#akaashi fluff

[oikyawa]

requested ۶ৎ | keiji akaashi doesn’t like how popular you are.

you’re really popular at fukurōdani academy.

everyone in the school knows your name, and probably what you look like too.

but akaashi doesn’t like it.

sure he’s happy that everyone likes you, or at least almost everyone.

but he doesn’t like that you’re always swarmed by people the second you’re not in any of your classes.

you could step one foot out of your classroom, and there’d already be ten students around you, offering to carry your bag and offering you water.

it’s not because they happen to be at your classroom fast enough, it’s because they ditch the last ten minutes of class to be at your beck and call first.

or you’re at lunch, munching on an apple with people surrounding you, watching really intently how you eat an apple, like they’ve never seen a girl eat an apple before.

he doesn’t get it.

he doesn’t get why people have to be around you all the time, even if it’s just breating the same air as you.

yes you’ve got the whole package, you’re pretty, smart, unbelievably funny, and you’re so nice. you would barely hurt a fly.

but he’s a little blind sided considering he’s your boyfriend of three years. of course you’re the prettiest girl to him, you always have been.

and he knows how lucky he is to have you, considering almost every student at school would kill to date you.

your locker is always filled with love letters, with undying confessions in them that are a little too extra.

‘keiji, catch everything that’s about to fall out of my locker.’ you tell akaashi, taking a breath before opening your locker in a swift move.

you’d been sick at home for the past two days, so the regular amount of letters you get, have tripled.

there are a lot, of envelopes. and akaashi manages to catch most of them with the trash bag he’s holding, no other bag would fit this many letters.

and along with too many letters, there’s also a handful of plushies. ones that you will be keeping, a facemask, and a small pot with medicine in it.

that’s definitely one of the most random items you’ve gotten.

‘this would’ve been useful two days ago,’ you mumble, fetching the things you actually need out of your locker.

‘there’s still a letter in there,’ akaashi says, his hand brushing past yours as he grabs the letter in the corner of your locker.

‘oh, thanks.’ he hands you the letter, and your breath hitches at the handwriting on the envelope.

it’s akaashi’s hand writing.

your name is written in cursive, perfectly centered and neat.

‘a letter?’ your gaze flicks between him and the letter, turning it around to see the stamp being your initials, along with tiny hearts.

‘open it when you’re alone, call me after.’ he smiles softly, tying the trash bag and slinging it over his shoulder, quickly going to the trash bin to throw it out.

the only letters you should read are his, not from some stupid guy who’s only trying to get in your pants.

akaashi would rather you never get any other letters than the ones he writes you, but that’s out of the question.

a/n: i scrambled this together in 20 minutes with christmas music playing, also the end is a little half assed i’m sorry 😢

tags: @akaashiit, @blythmourning, @bakugosgrenade, @bookworm-center, @levisotakugf, @wellitseugi, @badtzmai, @returntothefae, @noyamlv, @charukii, @amisuh, @z9mbo, @showhay, @wowbyselene, @heavybit3rr, @kotarosangel, @kpopmultistans, @girlwithanattitude, @eclipsedivan, @imgonnashartmyself, @listentothemelody00, @dearestelsie, @scarymygodurdivine, @an1ki3gai, @kagstobioisthelightofmylife, @qrxswan, @wave2cal, @tdntu0, @n0vawrit3s, @s1ckntw1st3d, @imagoodwriter, @jinshigooner, @haniipie, @skz143nstuff, @venusdreamr, @st3rdust7, @cwinxclub, @superswagboi05, @creamelon, @xyyyulat, @shookykookie30, @misasprout, @https-kasley, @jojo23allegra, @katsukisser, @etiolie, @miismelater, @sunnysideupx5, @thickthighsthickthighs, @sickenedhonesty

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[xoxojisu]

𝄞𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ ♬ his laugh: a rare melody <3

you don’t hear it often.

but when you do? god, it makes everything around you go still.

his real laugh.

not the huffs. not the sarcastic snorts. not the amused breath through his nose.

the real one. the one that escapes before he can stop it. bright and careless and beautiful.

and this time, it bubbles out of him fast, catching on the end of his sentence like he didn’t mean to let it out. he covers his mouth too late, shoulders jolting slightly as he leans forward, eyes crinkling in a way that makes your heart do something stupid.

you’ve been around him long enough to know when he’s holding back and when he isn’t. and this? this is pure. unfiltered.

a sound you want to keep hearing for the rest of your life.

he’s still laughing when you say it, soft and stunned and entirely honest:

“you have a really pretty laugh.”

his breath catches mid-laugh.

and then it hits full force. the weight of your words, the sincerity behind them. and just like that, the laugh dissolves into something quieter, more flustered. his cheeks tint pink almost instantly.

“shut up,” he says, voice cracking halfway through the word, eyes darting everywhere but at you.

you grin. “i’m serious.”

he covers his mouth with his sleeve like it might somehow hide the way the blush is blooming across his face, delicate and pink and unavoidable.

“it’s not... i don’t... why would you say that out loud?!”

“because it’s true?” you shrug, teasing, but still a little breathless. “it’s… i dunno. it suits you. 's cute.”

he side-eyes you, expression caught between offended and embarrassed and that quiet, cracking amusement you’re addicted to. “what does that even mean?”

“i mean…” you trail off, eyes on him now. his lashes, the curve of his smile, the flush spreading across his cheeks like blooming petals.

“i mean, you’re always so... guarded... or something. like, you're very serious. or stoic." you say, grappling with the right words. "and then you laugh like that and it’s just... soft? and bright. and it makes people want to hear it again. it puts me in a better mood!”

he blinks. then quickly looks away.

“…i hate you.”

you laugh. “no you don’t.”

