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nezukoo-channn · 3 months ago

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— giliw ko (Zayne x F!Reader)

Tags: Non-MC F!Reader x Zayne, Reader isn’t MC, Reader uses/gets addressed w female pronouns (she/her), Spanish colonial AU! Not historically accurate , Zayne, Reader, and Caleb are small children during this (around the ages of 7 to 12), appearances of Zayne and readers' parents, possibly OOC Zayne and Caleb , there are translations (not exactly word by word but I translated it based on what's the most accurate thought behind it, it's italicized beside or after the dialogue) , fluff, children making memories together (kids being kids) , different social classes (note that you and Zayne don't have the same social classes, explains why your family works for him)

A/N: this is my first time writing lnds fanfic so please be kind 🥹. this is the prologue of the main story, there will be a part 2! I haven't written in so long and I haven't written fanfiction for even longer, I'm so sorry for the OOC and the possible errors this fic had, I tried my best to proof read and do some editing and corrections. Any reblogs or form of love is appreciated by me thank you! 💖

Wc: 2.2k words

Dedicated to: @deusfoundry (thank you for being the first person who listened to my idea and supported me throughout its creation, I hope i don't disappoint you 🙇‍♀️)

Taglist for this fic : none yet

Divider by : @saradika-graphics

Prologue

⋆⁺₊❅。

Zayne remembers the first time he met you.

He was seven years old when his mother introduced you. His mother had looked around and asked if any child was perhaps his age who could get along with his quiet personality. Luckily, your mother, one of the maids that helped raised him, had you, a child around his age. As a child, you had long hair, bright eyes that shone under the bright morning light, and skin that glowed under the sun’s comfort. You step forward, bowing to him.

“Y/N.” You say, glancing up at him and stretching out a hand to him, waiting for him to accept it. “Ano ang pangngalan mo?” What's your name?

Zayne takes your hand and hovers his lips against yours. His mother’s eyes widened, surprised by her son’s actions. Meanwhile, yours stares in disbelief at his actions, yet no expression of disdain or anger paints their faces.

“Zayne.” He says, his quiet voice slips out of his tongue. “Ang pangngalan ko ay Zayne, binibining Y/N. Natutuwa kita makilala.” I'm Zayne, Miss Y/N. Nice to meet you.

Zayne remembers your bright laughter.

You shake your head at his introduction, remarking about how formal he sounds for a boy around the same age as you. He tries to defend himself, saying that he wanted to make a good impression and yet, you continue to laugh. You look up to your mother and his, remarking about the way he acted and greeted you out loud. Before your mother can scold you about your mouth and behavior, his laughs.

“Ganyan talaga siya, iha.” His mother remarks about her son’s behavior, “Parehas sila ng ama niya.” He's like that, my dear. Acts a lot like his father.

You nodded at their words, but honestly, you couldn't care any less. You look at Zayne, still standing in front of you. Taking his hand in yours , you made a beeline towards the outside. Your small feet pass through their family’s beautiful garden with various flowers, shrubs, and individuals who helped maintain it.

You stop every once in a while to appreciate its beautiful colors and sweet smells. You take a whiff of Jasmines, grab Santans that fell on the ground below, and carry Plumerias in your spare hand, dragging Zayne behind you at all times.

Past the garden, you weave through the grass and onto the vast plantation fields. It was already late in the morning, the plants tower over your small heads as the sun shines down. There were people working on the fields, making sure that the rice being planted can be eventually harvested once the season comes. You pass through them all, making sure to give way to yourself and your new friend (despite the sighs of the workers, mainly from your father and grandfather).

Meanwhile, inside, your mother and his laughs. “Ganyan ba talaga ang anak mo?” Is she always like this? She asks, her voice in disbelief. She glances outside, their silhouettes already gone. Her question was one of pure genuine curiosity rather than offense. Your mother looks up from what she is doing and nods.

“Opo, Señora. Ganyan talaga ang anak ko.” Yes, she's always like that. Your mother answers and proceeds to resume her cleaning. His mother smiles, giving a nod of approval before leaving.

Zayne remembers what the first few days of his life was with you in the picture.

Most days, he was quiet and observant, kept to himself, liked to read and follow his parents, who were doctors in their small town, everywhere. He observes the way they treat patients, going above and beyond to help others in need in their small barrio. He was exposed to various people of various ages and social classes but would watch from afar, making sure he wouldn’t disturb his parents’ work.

But ever since you came…things slowly changed.

He’d still follow his parents around, but everytime you wanted to play and talk to him, he’d drop what he was doing to accompany you. You laugh, talking to him in what little Spanish and mostly Tagalog you knew and he’d listen along. Most days start early with you helping around the house. Your mother and the other maids would give you little tasks to do, like cleaning up and wiping down the tables to keep you entertained for a while until Zayne was awake and spent the whole day together.

However, your most important task was given by Zayne’s mother, days after you two had met and begun to get along.

“Iha,” Dear His mother calls for you and you approach, dusting your skirt the way you saw your mother and women do when she calls for them.

“Opo, Señora?” Yes , Maam? Your high-pitched voice replies.

“Masaya ka rito? Kumusta kayo ng anak ko? Narinig ko sa ina mo na palaging kayo naglalaro at tinuturuan ka rin niya magbasa?” Are you enjoying it here? How are you and Zayne? I heard from your mother that you two play together often and he's been teaching you how to read?

You nod immediately and begin to ramble about the various activities the two of you like to do together, such as him teaching you how to read and write, and in turn, you teach him to play various kids games you knew and help him slowly break out of his quiet exterior. His mother nods along, smiling at your anecdotes. Once you are done, you realize what happened . You look down at the ground, trying to avoid her gaze.

