#time skip akaashi

[4unnyr0se]

Hear me out…asking Kenma and Akaashi to eat it from the back..

❥ eat it from the back | kenma kozume & keiji akaashi

warnings: timeskip! kenma and akaashi, fem! reader, eating pussy from the back (obvs), kenma is a tease and akaashi is a gentleman, fingering, spanking (kind of), mentions of hickeys, bokuto mentioned

MDNI | 18+ content

word count -> 2.1k

a/n: okay i literally hate this with every fiber of my being but i hope u like it nonnie xx

Kenma Kozume

“Hey babe?” you poked your head into your bedroom shared by your boyfriend, the neon red and white lights reflecting off his hazelnut waves. The atmosphere was cozy and quaint, accompanied by the faintest sound of video game characters making attack noises at each other. “I-I have a question if you aren’t busy.” your manicured nails anxiously rubbed against the doorframe, a worrying feeling coursing through your pulsating veins. 

Kenma turned around, placing his cat-ear headphones around his neck. You had gotten them as a joke last Christmas, but he grew attached to them quickly. Your boyfriend was akin to that of a cat, after all. “Yeah, what’s up? Is everything okay?” he asked, his voice laced with a mild concern. You were usually so open with him, never afraid to speak your mind. Why did you seem anxious? Were you hurt?

“O-oh, everything is fine. It’s just…I wanted to try something different, if that’s okay.” you smiled in a feeble attempt to assure him, closing the door behind you. Kenma raised an eyebrow and exited his expensive gaming chair, electing to sit on the king-sized bed on the other side of the room. He patted the blanketed spot next to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder once you were snuggled deep into his side. “What did you wanna try, hm? It’s okay, I won’t judge you.”

You blushed and bit down on your lip, not daring to look into Kenma’s gorgeous golden eyes. Since you started dating, your boyfriend has always accommodated your needs, ensuring you feel safe and secure. Surely he would not refuse you now? “Uh, my friend sent me a video on Twitter and…and it was of a girl getting head from behind. I-if you know what I mean.”

A smirk decorated Kenma’s lips as he pulled you impossibly closer to his chest, the thick fabric of his company hoodie softly grazing your blushing cheek. “Oh, was that it? That’s nothing, baby. You know I can’t say no to your pretty face when you ask for something so simple.” he purred, grasping your chin with his hand. He pulled you out of his hoodie to look into his eyes, molten with a newfound desire and longing. The padding of his thumb pulled on your bottom lip, admiring how pretty you looked when you were so desperate for him. “Can you take those pants off and get on all fours for me, pretty girl?”

You nodded quickly, practically ripping off your pants along with your panties, tossing them in some random corner of the room to be forgotten about. You smushed your flushing face against the silky sheets of the massive bed, your back arching so perfectly for him. All on display, all for Kenma. He growled at the sight, kneading the flesh of your ass between his long fingers. “Fucking perfect.” he groaned, playfully cracking his hand against your skin. “Shit, you’re fucking dripping for me. Do you want this that badly, baby?”

“Yes!” you whimpered, your hands finding purchase in the sheets as Kenma bent down, his fingers trailing your dripping folds. “Please, fuck, please just, just do it!” 

“Okay, pretty girl, whatever you want,” he whispered, placing a teasing kiss on your inner thigh before his mouth landed on your soaked core. His hot tongue slid up and down your folds, mewl after pathetic mewl escaping your lips and being drowned out by the sheets. His hands gripped onto your thighs to secure your position, leaving tiny, fingerprint-sized bruises. His tongue drew playful circles around your sopping entrance, pushing the tip of his muscle in occasionally so he could relish in your surprised squeal.

Kenma indulged himself in you, but that was no shock at all. He was a very greedy lover, and you adored that about him. You tasted like the nectar of the gods on his skilled tongue, his name falling from your plump lips in a broken prayer as your stomach sank further into the mattress, slowly coming undone by his expert oral ministrations. “Shit, you’re fucking shaking. You must’ve wanted this, huh, baby?

His lewd words sent vibrations throughout your body, causing your clit to so painfully throb. “P-please,” you begged, reaching behind you to desperately grasp for his hand. “Need you, please.” Your hand found purchase on his wrist, impatiently dragging it to hover above your soaked clit. 

He choked back a moan as his fingers began to swirl around your clit, pinching the sensitive bud just to get a beautiful yelp to fall from your lips. The way it was throbbing, the way you were so beautifully dripping all over his chin and mouth; you were close. He could feel it. Kenma could tell when you were about to reach orgasm by the way your walls squeezed his cock, but this time it was different. Your body was shaking and trembling, so you were in for quite a ride. 

“Gonna fucking cum, baby? That’s okay, cum on my face. You can do it, can’t you? Be a good fucking girl and drown me, don’t make me ask again.” he demanded, rhythmically plunging his tongue in and out of your entrance. His tongue accidentally-on-purpose hit the most sensitive spot inside your core, causing you to topple over the edge and into complete and utter bliss. You release coated half of his lower face, making the mess Kenma never tired of seeing. Fuck, you looked so perfect like this. Bent over and all spent for him, profanities escaping your mouth as you rode your high so gracefully. 

Reluctantly, Kenma pulled himself away from your drenched lower half, wiping your release from his lips. As you turned around to face him, he smacked your ass. “Sorry baby,” he corrected, standing up to slide off his sweatpants and boxers. His cock leaked with precum, prodding at your entrance. “Did you really think we were done? That’s so cute.”

Keiji Akaashi

Akaashi has been your most trusted friend ever since high school. You were Fukurodani’s manager and went to the same university as him, often spending time with each other for whatever reason you two wanted, be it studying or simply crying over your shitty boyfriend cheating on you. He was always there for you, and you were always there for him. You knew everything about each other, everything, including your deepest, most dark desires.

It began when you discovered (by pure accident) that you had apartments in the same building, one floor apart. It was a shock at first, albeit a hilarious one. Akaashi joked about how you could never get rid of him, like how you and Bokuto were attached at his hip in high school. Eventually, like in college, you spent every free moment with each other. He could be editing a manga panel on his laptop, and you gingerly made him tea, patting his head. His green eyes would always trail to the hem of your top, the hint of exposed cleavage driving him secretly wild. Or how you would wear your sleep shorts constantly because you worked from home, the sight of your exposed thighs making him instantly hard in his slacks. 

One day, the tension between the two of you snapped. Akaashi had you against the wall, your legs wrapped around his waist and his hands squeezing your waist. His lips molded so perfectly against your own, groaning into your mouth as your teeth teasingly bit onto his bottom lip. That night was filled with passion and longing, a longing that started to brew since the day you decided to become a Fukurodani manager. Since then, your neck has never been free from his hickeys or marks, and Akaashi’s wrists always have one of your bracelets dangling from the bone.

You never kept anything from each other; why would you? You had known each other for so long that you and he were practically in sync—what he did, you did, etc. So when your friend sent you a Twitter link to a video of a girl trembling as she got eaten out from behind, you just had to show him.

“Keiji, look at this.” you tapped him on the shoulder, momentarily distracting him from editing a manga panel. “My friend sent me this. It’s pretty hot, right?” The video was muted, but the woman’s pleasure was so undeniable. Three fingers pumped in and out of her sobbing pussy while her partner secured her position with his large hands, his tongue ravishing her. 

“Yeah, it is really hot,” Akaashi looked at you with a flicker of desire in his eyes, kissing your fingers gently. “Would you like to try that, sweetheart?” He rose from his chair, slightly towering above you. He was so gentle at times you had forgotten that he used to play volleyball. Akaashi was pretty damn tall. You nodded and leaned to kiss him, resting your arms on his broad shoulders. He smiled into the kiss, breaking it for only a moment so he could drag you into the living room. Shrugging off his cardigan and removing his glasses, he gestured to the leather couch. “Can you get into the position like the girl in the video, sweetheart? Face down, ass up, come on.”

You happily obliged, stripping yourself of your shorts and panties instantly. You proudly displayed yourself for him, wiggling your ass playfully with a teasing grin plastered across your beautiful face. “Like this Keiji, yeah? Like when we do doggy style.”

“Exactly like when we do doggystyle, sweetheart.” Akaashi groaned, massaging your ass tenderly. You were already dripping for him, fuck. Were you thinking about this for longer than he thought? “You always look so fucking pretty for me.” his long and calloused fingers prodded at your throbbing entrance, eliciting an impatient moan from your lips. “Don’t tease, baby! Wan’ you so bad, c’mon!”

He pushed his index and middle finger inside your sobbing core, curling them inside instantly. Your walls squeezed about him perfectly, your manicured nails clawing at the pillow supporting your head. “T-tongue! Wan’ your tongue, Keiji! Please…” you whimpered, turning your head to look at him with a flustered and needy expression. 

“I know, pretty girl,” he cooed, quickening his ministrations in your fluttering cunt. “Just doing what the guy in the video did, right? You’ll get my tongue soon enough,” he assured you, squeezing the backs of your thighs lovingly. That put you at ease for a moment until his skilled tongue licked a fat stripe up your glistening folds, earning the most delightful squeal from your throat. 

“Fuck.” Akaashi slowly dragged his tongue up and down your wanton heat, groaning as your slick covered his tongue and mouth. You always tasted divine, like something not of this world. Your thighs already began to shake like the girl in the video, his fingers gently pistoning in and out of you being the perfect finishing touch. “So fucking pretty like this,” he whispered against you, fingers pulling out of your heat to rub against the clit. “I’ve never seen you this needy. Have you always wanted to try this? Hm?” 

You frantically nodded and pressed yourself against his face, wanting more of his wet muscle against your core. “J-just make me cum, dammit! You never tease me like this.”

“Whatever you want, sweetheart,” Akaashi buried himself in your cunt once more, tracing delicate circles on your most sensitive part. At the same time, his index finger rubbed your clit too well, the slick from inside your pussy adding a new kind of lubrication. Akaashi chuckled in satisfaction as he felt your orgasm approach, his tongue prodding at your entrance. He plunged the wet muscle inside, slurping noises filling the room of your otherwise silent living area. The tip expertly dipped in and out, running along each of your folds to avoid neglecting either.  “Want you to cum on my tongue, sweetheart,” he demanded, rubbing on your clit at a sickeningly fast pace. “Can you do that for me now? Wanna cum on my tongue?”

Like you were something he had programmed, you became unraveled all over his tongue, your slick release covering his mouth. “S-shit! Keiji, fuck! Oh my fucking god, don’t stop! Holy shit, fuck, fuck!” 

Akaashi smiled as he pulled away from your heat, giving your inner thighs gentle kisses. “You did so well, sweetheart. I’m so proud of you.” He grabbed your hips and flipped you around, pressing his lips against yours in a tender embrace. His tongue flicked against your lips, spreading some of your release. “You taste amazing, can you see?” 

You nodded and collapsed onto his chest, rubbing your head against the wool fabric of his sweater. “Gonna take a nap on you, is that okay?”

Akaashi chuckled to himself and kissed the top of your sweaty head, rubbing his hands down your back. “Of course, baby, get as much rest as you need. You did so well for me.”

have a request? my asks are open <3

[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.

[clawsdevour]

our own?

wc: 1.9k content warning: post-time skip, established relationship, akaashi x reader, pregnancy, oral (f!receiving), smut, fingering, not proofread

˚⟡˖࣪.

It’s late, maybe around midnight where it’s pitch black. The lights are off, you can’t see anything and it’s dead silent in your neighborhood. But you were in bed, under the covers with your husband of five years, Keiji Akaashi.

His arms covered by a grey long sleeve are wrapped around your waist while your hands are wrapped snuggly around his neck for a little cuddle time before drifting off to sleep. The embrace turned more into Akaashi’s favor while he’s playfully shuffling around with you. Eventually he ended up on top of you with his forearms at the sides of your head. 

The intimate little giggles you two breathe out alongside the sounds of you both rubbing against the bed sheets. You’re the first to lift your head up to land a kiss on his cheek. You could feel the smile creeping up on his face while he’s leaning lower for more of your gentle pecks that he always enjoys. Gradually, you made your way to his delicate lips, his half lidded eyes drooping down to take all of your kisses. 