“i might.”

you watch him try to hide the way he’s still smiling. the way the pink deepens near his ears. you want to press your thumb against his cheek just to feel the warmth there.

he exhales, shaking his head. “you’re so annoying.”

you lean in a little. “so are you. but at least you’re charming when you laugh!”

his eyes flick toward you. something unreadable behind them. and then, finally, a soft reply:

“…you’re the only one who’s ever said that.”

you blink. your chest aches.

then you say, “well, i’m right.”

and when he looks at you again, that blush still lingering like cherry blossoms in the spring, he doesn’t deny it.

he just smiles. wide. honest. pink.

and laughs again.

bnha: katsuki, shinso, dabi, shoto (sort of..?)

jjk: megumi, kamo, nanami

hq: akaashi, kunimi, tsukishima, kageyama, kenma

bllk: chigiri, rin, sae, barou

masterlist

[lumixnouss]

akaashi keiji | it's feminine intuition .ᐟ

after watching your high school's volleyball game, a certain setter had caught your attention. what else does a bored girl supposed to do in bed but stalk through his socials?

note: this was insipired by drop dead by olivia! <3 also this is my first haikyuu work, i hope y'all like it ( ´ ▽ ` )

the screams inside the giant gymnasium felt as though they might burst your eardrums off. the game had been going on for so long, both teams on the court were locked in this seemingly endless rally that had your eyes going back and forth to both sides.

but obviously, you were rooting for your high school’s team. fukurodani academy was known for having a strong team, though guiltily, this was your first time watching any of their games. 

it was competition season, as your friends called it—they had practically dragged you out here to watch a bunch of games—mostly that of your volleyball club’s. 

at first, it took you a few games to understand the rules and what they were actually doing on court, but when you got the hang of it, you found yourself cheering along with your friends, eyes locked onto that ball.

your heart pounded inside your chest as the ball returned to fukurodani’s side. the ball was received by the libero, flying high in the air. then, your gaze locked onto that player that had stolen your attention for a while now.

number 5, the setter, as your friends called him. 

he flawlessly tossed the ball to the tall guy running up to the net. and with a powerful spike that had you sitting on the edge of your seat, the team successfully earned their victory. 

the gymnasium erupted with cheers, your friend grabbed your arm and pulled you up to jump and cheer with her.

“they’re so good!” one of your friends commented, grinning as she lifted a makeshift banner—or more like a piece of paper with the fukurodani name scribbled on it.

“i swear, that number 4 looks like he could rip arms off with his spikes!” your friends discussed the game, watching as the players approached your side of the bleachers to bow.

your eyes stayed glued onto the composed expression number 5 had on his face. he didn’t look that ruffled from the game save for the quick rise and fall of his chest—indicating just how exhausting that game was. 

the team bowed in front of the bleachers, shouting ‘thank you’ to the audience. more girls around you cheered, waving their signs around and shouting ‘good job’ across the bleachers.

you couldn’t help but wonder what number five looked like up close.

your attention is torn away when your friends grab your arm, “we should head to the cafe before going home! i could really use a drink.”

the cafe was quiet when you arrived. it was already deep into the afternoon and everyone was probably headed home by now.

you sipped from your drink as your friends passed a phone around the table. you took a peek at the screen and found a social media profile opened.

it was that guy with white-gray hair that won the game with that terrifying spike. “this guy’s in my older friend’s class, he’s a third year.” one of the girls shared.

“i think his name was bokuto. apparently, he’s like one of the top aces in the country.”

“damn, really? no wonder his spikes were so clean.” you comment, eyes skimming over his profile.

then, you see it. a post that showed that familiar number 5 jersey.

bokuto smiled up at the camera with the setter you saw earlier standing just right behind him. he wasn’t even looking at the camera but the ball in his hands as though he was deep in thought. it looks like it was captured without him knowing. 

now that you could see his face more clearly, you felt your heart skip a beat. he was cute—handsome, you couldn’t quite put the words together.

but the way he looked at the ball in his hands, eyes glimmering with determination made you lean closer to the phone, scrolling through more pictures until you found another.

it was another post, another candid shot. this time, he was sitting by the window of a classroom, chin resting on his hand. his eyes were trained onto the textbook before him, wired earphones dangling loosely.

a few other people surrounded him, casually tossing volleyballs around. yet, he seemed quite used to the ruckus with how unbothered he looked.

was this some sort of deja vu?

school had finally ended for the day, but before heading home, you’d forgotten your notebook somewhere on your table. you tell your friends to go on ahead as you ran up to the second floor. 

you stopped in your tracks when you passed by an empty classroom—except it wasn’t completely empty.

near the window, a boy sat in his seat, fingers flipping through the pages of his textbook. your eyes grazed his dark—slightly messy hair, and that composed expression on his face, like this was just another one of his routines. 

you swear you’ve seen this before. 

“akaashi!” a loud voice echoed across the corridor. you quickly moved to the other side of the hallway and away from the door.

a guy you recognized to be bokuto sauntered into the classroom, a volleyball tucked in his arm. “let’s go!” he called out.

so, his name was akaashi, huh.

as soon as your head hit the pillow, you grabbed your phone and dialed your friend. for some reason, your heart was racing—feeling a bit nervous. but god, were you just so curious.

“hey! did you find your notebook?” your friend answered.

“yeah. but i… have a question.” you hesitated, feeling warmth rise to your cheeks.

your friend chuckled on the other line, “what’s up?”

“you know that setter from the volleyball club? number 5.” you mumbled, trying to keep your voice steady. but of course, your friend has none of this and laughs from the other line.

“akaashi keiji? i’m on it!” she announces, voice filled with excitement.

not even a minute later, his username was already in your chat. 

“he’s a second year like us, and oh my god look! he’s the vice captain of the volleyball club!” she giggled over the phone, almost sounding as though she were endorsing him to you.

“and you know, i heard he’s really smart—and isn’t he cute too?!” she spoke quickly and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes while fighting a smile.

“i didn’t ask for all of that.” you mumbled, fingers already typing in his username. 

