threatens to pull at your mouth as he wraps one arm around you, holding you closer, and you nod. “Just tired.” 

He gives your waist a small squeeze, his voice a soft rumble against you. “Wanna go home then?” 

You blink up at him, then you quickly glance at the girl that was talking to him—and you feel a slight bud of satisfaction in your chest when you notice how annoyed she looks—and you nod, blinking up at him all sweetly. “Please?”

You end up in the passenger seat of his car a few moments later—looking out the window—as he drives you two home.

It’s quiet—comfortably so—as you watch light posts and buildings until—

“Are you going to tell me what that was all about?” 

You hear him ask that, his voice calm and quiet, and your eyes widen with surprise as your heart flips. 

You blink, turning to look at him—his eyes remaining on the road ahead—and you frown. “What?” 

“Suddenly wanting to go home and hugging me like that,” Akaashi then turns his head a little to give you a look like he knows something. “What was that about?” 

Oh. 

Was it that obvious how you felt? 

You blink. 

Silent. 

Then you swallow hard, playing dumb as you look away, murmuring, “…I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

But then you hear him let loose a low, caustic laugh—as if he doesn’t believe you—and you feel his hand, heavy and large on your thigh, with the heat seeping through your pants and skin, as he gives it a small squeeze. “Alright.” 

It’s how you end up with your face stuffed into a pillow, back arched, and ass out the moment you two arrive back home—

“Oh fuck—”

And you’re cumming around a thick cock with your moan getting muffled into the cushion. 

“Look how well you take me,” His voice comes out a low drawl, sounding so nonchalant as if he isn’t fucking you deep into your cunt with a harsh grip around your waist—holding you in place as Akaashi makes you take all of him with your orgasm throbbing through you. 

Your mind goes numb, and you whine when he drags his dick against your G-spot, overstimulating you. 

“Keiji—fuck—please—”

But then he pulls out—leaving you empty and pulsing around nothing—causing a trickle of your juice to leak out, and you let out a sudden cry when Akaashi leaves a harsh slap against your wet pussy with his hand. 

“Turn around.” 

Fuck. 

You listen almost immediately—moving to lay on your back, breathing heavily, and Akaashi smiles down at you from the bridge of his nose, admiring you for just a moment—

Then he’s hooking your legs over his shoulder—and your eyes grow wide when you feel the head of his cock slide over your drooling pussy, bumping your clit that has your head going dizzy, and then—

“Do you think she’d be able to take me as well as you do?”

Then he starts to ask that—in that taunting, calm voice of his—and your cheeks grow hot at the mere mention of that girl, jealousy pricking the edges of your vision and—

You whimper when he pushes his cock back inside you, filling you and making you feel so full as he rolls his hips against yours, building that sweet buzzing ache in your pussy again. 

Akaashi watches the way your cunt swallows him so perfectly—his girth opening you up as you cream all over him—and he wets his lips, his smirk turning lecherous. “You think she’d look this pretty around my cock too, baby?”

He’s not blind.

He can pick up on the small signs of jealousy from you with just a small look, word—even the way you act.

He’s observant—and he clearly didn’t miss the way you were eyeing that girl from earlier.

You suck in a large breath, feeling him in your damn throat as he fucks you languidly, and your voice is breathy when you bite out a response. “Why don’t you go and find out for yourself then.” 

Akaashi leans down and god—you sob out a moan when he nearly bends you in half, shoving his dick so deep into you that your entire body goes limp. 

You’re practically shaking as his lips hover over yours, and his eyes—all half-lidded as he observes you—grow alight with something darker and amused as he hums lowly. “I don’t think I will.” 

He pulls out, the tip of his dick catching your hole, then he immediately thrusts back in with one, harsh slap of his skin against yours—making you gasp as your juices gush out. “Nobody else can get messy like you do, baby.” 

His smirk comes slow and syrupy, his hooded eyes observing you—how your eyes are glossy with tears threatening to spill out—and he goes to pull on your lower lip with his mouth, kissing you so achingly soft despite the harsh fucking. “Nobody else feels this tight around me.” 

You moan against him, your arms numbly wrapping around his neck as you take his cock pushing in and out of you—your pussy swallowing him whole like it needs his dick in there. 

It’s so fucking needy that even when you feel him digging into your lungs with his cock—you still want more of him, that swelling ache in your clit just begging for it.

And god—he gives it to you. 

He fucks you with one hand coming to thumb your sensitive clit—rubbing it in slow circles with your juices coating it until you’re clenching around his cock, squeezing him and throbbing as you cum for a second time. 

“Shit,” Akaashi groans, driving into you as his head gets foggy with lust, and heat overwhelms him as you make a mess on you both—clear liquid squirting out of your poor little pussy with every rock of his hips, and tears finally spill down your cheeks with oversensitivity. 

“Don’t cry, angel,” Akaashi soothes you, his voice throaty and heavy, and his hand that was on your clit comes up to wipe your tears—spreading your fluids all over your face and getting you dirty as he calmly shushes you. “You asked for this.” 

You know. 

You just didn’t anticipate how intense Akaashi will be to make sure you know that you were being irrational for feeling jealous—to fuck you until you felt all loose and dumb from his dick that you can’t do or say anything but whimper and cry for him. 

God—

You suck in small, gasping breaths as he slides his hand down until he’s rolling his thumb over your bottom lip, and—

And then his pupils grow wide and dark, there’s a small tick at the side of his lips that looks carnal, and your heart leaps into your throat as he forces your mouth open as he presses down onto your lip—your heart thundering in your ears as you watch with shiny eyes, unsure what he plans to do until—

Until he also opens his mouth as well, and your mind grows heady with submission with your tongue out for him, your pussy clenching him so fucking tight as he lets a small, pearly glob of his saliva string down onto your tongue. 

And fuck—he lets out a low groan of approval, making your chest swell at how satisfied he looks as you please him. 

“Swallow.” His voice is so deceptively soft.

But you listen and swallow. 

With no hesitation. 

And it should feel gross with him spitting in your mouth like that—making you feel like some whore under him—

But instead—it does things to you. 

It makes things so much more fucking intimate. 

You keep eye contact with him as your throat bobs with an obedient swallow, your body moving with every thrust of him inside you, and Akaashi can’t help but lean down to kiss you so deeply that you shudder against him—

“Such a good girl for me—shit,” His hand comes to the front of your neck, his calloused fingers wrapping around it and giving it a little squeeze, making you moan as you sloppily kiss him back, your vision growing blurry. 

Then he leans back, hand still on your throat, and his chest rise and falls as he continues to fuck your abused pussy, your fluids making a mess, and he turns his head to brush his lips against your calf. 

“I want you to cum on my cock again, love, you do it so well for me.”

Then he brings his other hand to press on your lower stomach, making you keen with a wet moan—and you feel so fucked out and dumb in the head as another orgasm steadily pulses through you. 

“And say my name when you do, love,” Akaashi breathes out lowly, his dick in your guts as he pushes his hand down a little more, “Because nobody else gets to do that except you.” 

More clear liquid gushes out of you, spraying and squirting all over him as your legs shake with another orgasm for that night—his name on your tongue, making his head spin as he fucks you through it. 

And then he’s spurting out thick loads of his hot cum into your sore pussy, shoving it further into you with every push of his cock inside your walls—making sure you know that only you get to be marked like this by him. 

end.

Masterpost

[emmyrosee]

Keiji is absolutely nothing if not an attentive, knowing husband.

He’s good, he’s good at the whole marriage thing, knowing what makes you tic and what makes you purr, your anniversaries and outings and just being an absolute maniac when it comes to knowing all about you.

So imagine your complete, your total, your absolute horrific discovery to find out that today, he’s not home.