Lips on his to share a heated kiss, your hands in his messy black hair. His fingers trailing up to caress the side of your face. A slow but cherishable kiss, his plush muscle making way into your mouth for further arousal. Massaging your tongue against his till you’re both out of steam.

Coming to a halt for a brief moment connected by a single string of saliva, your ragged pants radiating on eachothers skin. Akaashi takes this time to slip off his long sleeve, you’re slightly able to see his toned torso through a sliver of light that the curtains were unable to cover. 

Akaashi’s coming back down head level to you, wanting to continue kissing you, and maybe do something more tonight. That was until you put a finger on his lips telling him to wait, he’s pulling back just a bit, giving you some room.

“Keiji, do you think it’s about time?” whispering despite knowing there’s no one else in your bedroom besides the man you love. He’s puzzled at this question, you can’t see clearly but you know his brows are slightly furrowed trying to understand what you’re asking him.

“Time for..?” His finger massaging tender circles on your waist, a bit concerned for what you have to say.

“That… we start having kids of our own?” Silence, the room was. His finger stopped rubbing the warm and comforting circles.

Akaashi’s frozen in place. Astonished at the words you just spoke. His eyes were wide in shock, as this was the moment he’s been waiting for ever since he got down on one knee with that ring in hand. 

“Keiji?” The lingering quietness was so long due to him having to process this moment. 

“A-Are you okay with that? I mean like, having kids?” Akaashi’s seeking your approval as this was just casually and suddenly brought up.

“Yes, as long as it’s with you.” Rising up, your hands reach for his neck once more before trailing his body down with you as you fall back onto your fluffy pillow, stroking the side of his neck in comfort.

“Alright.. as you wish, love” he’s grinning from ear to ear with a few chuckles of happiness, peppering your face with his light kisses.

Your hands roam around his chest, moving lower where you felt something hard building up underneath the fabric of his sweats. Akaashi’s already stiffening from excitement. You didn’t realize a warm hand had slid up your shirt, fondling with your breast with its heated touch. His fingers massaging against your little nub causing you to squirm slightly underneath his frame while you continue to make out with him.

His flushed face separates from your faintly swollen lips, letting a cold wisp of air tickle the surface of your skin. Tugging the waistband of your pajama pants lower, he’s shuffling on his knees, down under the covers. His large hands at the sides of your hips, mouth latching onto your stomach His sloppy heated kisses making contact with your skin, a ticklish sensation arousing. You’re sliding out of your shirt, also leaving your chest vulnerable towards the cool air that hardened your nipples. 

“They’re gonna grow in here for 9 months, hm?” his breath muffled while he continues to peck your stomach. You’re mumbling out a ‘yes..’

His sensitive kisses make you want to bury your fingers in his messy hair to make him reach further down where your legs started to rub against each other, trying to resist his daunting stimulation. With each kiss he’s gradually dragging your pajamas further down, revealing to him your slightly wet underwear.

Pants off, you’re left in nothing but your panties. Akaashi’s laying flat on his chest between your legs, his index pressing against the damp fabric before hooking his digits on the sides to tug down to reveal your bare cunt. He’s faced with your bare slit, glistening with slick when you parted your legs further for his broad figure.

His warm fingers make its way onto your intimate area, using his thumbs to spread the outer lips to the sides. Feeling a hot puff of air, his mouth makes contact with your clit. A foreign sensation playing with your sensitive and smooth muscle, an increasing grip on the sheets twirl and crinkle around you.

His tongue is swirling around your heat emitting core in short but stimulating strokes. A few whimpers turned into moans when he started to pick up the pace, flicking your nub with all his power.

Moving just a bit beneath your clit, his mouth makes its advance into your entrance. Trying to lap up all of your rapidly overflowing juices caused by all the pleasure you’re receiving, attempting to insert a finger in to stimulate you further. 

His slender and long digit slowly being swallowed up the moment he presses against your hole that yearned for his touch, coming back out coated with your shining essence. You’re biting down your lip and pressing your head against the pillow to try and resist moaning even louder the more you came closer to your climax. 

“Feel good?” His husky quiet voice tickling your thigh, struggling to mumble out a ‘mhm’ without whining instead.

Akaashi’s adding in another finger to stretch you out. Your cunt’s taking all of him well while he’s pressing gentle wet pecks on your inner thighs. Clamping down around the added size, he’s working at a consistent pace to make sure it won’t cause any discomfort later on.

His stature rises back up where you’re head level with Akaashi. His lips longed for yours that called out his name, coming back up to make out with you once more while his fingers continue to move with haste. Reaching your orgasm, you cum on his fingers, feeling your cunt throb when his fill leaves your sopping entrance, a small whimper escaping your lips. 

“You ready?” Akaashi’s a little winded from the intimate tension rising in the air. You can feel his eyes piercing into you.

His body moves off of you for a second, he’s reaching for the nightstand forgetting that you wanted his seed in you that night.

“Wait Keiji! We won’t need that tonight,” your hand coming onto his forearm to stop him. He’s returning back to his stance that towers over you.

“Sorry, I forgot haha” giggling at his little mistake, he has one mission that night and it was to fill you up with every drop he had in store for you and get you pregnant with his child.

He’s taking off his sweats, leaving them somewhere to be picked up for the next day. His painfully hard erection standing, a hand slowly it stroking up and down, a bit of precum shining in the light.

“O-Ooh..” feeling something dense and warm prod against your wet slit. 

“Tell me if anything hurts, okay love?” reassuring eyes darting at you while you nod in response.

Akaashi’s guiding his cock up and down your folds, collecting your wetness on his length for a smooth entry. Lining himself up at your heated entrance, he tilts his head up to look at you for your permission. 

“Keiji, put it in.. I want you in me” telling Akaashi you want to make love with him, for real this time. His tip slides in without any trouble, causing you to quiver in satisfaction while he’s steadily pushing his way in.

Your gummy walls take his shape and form, making your pussy his. Akaashi’s giving you a moment to adjust, lips on the surface of skin he has free reign over. Feeling a moist and warm latch onto your right nipple, he’s continuing to satisfy you as he waits.

Grinding your hips to know that you want him to start thrusting, he’s leisurely rocking his hips into you. His gentle thumping, large hands moving underneath your knees to hold you in place, lips kissing places only he can kiss. 

“You feel so good, I’m already near just being inside…” Akaashi’s cooing softly throughout grunts of pleasure, feeling a pulse grow the more he clicked his pelvis into yours, your breasts moving to the rhythm. A subtle squelching sound starting to arise the more power he started to put into each movement. 

Your moans mixing in with every crisp audible sound resonated in between your walls. His tip prodding deeper, searching for your sweet spot while his length rubs against your insides in delight. 

“R-Right there, Keiji” pressing just a bit further, he found it. He’s angling every thrust to hit your sweet spot while your legs trembled with pleasure. Your whimpering and moaning continues to grow in volume while he’s exceeding his limit for you. 

Legs twitching under his hands while the heat continues to build up in your stomach, you’re so close to another orgasm. He’s now mercilessly pounding into you, his consistency starting to break as his plunges became sloppier. The sound of skin slapping increasing with all the noises.

Akaashi’s slowing down to more sensational strokes that had you curling your toes, about to reach your release while your grip on the bedsheets increases and stiffens. You can feel his cock twitching inside you while he continued to graze your bundle of nerves with every thrust. 

Seeing stars, you came once again. Breathless whilst releasing all the tension in your body while you take all of him until he plants his seed inside. Akaashi’s still got stamina to keep going, but what’s stopping him is now is how he’s about to burst inside you from all this pent up stimulation he’s been trying to resist. 

“I’m gonna cum, can I..?” his beady dark blue eyes watching your silhouette nod.

His hot fluids spurt out from his throbbing cock, coating your insides with his milky, thick essence. The warm liquid’s filling your pussy to the brim while Akaashi’s moaning out in pleasure. The grip under your knees releasing, letting your legs slowly fall to the sides while he’s huffing for air.

Slowly sliding out from your cum filled pussy, he’s eying the masterpiece he created with the sliver of light peeking out from the curtain working in his favor. His thick essence slowly seeping out from your swollen pussy before settling his body on you for a comforting hug.

Wrapping his arms around you, he’s shifting himself to be underneath you despite being exhausted and sweaty. Giving you two a moment to settle down, the heat increasing between you two.

Akaashi’s planting a gentle kiss on your forehead whilst sweeping the strands of loose hair to the side. He’s gazing at you in awestruck while thinking about the future you’ll create together.

“You don't know how I longed for this.”

masterlist here

[millenialfanfictionaddiction]

Being Their Pregnant Partner Featuring

Kita, Suna and Akaashi

Kita Shinsuke x Pregnant Reader; Suna Rintaro x Pregnant Reader; Akaashi Keiji x Pregnant Reader

Warnings: fluff

AN: and again : D

Kita

The beautiful sight of his fields at sunset were nothing compared to your gorgeous, full figure walking towards him with a basket full of food. He stopped his work, gathering up his equipment before making his way to you at the edge of the field.

“I thought you were suppose to be resting dear,” he asked you, smirk across his face as you scowled back at him.

“Well, you’ve barred me from field work so I guess the only thing I can do now is make you food and laze about the house, which I might add, is boring!”

Kita knew you’d have a hard time with the end of your pregnancy and with getting the required rest the doctor had ordered for you. At first, he tried everything to get you to just take one nap a day to rest and relax. Eventually he gave up on his quest and let nature take its course. Now that you were 8 months, your body essentially forced you to take a break which you absolutely hated.

“Why don’t you work on your knitting? You always complain you never had time for that when you worked the rice fields with me,” Kita suggested as you sighed.

“Well now that I have time I don’t want to do that, I want to work!”

You’re pout drove Kita insane but he knew there was little he could do to help you at this point. You absolutely were not allowed to help him in the fields but maybe there was something else you could do.

“Hey what about helping with packaging? You know that’s something you can sit and do,” he declared, waiting your response.

“I guess,” you groaned, admitting defeat, “I guess it’s better than nothing.”

Kita smiled, kissing your forehead and you both sat down to enjoy your food.

Suna

Suna couldn’t help but laugh at the sight before him. There you were, on the floor covered in paint as you tried to maneuver the piece of baby furniture you were painting.

“Hey Rin!” You spoke, face and hands completely covered in green paint as you continued to happily paint ground edges with great detail.

Suna wasn’t sure how you managed to be so careful with painting the dress or yet so messy with yourself

“Babe, I told you I’d help you tonight when I got home from practice,” Suna laughed, coming over to you to help you get off the floor in your extremely pregnant state.

He held out his hands as you gripped them, pulling yourself up and into his arms. You giggled as your painted body touched his and his EJP hoodie, making the colors now yellow, black, white and green.

“Good thing I got like 50 more of these in my closet,” he joked as you smiled

“You mean in my closet, I borrowed at least 10.”

Suna just chuckled, thinking how lucky he was to have such an amazing and wonderful partner.

Akaashi

“You’ve been working on that article all night babe, don’t you think it’s time you take a break?” You interrupted, bringing in a cup of tea and some late night snacks for your husband who had been working all day.

“It’s not an article love, it’s a letter your baby,” Akaashi answered as you stopped, eyes shifting to him as you set the tea down.

“A letter to the baby? May I ask what it’s about?”

Akaashi shrugged, “well it’s kind of about how you and I met and how our lives were before baby.”

Tears welled up in your eyes at your husbands thoughtful gesture. Akaashi noticed the tears, getting up and hugging you tightly as you sobbed in his arms.

“T-that’s got-got to be the cu-cutest thing I’ve e-ever heard Keiji,” you bellowed as Keiji just chuckled, consoling you, one hand on your back and one on your belly.