“you wanted it anyway.” she teased.

when you opened his profile, you were greeted with basically nothing. although he had a good amount of followers, he only had two posts in his feed. one being a picture of his table with a few mangas scattered about.

the other post seemed to be his volleyball team, they were at a restaurant, big smiles and drinks raised up. akaashi sat quietly beside bokuto, smiling softly. he held up a peace sign and had an onigiri on the other hand.

a small flutter in your stomach tells you everything—you need to see his smiles up close, and maybe how his voice would sound too.

it was almost as though you had manifested him. ever since you noticed him at the game, you just kept on running into him.

at first, it was at the convenience store near your school. you were buying yourself a quick drink before class and ended up grabbing the same one as akaashi. when your hands touched, you both flinched and pulled away, murmuring apologies to each other before awkwardly grabbing something else.

but that ended up with both of you standing in front of the cashier, offering the other to go on ahead. the cashier switched his gaze between the two of you, smiling to himself. 

the next time was on the train. by the time you managed to get on, the train was practically full and you had no choice but to stand somewhere off to the side. just as the doors were about to close, a person squeezed in just at the last minute.

you recognized your school’s uniform on him and slowly looked up. akaashi was already staring back at you, eyes a little wide from recognition. 

the two of you exchanged a short, awkward greeting before you pulled out your phone and stared at the screen—your mind reeling from the sudden proximity between you.

at this point, your heart was already pounding in your chest. you snuck quick glances at him and noticed how he just looked out the window, eyes tracing the view outside, completely indifferent from the world around him.

and of course, just as fate would have it, when your stop came, he also got off the train. you quietly trailed behind him, noticing how the two of you were taking the same path home.

but of course, you wouldn’t let an opportunity like this pass up. you started visiting that convenience store near school more often. who knew akaashi would go there everyday like clockwork? that he seemed to buy that drink almost habitually every morning before school?

or maybe the fact that when he didn’t have practice you’d find him sitting across from you on the train ride home.

what mattered the most was how he looked at you. first, he was curious—of how often he’d see you around when he didn’t notice before.

curiosity turned into familiarity, and whenever akaashi keiji found himself looking for you. his morning convenience store runs had become a complete staple of his day, sometimes he’d see you already heading inside and find himself walking faster to catch up.

“when did you start drinking these sweet drinks, akaashi?” bokuto asked during lunch, his finger poking the drink carton on akaashi’s desk. 

akaashi shrugged, “i like it.” 

it reminded him of you.

it’s probably feminine intuition. your fate was sealed the moment you saw him at that volleyball game. you knew it then, akaashi keiji had your whole undivided attention, without even trying.

the court was filled with loud cheers from the audience. fukurodani academy had just taken another win, advancing them further into the competition. you got up from your seat, hands clapping as a smile tugged at your lips. 

“they’re on a roll! akaashi’s doing well today too! did you see those dump shots?” your friend laughed, waving her banner around. 

but just like a routine, you slipped away from the stands and found your place near the court and in the shadows of the door. 

you clutched his favorite drink in your hand, feeling the cold seep against your skin. 

after the players were free to leave the court, akaashi’s legs were already moving towards you.

“keiji!” you smiled, waving your hand. akaashi smiled, feeling the exhaustion ebb away from him the closer he got to you.

akaashi stood in front of you and walked right into your open arms. his own automatically coming up around you.

“good job today!” you commended, feeling his arms tighten around you as he rested his chin against your shoulder.

“thank you.” he mumbled quietly. akaashi had practically melted onto you.

maybe it was really intuition. because the moment you saw him that day, a part of you had already imagined what it would feel like to be this close to him.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ 1.86k wc, @lumixnouss on ao3 and wattpad <3 ℒ ove, lumi.

© lumixnouss, reblogs, comments and likes are appreciated ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

[showhay]

akaashi keiji x f!reader | fluff

cw: suggestive content, read at your own risk.

;; boyfriend!akaashi has a very specific way of waking you up. he doesn’t use an alarm; instead, he just shifts closer until his chest is flushed against your back, burying his face in the crook of your neck. he waits until you stir, murmuring low, “five more minutes,” in that gravelly morning voice that makes your toes curl, his hand tracing lazy, possessive circles over your hip under the sheets.

;; boyfriend!akaashi is the king of subtle physical contact in public. he isn’t loud about it, but his hand is always somewhere—resting firmly on the small of your back to guide you through a crowd, or his thumb stroking your knuckles while he’s distracted in conversation with bokuto. he makes you feel like the only person in the room without even looking at you.

;; boyfriend!akaashi keeps a physical editor’s eye on everything, including you. he’ll pull you into his lap while he’s reviewing manuscripts, his chin resting on your shoulder. when he gets tired, he doesn’t stop working; he just starts absentmindedly nipping at your shoulder blade or the sensitive skin behind your ear, his breath hot against your skin as he hums thoughtfully at a sentence he’s reading.

;; boyfriend!akaashi takes care of the things you forget. he knows exactly how you take your coffee and has it sitting on the nightstand before you even open your eyes. if you’re stressed, he doesn’t ask what’s wrong—he just pulls you into his space, fixes your hair, and spends twenty minutes massaging your scalp with those long, nimble fingers until you’re putty in his hands.

;; boyfriend!akaashi has a ‘look.’ you know the one—it’s when you’re dressed up for a date and he just stops mid-sentence, his eyes darkening as they roam slowly from your toes back up to your lips. he’ll step into your personal space, his hand tilting your chin up just a fraction, and say something like, “you look beautiful,” before kissing you just long enough to ruin your lipstick and make you want to stay home instead.

;; boyfriend!akaashi is incredibly observant of your ‘tells.’ if he notices you’re overstimulated at a party, he’ll lean in close, his lips brushing your ear as he whispers, “ready to go, pretty girl?” his hand will already be sliding down to grip your waist, his touch firm and grounding, letting you know he’s completely tuned into you and only you.

;; boyfriend!akaashi likes to claim your space. he leaves his silver watch on your nightstand or his glasses on your desk, little reminders that he was there. but his favorite thing is when you wear his oversized button-downs; he’ll catch you in the kitchen and pull you back against him, his hands sliding underneath the hem to find your bare skin, whispering about how much better his clothes look on you than they ever do on him.

;; boyfriend!akaashi has a thing for your hands. he’ll catch them during dinner, bringing your knuckles to his lips, but his eyes never leave yours. he’ll slowly take one of your fingers into his mouth, his gaze heavy and unblinking, swirling his tongue around the tip just to see your pupils blow wide. it’s a silent challenge, a promise of what’s going to happen the moment the check is paid and the front door is locked. yes, front door. bold of you to assume he’d last until you get to the bedroom.

;; boyfriend!akaashi is a man of few words, but he’s incredibly vocal when he’s got his face buried in your neck. he likes to find that one specific spot—right where your shoulder meets your pulse—and stay there, alternating between soft, soothing licks and sharp, punishing nips. he loves the way you gasp his name, his grip on your waist tightening until his knuckles turn white, his voice dropping an octave as he mumbles, “stay just like that for me. okay, pretty girl?”