There’s no flowers, no note, no chaotic breakfast that Mei insisted on making you with Keiji- she claims today is her favorite holiday- and there’s nothing.

Not one of those things, on this birthday of yours.

To be honest, you don’t really mind, he’s one for… however many years you’ve known him, he was bound to forget it at some point (you certainly know you’ve had a few close calls), it just feels strange to have a birthday just with you and not your loving husband or eager daughter.

You stretch, yawn and slowly get out of bed, making your way to the kitchen to prepare for your day off, eager to spend some time alone and not have to worry about anything until you pick up your four year old.

Who is just as surprised as you at Keiji’s forgetting. Who takes a vendetta against Keiji for forgetting.

“You mean daddy didn’t take care of you today?” She says sadly. “That’s not nice of him…”

You giggle, “it’s okay, it’s just one day, yeah?”

“But!” She whines. “I made you a card! ‘Nd we should have a cake! And a birffday party!”

You shrug as you continue to strap her in, “well, sometimes, things don’t exactly pan out like we’d expect them to. And that’s okay! Besides,” you take out your credit card and flash it to Mei, “now we can have a girls day, yeah? Brag to daddy all about it.”

She beams up at you, and you finish buckling her into her seat.

Nails have been painted, delicious pastries for dessert have been picked, a cake to be baked and decorated has been prettied up, and now, all you can do is wait for Keiji to come home and witness all the fun he’d missed today.

Sure enough, 15:34 rolls around, and Keiji comes through the door, sleepy smile on his face and jacket shrugging off of his shoulders. “Hey, my girls.”

“Hey,” you hum, making your way over to him. You toss your arms around his neck and pucker your lips out for a kiss, which he tenderly returns. “How was work?”

“Exhausting,” he says with a small whine. “So glad to be home with the two loves of my life.” He smiles and kisses you again, only to then make eye contact with his daughter, who eyes him in a scold. He crouches down and reaches out to pinch her cheeks, only for her to dodge him slightly.

“And how’s my favorite little-“

“Hmph!”

Immediately, Keiji is cut off by the sound of your four year old’s disapproval, and he watches with a displeased furrow as she stomps her foot with crossed arms and turns away from him. His jaw is slacked, at the mercy of Mei and your attempts to not cackle out loud.

His eyes, filled with incredulous confusion flick back up to you in search for your assistance in correcting her attitude, but you say nothing. Instead, you place your hands on your hips and look down your nose at him.

He straightened his back and took a deep inhale for patience, “excuse me?”

“I said:” once again, Mei stomps her foot and crosses her arms tighter over her tiny chest, “hmph!”

“Have i upset you, Mei?” He asks, crouching lower to try and get her to open up to him. “Is there something you need to tell me?”

“You should know,” she snips.

God she’s so cute, you could just bite her.

Keiji, right now however, may disagree with that sentiment.

“I don’t think I like this attitude, little miss-“

“Not my fault you didn’t wish mommy happy birffday today!” Mei pouts, and instantly, Keiji’s brows shoot up, from anger to surprise. When he turns to look at you in confirmation, your expression turns from one of amusement, to faux anger to match Mei’s. His gaze softens, and he reaches his hands out to you for your affection.

“R…Really?”

“Really really,” you confirm. “I was super surprised our four year old and Koutarou remembered before you did.”

All the color drains from his face, and for a moment your expression softens as he looks like he’s about to faint right in front of you. “Kou…Koutarou remembered?”

“Honestly all of the Jackals did- Kiyoomi even sent me a card that’s due to come.” The detail, all though a little unnecessary, again makes him deflate, and even if your intentions are cruel, he looks so cute trying to grovel for forgiveness.

“Baby… my love… I’m so, so sorry-“

“You should be,” you huff, crossing your arms dramatically. “It’s a good thing I had Mei to keep me company all day, apparently she’s the only Akaashi who loves me.”

“Yeah!” Mei’s voice echos behind Keiji. It makes him snort and drop his head against your shoulder, palms smoothing up your hips and sides in an attempt to be affectionate, though the action only has you melting into his embrace.

“I’m so sorry,” he hums from your neck, peppering soft kisses along the length. Your breath hitches and your own hands come up to rest on his own shoulders. “Is there anything I can do to make up for it?”

“Absolutely not,” you say, giggling softly when he tenses up, then looking up it you in betrayal. “I want ramen. I want ice cream and chips, and I want to watch classic Disney movies as a family, and I want to do those cute panda face masks Mei got us for our anniversary with Koutarou.”

“Okay… okay I can do that; what kind of chips?”

“All of them.”

“You got it.” With that, Keiji kisses your cheek and quickly turns on his heal to head back out to the corner store to stock up on everything you asked for.

“Mommy?” Mei asks, tugging your pant leg.

“What baby?”

“Are you mad at daddy?”

You smile and ruffle her hair, bending down to pick her up and help you set up the rest of your birthday wishes.

“Couldn’t be mad at daddy even if I wanted to be.”

[6okuto]

stop an angel from losing its wings

akaashi x gn!reader | fluff. Not that serious. about men cutting their hair

“do you think my hair’s getting too long?”

the knife in your hand stills halfway through a peach for your boyfriend.

keiji watches you, innocently, fiddling with the dark strands falling across his brow as your head snaps up, eyes locking onto the same bangs framing his face. “keiji akaashi, don’t you dare.”

“...what?”

“please, so help me god, if you cut your hair short i will cry.”

there’s a familiar click as the kettle turns itself off, hot water meant for his tea bubbling against glass.

“pft—”

“don’t laugh!”

“i’m not—” his chuckle is barely muffled by the hand over his mouth, and you gape.

the last time he cut his hair was maybe six months ago, and you’ve watched it slowly but surely reach a perfect length.

it lets you make little horns when you shampoo his hair as he holds you against him,

it looks stupidly good when he combs it back for special occasions,

it falls in his face just enough that it’s brought you the gift of keiji with his blue light glasses, cat slippers, and a little sprout ponytail on top of his head, tied with a little fruit hair tie, as he works away late into the night.

and he’s allowed to cut it. he is, but at the same time—

“this is serious! keiji, please- i’ll get on my knees and beg, look, please.” 

the apartment isn’t big; your spot in the kitchen is just a few meters away. it takes all but three seconds to leave the fruit you’ve cut for him and jog over with your arms wide open.

keiji holds his out to stop you. “what? no—”

“please, please, please, please, please,”—you dodge and slide to the floor, wrapping your arms around his legs—“please, my angel, my beautiful boyfriend, love of my life who i love so much, please—”

“i’m—” he snorts while you laugh between desperate pleas, muffled against the cotton of his pajamas, “i didn’t want to cut it, i was just wondering.”

and you sigh, loosen the grip around his pajamas, now slightly wrinkled. “oh thank god.”

keiji snickers and moves his hand to rest on your head. it travels down to hold your jaw, tilting your face to look at his. “is cutting my hair really that awful of an idea?”

you lean into his touch. “i mean, no, you look good no matter what. but they’re not joking when they say every time a boy with perfect hair cuts it too short an angel dies.”

he hums, his thumb rubbing against your cheek. “so are you the angel in this case?”

“am—” you almost parrot the question, caught in place by the amusement on his face. “shut up.”

“because if you’re the angel then i definitely can’t cut my hair.”