[kamisama1kiss]

GUYS PAUSE EVERYTHING YOURE DOING THE TIME-SKIP HAIKYUU IN CONFIRMED TO BE ANIMATED

LETS FUCKING GOOOOOO

23 YEAR OLD HINATA SHOYO IN BRAZIL HERE I COME.

(Don't kill me if it's wrong info-)

[virizines]

Tenma draws catkaashi

[mrs-kodzuken]

your period hcs! ⟢ keiji a.

synopsis: having your boyfriend care for you on your period was heaven sent, an absolute godly pick of a man. and he made sure you were completely comfortable too.

other: hcs, timeskip!akaashi x fem!reader, period (obv) mentions of a baby

boyfriend!akaashi who runs you a bubble bath with soothing homemade bags of tea for you to seep in because he knows the warm water will help your painful cramps

boyfriend!akaashi who puts your matching pajama set in the dryer to warm up before you plan to get out of the bath so you can have warm pjs

boyfriend!akaashi who plans your favorite meal for dinner, which was chili at this cold time of year and cooks it for you just the way you like it

boyfriend!akaashi who takes the day off work to pamper you with kisses, cuddles, and Christmas movies (because those are your favorite)

boyfriend!akaashi who worries about you being cold all of the time, so he sets out your heating blanket for you

boyfriend!akaashi who has your favorite snack that you always seem to crave this time of month stocked up for you

boyfriend!akaashi who brings you a snacking tray that includes Midol for your cramps, bloating, and headaches along with the food you actually will eat

boyfriend!akaashi who watched plenty of youtube videos that shown him where and how to sooth your cramps until the medicine kicks in

boyfriend!akaashi who paints your toes and fingernails for you the color you want, never once second guessing why he's doing this for you

boyfriend!akaashi who looks at you lovingly, doing his entire best for you because he hates to see you in pain this time every month

boyfriend!akaashi who has no shame walking into a store and buying the period products he knows you use and swear by because he's been with you long enough to know the kind

boyfriend!akaashi who cherishes you the entire week you're menstruating, it makes you wonder what he'll be like when you both decide to try for a baby

boyfriend!akaashi who does whatever you ask him to, you need a glass of ice-cold water? he's on it. hot cocoa? "you got it baby." stomach and breast massages because they hurt? "of course, honey." he'd say

boyfriend!akaashi who is absolutely whipped for you and treats you like the amazing woman you are

boyfriend!akaashi who would do just about anything for you, and wouldn't complain not one bit

just thinking about boyfriend!akaashi <3

a/n: just some short hcs! i love men in love >>>

[hatsukeii]

fragrance: coffee break, replica / timeskip!akaashi keiji x barista!reader

notes: coffee (top), lavender (heart), milk mousse (base)

description: the first shot of espresso after a long shift, freshly dripped coffee from the brewer

disclaimer(s): a love or hate fragrance for many

wc: 2470

warning(s): mentions/depictions of puke and anxiety, overworking culture and capitalism LMFAO but no nsfw!! angsty akaashi is a corporate slave and reader is a free soul who just likes brewing coffee </3 gn reader too!!

Akaashi Keiji doesn't like coffee at all, especially not when the black liquid that pools in the abyss of a flimsy paper cup on his desk is only a means to stay awake, to keep editing. But if anything, the instant coffee stand in his office is a necessity to keep him alive these days. He stares at his monitor, and his phone goes off in clicks and whirs just as it has for the past seven hours; messages from Koutaro, who has just won his qualifiers with MSBY, the qualifiers that Keiji wanted so badly to be at. He glances at the time that blinks at the corner of the screen.

22:45:01

Just another fifteen minutes, he thinks. Just another fifteen minutes until he can finally flick the lights off and lock himself out of this hell for the next two days. His eyelids grow heavier by the second as his fingers click impossibly quickly at his keyboard, regurgitating words on a blank canvas the way he throws up black coffee into the toilet every night. Despite that, his hand reaches for the paper cup that sits on his coaster, a pandora's box of putrid bitterness waiting to be consumed. After all, the vile, soured sensation of puke flushing out from his esophagus is infinitely more enjoyable than falling asleep at his desk and being berated by his dickhead of a boss again. He flips the swampy black liquid into his mouth, wincing at the tartness that claws lines down his throat all the way to his stomach.

Surely enough, right as the numbers at the corner of his monitor blink into 23:00:00, Akaashi Keiji is already frantically shoving his documents into his messenger bag, inevitably folding them in the wrong spots as he haphazardly slips them through the free cracks amongst his laptop and other miscellanous items. He flicks the lights off and sprints out the door, missing the key hole twice before finally managing to lock the office up properly, and makes a run for the bathroom, where he kneels in front of an empty urinal, and throws up everything he’s consumed in the past six hours. This consists of a single cream cheese bagel from the office fridge, and five cups worth of pure instant coffee.

The streetlights buzz above Keiji's head, moths feeding into their brightness as they dance around a ghastly tungsten glow. The walk home is tiring. He is so very tired. His guts have been emptied out in an office bathroom and the buzzing of the streetlight makes him want to crawl up its post and shatter it to shards, taking the moths down with it. Walls of glass on both sides line the night streets, mannequins staring him down as he slumps and turns the corner to his own.

Warmth.

The corner he has just turned heats him up like a fireplace does when the wind howls and screams at his windows, and he turns to the warm glow of a usually unnoticed cornerstore. It's fifteen past eleven, yet one person resides behind the counter. The sign at the door is flipped to ‘closed’, and Keiji can do nothing but stand at the entrance, watching you meticulously swirl steaming water into filter paper. He turns away in embarrassment when you look up at him, and place the long-spouted kettle in your hand down. He steps away from the corner as you swing open the door, the bell jingling in a merrier fashion than the droning streetlights.

"Are you good? You look a bit pale."

He turns back, and your body is halfway out the door. He doesn't say a word, yet his feet move towards the store unconsciously, and he doesn't realise it until his body is lined up with the doorframe.

"Do you, by any chance, have any food? I can pay."

Keiji sits at the coffee bar, where your steaming kettle sits amongst a plethora of brewing tools. Brown liquid falls into a roundbottomed flask drop by drop, tantalisingly slow. You flick on the television behind him, and the unmistakeable sound of leather against hardwood rings loud from the speakers as you reach into the fridge behind, searching for anything edible.

"You allergic to anything?"

"No, anything's good. Thanks."

Grabbing a leftover croissant, you throw it in the microwave, pressing carelessly at the buttons until the little glass dish begins to spin and whir. Facing the counter again, fingers return to the handle of the kettle as you continue swirling steaming water into coffee grounds on filter paper. Keiji's eyes are trained to the television, the reflection of a volleyball on the screen following the motion of his eyes.

"Volleyball fan too?"

"Yeah, my best friend plays on that team. Black Jackals."

Your eyebrows raise, still trained on the brewing batch of drip coffee. One circle, two circles, and down. You're not sure why your peculiar visitor is here instead of in the stands, but the bags beneath his eyes and his ghastly figure at your door are enough to give you a clue. You set the kettle down again, and the coffee begins to drip faster with the addition of water.

"Oh, really! Which player?"

"Kou- Bokuto. Bokuto Koutaro."

"That's cool, he's my favourite player. Got his jersey sitting somewhere at home."

The microwave beeps, and you reach for a ceramic plate, sliding the crispy croissant onto it and handing it to Keiji. He reaches for it hesitantly, the crust crunching beneath his fingers as layers of flaky pastry steam and fold against each other, before taking a bite. Buttery soft layers of bread, warm flakes dancing on his tongue, a hint of salt between each sheet of croissant pastry. His face stretches into a barely noticeable, but satiated smile as he chews. For the first time this week, Akaashi Keiji swears he is in heaven.

"This...this is a really fuckin' good croissant." He chuckles out with his mouth stuffed, a rare occasion given his usual schedule of throwing up, then going to bed. You wink at him, clicking your tongue proudly.

"In-house favourite, took me months to get right. I'm glad it's good."

Keiji pushes his glasses up with his knuckles, glancing back at the television. Koutaro graces the screen now, piercing golden eyes wide with enthusiasm. His voice rings through the speakers.

"I'm dedicating this win to my best friend! He was supposed to be here, but he must've been busy, so he couldn't make it. But that's okay! I know he's watching me back home, right, Keiji?"

He wants to cry, his mouth still stuffed with your croissant. His Adam's apple shifts ever so slightly, and you take notice of his neck tensing. The whites of your visitor's eyes are more red than anything, the bridge of his glasses sliding down when his nose scrunches at Bokuto's words. You eye the croissant on his plate, half-eaten in the two minutes it's been out of the microwave for.

"Would you like some coffee? Freshly brewed, new recipe."

Akaashi Keiji doesn't like coffee at all. Yet as he turns around to meet your eyes, lips pursed in guilt, he thinks that maybe, just maybe, it might be what he wants right now. You swirl water into the coffee grounds again, brown liquid dripping into the flask alluringly.

"Are you sure? It looks like it's taken a while to collect."

"You'd be doing me a favour by telling me if it tastes like shit."

You wait for the droplets to cease, before swirling the flask once, twice. Brown coffee trickles into a white mug as you hand it to your visitor, who takes it timidly with both hands cupping its warmth. Notes of lavender and almonds peek from the cover of coffee, flushing his sinuses clean from the biting acidity of the instant coffee he's become so accustomed to.

"Sorry in advance if I end up puking this out. It happens with instant coffee, and it's not going to be because of the taste, I promise."

You shoot your visitor a questionable look, and he grimaces in shame.

"You must be drinking a lot of shitty coffee, with too little water. Could be acid reflux. This should be much better, but let me know if you need anything."

Keiji does not down the coffee in one go this time. Instead, he takes such small sips from the mug, that he may as well be taking kitten licks at the liquid. It slides past his tongue and into his throat, smooth as silk. Hints of vanilla fill his tastebuds, offsetting the innate bitterness of caffeine, and for once coffee does what it's meant to. He feels alive again.

"This is incredible. I think I can actually hold this in my stomach."

"Coffee shouldn't make you worry about keeping it in your stomach, so I'm glad."

He smiles, a real one now, taking in another sip. His bag hangs from the wooden frame of the chair, papers still crumpled between laptops and binders and files. He watches you swirl water into the filter paper again, and wonders how long you might be willing to keep him here for. The street is desolate, spare for the leaves that flutter in the midnight breeze. He would like to stay in this seat forever.

"So, why aren't you in the stands? Bokuto was clearly looking for you."

He freezes, initially unsure how you've figured him out, before recalling his declaration of comraderie with Koutaro upon the flick of a television remote to the volleyball match. The mug of coffee is half empty when Keiji places it down on the counter, and he rubs his face in his hands. His nails are short, evidently chewed on, and you catch onto the way his thumbs instinctively massage against the fleshy cushions at the bottom of his palms, and the centre of his inner wrists.

"Office work, manga editing is no joke."

"Yeah, I can tell, you've worked yourself into anxiety and carpal tunnel."

"Must be nice brewing coffee without a dickhead boss on your back for everything."

You grin sadly, because he's right. You've seen it on the faces of every visitor, tired eyes searching for hope on laptop screens, teeth gnawing at peeling lips at seven in the morning for no particular reason, restless feet bouncing on the floor as they wait for their coffee, and almost burn themselves trying to finish it in one go, before rushing out the door without so much of a thank you. Your midnight visitor is no different than the rest, other than the fact that he displays genuine human emotion, and is willing to slowly enjoy your five hour brew.

"Yeah, it's the least I can do for everyone who comes here. Fix them a good cup. They're tired enough as is."

Keiji chokes up at your words. The past year of manga editing has graced him with screaming seniors, hours upon hours of overtime, throwing up food and drink every night until all he has the guts to eat are microwaved frozen bagels. His throat closes up, Adam's apple swallowing thickly. Shoulders begin to tremble, and you place a hand on the side of his bicep, rubbing it soothingly over the counter. His sobs fill up the shop, drowning out the television as he rubs at his face even harder, wiping his tears with his jacket. In one night, you have shown him more care than anyone else has in the past year combined, and all you've done is microwave him a leftover croissant and fix him a mug of real coffee.

"S-sorry, 's been a shitty week."

"You're okay, you're fine. Let it out, as much as you need."