;; boyfriend!akaashi gets incredibly tactile after a long day at the office. he’ll loosen his tie the moment he walks through the door, but he won’t take it off. instead, he’ll find you wherever you are, spin you around, and use the silk fabric to pull you flush against him. he likes to bury his face in your neck, taking deep, needy breaths of your scent, his hands sliding down to cup you and lift you onto the nearest surface so he can be between your legs and have some dinner.

;; boyfriend!akaashi is deceptively dominant when it comes to shared spaces. if you’re sitting at your desk trying to work, he’ll come up behind you and start undoing the clasp of your bra through your shirt without a word. when you gasp and turn around to protest, he just catches your wrists in one hand, pinning them gently but firmly to the desk, and leans down to bite softly at your pulse point. “work can wait,” he’ll mutter against your skin, “i’ve been thinking about this since lunch.”

;; boyfriend!akaashi has a thing for mirrors. he likes to see the effect he has on you. he’ll stand behind you while you’re getting ready, his large hands splayed across your stomach, pulling you back against the hardness of his chest. he’ll meet your eyes in the glass, his thumb catching your bottom lip and pulling it down just enough to see your teeth, watching your pupils blow wide as he leans down to mark your collarbone where everyone will see it later.

;; boyfriend!akaashi has a specific praise kink that he uses to completely undo you. he loves to whisper “good girl” or “you're doing so well for me, honey” when you're struggling to keep your composure under his touch. he’s patient, incredibly so, waiting until you’re a shaking, incoherent mess before he gives you what you want. he likes to watch the way your eyes blow wide when he finally loses that famous akaashi restraint, his movements becoming more urgent and his voice losing its steady rhythm as he mumbles your name like a prayer against your skin.

;; boyfriend!akaashi loves the contrast of his clean-cut image versus the way he looks when he’s finally undone by you. there’s something devastating about seeing him with his hair mussed, his tie hanging loose around his neck, and his eyes glazed with heat as he watches you move. he’ll catch your wrists, pinning them above your head with just one hand, his chest heaving as he tells you exactly how much trouble you’re in for making him wait all day.

n: for the #1 akaashi d-rider or something like that @akaashiit

© showhay — don’t copy or translate without my permission. don’t feed my works to ai.

iloveu

[seumyo]

akaashi couldn’t be nonchalant as people made him out to be.

NOTE. Inspired by @/nethsukii’s post from TikTok!

Everyone always assumed Akaashi was the most level-headed person in the room, nonchalant in some cases, the calm voice amongst the chaos, the unshakeable setter with cool eyes and a brain that always operated two steps ahead.

That reputation didn’t change when he got a girlfriend—it intensified. People whispered about how lucky you were to have someone so composed, thoughtful, emotionally intelligent, and stable. A boyfriend who wouldn’t raise his voice, who’d remember anniversaries without being reminded, who’d bring you tea when you had cramps, and listen to you vent without interrupting.

And okay—yes. Two of those things were completely true.

But the “nonchalant” part? That one was a bit misleading.

Because if you asked Bokuto, or Konoha, or literally any of Akaashi’s closer friends, they’d tell you: he’s anything but nonchalant when it comes to you. Sure, he looks calm, but beneath that is a man whose brain short-circuits when you so much as bat your eyelashes at him thrice rather than twice. He’s an intense romantic disguised as a stoic intellectual. And the intensity isn’t dramatic or grand—it’s absurdly, endearingly specific.

“Did you know you sneeze in three stages?”

You blinked, pausing mid-bite of your grilled cheese sandwich. “What?”

Akaashi, seated across from you at his kitchen counter, wore his usual composed expression. His glasses slid a bit down his nose, but he didn’t push them up. He was too focused on you. “Three stages,” he repeated. “You do this little build-up thing first—your eyebrows scrunch, your nose wiggles like a bunny, and then you hold your breath for a second. That’s stage one.”

You stared at him with an expression of genuine confusion. “You studied my sneeze?”

“I observe,” he corrected smoothly, reaching for his cup of tea like this was just another normal afternoon conversation and not borderline concerning.

“Stage two is the sneeze itself. It’s never dainty. It’s loud. Forceful. Passionate.”

“That’s a weird adjective.”

“Am I wrong?” he asked, not missing a beat.

“Yes?” You looked down at your sandwich. “I… don’t know how to properly respond to that.”

Akaashi gave the faintest smile, his eyes flickering with mischief. “Stage three is the little sigh you do afterward. Like you just survived a great war. Then you sniff once and pretend it didn’t just shake the room.”

“You’re insane.”

“Maybe,” he admitted with a shrug, “but it’s endearing. You sneeze like a bazooka. It’s adorable.”

“No one’s ever called a bazooka adorable.”

“I’m a trailblazer,” he said matter-of-factly.

-

There were his journal entries—yes, journal entries—about you. You found one once by accident, tucked between a book of poetry and a volleyball strategy book. He didn’t write about major milestones like one might expect. No, you found out your boyfriend documented the way your nose crinkled when you lied, or how your left hand twitches a little when you were anxious.

There was an entire paragraph dedicated to the way you wrapped your scarf, how it was “disarmingly efficient, yet always crooked to the left, like her heart’s trying to lean on someone without asking.”

Who says that?

Akaashi Keiji, apparently.

He once paused mid-sentence in a phone call with Bokuto because you, half-asleep and grumpy, had mumbled something unintelligible from the other room (you had come over for a project and fell asleep after lunch). “She sounds like a disgruntled possum when she’s waking up,” he said dreamily. “It’s charming.”

...

“Akaashi. You okay?”

“More than okay.”

-

Akaashi even adjusted his wardrobe—not that he admitted it. You mentioned once, half-joking, that he looked really good in dark green, and suddenly half of his winter clothes were moss, olive, or emerald. You caught on when he started showing up with sleeves rolled halfway up because you once muttered something about liking the veins in his arms.

“Yum,” you murmur, squeezing his triceps before bursting into a fit of laughter after realizing how embarrassing you’re acting.

But you learned long ago that there was never such a thing as too embarrassing when Akaashi acted the same, if not to a greater degree. He wasn’t nonchalant. Not even close. He was... silly.

A helpless romantic who never made grand proclamations or public gestures but instead memorized the oddest, most mundane things about you like it was part of some sacred text.