“oh my god.” the hair in question falls in front of his eyes again, and you take the opportunity to stand up while he fixes it. “whatever, i’m leaving, you nerd. go back to editing or whatever it is you do,” you huff with a smile and pinch to his cheek.

his soft laughter fills the room while you move to let him work, (swearing when you remember his tea you promised to make,)

but your leg is caught by one of his, and a hand is suddenly holding yours against his face.

keiji shoots you a smug smile, keeps you near just a little longer, just so he can say one more thing—

“okay, angel.”

forgot i wrote this months ago. hey

🏷️| @pelicanpizza @godoffuckedupcats @causenessus @priv-rose @ur-local-simp @xaaavi @respitable @hasti-666 @deepenthevoid

[seumyo]

AKAASHI KEIJI ✰ RATING THE PET NAMES YOU CALL HIM: A THREAD

SEUMYO © 2024, PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[haikyu-mp4]

coming home all tired from work, there was nothing like finding your husband Keiji in his home office and curling yourself around him in the most comforting squish. your eyes were already closed, sinking into his warm neck.

“mrs. Akaashi?” he asked you, and that alone made you feel all floaty.

“mhmm?”

“if I say you’re mine, does that make you feel like I’m seeing you as an object instead of a person?” Keiji asked you after planting a little kiss on your arm where it wrapped across his chest, completely serious in his questioning. you blinked for a moment before finally registering.

“uhh, not really. but if you suddenly went feral and tried to tell me what to do because you're mine, that would be pushing it,” you answered with a light chuckle.

“ahaa…” Keiji nodded as if totally understanding what you meant, before taking some notes in the open notebook beside him. “so… would you say it’s okay if it’s meant as you being my person? the one for me, as I am for you,” he asked, leaving space in the air for you to consider his wording. you tilted your head with a pleased expression, leaning forward to see his face.

“and yours as in your wife, of course. rightfully.“ you booped his nose with your finger before leaning in for a kiss. “you have such a way with words, dearest.” at this point, you were practically purring, but ended up choking on a laugh when you saw the amount of feminism-related media open on Keiji’s computer.

“Tenma is making a new character. she’s very political and it made me realise I’m not entirely educated.”

you just fell more in love with your husband every day, huh. “does this mean you’re making dinner today? challenging the gender roles one chore at a time,” you joked as if you didn’t already share all your chores evenly.

he laughed, stretching as he decided to finally clock out of work. “anything for you, my love.”

masterlist

[dreamesamu]

THE THINGS HE TAKES FOR GRANTED

in which he takes a moment to justify himself after never noticing your little crush for him

starring. akaashi keiji x fem!reader

genre(s): angst to fluff, (super, like-) long scenario 

warning(s): none, i think so? except for clueless keiji and not proof-reading

author’s note: akaashi is just a major green flag in this (every haikyu!! boy is 😭) i feel too bad to write them red-flag-y.

choose your character: m. atsumu | k. akaashi

you’ve known akaashi for quite some time, starting from your last year of fukurodani academy and then serendipity brought you both ended up being each other’s classmate at a same college/university. bokuto kotaro was your best friend, the little owl introduced his favorite setter to you and the friendship of three gradually become established, and as if it can not be any more inevitably, you eventually developed a secret admiration for the pretty setter when you three have been closed enough. however, graduating separated ways, kotaro pursued his journey to become professional in volleyball while keiji, once said to you he wanted a place in the literature department.

truth be told, even if you promised each other you would still keep in touch and plan every weekend friend group meeting online or offline, you’ve never expect you would share every class in higher education life with your crush, the akaashi keiji. the great thing is you both are paired up for an presentation assignment in the major you and him pursue, you do have plenty of time to stay close and grab his attention from making gestures that he usually failed to realizes.

here you are again, happily humming your favourite song while carrying a box wrapped with a small detailed towel, some big rolls of assignment paper stuck underneath your arm as you make your way back to where you both planned to finish the project - the library. 

“keiji, i’m back!” you set your things respectively on the table, and akaashi nods with a smile on his face in acknowledgement.

“oookay, so here’s your today’s snack, I hope you’ll like it” you grin, tapping on the box before pushing it to his side as he receives it and casually opens it while speaking.

“hmm? are those sketches of our poster? you can always edit them on the computer, why the effort?” he chuckled softly before completely unwrapping the bento box.

“I’m not good at designing and stuff. I may draw as I like and you’ll be the one to edit it on the computer.” you puff your cheek out, hands resting on hips as you watch his reaction to your delicately decorated sweets in the box made for him.

“this looks amazing.” he smiles upon seeing the pastries you made, decorated beautifully with different kinds of fruit as each pastry has different flavours, you probably did not stay up so late last night just to make all kinds of flavours for him to show how much you like him. yeah, probably not.

"oh, it's nothing, I just hope it doesn't taste bad" you chuckle nervously while scratching the back of your neck, letting his praise send you up to cloud nine.

your actions falter when you see akaashi put back the box's cap on, set it aside as he leans over to reach the posters you drew.

"now then, can we start working on the project?" he spreads out the piece of paper, glancing at you as you stand there awkwardly, prefer him taking a bite to look through all of your efforts than just shrugging it off and go straight to the main part of your study session.

"what...? oh- um..." you trail off, a bit embarrassed. "wouldn't you like to try one out? it won't hurt to just have a taste of it..."

"maybe later, y/n. we have other things need to be done right now." he merely states, eyes study the poster in front of him, unknowingly sinking your heart.

"yes, right." you shift slightly, taking the sit by the opposite of him, trying to catch up with him on the progress.

you let your mind wanders off how many times you've lost count already while akaashi quietly focused on scribbling something in his notebook, every thoughts you have are always about keiji, your feelings and the stare you give him thinking it's discreet. what's stopping him from trying my tarts out? and how does he feel being around me? or is that his way of rejecting something without making that person feel bad? flooded your mind.

"y/n?" you realize his faint voice ringing somewhere "y/n..." the voice becomes clearer. "earth to y/n, you're staring." awh, snap. right.

you blink, startled before clearing your throat, mumbling a small apology as you try to get yourself busy with the work underneath you once again.

but akaashi just chuckles, his voice calm and reassuring.

"hey, you seem off today. it's lunch break, please make yourself comfortable." you fumble at his words, it's noon already? as he collects his books and tidy it up at one corner of the table before speaking again.

"yuri satsuki is inviting me to have lunch with her. would you like to also join? i think she wouldn't mind." he kindly offers, probably not knowing the words struck you shocked.

you know satsuki-senpai, she's a year older than you and has been a social butterfly ever since you set foot in student life. she is a nice person, you conceived, but not until you found out that she has a huge crush on your akaashi keiji, her behaviour in your eyes became somewhat annoying. in return, she did realize she had a rival to win over him, you acknowledge that through the smug look she gave every time akaashi was around her instead of you, that is how the tension gradually builds up between you and your pain-in-the-ass rival.

and now she's even invited keiji for lunch? you feel an uncomfortable twist in your belly, screaming that if you do not take further actions, you lose akaashi to her. but his way of discarding your hard work, also known as an attempt to get his attention earlier discourages you hastily. this comes to a realization: ever since he start hanging out with satsuki-senpai, he has never touched one of your cooks once.

"no, i'm fine staying here. you go" you force a smile waving him goodbye. he hesitates upon seeing the downward trend of your mood as well as the strange attitude every time he brings up yuri.

"what are you waiting for?" you scoff, trying your best to make it sound not so bitterly. he nods quietly before ruffles your hair, thoughtfully remind you to get something to eat before start working again, and he'll be back with you soon.

you groan for the nth time in thirty minutes since his last leave, deciding not to eat anything at all after you laugh bitterly to yourself seeing the bento box laid cold by his stuffs which corrects your thoughts that he is not going to appreciate what you did for him.

the chair scraped the floor when you stand up, attempting to compose yourself when you feel your brain need a break from overthinking such situations.

on the way out of the library, your eyes meet yuri satsuki's, assuming that keiji is just somewhere around here as his lunch break partner is the person you least excited to bump into.

"well, well. isn't that the girl whose best friend choose to hang out with me instead of her?"

excuse me?