And for just a moment in his bleak existence, the sterile white lights of the office become a lamplit cafe, hidden in the corner of his street. The stench of air freshener is swapped out for vanilla, and coffee, and lavender, and all that is right. For just tonight, Akaashi Keiji, who doesn't like coffee at all, thinks that he might actually be able to enjoy it, as long as it's from you, and only you.

author's note:

bet you didn't expect this series to get angsty!! i really wanted to write a coffee shop romance, but i also wanted to get a little ambiguous, like a sorta fateful meeting, and i thought this would work!! the idea of throwing up coffee makes me want to cry because i love coffee so much i could not imagine my life without it icl

hope you guys enjoyed this though! it's not as romantic as the other ones i've done on the cologne series, but it's a change in pace that im looking to achieve!! might be the most gentle piece i've written for this series in terms of atmosphere as well :333

anyways tags!!

@chuuya-brainrot @starlysama @catsoupki @fiannee @afyrian @bailey-reeds @iiwaijime

ok love u guys see u in the next one bye bye

[mizzfizz]

𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐄

pairing. timeskip!akaashi keiji x reader. word count. 0.7k. context: fluff. just started dating.

“Here,”  Keiji mutters. “To keep you warm.”

He tells you as he wraps his scarf around your neck. It’s warm, and smells like him; a soft coniferous scent, a reminiscent of pine trees and the woods you grew up and fantasized in as a child.

Akaashi Keiji, you think, smells like home.

The night air is chilly on the city streets of Osaka as the first snowfall of the year begins. Feathery light snowflakes fall and land on the pavement, on top of moving cars, and on top of Keiji’s head. You think if you look closer, you can see the small intricate snowflakes melt into him, allured by the warmth he brings.

Your heart jumps a little at the close proximity between you and him.

“Thank you,” You murmur and pause. “But what about you?”

He chuckles under his breath. “I’ll be fine, you worry too much.”

Keiji’s skin glows under the warm light of the streetlamps, his hair windswept and curls untamed. Nature’s brush has lightly kissed the tip of his nose and the apple of his cheeks with a frosty hue of pink. His glasses sit low on his nose and you watch as he pushes them slightly up. 

His breath materializes in puffs of mist suspended momentarily before fading into the wintry atmosphere. Putting his hands in his pockets to warm his numb fingers, he glances at you, then at his pocket, and pulls something out. 

He pulls out a knitted hat. It’s your knitted hat, you realize. The one your grandmother made for you before she passed, and the one you thought you lost a while ago. 

“I found it underneath my couch.” He says softly as he outstretches his hand to give it to you.

“Oh.” You breathe out, moving to accept it, your hand brushing against his in a fleeting moment. The touch is light, a delicate caress that sends tingles cascading through your body. 

Taking the hat, your fingers go over its gentle ridges that carry years of cherished winter memories you hold close to your heart. 

You look up as he turns his head, facing the crosswalk and glancing towards the red pedestrian sign, waiting for it to change to green.

“Hey Keiji?” You call out to him.

He turns his head, his gaze shifting to you.

“Can you bend a little towards me?”

“U-uh sure.” He responds, bending his body closer to you, confused about your request. He stares down at you with eyes of molten honey, long delicate lashes dusted with sprinkles of snow frame them, enhancing their allure. 

You take the knitted hat in your hands and slide it over his head and ears, your fingers gliding through his soft chestnut curls down to the base of his neck. You can feel his minty breath on your face and your eyes dart from his darkly golden irises to his plump and inviting lips, awaiting the warmth of a gentle caress; you wonder if they taste as minty as his breath. 

Moving your hands away from his neck, you take a step back and bury the bottom half of your face into the scarf he wrapped around your neck; his earthen scent enveloping you. 

“For the scarf.” You say shyly.

Keiji can feel his already pink cheeks intensify to a vibrant crimson. His heart races and blood surges faster through his veins as he stands straight up and looks down at you, your face buried inside his scarf. He wants to grab you by the waist and kiss your lips dearly, to greedily take the air in your lungs and then give you his. 

The buzz of people chattering and the constant hum of cars passing by fills the silence of tingling anticipation between the two of you. 

“A-Ah,” He finally mutters out.

“You can just say thank you, Keiji.” You giggle softly, putting your hands into the pockets of your coat. Flames flicker gently beneath your skin as you move your weight to the tips of your toes back to the balls of your feet. 

“I’m grateful, thank you.” He responds, unable to meet your gaze. He hopes you pass off the reddened blush on his face and blame it on the crisp air. 

The crosswalk sign flashes green, signaling to the pedestrians that it’s their turn to cross. A group of friends wearing high school uniforms walk together in front of the two of you, laughing with each other.

You and Keiji follow a couple feet behind them.

— all rights reserved © MIZZFIZZ 2022-2023. do not repost/redistribute to any other platform, copy, steel, or claim as your own post

[touchlikethesun]

you could convince me that furudate didn’t mean to make hinata and kageyama so obviously in love with each other and that he was just trying to write a very intense and obsessive rivalry that just so happens to look a helluva lot like romantic tension.

but how do you explain bokuto and akaashi then? what dynamic could he possibly have been trying to write if not a deeply in love and happily married couple??

[4unnyr0se]

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

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

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

MDNI | 18+ content

word count -> 1.8k

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

got a request? my ask are open!

❥ Keiji Akaashi | Slow and steady

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

❥ Osamu Miya | No time to lose

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

❥ Kenma Kozume | Suffocate him

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

❥ Kotaro Bokuto | Pure addiction

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[sashxuh]

Even though bokuto didn’t win the Olympics, Akaashi is proud of his bf <3

[clawsdevour]

.⋆୨୧˚akaashi bf hcs

wc: 0.4k content warning: post-time skip, fluff, slight smut, my booty writing, small mention of praise, not proofread

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁๋࣭🦉

-Akaashi, the type of boyfriend to love just staring at your face. He admires your beauty even from afar, he loves looking at your face and wondering how you're the best think he's stumbled upon and why you chose him as a boyfriend.

-Akaashi, the type of boyfriend to love hearing your voice. He loves calling you rather than texting. Doesn't matter if he's just listening to your ranting, he'd still be patient listening to all of your complaints.

-Akaashi, the type of boyfriend to secretly love when you give him physical touch. Especially when you hold hands, he'd trace marks on your skin with his thumb. He'd also loves it when you lay your head on his shoulder.

-Akaashi, the type of boyfriend to plan out every date very precisely, including both of your interests. Makingsure it's fun while making sure you both eat a proper meal.

-Akaashi, the type of boyfriend to make you a gift basket of your favorite snacks and bring flowers to your front door once he hears that you got your period.

-Akaashi, the type of boyfriend to talk and communicate with you thoroughly whenever you argue, or if you're just feeling upset. He always finds a way to comfort you afterward, making you sure he doesn't leave you still feeling bothered.

-Akaashi, the type of boyfriend to be adored by your parents. He'd bring them fruits and meaningful gifts upon meeting them. He's very patient with them and respectful around your parents, accepting him as a person and as their son in law.

-Akaashi, the type of boyfriend to talk you through intercourse. He loves playing with your dripping folds while quietly telling you how pretty you look in the moment while listening to you moan.

-Akaashi, the type of boyfriend to quicken his pace whenever you tell him how good he feels wrapped around your gummy walls. If he knows you feel good, he's happy to oblige in making you feel even more pleasure.

-Akaashi, the type of boyfriend to clean you up before holding you to sleep. He'd fall asleep with you in his arms while smelling your hair and whispering sweet words in your ear.

masterlist here

[guitarstringed-scars]

silver springs- keiji akaashi

silver springs- keiji akaashi x f!reader, angst with a somewhat happy ending, band au, just a one-shot for you all

keiji akaashi hated this breakup. he hated how you missed three rehearsals after it was over. he hated the way he missed you so much, and he hated the way suna was right.

“are you sure it’s a good idea to be in a band with your girlfriend? i mean no offense man, you guys seem perfect for each other, but what if things go south?” he had asked years earlier.

“things wont. i’m gonna marry her.” he had replied at the time. he kept that thought for years too. he was gonna marry you. so, the band was perfect, and it wasn’t long before you all shot to stardom.

being in the spotlight is hard. it was hard on you, it was hard on keiji, it was hard on your relationship. the fans, the rumors, the lack of privacy. it was all slowly drilling a hole between you two. you loved each other, and you trusted each other, but the public didn’t know that. all they knew was “keiji akaashi spotted with model alisa haiba, girlfriend y/n l/n is LIVID!” or “insider says that y/n l/n is considering leaving boyfriend keiji akaashi for volleyball superstar koutaro bokuto!”

you both knew these rumors weren’t true. that you were just in the bathroom in the pictures taken of keiji and alisa. that you would never leave keiji for koutaro, and you were only at a game because he’s such a close friend of you two. but when the entire world is telling you that the rumors are true, things get complicated. the first real fight you had was also your last. there was yelling on both sides, and crying on both sides, and finally an “i think we should break up.” from keiji’s side.

it was dumb. letting one fight ruin the 4 years. even as you fought, he was still ready to marry you. but one too many thoughts were said out loud. so it all came crumbling down.

the days after were rough. you took all of your stuff and moved out right after he said those words. he locked himself in the bathroom as soon as you grabbed your suitcase.

the headlines the next morning only made it worse, “y/n l/n spotted leaving boyfriend keiji akaashis apartment in tears with her bags. is it truly over?”

yes. for once, the tabloids were right. it is truly over. keiji regrets it. he regrets even starting the argument with you. he doesn’t even remember how it started. but he remembers how he started to fall in love with you.

4 and a half years earlier keiji sat in a crowded bar. the same bar he frequented every weekend as a student, this weekend was no different. there was always a different musician playing, and this week it was you. y/n l/n. you sat on a stool, in the center of the stage, just you and your guitar. you looked absolutely perfect, he thought from the back. he couldn’t even see your features properly over the crowd, but the moment you started singing, he knew you were perfect. keiji was already playing bass or guitar for a few groups at this point, just last minute gigs and such, but he knew he wanted to make something of his own. so while he listened to your angelic voice sing, he sent a message to a few friends. suna, who he had met in university. a great drummer. sugawara, who he’d met back in high school. he was great at the piano. semi, who he knew as the guy who plays guitar. he begged them to start a band with him, and much to his delight, they agreed. he promised them the perfect lead singer as well.

only problem was getting you to agree.

so he approached you as you were packing up your guitar, and practically begged you to join. up close you were even more beautiful. you had just laughed at his begging and agreed, surprisingly.

when asked about why you joined 2 years later in an interview, you laughed again. “i thought the guy asking was pretty cute.”

so when the two of you started spending all your time together in a band, it was inevitable that you’d end up together. you shared the same passions for music, the same care for your band mates, the same humor, the same interests.

and you did end up together. when you two told the rest of the band they were all overjoyed, they all saw it coming. so when suna pulled keiji aside after you two announced it, he was a bit surprised to hear what he said.

“are you sure it’s a good idea to be in a band with your girlfriend? i mean no offense man, you guys seem perfect for each other, but what if things go south?”

and things did go south. not in a gradual motion, but in one intense turn. things went south. you didn’t speak to anyone in the band for a week. they all knew what had happened, and none of them expected it. just like none of them expected the sudden attention the band began to gain.

you all started as an opener for a bigger artist, and then you were having your own tour, and releasing albums, and being interviewed, and winning awards, and being observed closely and attacked for every minuscule movement.

you were sick of it. keiji could tell. you would lay in bed next to him at the end of a long day of interviews, or recording, and tell him stories of how it was when you were a solo musician, just starting out.

“do you regret joining the band?” he would ask you as you played with his hair.

“no.” you would answer. “cause then i wouldn’t have gotten to meet you, or koushi, or rintaro, or semi, or so many other incredible people.”

and the two of you would fall asleep in each others arms, happy.

now keiji sleeps alone in the guest bedroom. he can’t stand being in your room without you.

at the first rehearsal after the breakup you didn’t show up. your manager was upset, and called you 3 times. after the 3rd time hearing your voicemail message, your manager turned to him.

“could you try calling her akaashi?” she asked.

“she wont answer me. she’s not coming.” he answered, before getting up and locking himself in the studio bathroom.

he won’t be the one people ask to get a hold of you any more.

this whole routine repeated twice more, and on your third missed rehearsal, you finally showed up, an hour late.

no one wants to speak. keiji bites the inside of his cheek for a moment as you set down your guitar. he’s about to say something before your manager interrupts his thoughts.