And yet, he wasn’t clingy nor weird to the point of you being uncomfortable. He knows your boundaries well. He wasn’t overbearing or overly expressive. He just noticed. Quietly, constantly, lovingly. He didn’t tell you he loved you every day in words, but he knew the way you curled your pinky when you drank from your mug.

He knew you got cold at 3 a.m. even in the summer and always made sure a blanket was within reach. He noticed when you rewatched the same ten-minute section of your favorite show because you liked the background music.

He remembered the exact number of sugars you took in your coffee and the fact that your favorite mug was slightly chipped, but you used it anyway because it was a gift from your cousin. He once stopped mid-sentence while talking to Bokuto on the phone just to say, “She’s humming the Sailor Moon theme in the shower again,” with a fondness so full it made Bokuto gag.

Man, he was whole-body deep into loving you.

-

How Akaashi often spends a lot of time thinking about things that weren’t even that serious.

Like how, that one time, you laughed at someone else’s joke for a few seconds longer than how he’d normally get from you. He doesn’t even get jealous when someone’s flirting with you because he knows—you know—and you’re both trusting of one another.

But to hear you laugh for 1.7 seconds longer?

You might as well give up now, because this man is persistent.

“Are you seriously keeping time now?” you asked, laughing at his behavior.

“Yes, my dad raised me to be competitive.”

“Don’t bring him into this, Keiji,” you laughed.

He looked at you as if you hung the moon and individually painted the stars in the beautiful night sky itself. “You’re very pretty,” he says. “I think I might experience a heart attack.”

You hugged him so hard you nearly knocked his glasses off.

-

When you painted your nails—usually some soft pastel or neutral tone—he would watch intently, chin in his hand like an art critic evaluating a masterpiece. At first, you thought he was just being polite (to try and appear interested, since guys don’t usually find interest in these sorts of things), but when you noticed the way he always commented on the color and style like it was a whole personality trait, you realized it wasn’t an act.

“Oh, that shade of sage green,” he murmured once. “It makes your fingers look like they’ve been kissed by a forest spirit.”

“What does that even mean?” You laughed.

He blinked, entirely serious. “It’s a compliment.”

“Keiji, I told you. If you’re going through something, you tell me—not just like—act this way.” As a joke, of course.

He laughed too.

Eventually, Akaashi started doing them for you. It began as a fleeting thought—you had been painting your left hand with your non-dominant one, struggling to keep it clean, when he silently plucked the brush from you and started painting with delicate strokes.

“You’re going to mess it up,” you warned.

“I have steady hands,” he said with all the gravitas of a surgeon. “We did this in Home Economics, remember?”

“...Yeah.”

From then on, it became a quiet ritual. You’d sit in his lap or next to him on the bed while he carefully painted your nails (he prefers the first one but isn’t shameless enough to tell you most of the time), brows furrowed in concentration, tongue sometimes poking out as he focused too hard. And every time he picked a color, it came with an elaborate reason.

“This one reminds me of the sky right after it rains in early spring. Soft, muted, but a little hopeful.”

You’d pretend to roll your eyes, but your heart would always flutter. Because you won the boyfriend lottery with him.

Akaashi was just built like that. When you two cooked together, he’d narrate what you were doing like it was a documentary on divine beings. “And now, the goddess stirs the pot, bestowing warmth and nourishment unto mankind.”

“Stop it,” you giggled, flicking water at him. “Don’t narrate it like that. You’re making it sound like a case study.”

“But it’s fun,” he says with a smile.

“You’re so weird.”

“I’m so in love with you.”

And he truly is.

And you believe him.

Akaashi wasn’t nonchalant. He was soft-spoken, yes. Composed, yes. But behind that calm exterior was a boy with a mind full of your quirks and a heart that was overflowing with enough love to swallow you whole. And somehow, that made you feel even more lucky than you already were.

SEUMYO © 2025. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[makkir0ll]

between you and your husband, you were the one more…vocal about your love for him. leaving him sweet notes with doodles of the two of you in his lunch, ending all heartfelt messages with x’s, planting a big kiss on his cheek that he pretended to cringe at but in reality he looked forward to it everytime he left the house.

people would always come up to you, telling you that he doesn’t reciprocate his love with words and such and asking you how you dealt with it. truth be told it took a while for you to get used to but soon enough you began to see the signs.

it was the way that every time he got up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom he would tuck your feet back into bed. the way he spent a solid twenty minutes cleaning your phone screen, and with furrowed brows as he placed your new screen protector on, making sure there were no bubbles. it was when you opened his wallet that you saw all the notes you wrote him saved in one pocket of his shitty leather wallet that was begging to be put to rest. it's the way when you come home after a long night out with your friends he takes his time undressing you, removing and placing your jewelry carefully on your bedside table and making sure to gently take off your makeup and of course do your skincare routine that he has memeorized. when he goes out and he spots a little something with your favorite character on it he buys it immediately, not bothering to look at the price tag because the way your eyes would light up when he brought home the little gift was worth more than a billion dollars to him.

it was when on your third month anniversary when the two of you were still dating, while the two of you sat down on the booth next to each other at a restaurant he held your hand and squeezed it three times. signifying the words, i love you. he knew he loved you from the start but was scared it was too soon to say it and this was his silent way of telling you so. and you picked up on it quickly when he started to do it more often.

and on your wedding day, as the two of you stand in front of all your loved ones and the officiator he says the most beautiful vows ever, telling you that "if death do us part then i hope to find you in every lifetime" and once he ended with that sentence, he squeezed your hand three times. i. love. you.

you always knew your husband loved you because his actions spoke a thousand words to you.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜

sigh. TSUKISHIMA FREAKING KEI!!!!!!!!, akaashi keiji (he writes notes back to you), KITA. SHINSUKE., iwaizumi hajime (30) athletic trainer, suna rintarou, USHIJIMA, kageyama tobio (squeezed your hand a lot when you started dating), MIYA OSAMU, sakusa kiyoomi, OH OH OH AONE!!,

[sweetlyvibe]

✎ . . . their reaction to you wiping off their kiss as a joke .ᐟ.ᐟ

- 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭. 𝖠𝗄𝖺𝖺𝗌𝗁𝗂 𝖪𝖾𝗂𝗃𝗂 ⋆ 𝖪𝗎𝗋𝗈𝗈 𝖳𝖾𝗍𝗌𝗎𝗋𝗈𝗎 ⋆ 𝖡𝗈𝗄𝗎𝗍𝗈 𝖪𝗈𝗎𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗂 ⋆ 𝖳𝗌𝗎𝗄𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗆𝖺 𝖪𝖾𝗂

🖋️ Akaashi Keiji

It was a quiet afternoon, just the two of you at his apartment, books spread across the table and soft music humming in the background. Keiji had leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek — warm, effortless, and filled with the softness only he could pull off so casually. It was his little way of grounding himself after reading for too long, a break from all the stillness.