"don't get too ahead of yourself, satsuki-senpai. just a friendly reminder" your tone evidently irritated as you flash her an unamused smile, trying to avoid her as soon as possible.

but the radio scene of her voice replayed all over your head, your mind goes muddy despite the fresh air you're trying to take in, you let out a shaky breath, tears brimming out.

maybe, he doesn't quite noticed the things I did for him after all...

---

"you're back. where were you?" akaashi worried tone surprises you after a quite fine time of trying to find you because your study desk in the library was empty.

"i was... out for fresh air. why?" your voice is off and he noticed that. he always knew when something is bothering you, and right now he definitely know that something is wrong.

"after i finished my lunch i got yours, 'cause i know when i'm back you would still hadn't eaten anything." his brows slightly furrow seeing your avoiding attitude.

"thanks, keiji." you said briefly, take the package from his hand and sit down on your seat, never forget to notice the pastry box still intact.

your strange attitude didn't just stop there, it confuses akaashi for a more couple of days of your avoidance, he dislike the way you put a small distance between you both in study sessions, you flinch and tense around him more often, your answers and conversations are brief and sometimes awkward as you seem to be more preoccupied and attentive rather than to communicate with him.

"good morning, y/n." he smiles, your state has been bothering him for days as he is paying attention to your fade grin and a small "hey" as a greet back.

then he fumbles. something is missing...

oh. but then, realization sets in him quite quickly: you didn't bring any homemade sweets today.

"y/n..." he hesitates, meeting your eyes as you lift your head up from the notebook you're scribbling on. "does your home perhaps... out of ingredients or something?"

you are stunned for a moment, knowing exactly what he was trying to imply, scared to look at him directly in the eye as you shift your gaze elsewhere, pretending to have forgotten.

"oh... you mean the pastries... I forgot to do it. I was busy yesterday"

lies. he see through it, you know that, but you can't just blurt it all out that you're heartbreaking because of his indirect rejection that never says he doesn't like you, but makes you feel like it did.

"hey... i know something is wrong, can you tell me what it is?"

there it is - the worried look on such handsome face that never fails to make your heart flutter. but you know, that is just his nature of being an attentive and thoughtful person, not just for only you, but for everyone in his orbit.

so his question remained unanswered.

akaashi has been extremely distracted due to the sudden lack of your affection on him. it's just doesn't feel the same. even if he refuses it but deep down, he misses your midday snacks, your bubbly laugh around him and that flushed cheeks you wear every time he caught you staring. it has been a whole week since, and the fact that you didn't join the friend group video call with bokuto last sunday was his last straw.

he misses you, dearly. and if he doesn't do anything now before your project is finished, he might find it difficult to approach you even when you are his best friend.

and then, on an another lovely morning in the college's campus, an emotion he thinks he's aware of stirring in his stomach at the scene of you handing out a bento box wrapped with the same detailed towel, a small smile tugs at the corner of your lips as the other boy laughs lightly, scratches his neck, sending regards with a polite bow before making his way back in the classroom, akaashi doesn't like what his eyes have witnessed, so when he met yours, the bitterful look sends shivers down your spine.

you turn away, begin to walk, you do not want to deal with your bothered heart right now, not if it has anything to do with him, with that thought, you choose to neglect it because it is just your one-sided feelings for him.

but you hear footsteps behind, next is a small "wait" escaped from his lips when he managed to catch up and hold gently on your arm. that stopped you midtrack.

"please. can we talk?" he pleads.

---

you find yourself trapped by his presence in a corner of the school's library. there's no point in avoiding now.

"i'm sorry." he states. "i like you, i should've known."

your eyes widen. why- all of a sudden?

akaashi glances at you, softly sighs before bring your hand up to his face and kiss your knuckles gently.

"i understand now, i was clueless, you have the very right to be mad at me." each sentences he speaks crack your heart, but at the same time, they give you hope.

you neither know how to react, nor what to say, you just stand there, completely speechless, it encourages him to continue his speech of pursuing you.

"the last time i went to have lunch with satsuki, she confessed to me." he stopped, watching your expression. "but i turned her down, then, she got angry and started to brag about you. i did not like what she said, so i got quite defensive and... that was when i realised."

"i didn't know when it started. i just knew that i didn't feel very comfortable seeing you bringing your pastries that was meant for me to someone else, and more it's because i didn't appreciate it."

he squeezes your hand, afraid if not, you'll slip from his grip and become somebody else's apple. he certainly dislikes the thought.

"i want your pastries back, i love them as much as i love you. please let me correct such a terrible mistake."

---

"yes, hello. i've received the box, thank you, my love."

akaashi spins his office chair slightly, softly speaking to the phone stuck between his cheek and shoulder with a smile while unwrapping a huge warm box of freshly baked tarts.

"keiji, bad news, i'm out of powdered sugar after that batch." your voice echoed on output, he chuckles.

"are you free after work? we can visit the supermarket to purchase some. i'll drive, consider this a date with me, 'mkay?"

© 2024 dreamesamu. all rights reserved.

[riddlesrose]

akaashi keiji who absolutely loves you with everything he is, ever has been and ever will be.

akaashi "i'm gonna love you forever and ever and i'm not letting you go" keiji. fukurodani's lover boy, they called him. (thanks bokuto.)

he was teased by teammates when he'd mess up during practice because your knees were touching today and you didn't move away, but look at him now, he gets to touch your knee all he wants. oh and maybe your lips, hands, hips, and hair too.

keiji comes home late some nights, finding you asleep on the couch after attempting to stay awake to greet him when he came back. he'll kiss your forehead, waking you while suggesting going to bed to sleep properly. you'll climb into bed first then after a quick shower keiji will join you, quickly slipping into unconsciousness to the sound of your heartbeat and welcoming warmth.

keiji's once plain house now homes two, his shelves hold your shared interests, the tv plays your favourite show, the coatrack hangs two jackets, and the shoe rack has more than his work shoes thrown carelessly in front of it after a long day.

akaashi keiji who now has to look back in confusion when a voice he doesn't recognize calls his name, he can's sort the mail by last name anymore, and doesn't have to look in two different places for things corresponding to your last name because he's no longer the only akaashi in the house <3

masterlist

[bokutoko]

infinitely yours

⋆.𖥔 ݁ ˖. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁⋆.𖥔 ݁ ˖. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁⋆.𖥔 ݁ ˖. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁⋆.𖥔 ݁ ˖. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁⋆.𖥔 ݁ ˖. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .

it’s saturday morning, and his eyes trace the outline your figure beneath the bedsheets. you look like a sculpture with the way the fabric hugs your curves—you surely belong in a gallery, he thinks, incomparable to any other artwork.

the early morning sun spills on the bed, a soft golden glow illuminating the both of you. it’s finally a lazy day, a day to sleep in, yet here he is, watching the gentle rise and fall of your chest as you rest peacefully beside him.

oh, how lucky he is.

as the sun rises higher, he reaches out to touch your face; his fingers lightly skim across your cheek, drinking in your beauty. you are absolutely ethereal, your presence alone providing both comfort in his heart and butterflies in his stomach.

maybe that’s why he calls you his angel. you came into his life and only made it better, made it sweeter, made it brighter. you saved him from himself.

and everyday—like this, with the sight of you next to him—he’s reminded daily just how lucky he is to be infinitely yours.

tetsuro kuroo, keiji akaashi, koushi sugawara, hajime iwaizumi, daichi sawamura, osamu miya, shinsuke kita, kiyoomi sakusa, atsumu miya, tooru oikawa, your fav <3

a/n: i thought of this when i was rotting in bed this morning and saw this pin. i love cuddly mornings

masterlist | navigation

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

[yawchi]

AFFECTIONATE

akaashi keiji x gn!reader

includes: clingy keij

notes: old fic reupload

There are days when Keiji has these… moods. 