“you’ve missed three rehearsals, a dinner, two interviews, and four meetings.” ”great. i’ll get those rescheduled.” you say, not even looking up from your guitar. you haven’t looked at him once.

“where have you been?” she asks you.

“i needed some time. i wrote some stuff.” you say, turning to the band for the second statement. you still don’t look at him.

your manager sighs and exits the room. it’s always been a rule that its just band members in the room at rehearsals.

“what’d you write?” semi asks, as he messes with his guitar. you look at semi. keiji wants more than anything for you to look at him right now and tell him you forgive him, but he knows that wont come. especially since he hasn’t given you an apology to accept.

you don’t look at him the next two hours. you play two songs you’ve written over the past week. they are full of emotions that no one in the band is quite ready to process. you start to explain what sounds you want from the other instruments. helping suna with the rhythms, playing the melody for sugawara, and explaining chords you like to semi. when it comes to the bass, you go quiet for a second.

“i don’t know what i want the bass line to be.” you say. you look at him for the first time. he can see the hurt in your eyes and he wonders if this is why you’ve avoided looking at him. he can also tell that you are lying. the people in this room know you better than anyone else. you’ve spent almost every day of the past four years together, and keiji knows you best.

he knows that you know exactly what you want the bass line to be. he knows you’ve spent hours coming up with it and picking it apart. he knows you have a perfect bass part written out in your magnificent mind, and he knows you wont tell him what it is. so, he works on it alone. and every time he plays it, you find something you don’t like about it.

finally, the rehearsal ends. you don’t look at him much more the rest of the time. the other band members pack up quickly, eager to escape the tension in the room.

then, it’s just you two.

he speaks first.

“i’m sorry.”

“it’s okay, it’s my fault. i can’t figure out what i want the bass line to sound like.” you say.

“no.” he says.

you don’t say anything.

“thats not what i meant and you know it y/n.”

“then what do you mean keiji?” your voice is full of hurt. you do know.

it’s his turn to not say anything.

“you know i love you.” you say, shutting your guitar case. ”y/n. i love you more than anything, please.” he’s crying now. he watches a drop land on the glossy finish of his bass. he can’t help but feel like it’s oh so cliche. he hears shuffling beside him. feels a hand on his shoulder. you are kneeling next to him now, holding a notebook. it’s your song writing notebook. he’s seen it many times before, sat on the desk in your shared bedroom.

you’ve written countless love songs in it for him. countless songs about the way you feel, your life, your stories.

he watches you open it to the most recent page. theres a bass line written out at the bottom. eraser marks all over prove it’s one you’ve thought about deeply.

you hand him the notebook. the same second he’s grabbing it, he’s setting it down on the floor beside you two and wrapping his arms around you. you reciprocate the hug. now you are both sobbing.

keiji is mumbling into your hair. he’s telling you he loves you, and he does’t want to break up, and he was just stressed because you’ve never really fought before. and he tells you he's gonna marry you.

and he’s telling the truth.

a/n: hi i love akaashi, and i love music (i play the bass hehehe) and i really liked writing this! very proud of it woohoo!

[liillyliilly]

His Diary

akaashi keiji x reader words; 10082 synopsis; For Akaashi Keiji, love meant letting someone know him better than he knew himself. It also meant being okay with letting her read his diary.

She decided that this was her new favorite book. It had all the right amounts of everything in it, drama, romance, depression, self-loathing. The journal she found was likely never written to be read. The journal he lost, the journal that Akaashi Keiji misplaced on a train going home from his editing job, he never expected to become a crux in his journey to love.

In all honesty, she didn’t even know it was a journal. It just seemed to be an episodic novel with a unique font, something along the vein of The Perks of Being A Wallflower. She only ever knew the leather-bound pages as a novel with no name. The author used a first-person perspective when writing and told the story of a young volleyball player who wanted desperately to find a passion, so he surrounded himself with others who had passion. What he seemed to enjoy more than playing the sport was writing though.

The author of the untitled book loved to read because the way he wrote made everything else she had read pale in comparison to the inky brilliance. He had captured teenager-dom with such sleight of hand that she believed his writing was made of magic and fairy dust. The story made her cry, made her groan, and made her feel second-hand embarrassment to an extreme she thought wasn’t possible.

When she read the first chapter, she realized she ought to pace her reading, because there were only so many entries. And she had no way of contacting or looking up the author, there was no information of who the author was on the back of the book. There was a Fukurodani Sticker, a school she remembers from her own time at a high school nearby, they were known for their volleyball skills and prowess, so she assumed maybe the author had some lived experience when it came to volleyball. Maybe that was a hobby aside from being a writer of such compelling stories.

She carried it everywhere from the day she picked it up on the floor of the train, it was always in her backpack, purse, and suitcase. She never left it alone, it had become a part of her. She felt like somehow this author reached into her heart and left fingerprints of his making into permanent fixtures of her anatomical structure. DATE: XX-XX-2013 TITLE: Alethiology; The Study of Truth

Today I realized that maybe I am all that I will be. My capacity has limits in comparison to others. A friend of a friend told me that their volleyball captain made a speech once, not to the whole team, just talking with buddies. His speech, or at least the parts I remember from it, was devastating. He said something like guys like Atsumu and all those geniuses, do things on a scale of 1-20, whereas normal guys like me do things on a scale of 1-10. Or maybe they have a denser more compact 1-10. And if 1-20 doesn’t work out, they try things from A to Z.

I’ve never thought of things like that. There’s always been a straightforward path for me, whereas, in comparison to Bokuto, he seems to have a much longer and more complex route ahead of him. Am I all that I will be? Is there a way for the normal guy to switch from 1-10 and try 1-20?

We have another game soon, maybe I can control more than I expect. Is flight into this world of geniuses possible? I can only control myself and my thoughts, but maybe there are external factors that contribute to my role on this team. My role in life as well.

Bokuto is asking for me, I need to go. Hope I can write again soon, but with all the games we’ll be playing I’m doubtful I can write with actual thoughts and not just tallies and plays from the games.

- A.K.

“I mean, who thinks of things like that Miwa?” She sits in the styling chair, getting a refresher on her hair. Miwa snips away lightly, inspecting each strand with duty and consideration for the entire look.

“Your author crush does.” Miwa brushes away some hair from Y/N’s shoulders, tidying up the apron wrapped around her.

She just rolls her eyes at Miwa’s comment. Flipping to the page in the book, tracing a finger over the deep black gel pen markings. Numbers and dashes and names of high schools against Fukurodani tell the story of the adventure at Tokyo’s national volleyball tournament from way back in 2013. She had barely started her second year of middle school in 2013, ripely being 14 years old.

Miwa and her sip some freshly made smoothies of Miwa’s creation, sitting at a table in the window of the entrance to the salon. Miwa bounces her foot that’s crossed over her leg and she pours over the entry once again. It was becoming addicting to choose one entry to re-read until she ingrained the stylistic choices into a deep long-term memory.

At that same moment, Bokuto Koutarou and his best friend Akaashi Keiji walk past Miwa’s Salon, attempting to plan a group hangout to celebrate Bokuto joining the MSBY Black Jackals team.

“I’ll need to make sure Konoha comes, and that he brings that cute friend of his for you,” Bokuto wiggles his eyebrows repeatedly, and Akaashi shoves him lightly on the shoulder.

“Konoha is dating that cute girl he brings around.” Akaashi clarifies. Bokuto looks stunned, but then he remembers them making out on his couch during movie night that one time.

Akaashi looks around the street for a moment, peeking into the windows and observing the various occupants. When he sees his journal, the one that’s been missing for a little over a year, he just has to get it back.

When Akaashi pulls Bokuto into the hair salon, and barely below a scream says, “You stole my journal!” pointing at the girl who was indeed holding his journal from high school, Bokuto feels like his head was put through a blender. There were three very distinct things occurring at that moment. A pretty girl was shoving a book into her bag looking very defensive, Akaashi was trying to take the aforementioned girl’s bag from her, and a girl who he assumed was the pretty girl’s friend had a pair of scissors pointing at Bokuto by the throat.

Akaashi was still trying to pull the bag away, the pretty girl was looking extremely scared, and the scissors girl had opened and closed them one too many times for Bokuto’s comfort.

“Listen, I think we should all just take a moment to pause.” Bokuto held his hands up, shuffling to outturn his pockets in a show of lack of violent intentions. The black-haired girl puts the scissors back into her half apron that’s around her waist and then folds her arms.

Bokuto then pries Akaashi away from the pretty girl who was now clutching her bag against her chest and sniffling a little. Akaashi did feel bad that he made such a bad first impression, but he swore she had his journal. His embarrassing high school journal, the same journal that had cataloged many things he wished he never had recorded down on paper.

Bokuto pushes Akaashi’s head down, forcing him into a deep bow. Bokuto follows suit and also bows.

“I’m sorry for, uh, trying to steal your bag. But I think you may have a book, that isn’t a book at all, but rather my journal.” Akaashi is now sitting at the table in the window, Bokuto, the black-haired girl, and the pretty girl also sitting with him.

Outside the evening had quickly set in, with the orange and pink colors racing to get to the skyline. The blue began to fade into a deep dark navy color. And the lights on the streets began to flicker on. The lights on the outside of the salon began to twinkle from the setting they had been placed on, fairy lights luring those with a need for a haircut into the salon.

Bokuto had his head on his hand, staring intensely at the girl who had taken Akaashi’s journal, sighing slightly at the way her lips pouted and shined from her lip gloss. The girl with the scissors had brought out two more glasses of thick smoothie.

She pulled out the journal from her Doughnut Macaroon-style crossbody bag and slid it over to Akaashi. Akaashi flipped through the pages, immediately recognizing it as his. His face goes red and he readjusts his glasses, and she realizes that this must be his journal. He even goes straight to the back cover and smiles at the sticker she had grown to love to trace with her pinkie when reading.

“I’m not done with it yet, so, I really do hate to say this, but you can’t have it back until I finish it.” She takes the book back and tucks it into her bag again. Akaashi looks dumbfounded, eyebrows raised and lips pursed into a line.

“You’re just going to keep private property? Even though you know it’s mine?” What a dauntless woman she was, to show what Akaashi considered to be audacity with the whole journal situation.

Bokuto chimes in at this point, “Akaashi, I think we should just let the pretty girl keep your little diary.” Bokuto then starts nodding his head up and down to try and get agreement from Akaashi. Akaashi scoffs.

“Okay, so it’s settled, my cutie of a best friend will keep the journal until she finishes it, we’ll get your numbers and she can contact y’all when she finishes the journal, and I get to cut both of y’all’s hair because honestly, it’s atrocious.” Leave it to Miwa to consolidate a plan in a matter of moments.

Miwa touched the spiky salt and pepper hair that Bokuto had, and Miwa’s expression turned sour when she felt the amount of gel on top of his head, then Miwa pulled out a photo of Yuki Ishikawa in a two-block cut and explained what color of black dye Miwa will use for Bokuto. For Akaashi, Miwa just did a trim and tidied up his sides to bring them slightly tighter into his face.

While annoyed, Akaashi does give her his number, along with his name, and Bokuto does the same with much more enthusiasm. After the haircuts are finished, Akaashi tries to pull Bokuto away from the salon, but Bokuto keeps doing the ‘call me later’ signal with his hand and blowing a kiss to her wistfully. She just waves to the both of them while Miwa giggles behind her dye-stained glove. DATE: XX-XX-13 TITLE: Meraki; Putting A Piece of Yourself Into Your Passion

I am the protagonist of the world. We lost but I am still alive, we lost but I loved the game. I came to the realization that it doesn’t matter if you are the best character, the most complex, or the most ‘genius’ of them all. It doesn’t matter because I am the protagonist. I can be the hero of my own story without ever having won first place in a big-name tournament.

Bokuto is graduating, and I’ll still be here, which is disappointing. He’s my best friend I think. Even if he’s the most annoying ass I’ve ever met, he’s still my best friend and I would never trade him for any other person in the entire world. Together we are the protagonists of the world.