But then, just for fun, you wiped your cheek with the back of your hand and gave him a mischievous grin.

“Ew, gross,” you teased with a dramatic eye-roll.

The change in his expression was subtle but immediate. He blinked once, pausing in place. Then slowly, he tilted his head, brows lowering just slightly. There was no outward sign of being upset, but a slow, knowing silence hung between you — the kind that only Keiji could make feel like a full-blown confrontation without ever raising his voice.

“Gross?” he repeated, like he was testing the word in his mouth.

You tried not to laugh as you saw the faintest quirk at the corner of his lips — amusement, irritation, and something far more dangerous: plotting.

He closed the book gently, set it down with deliberate care, and then turned to you fully.

“You’re lucky I know you’re joking,” he said, stepping closer, voice low and smooth like velvet wrapped around a blade.

“Or what?” you challenged, still grinning.

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he reached out and grabbed your wrist, gently tugging you into him. His hands cupped your face, thumbs brushing your jaw, and then he leaned in — far too close — until your noses almost touched.

“You want to try wiping it off again?” he murmured, before kissing you again, this time deliberately slow, steady, and undeniably claiming. And just when you tried to pull back, laughing, he held you there just a moment longer.

“Go ahead,” he said, voice softer now, but still with that sharp glint in his eyes. “Wipe it off again. I dare you.”

And you didn’t. Not this time.

౨ৎ

🐈‍⬛ Kuroo Tetsurō

It had started innocently enough. Tetsuro had walked into the room after his shower, hair damp and messy, towel around his neck, and the smuggiest smile on his face. He leaned down with no warning and kissed you — a quick peck on the lips, soft and unbothered.

But you, in a moment of peak chaos, looked him in the eyes and wiped your mouth with an exaggerated scowl.

“Ugh, get your post-workout germs away from me.” You gave him your best mock-disgusted face, nose wrinkled.

He stared at you, towel still in hand, mouth slightly open like he’d just been shot through the chest.

“Excuse me?” he asked, scandalized. “Was that not the highlight of your day?”

You snorted. “Definitely not. Try again later, maybe.”

Tetsuro stood there like a cat whose tail had just been stepped on. Then, very slowly, that crooked smirk of his returned — not hurt, not angry, but very clearly plotting mischief.

“Ohhh, okay. So that’s how we’re playing today.”

Before you could react, he tossed his towel aside and lunged at you, arms outstretched.

“TETSU—!”

He scooped you up like you weighed nothing and tackled you onto the couch, immediately peppering kisses all over your face like some overgrown affectionate menace.

“Get off—no, wait! I was joking!” you squealed, laughing.

“Oh no no no,” he said between kisses. “You don’t wipe off my affection and walk away scot-free. That’s emotional damage, babe. I’m reclaiming my pride.”

“You don’t have pride!”

“I did, before you crushed it with one swipe of your sleeve!”

Eventually, both of you were laughing so hard your cheeks hurt, and Tetsuro finally relented, flopping beside you with an exaggerated sigh.

“You better kiss me properly later,” he warned, giving you a side-eye. “Or next time I’m licking your cheek, full cat-mode.”

You believed him. You should have believed him from the start.

౨ৎ

🦉 Bokuto Koutarou

You’d kissed Koutarou on the cheek while the two of you were cuddling on the couch, his head resting on your lap, hair a little messier than usual. He’d turned his face into your hand afterward, absolutely glowing, mumbling a quiet, “You’re the best,” like a happy little kid.

So when you smirked and wiped the spot dramatically with your sleeve — complete with a fake gag — he froze.

Literally froze.

He sat up like someone hit him with a brick.

“H-Hey! Did you just—did you—did you wipe off my kiss??” His golden eyes were huge. You saw his hands twitch, like he wasn’t sure if he should panic or pout or both.

“You did! You totally did! Babe!”

You couldn’t help but laugh — he looked absolutely betrayed.

“Kou, it was a joke—!”

“You wiped off my love! My soul! You just wiped off my soul kiss!” He flopped backwards, hand dramatically thrown over his forehead. “Am I not cute anymore? Do you not love me? Is this the end?!”

“Oh my god—stop being so dramatic!” You were still laughing as you pulled him back toward you.

“But it felt real!” he mumbled, face smushed against your shoulder. He wasn’t actually upset — he just wanted reassurance. And he was definitely going to milk this.

You pressed a kiss to his temple, then his cheek, then his jaw, and finally his lips.

“See? Still cute. Still love you. Still yours.”

He instantly brightened, eyes glittering.

“Yay! I knew you were kidding!” he said, immediately back to his usual excited self.

Then a beat later:

“But if you do it again, I might actually cry next time.” You weren’t sure if he was joking or not.

Probably both.

౨ৎ

🦖 Tsukishima Kei

You’d caught him off guard, kissing him lightly on the cheek while he was doing something incredibly mundane — organizing his records, earbuds in. He glanced at you with a faint smile, clearly trying not to look too pleased.

So naturally, you wiped the spot right after and grimaced like he was diseased.

“Ugh. Gross.”

Tsukishima froze. He looked at you over the rim of his glasses with the most deadpan expression you’d ever seen.

“Seriously?” he asked, flatly. “That’s what you’re going with?”

You shrugged. “I’m just being honest. It was kinda slimy.”

You watched the vein twitch in his forehead. He set his record down a little too carefully, turning to fully face you.

“You want to try that again?” he asked, voice cool and lined with dry sarcasm.

You were already grinning, unable to hide your amusement.

He stepped closer, peering down at you like you were a science experiment that had just done something bizarre.

“Is this some new love language you’re experimenting with? Public humiliation? Emotional warfare?”

“Light teasing. Totally healthy in a relationship.”

“Mmh. Debatable.”