It starts out unnoticeable at first, his actions so small and natural they’re simply normal—a kiss to the temple as he passes you in the hallway, brushing his fingers over your arm when he sits down beside you, placing a kiss to your lips as he hands you the lunch he’s made. 

You’re no stranger to your husband’s feathery touches throughout the day, delicate affections rewarded unto you for no reason other than that he loves you. 

But as the day goes on, that’s when you finally begin to notice the change. He curls himself around you as he watches the movie you’ve put on for the afternoon, he bombards you while washing dishes to steal a few drawn out kisses before disappearing, he leans over the back of the couch to bury his face in your neck for a few moments then goes back down the hall to his office. 

The more time that passes, the more you find your husband coming back to you again and again—more touches, more affection, more love. 

You’re in the kitchen looking in the fridge for a pre-dinner snack when two familiar arms wind around your waist from behind, followed by a soft set of lips pressing to the base of your neck. 

“Hey,” you greet, placing your hands on top of Keiji’s arms, rubbing circles into his skin with your thumb. He hums in response, simply pressing another kiss to the side of your neck. Grinning, you lean back into him, dropping your head back onto his shoulder. “What’s gotten into you today?” 

There’s another kiss, this time longer, and then Keiji’s pressing his lips to your temple, not even for a kiss really, but just enough for contact. “I miss you,” he whispers, and a rush of warmth spreads through your bones. 

“I’ve been with you all day, silly. What do you mean you miss me?” Keiji pulls back so he can look down and meet your gaze, glasses slipping a little down his nose. Then his arms are tightening around you and he’s leaning to bury his face in your neck again, flushed cheeks pressing into your skin. 

“I just love you,” he breathes, his voice that same shy tone he uses when asking for cuddle time after breakfast and saying excuse me when he walks in on you changing, even after two years of dating and three of marriage. “So much.” 

Your cheeks hurt from how wide your lips stretch, twisting around in his arms and placing your hands on both sides of his face, making him look at you once again. 

“You’re so precious, you know that,” you tease, though there’s obvious sincerity laced within it. Even now, it seems Keiji is facing an inner battle about whether to look at your eyes or lips, subconsciously leaning in with each tick of the clock. 

You meet him halfway, initiating the first bout of affection from your end today. Your fingers slide from the sides of his face to the nape of his neck, sifting into the curls at the base, scratching ever so slightly. When you pull back, Keiji chases your lips, and you can’t help but laugh as you give him one more peck then untangle yourself from him. 

“I’m gonna go watch a movie in bed,” you tell him, slowly walking out of the kitchen. You stop once you’re in the doorway, turning to look back at your husband over your shoulder with a devilish little smirk. “Aren’t you gonna come cuddle?” 

The rest of the day is spent with Keiji and you tangled up in bed, limbs intertwined and breaths shared between lazy kisses. You’re halfway through your second movie when the sound of soft snores comes from where Keiji’s head is pressed to your sternum. 

You try to shift, just to see what’ll happen, and smile softly when it does nothing but make his arms wrap around you tighter. You slip his glasses off his nose, setting them on the bedside table, and bury your nose into his hair. 

“I love you,” you whisper to the sleeping man on top of you, who hums as if he’s awake enough to respond. Pressing a kiss to the crown of his head, you let your eyes slip shut too. “So much.” 

[awakenedevildays]

am I the only one who doesn't find attractive when dicks in smuts are super long? I just read a fic where the male character's dick was 11 inches (which is like 30 cm)… like- how is that even possible and how on earth am I supposed to even DEAL with something like that? do I use it as a baseball bat?

"Don't worry baby, I'll make it fit" THE HELL YOU WILL?! STAY AWAY

(I'm not trying to offend any author here, I think we all have the right to write every kink and preferences we have so don't take this too seriously, you're doing great 🩷🙏🏻)

[moonswolfie]

When you lose your wedding ring

Ft. Various haikyuu boys🤭

decided to try my hand at these little texting scenarios hehe

KUROO, Osamu, Suna

Bokuto, LEV, Hinata

Iwaizumi, SUGAWARA, Aran

KITA, Ushijima, Akaashi

Tsukki, Oikawa, ATSUMU

[sweetlyvibe]

✎ . . . their reaction to you DEFENDING THEM .ᐟ.ᐟ

- 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭. 𝖪𝖾𝗇𝗆𝖺 𝖪𝗈𝗓𝗎𝗆𝖾 ⋆ 𝖲𝗎𝗇𝖺 𝖱𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗎 ⋆ 𝖪𝖺𝗀𝖾𝗒𝖺𝗆𝖺 𝖳𝗈𝖻𝗂𝗈 ⋆ 𝖠𝗄𝖺𝖺𝗌𝗁𝗂 𝖪𝖾𝗂𝗃𝗂 ⋆ 𝖭𝗂𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗈𝗒𝖺 𝗒𝗎𝗎

Rintarou stood quietly off to the side, his usual unimpressed expression fixed in place as someone started throwing accusations his way—something about being lazy or unmotivated. You, however, weren’t having any of it.

“Excuse me, but do you even know what you’re talking about?” you interrupted, stepping in front of Rintarou. “He works harder than anyone else, and just because he doesn’t broadcast it like some people doesn’t mean you get to judge him.”

Rintarou’s eyes widened slightly, caught off guard by your sudden defense. The tiniest smirk tugged at his lips as he watched you go off on his behalf. When the other person finally backed down and walked away, you turned to him, your face still flushed with indignation.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he said, his voice soft and calm, but his gaze held an uncharacteristic warmth.

“Yes, I did,” you shot back. “They were being unfair.”

his smirk deepened, his hand ruffling your hair. “Thanks, Y/n. You’re kind of scary when you’re mad, but… I like it.”

Keiji was trying to remain polite, as always, but the person arguing with him clearly wasn’t interested in reason. They kept cutting him off, questioning his decisions, and Keiji‘s calm demeanor was starting to falter.

That’s when you stepped in. “Hold on, why don’t you let him finish before jumping to conclusions?” you said firmly, crossing your arms. “Akaashi knows exactly what he’s doing, and if you actually listened to him, you’d realize that.”

The person stammered, clearly taken aback by your sharp tone, before awkwardly excusing themselves. Keiji blinked at you, his mouth slightly open in surprise.

“You didn’t have to do that, Y/n,” he said after a moment, his voice soft.

You shrugged, your cheeks a little pink. “I couldn’t just stand there and let them talk to you like that.”

A small smile appeared on his lips as he adjusted his glasses. “Thank you,” he murmured, his eyes meeting yours with quiet admiration. “You didn’t just defend me—you reminded me why I’m lucky to have you around.”

Kenma hated arguments, especially when he was the target. He’d much rather let the other person talk themselves out than get involved, but this time, they were relentless, criticizing his supposed lack of “effort” on the team.

You, however, weren’t about to let that slide. “Oh, come on,” you said, stepping forward with a sharp glare. “Do you even know Kenma? He works harder than anyone else. Just because he’s not loud about it doesn’t mean he doesn’t care.”

Kenma’s eyes widened slightly as he watched you defend him. The other person stammered before leaving, clearly overwhelmed by your fierce energy.

Kenma tugged lightly at your sleeve, his voice barely above a whisper. “You didn’t have to do that…”

“Of course I did,” you said, still fuming. “They were being unfair.”

Kenma’s lips quirked into a small, almost shy smile. “Thanks,” he said, his cheeks tinged pink. “But… you know, you don’t have to fight my battles for me.”

“I know,” you replied, softening. “I just couldn’t stand there and do nothing.”

Kenma’s gaze lingered on you for a moment before he muttered, “You’re kind of amazing, you know that?”

Noya was mid-argument, his fiery personality clashing with someone who clearly underestimated him. He was holding his ground, but the other person’s snide remarks were starting to hit a nerve.