Second place is just as accoladed as first place. If I wasn’t who I am, then maybe I would’ve gotten mad. The first-place winner is a rich school, they’ve been a powerhouse for decades at this point, and this win is just another notch on the belt. If I wasn’t who I am, especially after this tournament, maybe I would’ve gotten frustrated at myself for not doing enough. For not being a setter like Kageyama. Or a setter like Oikawa. That doesn’t matter though, I am a setter. I’ve worked hard to get where I am. But a human mind will always wonder why. And sometimes it's just because you’re unlucky.

Kenma told me about his loss to Karasuno, his sweaty hands made the ball slip in the final point. He laughed about it, he said that that was the best game of volleyball he’s ever played. When Kenma told Kuroo thanks for teaching him volleyball, I cried, but not as much as Kuroo did. They remind me of why I went to Fukurodani. I saw Bokuto’s passion for the sport. His passion encouraged mine, and look where we got to. We because the victors at the end of the war.

Mom made katsu chicken for dinner, I did some homework, and I had to put away my volleyball uniform for next year. I practiced in my backyard, alternating between overhead and underhand passes, seeing how long I could go without dropping the ball. Dad called me into the house for ice cream after thirty minutes elapsed.

I called Bokuto tonight before I went to bed. Told him that he’s my best friend and that I love volleyball. Bokuto agreed.

- A.K.

She was crying, and so she held the book out in front of her, resting it on her blanket. She finally had some faces to match with the words she was reading, and it all felt much too real. Bokuto did seem like the type of person to adopt and bring a person like Akaashi into his fold. But the way that Akaashi genuinely admired and appreciated his best friend was unparalleled and she felt like he would understand the exact way she felt about her best friend, Miwa.

Miwa and her met when she was fresh out of college. She hadn’t an idea of what to do in her life, while Miwa seemed to have her passion set out in front of her with her hair and makeup salon. When she got a haircut from Miwa and started ranting about her life, Miwa just told her to slow everything down. Take a gap year from life and just be a human. So, she picked up shifts at Miwa’s salon and moved in with her.

The best friends slowly became business partners as well, and an expansion to the salon was added, a small specialty bookshop that she ran, while Miwa continued to do hairstyling. Their customers were dedicated and loved to support their business. Branding remained solely under Miwa’s name, but she became everything else to the brand as well, the little addition that made the salon extra special.

When she started to cough a little from the way her heart was beating erratically from crying about Akaashi’s diary, she had to get out of bed and get a glass of water. Akaashi’s number was resting on her kitchen table. Miwa was watching some rom-com in the living room of their shared apartment. She brushed pasted the kitchen and sat next to Miwa.

“A good chapter?” Miwa threw a piece of popcorn into her mouth.

“He’s devastating. Who writes like they feel every emotion entirely?” She started crying again and Miwa laughed a little before rubbing her best friend’s back.

“You could always call him and tell him he’s a good writer if you need to talk about it. Sure it’s unconventional, but maybe he has more insights that you can cry to.” She grabbed a pillow and started hitting Miwa with it.

She did take Akaashi’s number into her room on her way back to bed though. Leaving the series of digits on her bedside table, she re-read the passage and cried again. She thinks she knows him better than most, but they aren’t even friends.

Since realizing he’s a person, and that Akaashi lived this story in the book. The story of his life recorded in his journal, she starts to wonder about what happened to him after he stopped writing in the diary. But she hasn’t finished the story yet, so she’ll have to see what happens next. Again, trying to pace herself, she puts the book away until tomorrow when she can read a little more.

Akaashi sits in his office, he’s still there and it’s much later than the clock would like to admit. The clock wondered if Akaashi would ever go home. But there he was, reviewing the different styles of manga serializations Udai Tenma wanted to try out for his next series. His haircut makes him feel a little colder because now the air can hit right behind his ear instead of being covered with his hair. He puts on a beanie to fight the chill.

When it gets too late at night, his mind tends to wander slightly. Just barely drifting out of his control, like the way a lily pad will drift to the center of a pond when the stem at the base of the connection is severed. He can’t dive into the pond to bring his thoughts back into his hands.

He thinks about her. The girl with his journal. The journal was a cheap 2,500 yen book, but he liked the paper, it was a cold press thicker GSM than most other paper forms. Gel inks went on smoothly to the paper, letting him get more words across by the second than if he was writing with a ballpoint. He remembers that from when he used to write in the journal in high school.

Throwing himself into the back of his seat, he rubs his face, his glasses almost falling off from how he runs his hands up from his chin to his forehead. Setting the glasses on his desk, he spins his chair a little. The clock screams at him, he takes the message from his dedicated clock and grabs his messenger bag.

On the train, he thinks about her again. Instead of getting irritated at how Bokuto essentially gave his journal away to a stranger again, he wonders what her thoughts are. Was his writing any good to warrant such a committed reader? Did she like his journal only because it was funny to read what his dramatic high school self wrote about?

He cringes thinking about all the potential things he wrote down. There’s no direct recollection of what he wrote down exactly, but he knows vaguely what was on his mind when he was writing. His ego, his insecurities, his favorite things. Lots about volleyball, Bokuto, and books. Once he wrote about his thoughts on sex, which is embarrassing for him that a grown woman is reading his teenage idealizations of intimacy.

It could be considered something unique to read. Akaashi settled into the belief that she was merely reading his journal because it was something different than typical books that were being published. Although, why she was reading his journal instead of a Haruki Murakami book was beyond him. Nothing beats his favorite literary giant.

Setting his bag on the coat hanger stand, and shrugging out of his long pea coat. He heats some stovetop ramen while listening to Bokuto talk over the phone, he was ranting about the same girl that Akaashi had had on his mind.

“Oh and those eyes of hers. Did you see them?” Of course, Akaashi saw them, they were big, bright, and astute. Akaashi hums in response, and Bokuto continues barreling through his late-night thoughts.

“I think we should invite her to my party. You know, the one to celebrate my big accomplishment.” In a different apartment, Bokuto spins a volleyball on his finger, but he keeps dropping it so he ends up just repeatedly tossing it into the air so he can satiate the desire to feel his fingers on the ball.

“Yeah, how about no.”

Bokuto asks why not, almost in a whining tone.

“Did you forget she has my journal still?” Akaashi put his bowl in the sink, putting on rubber gloves as he started to wash out the dish and then put it on the drying rack. He decided to finish all his dishes right now anyway since he still had the gloves on.

“Your diary can’t be that juicy, you didn’t do anything too dramatic in high school. Plus I know you wanna see her again too. Don’t pretend like you don’t have a piqued interest. Also, did I use piqued right?”

“You used it right, yes.”

He eventually agreed to let Bokuto invite her to the small get-together. Akaashi didn’t know why Bokuto kept referring to it as a party.

A week later, Akaashi realized that maybe Bokuto kept calling it a party because it had shifted from a friends-only gathering to a huge party at the park. Some other Fukurodani alumni helped to set up decorations in the central gazebo and make banners to hang all over the pavilion. Akaashi was mixing the punch at a table, while Konoha asked what he had been up to lately.

Kuroo and Kenma brought huge gifts for Bokuto, a PlayStation from Kenma, and a packet of potential sponsorship deals from Kuroo.

When she finally made her way to the pavilion with a small brown package, Akaashi couldn't care less about the party. She was wearing a tight-fitting black shirt with a tiered white and gold skirt, and her shoes were a pair of sneakers, but the whole outfit made Akaashi concede to Bokuto’s claim of her being “drool-worthy”. He had to remember that this was the same woman who had his diary. The whole conflict between physical attraction and mental frustration made for an entirely convoluted reaction to her presence.

She bows politely to Bokuto when he goes over to her, offering the gift with both hands, only then did Akaashi wonder how old she must have been. Bokuto had been talking to her more than him, and Bokuto had mentioned that she was a second-year middle schooler when Bokuto was in his third year. Akaashi did some mental math and realized that he, himself, must have been around three to four years older than her.

Akaashi forced himself to ignore the idea of a cute younger girlfriend that started to pester him in the back of his mind. He wanted his journal back, and that’s all this relationship was to him, a mutual exchange of her reading and then him eventually getting back his property. But with the way she had done her hair, Akaashi had a hard time focusing solely on wanting his diary returned.

She was glad that Bokuto appreciated the gift, she hadn’t known him longer than a week or so, and she had gone with a safe gift based on what she knew about him and why this party was even being thrown. She got him a wearable jump monitor that her dad had bought a month ago but never used, she was grateful for having a father who never threw things away. She also included some stickers that she had bought from a small sticker shop online, and some that she had made using Miwa’s craft supplies.

When the excitement of her being at the park died down, she made her way to a table, with a small plate of desserts. She observed how everyone interacted with each other, almost as if they had been friends since the dawn of time, and she believed that that very well might have been the case.

Akaashi stalked her from afar. He appreciated that she was similar to him in a way that mattered to him, she was a watcher. She would assess what was going on, who would talk to who, and how they would nonverbally communicate as well. He got so engrossed in watching her that he neglected to observe the others as well.

Specifically, Konoha, Washio, and Komi had grabbed a water cooler and had the full intention of dumping the water on Akaashi. It was payback for declining their invitations to various other parties from the last year. So there he was, not only soaked through with water but revealed from his vantage point unmistakably indicating to her that he must have been watching her. She laughed a little at the antics but then brought over a small cloth she had in her crossbody bag.

His white shirt was completely transparent, and his brown slacks had turned from a regular light brown into a dark musty brown. The only way to resolve the issue in her mind was to start dabbing at his chest with her handkerchief.

“I see that your friends have a peculiar method of exacting humor.” Her handkerchief eventually was too soaked through that she was just touching his chest with a cloth that had performed osmosis and was now at equilibrium with the water on his shirt.

“Yep.”

“Look, there’s a hoodie in my car, I know we aren’t too close, but it’s probably better to wear my oversized hoodie than to have your whole torso on display for the rest of the night.” She shoves her thumb in the direction of her car.

After making their way to her car, she digs through the trunk and pulls out a grey hoodie with the words ‘Miwa’s Salon’ embroidered on the back. He tugs at the back of his shirt to take it off and she widens her eyes before turning around. The hoodie is comfortable, with a soft fleece on the inside, and it smelt like lychee, vanilla, and surprisingly chocolate marshmallows. It smells like her and he wonders if he could have the scent bottled and then sprayed all over his house.

Suddenly he’s tugging at the collar of the hoodie and swallowing thickly, looking around at anything but her figure in front of him.

“We should probably get heading back to everyone now that you’ve changed.” She goes to start walking to the gazebo, but Akaashi’s words stop her.

“How well do you know me?” She tilted her head and said something about not following along with what he was saying, so he continued, “Well, you’re reading a part of me, you know with my journal, my internal thoughts and hopes and dreams and all that. So, how well do you know me?”

She timidly bites down on her bottom lip, formulating a response. But Akaashi surmises that she must not really care much for the conversation, so he, unfortunately, starts to run his mouth and the words just spiral out.

“You know, it doesn’t matter, to you, it’s just a story about a teenage boy who played volleyball. It’s silly to assume you’d try and actually-”

She cuts in, “I know you’re a considerate person. And it's not just about the volleyball stuff, it's about you, finding yourself to some degree. I know you are polite. I know you’re allergic to beating around the bush, you’re direct and blunt. I know that you can overthink too much.”

Akaashi repeatedly adjusted his glasses, and she stepped just a little bit closer to him, folding her hands behind her back and leaning in slightly so she didn’t have to talk as loudly.

“You also have a bad habit of thinking you can control more than you can, one of the interesting things in your journal is how you jump back and forth between knowing what you can control and then inflating from stress and thinking you can micromanage the entire world. You said you can control the court, but in reality, that’s your worldview. You conclude you can control the entire world sometimes.”

He regrets starting the conversation because this revelation of how much she knew about him exposes him. Akaashi didn’t know how to continue with the gap in knowledge between the two of them.

He only knew she was younger than him, she was incredibly perceptive, and she smelled so freaking good he just wanted to shove her into the backseat of her car and kiss her. Akaashi’s thoughts could not have been his own at this point, he was going crazy. He must have gotten sick from the cold water being dumped on him he speculates.

When they get back to the gazebo, Akaashi thanks Bokuto for the party and heads home. She stays at the party, talking to a select few people and wondering what exactly she said that scared Akaashi off so quickly.