He didn’t move for a moment, just stared at you with those unreadable golden eyes. Then, very calmly, he stepped forward and kissed you again — this time on the mouth, slow and soft but purposeful.

Then he leaned back and said,

“Now wipe that off and I’ll actually be annoyed.”

You froze. Blinked.

He smirked.

“Exactly. Thought so.”

Then he turned away, smug as hell, and went right back to his records like he hadn’t just knocked the air out of your lungs.

Tsukishima Kei: 1.

You: 0.

[biggianteggplant]

HQ BOYS IN VICTORIA'S SECRET!

KUROO TETSURO

The first few times you brought him into Victoria's Secret, he was just tagging along.

Now?

Now he walked through the store with the confidence of a regular customer.

You were barely through the entrance when he disappeared toward the perfume displays.

"Already?" you called after him.

"I'll be back."

The fact that he said that like he worked there made you roll your eyes.

As you wandered over to a nearby display, one of the employees suddenly recognized you.

Her eyes immediately lit up.

"Oh my god."

You already knew.

You knew.

"Back again?" she asked with a grin.

A second employee nearby looked over and started giggling.

Your face immediately warmed.

"Mhm..." you laughed, embarrassed.

Before you could say anything else, they both peeked over your shoulder.

"Where is he?"

You pointed toward the back of the store.

The employees followed your finger.

Sure enough, he was already halfway through a rack of sleepwear.

The two women burst out laughing.

"He's shopping already!"

"He got started faster this time."

You covered your face.

"I know."

"Honestly, at this point we should just hire him."

You snorted.

The worst part was that they weren't wrong.

Because while you were talking, he had already managed to gather three different perfume testers and was comparing them with a level of concentration usually reserved for scientific research.

A few moments later, he returned.

Holding a silky nightgown.

"Found something."

One of the employees immediately lost it.

"Oh, he's back."

You wanted the floor to swallow you whole.

He looked between you and the employees.

"...What?"

"Nothing," all three of you said at the same time.

The employee leaned toward you.

"We love when you guys come in."

"Oh no."

"Seriously. He spends more time looking at products than some of our customers."

You were laughing so hard at this point.

Meanwhile, he was completely unfazed.

"Anyway," he said, holding up the nightgown, "what do we think about this one?"

The employee beside you immediately nodded.

"Oh that's cute."

"See?" he said triumphantly.

"You found an ally."

"I found someone with taste."

The employees were practically giggling into their hands now.

And somehow, instead of being embarrassed, you found yourself laughing too.

Because there was something ridiculously sweet about watching him take your shopping trips this seriously.

KENMA KOZUME

Bringing him to Victoria's Secret was a mistake.

Not because he complained.

Not because he wanted to leave.

But because the second you walked through the entrance, he visibly short-circuited.

His hand immediately found yours.

Not unusual.

What was unusual was how tightly he was holding it.

You glanced over.

"...You okay?"

"Yeah."

He wasn't.

You knew he wasn't.

Because he hadn't looked up from the floor in thirty seconds.

The store was full of giant posters, mannequins, bright displays, and enough pink to blind someone.

Meanwhile, he looked like he was trying very hard to pretend none of it existed.

You squeezed his hand.

"You're acting weird."

"I'm not."

"You are."

"No."

He immediately moved closer to your side.

You laughed.

"Kenma."

"What?"

"You're literally glued to me."

"I'm just walking."

"You nearly walked into me."

"That doesn't prove anything."

It proved everything.

The longer you stayed in the store, the more obvious it became.

Every time you wandered toward a display, he followed.

Every time you moved, he moved.

Like a cat following its favorite person around the house.

At one point you stopped to look at some pajamas.

When you turned around, he was right behind you.

Almost suspiciously close.

"...Why are you standing there?"

He blinked.

Then looked away.

"I don't know."

Liar.

You smiled and went back to browsing.

A few moments later, you grabbed a cute pajama set and held it up.

"What do you think?"

His eyes immediately landed on you.

Not the pajamas.

You.

You waited.

"...Kenma?"

"Hm?"

"The pajamas."

"Oh."

He glanced at them for approximately half a second.

"They're cute."

"You didn't even look."

"I did."

"You looked at me."

"I can do both."

He absolutely could not.

The entire trip was basically him following you around while pretending to evaluate your choices.

AKAASHI KEIJI

When you mentioned stopping by Victoria's Secret after grabbing coffee, he simply nodded.

"Okay."

That was it.

No hesitation.

No awkward coughing.

No visible panic.

Just okay.

Which immediately made you suspicious.

Because every time you passed the entrance of the store, you saw at least three boyfriends standing outside looking like they were awaiting execution.

Yet somehow yours was calmly walking beside you like you were entering a grocery store.

You glanced at him.

He glanced back.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"You keep looking at me."

"I'm just waiting."

"For what?"

"For you to suddenly realize where we are."

He looked around.

The giant pink signs.

The perfume displays.

The mannequins.

Then back at you.

"I know where we are."

You burst out laughing.

Ten minutes later, you were browsing body mists while he held the shopping basket.

Not because you asked him to.

Because he'd taken it from you the second it started getting heavy.

You picked up two bottles.

"Okay. Important question."

"Hm?"

"If these were fighting to the death, which one wins?"

He looked down at the bottles.

Then at you.

Then back at the bottles.

You watched him actually think about it.

"The pink one."

"Why?"

"It looks more confident."

You stared.

He stared.

Then both of you started laughing.

"That's not how perfume works."

"I disagree."

As you moved through the store, you couldn't help noticing how comfortable he was.

Not in a weird way.

Just...

Normal.

You'd point something out.

He'd look.

You'd ask an opinion.

He'd answer.

You'd make a joke.

He'd play along.

Meanwhile some poor guy nearby looked like he'd been abandoned for three business days.

You leaned closer.

"You know you're doing really well."

He looked up from the lotion display.

"Doing what?"

"Being inside Victoria's Secret."

You smiled.

Then a dangerous thought entered your brain.

"Oh."

His eyes narrowed immediately.

"Oh what?"

"You've been so good today."

"I don't like that sentence."

"You've been so well-behaved."

"There it is."

You grinned.

"I think you deserve a prize."

He nearly walked into a display.

"What."

"A prize."

"For being such a good boyfr—"

"Don't."

You were laughing too hard to continue.