That’s when you jumped in. “Hey! Who do you think you are, talking to him like that?” you snapped, stepping between them. “Noya’s one of the best players on the team, and he’s got more heart than you could ever understand.”

Nishinoya blinked, caught off guard as the person muttered an apology and backed off. When they were gone, he broke into a wide grin. “Y/n! That was awesome!”

You crossed your arms, still glaring in the direction the person had gone. “They had no right to talk to you like that.”

Noya laughed, throwing an arm around your shoulders. “Man, you’re fiery! I love it! You’re like my personal knight in shining armor.”

His teasing tone made you roll your eyes, but the way he looked at you—like you were the coolest person in the world—made your heart race.

Tobio wasn’t the best at handling confrontations, so when someone started criticizing him for being “too intense” on the court, he didn’t know how to respond. He stood there, frowning deeply, his fists clenched at his sides.

Before he could say anything, you stepped in. “Excuse me, but do you even know what you’re talking about?” you said, your voice firm. “Kageyama is one of the hardest-working players out there, and if you can’t see that, maybe you should just leave.”

The person hesitated before walking away, clearly intimidated by your sharp tone. Kageyama stared at you, his expression a mix of surprise and admiration.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he said quietly, scratching the back of his neck.

You turned to him, still fuming. “Of course I did! They were being ridiculous.”

His ears turned red as he muttered, “Thanks, I guess.” He avoided your gaze for a moment before adding, “It’s… nice to know you have my back.”

You smiled softly, reaching out to nudge his shoulder. “Always.”

For the rest of the day, Tobio couldn’t stop thinking about how fiercely you’d stood up for him, and he swore to himself that he’d work even harder—not for the critics, but for you.

[emmyrosee]

Hi!! Can you please please please write something with weird reader x akaashi? Have a lovely day ♡

Keiji smirks as two arms snake around his neck and gently pull him close, your lips pressing to his head, then ears, where you playfully bite the lobe gently.

“I want to gnaw on your bones,” you whisper into his ear.

“Yeah?” He asks, dog earring his page before closing the book and setting it to the side. He spins in his seat to face you. “You’re feeling that intense about your affection?”

“Of course.” You round the couch and make a move to plop on his lap; his arms instinctively wrap around you, and his lips press a kiss to your temple. “You’re just so pretty today, Keiji. Pretty everyday.”

“Thank you, baby,” he coos, his kissing moving down your cheek then jawline. You mewl and squeeze him, smushing his face against you. “Ow.”

“Sorry. Had to be done.”

“You had to squish me?”

“Yes,” you purr, pressing kisses to his cheeks as compensation for hurting him. Your hand comes up to grip his cheeks, pursing his lips out for you to kiss. “Mwah.”

“Mwah,” he returns.

“Mwah!”

“Mwah.”

“I’m gonna bite you.”

“Please don’t-“ his words are cut off as you bite the squish of his lips, not hard enough to make him wince but enough to playfully bite. “Thank you for being gentle with your feral behavior.”

“You’re welcome.” You plant one more kiss to his lips before hiding your face in his neck, letting the scent of his warm skin lull you to a state of relaxation. “Love you, Keiji.”

“I love you too, baby.”

[nanasrkives]

Navigation : midnight records! the starlight EP! haikyuu EP!

── .✦ "3 AM SHENANIGANS" — Suna Rintaro, Akaashi Keiji, Kuroo Tetsuro, Sakusa Kiyoomi, Bokuto Kotarou, Iwaizumi Hajime, Miya Atsumu, Miya Osamu, Kozume Kenma, Oikawa Toru

in which you catch your boyfriend talking in his sleep Sleep-talking boyfriends >>> therapy. content : fluff. multicharacter. post timeskip.2000 words

SUNA RINTAROU

It’s late, and the room is quiet, except for the occasional shuffle from Suna, who’s already half asleep beside you. You’re about to drift off when you hear him mumble, his voice low and irritated.

“Are you serious right now?” Suna grumbles, not fully awake. “Atsumu, you can’t be this extra all the time.”

You freeze. Wait, is he... talking about Atsumu?

You glance at Rin, then casually grab your phone. With a grin, you hit record, knowing this is going to be top-tier content. “You look like a damn highlighter, Atsumu,” Rin mutters, sounding genuinely disgusted. “Who told you neon green was a vibe? Was your mirror broken that day?”

You bite your lip to hold back a laugh. This is already better than anything you could’ve expected.

“And that ‘sexy smirk’ you keep trying to pull off?” Suna continues, totally unaware of his roasting abilities. “You look like a kid who just learned how to wink and is way too proud of it. Cut it out, bro.”

You snicker, barely able to keep your cool. I’m definitely sending this to Atsumu in the morning.

“Honestly, just stick to your usual ‘I’m better than you’ routine,” he grumbles. “At least that’s believable. But seriously? You think anyone’s buying this ‘heartthrob’ act? You look like a failed shampoo commercial from 2009.”

You choke on your laugh, clutching your stomach as you snort. Suna, meanwhile, is still in his own little world.

“And for the love of God,” he adds, “stop flexing like you’re auditioning for a bodybuilding competition, because nobody’s impressed. We see your ego in every room, and honestly, it’s exhausting.”

You just can’t stop giggling, holding your phone up to get every word. This is absolute gold.

“Seriously, Atsumu,” he mutters, voice slurring as he shifts slightly. “I’m just trying to sleep, and you’re out here acting like you’re the main character in a K-drama. Take that energy to the next level, bro.”

You whisper to yourself with a grin, “Suna's literally sleep-roasting him like he’s on a talk show.”

Suna rolls over, still completely unconscious, and you stop the recording, already looking forward to showing this to Atsumu. You lean back and snicker under your breath, "This is so going viral in the group chat.”

AKAASHI KEIJI

It’s late, and you got up because you were thirsty. You’re just about to go back to sleep when you hear a mumble from Akaashi next to you.

“Did I leave the oven on...?” he mutters groggily, his voice low and concerned.

You blink, confused. Wait, what?

You glance over at him, only to find him still fast asleep, looking completely unaware of his own panic. “Keiji...?” you whisper, half-jokingly. He mumbles again, his tone slightly more urgent this time. “The oven... I think I left it on. Did I...?”

You try not to laugh, but you can’t help it. Seriously? In his sleep, he's worried about the oven? “Hey Keiji...” you try to get his attention, but he continues as if he’s in the middle of a full-blown crisis.

“I swear, if I burned the house down...” he mutters, shifting slightly in the bed. “I was just trying to make toast...”

You’re now fully awake, trying to hold back laughter as you watch him talk about something as mundane as burnt toast while still completely unconscious.

“I know I should’ve checked the timer...” he continues, his voice tinged with regret. “Why do I always forget the basics?”

By now, you’re trying your best not to laugh out loud. This is too funny, and you decide to take full advantage of it. You tap him on the shoulder gently, but he doesn’t react. He’s still spiraling in his sleep. “Babe, it’s fine. The oven's off,” you say in a teasing tone, hoping it’ll snap him out of it.

“But what if I didn’t turn it off...?” he mutters again, his concern reaching new heights. “What if... what if the fire department has to come? I’ll never hear the end of it.”

You sigh, finally giving up on holding it in and letting out a chuckle. Akaashi, always the over-thinker—even in his sleep. With a smirk, you nudge him once more, and he finally lets out a small sigh of relief, still half asleep. “I’ll deal with it in the morning...”

You shake your head, still smiling. Next time, maybe check the oven before going to bed.

KUROO TETSUROU

The night is calm, the kind of stillness that’s perfect for deep sleep—or so you thought. You’re peacefully dreaming when you suddenly feel a hand on your arm. Kuroo shift beside you, his body going rigid all of a sudden.