Sitting in the tub, Akaashi rests his head against the shower wall and lets the hot water filter his congestion that didn’t exist. His hand twitched over to his phone, which was on the toilet seat playing some piano music that he hoped would alleviate all his bad habits. He wonders if she will text him soon. If she would text him ever. He felt like he was younger, it was ridiculous that one person would have such an effect on him to this degree.

After the party, she sits with Miwa, disclosing everything that happened at the party.

“And then he just ran off?” She nods at Miwa repeating what she just said. “Girlie, you gave him an in-depth review of his personality and you’re shocked that he ran away? Sometimes you can be too judicious for your own good.”

“Should I text him an apology?”

“Are you sorry for anything?” Miwa rolled her eyes, hating when she got like this. Miwa never allowed her to apologize for things that didn’t need to be apologized for.

“No.” She rubs her arm and chews the inside of her cheek.

“I think you think he’s hot, I mean, you understand this man on a deeper level that he now grasps, and you said he had the chest and torso of some kind of slutty librarian/gym rat agglomeration.” Miwa takes a bobby pin out of her hair and runs a hand through her bob cut, “If it was me, I would send him a picture of the journal and ask for nudes, or else the book gets it.”

She hits Miwa with a pillow, and Miwa realizes she really should throw the pillows away or else getting hit with them would be a very painful recurrence.

Miwa goes to sleep, but she stays up just a little later. Eyeing Akaashi’s number that lay painfully glaring at her. She decides to read more of his diary instead of texting him. DATE: XX-XX-13 TITLE: Weltschmerz; Sadness When The World Isn’t As It Should Be

Summer sucks. Bokuto has a training thing for some team he wants to be a part of in the future. All my friends that were third years are essentially gone, actually out and living life, and I’m stuck here. At least there’s only one more year left of high school. And then I can go and work for a literary magazine.

I miss people. Despite their failings, I do need people in my life.

You can only play so much volleyball in a day by yourself before your motivation is gone by the third week of playing alone.

It’s times like these that make me think about the future. I don’t spend much time with girls per se, but they are pretty and nice. Our manager is a girl, but she has a boyfriend. She’s chill.

Sometimes, when I feel like something is wrong, I turn to the idea of love. I’ll admit that I love a few things in life, but that’s only because I think love is something truly special that you can’t just fling around. I ‘like’ things more often than I ‘love’ them. Volleyball, my best friend, my family, books, and writing.

Will I know when I’ve found the love of my life? My parents said they knew they loved each other from the first moment they met. Will I feel like that too? Will I know it’s love? How can a feeling be recognized as a specific feeling? How do I know what anger feels like, besides that heat and pressure and red hot sun? How do I know what sadness feels like, besides water, coldness, and finishing a run? Would love have those distinct colors and associations? Or would love just become the person I love?

I don’t believe in soulmates. Definitely not. I think people are infinitely compatible, and it all depends on our ability to communicate and agree to grow with a person for the rest of our lives. I believe we make our own soulmates, through sharing experiences and agreeing to be ourselves no matter what. I told my mom this and she just smiled at me like I still had a lot of life left to live.

But don’t I have enough experience to know what I want? Or at least to formulate my own opinions and beliefs? I may be 17 but I am not an idiot.

Or did my mom’s look of a wistful future just mean that when I fall in love I’ll know it and I’ll look back to these words and think I’m completely ridiculous?

Dad made spaghetti for dinner. It was gross so we ended up having to order udon from the place I like instead.

We watched a movie Mom wanted to show me, the title was something like Wildly Wealthy Westerners or something. It was just about rich people from America and Canada, plus a subplot of romance between a basic guy and this rich heiress girl who just couldn’t be together because of rich people's reasons. It was silly but the music was good. The ending kiss scene was hot, he shoved her into the backseat of his jeep and I swear I heard Mom sigh.

- A.K.

She didn’t expect him to text her on Monday of the following week, asking if they could meet for tea at a place near his work during his lunch break. She surprised herself by agreeing to it, and then by cheekily calling it a date.

Akaashi shoved his phone into Udai’s face, “What does this mean?”

Udai pushed his bangs back and inspected the text messages on Akaashi’s phone. “I think it means she agreed to go on the date you asked her on?”

“But I didn’t ask her on a date?”

“Oh, but you definitely did. Oh and tea? What dork takes a girl for tea on a first date?” Udai pushed Akaashi’s phone away and clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. Then Udai’s face breaks into a blinding grin, “Is this your little diary thief? And the one who gave you the sweater at Bo’s party? Oh, it is isn’t it, do you have a picture of her?”

Akaashi briefly flashed a photo Bokuto had taken with her in Udai’s direction.

“DAMN! I need me my own diary thief,” Udai raised his eyebrows and started laughing a little, and then he ruffled his hair and used his fingers to zoom into her face, slowly, he started moving down the picture to her body. Akaashi pulled his phone back before Udai got too far down.

The clock on Akaashi’s desk wanted him to leave for an early lunch and by an early lunch, an hour early. So there he sat at the small cafe on the corner by his office building, rubbing his sweaty hands against the legs of his pants, waiting for her. She was five minutes early and was surprised to see him already at a table, so she decided to have a little fun.

Since his back was turned, she went up to him and tapped his shoulder, when he turned around she let out a small “Boo!” and put her hands up into an imitation of claws, trying her best to seem scary. He just thought she was adorable. He motioned for her to sit down.

Resting her crossbody bag against the back of the chair, she took a seat. Akaashi was able to wave down a waiter, who gave them a single menu to look over.

“What kind of tea do you like?” She asked, using her pointer finger to scan through the options the cafe had available.

“I like black tea, and sometimes chamomile tea.” He asked her for her favorite type, and she told him. He tried to commit her favorite to memory as quickly as possible.

Eventually, they had their tea, and the silence started to set in. Between sips, Akaashi would try to figure out how to say what he wanted to say. But he thought it was all too bold. So he told her a little about his life, his work, and his friends and she did the same, returning statements in a unique fashion about her life. Her word choice was special, calculated even. She was like him in another way that mattered, a calculated, intentional way of speaking.

She could always make him yearn to be a little more considerate of his words. Until she managed to pry them out of him.

“So why am I here?” She stirs a little more sugar into her tea, then pauses from drinking her tea to take a sip of her water.

“I want one of your journals.”

She laughs before realizing he’s entirely serious, “How do you even know that I have any journals to lend to you? For all you know, I could be living a journal-less life.” She waves her small stirring spoon around, before putting it into her mouth.

“I can’t explain it, but I know you have journals. Only someone with a journal of their own would be so obsessed with another’s.” Akaashi takes the spoon from her mouth and uses it to stir some sugar into his tea. Her mouth gapes for a moment while he smirks, looking right into her intelligent eyes.

The next day they have tea again, and she gives him one of her journals from high school.

“Don’t read it all in one go.” She pauses, “I don’t write nearly as well as you do, so don’t scrutinize my words the way you do all your mangakas’ words.”

Akaashi nods.

He read it all in one night. He calls her in the middle of said night.

“Who the hell is this Ito kid? When did you and he start talking? Just outta nowhere he pops up at the end of your last entry. Where’s the careful recollection of all your interactions with him?” Akaashi is exasperated, running his hand through his hair. He disagreed with what she said about her writing.

She was compelling and interesting, and she most definitely had his heart. Her high school experience had been so different from his, and she seemed to be much more optimistic about life than he was. Despite her calling him a realist, he believed that in comparison to her, he was a total pessimist.

She explained to him about Ito, and that he was a short-lived crush she had had at the end of her second year in high school. Akaashi was glad when she said she didn’t even talk to him anymore. Based on the way she had written about him, Akaashi thought that Ito would be the love of her life, and Akaashi was slowly realizing maybe his heart was in the process of making her the love of his life.

“When do I get the next journal?” Akaashi wanted to keep talking to her despite the lateness of the hour.

“You don’t. I told you to pace yourself, I only have one of yours so you’re only getting one of mine.” She was lying on her stomach on her bed, slightly kicking her feet while talking to Akaashi.

Akaashi groans but tells her he’ll return the journal next week when he can have another long lunch break. She says she’ll be there.

Akaashi recalls when he remembered his diary was lost.

It had been a long day at work, and he wanted nothing more than to go home. His mom hadn’t remembered his apartment address, so she sent one of his old journals to his work office. He put it into his satchel and made his way home.

On the train, there had been a slight jostling. And Akaashi hadn’t noticed the journal falling out of his bag and under his seat.

When he exited the train, she had gotten onto it. She sat down in the same seat he had. Right when Akaashi started walking to the stairs to exit the station, she reached down under the seat to stow away her bag, only to be met with a rough material. And for a moment, if they had just turned around, their eyes would’ve met right as the train pulled away.

When he finally got home, he unpacked his bag, looking to put away his journal safely into a box with other memorabilia from high school. When he dumped his bag upside down, shaking everything out, he just couldn’t find his journal. When going home from work the next day, he had asked all the employees if they had seen a leatherbound notebook. None turned up.

If there ever was a moment that could’ve changed the future, that was what it would’ve been. If the train hadn’t jostled. If Akaashi Keiji hadn’t been tired from work and forgot to check for the journal on his way out of the station. If she hadn’t sat right where he had been sitting, and most definitely, if she didn’t love a good book, then it all would’ve turned out differently.

But that’s not the story that’s being told. The story being told is of Akaashi Keiji realizing that to love someone, you have to accept that they may know you better than you know yourself.

It had been six months, and she was close to finishing the journal. Somedays she didn’t read at all, others she read three entries and wanted to binge the rest of the diary.

They went for tea every single week. Sometimes twice. Then other times, he would take her around Tokyo to go exploring. They went to every museum, every library, every cafe that specialized in tea. He figured that they ought to be on an even playing field when it came to how well they knew each other, so instead of getting more journals from her, they traded lists of their top one hundred favorite books.

She had put three Haruki Murakami books on her list and Akaashi wanted to hold her face in his hands and kiss her.

But they were just friends. Friends who knew each other better than Akaashi was comfortable with. She knew what he would order before he said it, and he knew what she was going to comment before she stated it. When she asked him about his experience with failure, he knew that she had gotten in too deep.

She knew more about him than he expected her to, she knew all about the silly things that rattled around in his brain, and although it had been a journal from high school, he knew that people stayed pretty similar throughout life. So when she looked at him, she didn’t just see professional editor Akaashi Keiji, she saw a teenager who wondered what place he had in the world as well. She saw him as acne-ridden and languid with life. He wanted to control her perspective of him and he couldn’t do that now, because she had the key to his past and the map of his future.

So he tried to put some space between them. Just in case. Maybe it was a horrible tendency to overthink, no, he knew it was his horrible overthinking tendency. There were so many ways their relationship could go. He could completely crush her, to be completely crushed himself in turn.

Walking the edge of a knife with her. Balancing on the blade of friendship, if he fell onto one side, with no cuts, then they could have a happy relationship. If he cut himself on that blade, then the worst-case scenario would be that she realizes she doesn’t like him back and then there’s just someone who knows him too well out in the world.

When he hadn’t texted her in four weeks and her messages were left on read, she decided to finish the journal and be done with it. Their time as friends was short-lived she thought. She thought there may have been something more for the pair of them. And suddenly all the depressing love songs became about him. Which made her resentful, because who ruins ‘Iris’ by The Goo Goo Dolls like that for someone? DATE: XX-XX-14 TITLE: Quatervois; A Crossroads

I graduated today. I went through that book of fancy words Mom gave me and stumbled across this one. Quatervois, a crossroads. Does this count as a crossroads?

The magazine I want to work for said I could have an internship while I attend college. An internship in the manga editing department. Was I not good enough for the literature department? Is it because of my age? I think my essay and grades were good enough to at least qualify me for a chance to interview in that department. But they only let me interview for the editing department.

Does that make me a career failure? I like the magazine, but I’m not sold on the department they want me to go into.

Washio called me to congratulate me, he said that I was finally crossing over into the real world. I’m pretty sure I’ve been living in the real world for as long as I’ve been alive, but Washio made it seem like things would be so different for me. I digress.