Meanwhile his ears had gone slightly pink.

"You carried everything."

"Mm."

"You answered all my questions."

"Mm."

"You survived the entire store."

"That's a low bar."

"I think somebody deserves a reward."

He sighed.

"You're never letting this go, are you?"

"No."

"I figured."

As you left, your fingers naturally found his.

He squeezed your hand once.

"You done?"

"No."

He sighed.

Of course.

You smiled sweetly.

"I still haven't decided what your prize is."

This time, he paused.

"...You're still talking about that?"

"Mhm."

"I thought you were joking."

"I was."

"Was?"

You just smiled.

His eyes narrowed.

Immediately.

"Oh no."

You laughed.

"Oh yes."

"What does that mean?"

"I don't know."

"That's concerning."

You looked up at him innocently.

"We'll figure it out when we get home."

For the first time all day, he genuinely looked caught off guard.

BOKUTO KOUTARO

You took three steps before realizing he wasn't moving.

You turned around.

"...kou?"

His eyes were the size of dinner plates.

"Oh."

"No."

"Oh no."

Before you could ask what was wrong, his right arm immediately shot up and covered his eyes.

Completely.

Like a child who had just witnessed something shocking.

Meanwhile his left hand grabbed onto your sleeve for dear life.

You stared.

He stared at the darkness behind his arm.

"What are you doing?"

"I wasn't prepared."

"For what?"

He pointed vaguely.

At literally the entire store.

"The mannequins."

You blinked.

"The mannequins?"

"They don't have enough clothes on."

You nearly choked.

"Bokuto."

"No."

"They're mannequins."

"I know."

"So open your eyes."

"I don't think I should."

You laughed.

"Why?"

"What if someone thinks I'm staring?"

Nobody was thinking that.

Nobody.

But he looked genuinely concerned.

"I don't want anyone to think I'm being disrespectful."

Your heart melted a little.

Because he wasn't embarrassed.

He wasn't judging.

He was actually worried about making women uncomfortable.

Even imaginary women that had not noticed him.

For the next several minutes, he walked through the store with one arm over his eyes and the other attached to you.

You essentially became his seeing-eye human.

"Okay."

"Okay what?"

"Turn left."

He obediently turned left.

"Small step."

"Okay."

"Don't walk into that display."

"Thanks."

A nearby employee watched the two of you pass and immediately started laughing.

You wanted to disappear.

By the end of the trip, he was still glued to your side.

Still holding your hand.

Still trying his best not to accidentally look at anything he thought might make someone uncomfortable.

As you reached checkout, he finally relaxed a little.

"You survived."

"I did."

"I'm proud of you."

"Thank you."

Then he paused.

"...Can I open both eyes now?"

You burst out laughing.

"Yes."

"Oh thank goodness."

USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI

The moment you walked into Victoria's Secret, he quietly looked around.

Hands clasped behind his back.

Posture perfect.

Looking less like a boyfriend and more like a student on a museum field trip.

You immediately knew this was going to be a long day.

A very long day.

For a few minutes he simply observed everything.

The displays.

The perfumes.

The pajamas.

The shelves.

Then came the first question.

"Why is that one see-through?"

You nearly walked into a display.

"What?"

He pointed.

"That underwear."

You followed his finger.

"Oh."

You looked at him.

He looked at you.

Waiting.

Patiently.

Like he'd asked where bread came from.

"...Fashion?"

"I see."

He nodded.

As if that answered everything.

It absolutely did not.

Five minutes later.

Another question.

"What purpose do the glitter straps serve?"

You turned around.

"The what?"

"The glitter straps."

You followed his gaze to a display of bras.

"Oh."

He tilted his head.

"Do they improve comfort?"

You laughed so hard people turned to look.

"No."

"Do they improve support?"

"No."

"Then why are they glittery?"

You opened your mouth.

Then closed it.

"...Because they're pretty."

"Oh."

He nodded.

"That makes sense."

The questions continued.

Relentlessly.

Like he was collecting data.

"Why do some have lace?"

"Why are there so many shades of pink?"

"Is there a reason this pajama set costs more than the other?"

"Why are there seven versions of what appears to be the same body mist?"

By the fourth perfume question you were losing the will to live.

Meanwhile he looked genuinely interested.

The funniest part was how serious he looked.

Every question was asked with complete sincerity.

No teasing.

No embarrassment.

Just genuine curiosity.

You held up a pajama set.

"What do you think?"

He studied it.

Actually studied it.

Like it would be on an exam later.

"The fabric looks comfortable."

"That's your final answer?"

"Yes."

"Not cute?"

"It is also cute."

"Thank you."

TENDOU SATORI

Victoria's Secret with him is honestly one of his favorite errands.

Not because he's particularly interested in perfumes or lotions.

Not because he's fascinated by pajamas.

He's there because you are there.

And because he gets to spend the next hour following you around.

Very closely.

Perhaps too closely.

You were looking through a rack when you suddenly felt arms slide around your waist.

Immediately.

Without warning.

You didn't even have to turn around.

You already knew.

"Hi."

"Hi."

"You've been attached to me for twenty minutes."

"Mhm."

"Are you planning on letting go?"

"No."

"Okay."

"Okay."

The worst part?

He wasn't even pretending to shop.

You'd hold up something.

"What do you think?"

"Cute."

Another.

"Cute."

Another.

"Cute."

"You're not looking."

"I am."

"No you're not."

"I looked at you."

"That's not what I asked."

"It should be."

You rolled your eyes.

He grinned.

At one point you caught him smirking while you were comparing two sets.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"No, what?"

He shrugged.

"I just think it's funny."

"What is?"

"You're standing here trying to make a difficult decision."

"Because I want a second opinion."

"You already know which one you're getting."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"Damn it."

The smile on his face widened.

By the end of the trip, one arm was carrying your shopping bags.

The other was around your waist.

Like he'd earned the right.

Like he'd never left.

Every employee that walked past probably thought he'd been glued there all afternoon.

Which honestly wasn't far from the truth.

You looked up at him.

"You know, for someone who claims he's here to help me shop..."

"Mhm?"

"You spend a suspicious amount of time looking at me."

He looked down.

Completely unashamed.

"Well."

"Well what?"

A grin appeared.

"You're my favorite thing in the store."

You immediately groaned.

"Oh my god."