“No, no, no... why is she—” he mumbles in his sleep, his voice growing more frantic by the second.

You blink, slowly waking up as his random murmurs continue. "Tetsu?" you ask groggily, unsure whether to just ignore it or poke him awake.

"She’s... she's drooling—WHAT THE FUCK, WHY IS SHE DROOLING?"

You furrow your brows, still half-asleep and confused. "What? Drooling? What are you talking about?"

Kuroo starts thrashing around a bit, looking like he's trying to dodge something invisible. "No, no, NO—this is bad. This is so bad. It’s... it’s—LILY ROSE DEPP! GET AWAY! GET AWAY FROM ME, YOU'RE GONNA GET ME WITH THE DROOL!"

Pause. Why the fuck is he dreaming about Lily Rose—

It hits you like a lightning bolt. He's dreaming about the movie you saw today.

You can’t help but snicker at the absurdity of the situation, but Kuroo is clearly in full-blown panic mode, hands swatting at the air like he’s trying to fend off some kind of horror movie monster.

"Tetsu," you whisper, trying not to laugh too loudly. "Chill out, it’s just a movie. Lily-Rose Depp is not going to drool on you."

"But she’s... she’s just standing there tweaking out! WHY IS SHE DROOLING LIKE THAT?! SHE'S GONNA MURDER ME!"

You can’t hold it in anymore. "You are literally freaking out over fake drool. It’s not even real!"

He freezes mid-squirm, looking like he’s just realized he’s been fighting invisible drool this whole time. "Wait... I’m... I’m dreaming?"

"Yes, babe, you’re dreaming," you say, trying to get him to relax. "It was just a weird movie scene, chill. No one’s gonna drool on you in your sleep."

He mutters something under his breath, clearly still processing, but then—BOOM. He jolts awake, blinking in confusion and looking around wildly. "Did I... did I just fight off a drooling woman?"

You can’t help but laugh, running your fingers through his hair. "No, baby, you’re good. There’s no one here. Just weird movie dreams."

Kuroo lets out a deep sigh of relief, but not without one last dramatic comment: "But seriously... that scene? Unsettling. Why did she even do that?" He shudders dramatically as if he’s still trying to shake off the absurdity of it.

You laugh, rolling your eyes. "It was just a weird artistic choice, Tetsu. Just go back to sleep, dream about something less gross."

Kuroo pulls you closer, still looking a little frazzled, but at least he’s relaxed enough to go back to sleep. "If I dream about drool again, though, I’m going full superhero on it," he mutters.

“I’ll hold you to that,” you say, stifling a giggle. "Goodnight, hero."

SAKUSA KIYOOMI

The night is quiet, and you’re just about to drift off when you feel something unexpected: a weight on your waist. You blink, confused, only to find that Sakusa—who's usually the least touchy person you know—is clinging to you like a koala in his sleep.

"Mmm… no… no, not again..."

You blink a few times, still half-asleep. "Omi?"

He doesn't respond, but you hear him muttering something under his breath.

"Stay back, Atsumu..."

You sit up a bit, eyes wide in confusion. "Atsumu?"

His grip on you tightens, and you feel his body tense against yours as if he’s trying to protect himself from an invisible force. "No… no, you’re too sweaty! I can’t breathe… germs… germs everywhere!"

You rub your eyes, not sure if you’re dreaming or if Sakusa’s really having this conversation in his sleep. "Wait, what?"

"Germs…,” he mumbles again, still clutching you like you’re his lifeline, as though Atsumu—who’s clearly not here—is about to attack him with sweat.

You can’t help it. You snort, more amused than anything else. This is the guy who gives you a 10-minute lecture about disinfecting your phone, and now he’s sleeping like a cat glued to your side.

"Omi," you murmur, trying to suppress a laugh. "You’re literally dreaming. There’s no sweaty Atsumu here. Calm down."

But he’s not listening. His voice gets more frantic, and his arms tighten even more around you. "I can't… I can’t touch him, Y/N... it’s… it’s everywhere. The germs, the sweat, it's all over..."

You blink, stunned at how clingy he’s gotten. Normally, this guy wouldn’t touch you unless you had a very good reason. And now? He’s practically attached to you like a backpack. "You’re really going all in with this, huh?" you tease softly. "Do you need me to disinfect myself before I sleep with you too?"

"Need bleach...,” he mumbles, still not awake. "We need bleach. Stat."

You burst into quiet laughter, shaking your head. "You’re fine babe. There’s no germs here. I promise. It’s just you and me."

His response? He pulls you closer, his face nuzzling into the crook of your neck like he’s shielding himself from a storm. You almost fall out of bed from how tightly he's holding you, and the absurdity of it all finally hits you.

"Omi," you chuckle softly, "I can’t believe you’re this clingy when you're asleep." You can practically hear his mind working as he sighs in his sleep. "Thank you... you're so clean..."

You're starting to enjoy the chaos now, though you’re still trying not to suffocate under his sleep-induced clinging. "Well, if I'm so clean, maybe you should calm down before you suffocate me," you tease, lightly pushing him off.

He doesn’t budge, still clinging to you like a human koala.

"I promise, no one’s getting sweaty near you," you murmur, shaking your head in amused disbelief.

Sakusa finally relaxes a little, still holding onto you, though not as desperately. It’s almost sweet… if you ignore the fact that he's sleep-clinging to you like a lifeline and muttering about germs.

"You're so soft," he mutters sleepily, finally drifting back into peaceful slumber, his hand still gently gripping your waist.

You blink down at him in confusion.

You can’t help but snicker. Looks like, for once, you’re the one who has to play the role of the calm, reassuring one. Not that you mind—just as long as he doesn’t try to disinfect you in the middle of the night.

BOKUTO KOTAROU

It was late—too late—when you felt something shift next to you. At first, you ignored it, already half-asleep, curled under the blankets. Then, suddenly—

"HEY HEY HEY!!"

Your body jerked awake at the sheer volume of his voice. "What the—?!"

Your sleep-addled brain barely had time to process before Bokuto fist-pumped the air—WHILE STILL ASLEEP.

"BEST SPIKER ALIVE, BABY!!" he cheered.

You blinked in the dark, completely disoriented. "Are you serious right now?" He didn’t answer. Because he was still asleep.

You groaned, rubbing your face, trying to slow your heartbeat down after that sudden wake-up call. "Bokuto, shut up," you muttered, voice raspy with sleep. But he wasn’t done.

"THAT WAS PERFECT!! DID YOU SEE THAT, Y/N?!"

"Oh my god," you whispered, realizing what was happening.

He was sleep-talking. Again.

"Ko, babe," you sighed, poking his forehead, hoping to shut him up before he woke up the whole building. "You’re dreaming. Go back to sleep." But instead of calming down, he suddenly turned towards you, grabbed your wrist, and squeezed it like a coach hyping up a player. "Y/N, YOU SET ME UP SO GOOD, I COULD KISS YOU!!"

You froze.

Your sleep-deprived brain took a moment to process the words before your lips parted. "…Bokuto Kotarou, I don’t even play volleyball."

"DON’T EVEN NEED TO! YOU’RE JUST THAT GOOD!!"

You sighed deeply, trying not to laugh. Sleep-talking Bokuto was something else. "Okay, okay, I’m amazing, got it. Now, can you go back to sleep?" Bokuto let out a content sigh, rolling back onto his side. "Mm… MVP… my Y/N…"

And just like that, he was out cold again.

Meanwhile, you stared at the ceiling, still awake, because somehow you just got dragged into an imaginary volleyball match at 3 AM.

IWAIZUMI HAJIME

The night was supposed to be peaceful. A rare moment of rest. No stress, no overthinking—just warmth, a comfortable bed, and the sound of Iwaizumi’s steady breathing beside you.