When nothing seems straightforward, and you come to a fork in the road and you have two options that you can’t see down, how do you choose which road to go down? The one lined with flowers, or the one with a dirt path that could eventually have something more alluring at the end.

- A.K.

On the penultimate page of the journal was a glued-down picture of Akaashi wearing his graduation suit, and holding his graduation scroll, his parents stood on either side of him grinning proudly at their only child. Maybe she should’ve checked the book from the last page and then started reading the front. But she didn’t want spoilers, that’s why she never checked the second to last page.

She texted Akaashi and said she finished the journal and was ready to return it. When he didn’t respond, but had read the message, she texted Bokuto asking for some clarification. She asked if Akaashi had said anything about her that would’ve indicated why he was mad. Bokuto just said that Akaashi wasn’t mad at all. So now she was confused. If he wasn’t upset, then why was he ignoring her?

Instead of going to their tea place, she goes to his office during lunch. She scans the buttons, looking for his department.

“Hey diary thief, whatcha doing here?” A shorter guy with shaggy black hair and a hoodie with a denim jacket over it comes around to her and presses the elevator button.

“Are you going to the Manga Editing Department?” She checked before entering the elevator with the shaggy-haired guy, who had introduced himself as Udai Tenma, but she could just call him Tenma. He confirms and then doubly checks her identity as the same person Akaashi had been talking about and spending all his lunch breaks with.

“It’s funny that you know about the journal, I came here to return it finally. Probably much to Akaashi’s delight.” She adjusts her bag across her shoulders, giving a short sigh.

“No, Akaashi loves that you have his journal. At first, he was a little annoyed, but now it’s kinda like you have a little piece of him all the time. I told him just to get you a necklace with his name on it, but noooooo Udai I can’t do that because I’d essentially be confessing if I did something like that.” Udai did a brilliant imitation of Akaashi, even going as far as to push his shoulders back to make him seem taller and with a broader build.

Udai turned slowly to face her, eyes wide and jaw dropped, “Please pretend I don’t exist, I never said anything about Akaashi’s undying love,” He froze, “Also ignore what I just said.”

Udai got out of the elevator on the floor below the editing department. She could hear him start to criticize himself and say he owes Akaashi so many more favors and solids now.

She walked through the office, lightly admiring all the manga panels, all the stories that had come out of this building astounded her, it had been a while since she last read a manga, so she considered picking one up on her way out. Maybe she’d read the one written by Udai.

Then she sees him. Akaashi, with a pencil in one hand and an eraser in the other. His head is moving slightly, due to the music playing through his headphones she assumes. He fidgets in his chair, wiggling the seat around. Despite being angry at him, he was still adorable when he was engrossed in his work.

“You’re being childish.” She handed Akaashi the journal. Akaashi had to take off his headphones when he saw that his journal was being thrust into his face, he dropped his pencil and turned around only to be met with her. Even though she seemed to be upset with him, she still looked beautiful.

Akaashi looked confused, so she clarified, “Ghosting? Really? You could have just said you didn’t want to be friends.” Her tone is sharp and penetrating.

It wasn’t the being friends part, it was the part where he wanted her to be entirely his. An overwhelming desire to attach her to him in all senses. He swallows and takes the journal back. He wants to ask what her thoughts were, and what she came to understand about him. Yet, he knew she was upset with him. He would be upset with her too if she did what he had done.

He had completely blown his chance, hadn’t he? The one woman who had read the teenage journal and still wanted to be friends. Maybe her knowing more about him wouldn’t be too bad at all, maybe that’s exactly what he needed.

“I don’t want to be friends.” She starts to sniffle, she quickly runs the sleeve of her shirt onto her eyes. Akaashi rushed the next part out, “I can’t be just friends with you I’m afraid. I think I want more.”

She blinks rapidly before regaining composure and putting her hand on his shoulder. “I think you need to sort out your feelings. Because if you really wanted more, you wouldn’t have treated me like I was disposable. You wouldn’t have ignored me. So, figure it out, and let me know what the result is. You know where to find me.”

She rubs her thumb on his cheek in a parting gesture. He remembers when she did that for the first time, around three months ago. They were at a library he had found in a far corner of Tokyo, and he was talking about a book that Udai hadn’t understood at all, which made him irate that Udai could skim over such an important story. They were in their little section, with dim lights and a stack of books they wanted to talk about.

As he was waving his hands around, trying to show her the pages and lines he was referencing in the book, when she reached over and brushed her thumb against his cheek, the rest of her fingers resting along his jaw and lower cheek. Her palm barely contacts his chin.

“You had a little mark there. But I think it’s just a cute little freckle, it won’t wipe off.” She brushes against his skin again, and when the mark doesn’t disappear, she leans back into her chair, waiting for Akaashi to begin again. When he starts talking again about the book, he keeps stumbling and stuttering over his words.

She gave a small wave before leaving his office space. Akaashi's co-workers just turned their heads to watch her exit, heads sticking out of cubicles, and then in a blink, they all turned to face Akaashi with disappointed faces, shaking their heads and clicking their tongues. Then, they went back to work and Akaashi was sitting at his desk with his journal brazenly staring at him.

He had one chance to make it right. So he set aside Udai’s manga draft, knowing he could go through it in less than an hour, and he picked up his pencil, writing one more entry in his journal.

He can only wait a week before giving it to her when he shows up to her apartment unannounced. Miwa opens the door and rolls her eyes, but letting him in.

“I gotta run and get some new specialty scissors. I’m not afraid to use them in an unintended use if I get back and she’s crying.” Miwa motions her fingers from her eyes to his. Akaashi gives her a thumbs up.

When she comes out of her room, she inspects him on the couch, he’s holding his journal.

“Read the last page for me. It’s an extended edition.” He jokes somewhat. She sits next to him and reads his ‘extended edition’. DATE: XX-XX-XX TITLE: Micawber; An Eternal Optimist

I was stupid. Believe me, I know I was a whole idiot and a half.

Here’s to giving up realism and embracing optimism.

You knew who I was before I knew you. I was scared that you would know too much. That’s hilarious, right? I wanted you to know me, and yet there I was completely afraid to let you get too close, but you were already close. It’s not just what words were contained here, although I re-read my journal and there are definitely some things I should’ve self-censored.

You were what made the entire difference. Your ability to perceive me as a whole rather than a sum of my parts was the distinction that was made.

With you, I truly am a protagonist. Not a side character anymore, but the main character who shares the limelight with his love interest. Although, I have a distinct feeling that you may be more of a main character than me. But, I know you’d say you digress.

In your journal, you mentioned once how you believed that a good story can compel you to be changed. How characters drive a real tangible change in a person. Did I do that for you? At least a little bit? I know I was changed when I read your story, I realized that maybe I liked you a little more than just liking you.

Please don’t think I am mean. I was cruel, rude, and inconsiderate to you. Ghosting for more than a month because I was worried is likely going down in my personal history as the worst thing I’ve ever done to you. But I’m dedicated to never doing anything bad to you ever again. I’ll never hurt you, and I’ll never lie.

I’m optimistic that you like me a little. Maybe even a little more than like.

So, tell me why I still feel worried. Is this feeling even worried? Or is this what love feels like? The desperation to not hurt you in any way. The pang of knowing that I am myself with you. And, yes, the physical magnetism that makes me feel just a little more like a teenager when I am with you.

I think this feeling is love. I just think it’s so overwhelming that I ended up making it into a negative emotion instead of what it is.

I’m sorry. Forgive me or I really won’t know what to do with all these feelings that flit around in my heart for you.

I love you.

- Yours, Akaashi Keiji

She knew he was watching her. She had her nose in his journal, reading what he had written for her.

“Can you get me a tissue?” Akaashi handed her one. He was ready to say his goodbyes.

When she closes the journal, he looks at her with curious eyes. She smiles.

“Best book ever.”

He grabs her by the back of her head and kisses her. She held his face in her hands, tilting her head slightly and he hummed into her mouth. His nose was cold on her face, but the warmth of his mouth contrasted with the frostiness. His other hand grips her hip, trying to pull her closer to him. Despite them being already so close, he wanted her to envelop him.

Then he was pressing her down onto her couch, both hands on her hips. When she wrapped a leg around his waist he thought his heart was going to jump out of his chest. Her head was on the arm of the couch, and he had moved from her mouth to the side of her face to her neck, to right above her bra, leaving a trail of his making. He was glad she was wearing a low-cut top because it made it easier for him to pull the shirt down so he could reach more of her skin.

In contrast to him, she felt soft and pliable. She also felt wholly his in this moment.

Her hands were in his hair, pulling the strands in a mellow methodology, not wanting to hurt him almost. She wanted his hair just a little longer, but the short hair tickled her neck, so she was happy with the length it was currently.

The top of her chest was creamy and supple. He let his tongue brush out once, twice, before going back up to kiss her again. He licked at her bottom lip, and she opened her mouth just enough for him to run his tongue into it for a moment, before biting at her bottom lip in thanks.

“You taste like sugar.” He was hot in the face and had some hair sticking to his forehead. She pushed his bangs back tenderly, his chest was still rapidly moving up and down trying to catch his breath. He went in for another kiss, still short of breath, so she had to intervene.

“Slow down loverboy, you need to breathe, or else you can’t keep going.” She laughs a little and he can feel the way her body carries the laugh from her chest to her stomach. She moves in close to his ear, “And that would be a zero-sum game for us both.”

He nods, and she draws his head down to rest on her chest.

“Is this better or worse than that fantasy you had about making out with a girl in the backseat of a car?” She recalls one of his entries from his journal.

He rubs his face against her, inhaling deeply. “This is way better. But we’re still gonna kiss in the back of my jeep, and soon at that.”

She hums a little in response.

The next year, Akaashi and her moved in together, Miwa was glad because now she could finally walk around her apartment without clothes on (despite her doing that when they were roommates anyway). Bokuto was glad to see that Akaashi finally had someone to read his confusing books and that he didn’t have to read another one ever again. Udai would occasionally make a joke about if it didn’t work out with Akaashi she had a place in his awaiting arms. Akaashi threatened to work for another manga magazine and Udai would be stuck using only Grammarly. That usually shut Udai up pretty quickly.

They both kept detailed journals. And when they finished them, they would let the other read them. Akaashi let her read all his past journals as well, and she let him read her diaries.

Maybe love isn’t what you expected at first, maybe it's not even a feeling you want to feel at that moment, or for that person. But love works out for the best in the end. Whether that’s with a best friend, a lover, a child, or even a book.

For Akaashi Keiji, love meant letting someone know him better than he knew himself. It also meant being okay with letting her read his diary.

[tsumusangxl]

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Summary ʚ Hinata and you have been friends since childhood, you guys went through thick and thin. You helped Hinata to achieve his dreams and supported him without a doubt.... But everything changed after he graduated and moved to Brazil, leading to the fall out of your friendship and to a heartbreak.

Iwaizumi and you met through Social Media, having one mutual friend,the one and only Oikawa Toruu. You never saw each other in person, since he studied in the States and you were still living in Japan, but you both grew close quickly. And maybe some different emotions came to the surface. Will you be able to move on? Or will you forgive Hinata? 

Pairing ʚ Hinata Shoyou x F!reader x Iwaizumi Hajime

Genre ʚ SMAU, Fluff, childhood friend!reader, Angst, childhood friends to lovers (hinata), love triangle, reader involved (voting,etc.), kinda second chance, slight age gap, comfort, strangers to friends to lovers (iwa), flashbacks,

Warnings ʚ Swearing, disregarding feelings, more specific content warning will be given at the start of each chapter

Status ʚ ongoing

Updates ʚ usually 2-3 day apart

Love meter ʚ

Hinata ʚ 4%

Iwaizumi ʚ 0%

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Masterlist ʚ

[5 Idiots and a brain] / [MBSY hotshots] / [Oikawa hateclub]

Chapter ʚ

zero - the struggle

one - the decision

two - the explanation

three - the regret

four - the surprise

five - the denial

six - the broken toy

seven -

eight -

nine -

ten -

eleven -

twelfth -

...

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taglist ʚ @jojo23allegra @mjustag1rl @dazqa @gigiiiiislife