And then—

"Damn… look at those biceps…"

Your eyes snapped open.

For a second, you just lay there, blinking at the ceiling. Maybe you imagined it. Maybe you were dreaming.

Then, another sigh. "Shit… those arms… they’re unreal…"

Slowly—very slowly—you turned your head.

Iwaizumi was out cold, brows slightly furrowed, face relaxed in sleep. Yet his lips still moved, muttering nonsense into the darkness.

You stared at him. "Excuse me?"

He inhaled deeply, like he was taking in the sight of something majestic. "Damn, Ushiwaka…"

You nearly choked.

"USHIJIMA?!"

Nothing. No reaction. Just more soft, reverent mumbling. "Man… wonder what his arm day looks like…" A dreamy sigh. "Bet he curls, like… baby cows or somethin’…"

Your mouth fell open. For a solid ten seconds, you just laid there, processing. Then, slowly, a grin crept onto your face.

Leaning in, you whispered, "Hajime, do we need to have a conversation?"

A twitch. Then a small, sleepy grunt. "Mm… nah… ‘M gonna get bigger… even bigger…" His fingers twitched against the blanket, like he was mentally curling dumbbells.

You bit back laughter. "Bigger than Ushiwaka?" His brows furrowed, serious even in his sleep. "Tch… obviously…” A pause. "…probably…" That did it. You had to shove your face into the pillow to keep from bursting out laughing.

And just when you thought it couldn’t get any better—

"Y/N… ya think I’d look cool in a whey protein commercial…?"

You lost it. Grabbing your pillow, you smacked him upside the head.

MIYA ATSUMU

The night was peaceful, quiet, and exactly what you needed after a long day.

Then—

"THAT LYIN’ SNAKE—"

You shot upright, heart slamming against your ribs as you whipped toward the source of the outburst.

Atsumu. Still completely asleep.

His brows were furrowed, his mouth twisted in pure betrayal, and his fingers twitched against the blanket like he was plotting a murder. You exhaled sharply, flopping back onto the pillow. "God, Atsumu. Go back to sleep."

But he wasn’t done.

"I KNEW IT," he muttered, voice thick with righteous fury. "OSAMU’S BEEN WORKIN’ WITH THEM ALL ALONG…" Your brows furrowed as you turned to face him, half-exasperated, half-amused. "With who?" Atsumu’s breathing hitched. Then, in a voice so low it was almost conspiratorial, he whispered—

"The pigeons."

You blinked.

"What."

"They ain’t real, Y/N…" he continued, jaw clenching. "Government spies. Watchin’ us. Waitin’."

Your face went slack. "You’re joking."

"First it was the onigiri… now it’s full-blown espionage…" Atsumu grumbled, gripping the sheets tighter. "I gotta stop him… I gotta—"

Then, abruptly, his whole body relaxed. His face softened. His lips curled into a stupidly fond smile. "Mm… Y/N, ya smell good…" Your soul left your body.

"WHAT?!"

"Like… bread…" he sighed, completely content. "I love bread… ‘M gonna marry bread…" You stared at him.

Then, without thinking, you smacked him with your pillow.

"WAKE UP, YOU MENACE."

Atsumu just rolled over onto his stomach, mumbling something incoherent. But then, just as you were about to settle back down… "Not if Osamu gets to it first… damn bastard takes everythin’ from me…" You buried your face in your hands.

It was too late at night for this.

MIYA OSAMU

It was past midnight, and the only sound in the apartment was the occasional hum of the fridge. You were comfortably asleep—until you heard mumbling beside you.

At first, you thought you imagined it. But then— "No, that’s mine, ya greedy pig…"

Your eyebrows furrowed as you turned your head toward Osamu, who was lying on his back, looking completely relaxed. His lips parted slightly as he mumbled, his voice low and grumbly from sleep.

"Didn’t even leave me a single bite… selfish ass…"

Oh. He was sleep-talking. You had to physically restrain yourself from laughing.

Carefully, you shifted closer, resting your head on his shoulder. "What’d he take this time?" you whispered, playing along. Osamu sighed like a man who had suffered greatly. "The last onigiri…"

You bit back a grin.

"That bastard," you whispered dramatically. "Didn’t even ask?" Osamu's brows furrowed, his head tilting slightly. "Didn’t even share…"

You lost it. You absolutely lost it.

You pressed your face into his shoulder, shaking with silent laughter. This was too good. Then—"That was my favorite one, too…" Osamu sounded genuinely heartbroken.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes from holding in your laughter. "'Samu, baby, you own a whole restaurant."

There was a beat of silence.

Then, with the most serious expression—still completely asleep—he muttered: "DON’T MEAN I WANNA SHARE, Y/N." You immediately rolled onto your back, gripping your stomach, wheezing.

That was it. You were bringing this up tomorrow.

And if Osamu thought for one second that you wouldn’t record it next time? He had another thing coming.

KOZUME KENMA

Kenma was a silent sleeper. Most nights, you barely even noticed he was there—except for the occasional shift when he curled closer, or the faint glow of his phone screen if he stayed up too late gaming.

Tonight, however, was different.

Because at exactly 3:12 AM, he mumbled—

"No… no… lag… not now…"

You blinked awake. For a second, you weren’t sure if you imagined it. But then—"Tch… stupid server…" Kenma shifted slightly, brows furrowing in his sleep. "I swear if I d—if I d—if I d—" He twitched.

You squinted. "Kenma?"

"—if I d—if I d—if I d—"

You sat up. "Are you… lagging?" Kenma twitched again. His lips parted slightly, his voice glitching. "N—not n—now—lag—s-stu—pid—"

It took everything in you not to burst out laughing. "Kenma, baby, you’re buffering."

"Ngh… Y/N…" His fingers twitched, his face contorted in distress. "They’re—th-th-they’re stream sniping me…" You bit your lip. "Who?"

"Sweaty… 12-year-olds…" He exhaled sharply. "Little monsters…"

At that, you lost it. You flopped back onto the pillow, shaking with silent laughter.

"Kenma," you gasped. "You’re getting wrecked by children in your dreams?" "They—they won’t stop emoting on my body…" He turned his face into the pillow, like he was actually suffering. "Disgusting…"

Tears pricked at your eyes from holding back laughter.

Then, suddenly, Kenma’s breathing evened out again. His fingers stopped twitching.

Silence.

Until—"…Kuroo, stop taking my loot…"

You rolled over and smacked him with a pillow.

OIKAWA TOORU

The bedroom was quiet, you and Oikawa in a peaceful slumber, until, you’re woken up in the middle of the night by Oikawa’s voice, soft but unmistakably confident.

“...Y/N, I’m telling you, I can do a backflip. I’ve practiced, I swear.”

You blink, groggily trying to process what he’s saying. "A backflip? Sweetheart, where would you even try that?"

He doesn’t answer, but you can hear him shift in his sleep. Then, his voice comes again, louder this time, as if he’s trying to convince the whole room. “I’m serious! Just wait ‘til I show you. I can totally do it. You’ll see.”

You squint at him, slightly confused. “A backflip? Are you actually dreaming about impressing me with acrobatics?”

He sighs in his sleep, as if this whole conversation is just basic stuff to him. “I’m not just impressing you, Y/N. I’m proving I can do anything. You’ll see...”

You can’t help but laugh quietly, shaking your head. "Okay, Oikawa. When you land that backflip, let me know."

His voice is muffled as he mutters, “Just wait... I’ll do it in front of the whole team... they’ll be amazed…”

You roll your eyes, utterly entertained. "Sure, sure. I’m sure they’ll be floored, Oikawa."

He mumbles something unintelligible, then goes silent again, clearly satisfied with his dream logic. You shake your head, already half asleep again. "Whatever you say, superstar."

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