“Lo..lo siento, Señora…” I'm sorry, Maam. You whisper in apology. She waves her hand, dismissing it. You glance up, and a smile returns to your face.

“Natutuwa ako, iha. Saan magpatuloy ito dahil hindi ko pa nakita na palaging ngumiti ang anak ko.” I'm glad to hear that, my dear. I hope it continues because I haven't seen my son smile so frequently. She smiles before dismissing you off. You thank her before running to Zayne’s room upstairs, ready to start a new day with him.

You remember how you two played with each other.

Your hands intertwined as you ran through the fields. He greets workers a pleasant morning before you continue to drag him along. Far away from the fields, you both reach a small clearing. It was mostly flat, with several trees standing tall to shade you both. There you spend your days together, playing and laughing. Zayne would tease you, and in turn, you tease him back. There were days he’d bring books, teaching you how to read and write your names in the dirt. In turn, you teach him how to climb a tree (which didn’t go as planned) and how to play the games you knew until lunch comes around and you both head back home.

After lunch, the house is silent. You and Zayne find your own small space in a large house to simply do one thing: to take an afternoon nap before playing with each other throughout the afternoon until dinner.

That was your routine everyday. Some other days had exceptions, but it felt exciting as you two played and knew more about each other. You knew that Zayne likes stray kittens or any feline in general, and hates carrots, picking at his food whenever there was the sight of it. It was the exact reason why your grandmother, the one who cooks at his family's, always removed carrots from his meals.

Most of all, you know that you are one of his friends—his only friend maybe, but for the ever quiet and observant Zayne, that was enough.

Besides you being Zayne’s friend, your playmate, a boy around your age named Caleb joined along.

You three did everything together despite your different backgrounds and families. It didn't seem to be a problem as you were children , barely the ages of 10, enjoying what it's like to be children.

However, that all came to an end one afternoon.

You three were playing at your usual spot, with Zayne quietly leaning against the tall tree, Caleb lying down against the blades of grass, laughing , and you, standing over both boys with a large grin on your face. You were gloating about how you finally won against Caleb in a game of tag while he groaned in annoyance , grumbling about your loud and obnoxious behavior.

“Ang ingay…” Zayne grumbles teasingly, “Ano ba ka? Isang bata?” You're so loud...what are you? A baby?

You glance up at him. “At ano ka ba?” You retorted, “Isang matandang tao?” And what are you? An old man?

He sighs.

Silence slowly begins to envelope you three as you join them, sitting down on the grassy fields. The sun had begun to set, showing a various array of different colors. Red bleeds into orange and yellow, with shades of pink appearing to dot the horizon as well.

“Aalis ako dito.” I'm leaving. Zayne says. You and Caleb pause, glancing up to him. You stared at him in disbelief, thinking he was kidding.

“Huh?!” You and Caleb spit out, staring in disbelief of his words. “Bakit?” Why?

“Pupunta ako sa Maynila…at baka naman sa Europa or sa Asya , hindi ko pa alam—para mag-aral ng medisina.” I'm leaving for Manila, and maybe Europe or other parts of Asia, Im not sure yet— but Im leaving to study medicine one day. Zayne answers.

Manila was a large place, the crown jewel of the Philippines and the seat of Spanish colonial authority. It is the place where people go to and, in turn, leave their families behind for a hope of a better life for them.

Manila is the place where dreamers live, where the tall walls and gates in Intramuros block the rich and known from everyone else.

You remember stories about your parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles, visiting the city of Manila. You remember how your eyes brightened with excitement as you wanted to know more about her beauty.

Manila is a flame, and all the people flock like moths towards it.

And Europe.

It was even bigger than Manila, a whole continent, even. The seats of Imperial powers. The place that only a lucky few that have the right money and privilege can feel her luxurious embrace.

If Manila was like winning one lottery ticket , then going to Europe was like winning the whole casino.

You and Caleb look at each other. Zayne was leaving. You don't know when you'll see him again, or if you'll ever see him either. You kept a bare face, trying not to let the tears from your eyes fall. Caleb got up from the grass and squeezed your hand.

“Talaga?” Your voice says, almost cracking from the shock. “Aalis ka?” Really? You're leaving?

Zayne nods, confirming his fate.

“Kailan ka babalik?” Will you return? Was your next question.

Zayne shrugs his shoulders. “H…hindi ko alam kung kailan…” I don't know when.

You pause. He wasn't sure when he's coming back. You aren't sure if he's even coming back alive in the first place— would he even remember all the times you played together if he leaves? What if he doesn't come back? You sniffle, trying to wipe the invisible tears from your face.

Caleb was quiet. He stares at Zayne as well. He knows that Zayne leaving would break your heart. He gets up and approaches, pulling you and Zayne into a tight hug.

Zayne didn't know if he'll be able to live with your heart broken for a dream beyond the comforts of the province.

And that's when you started to cry.

You sobbed, staining everyone's clothes with snot as you sniffled. You wiped your tears, grumbling a thing or two about the way you're acting. Tears continue to stream down your face as it becomes hard for you to breathe, your throat closing up from all the tears you exhuasted out. Zayne and Caleb noticed your struggle and step away, giving you the needed space to breathe.

No words were exchanged between you three as you held each other and cried until sun down. You helped wipe each other's tears before looking back at the direction of home and begin to walk home, taking slow steps to absorb one of the last moments you three had together before reality stepped in.

You remembered the day Zayne left.

You were helping your mother and the other women clean the house when Zayne approached you, his father standing a bit farther away. He was dressed up nicely, in clothes similar to boys his age and around his social circle. His hair was done as well, his black strands in place.

You dusted your skirt, pressed the wrinkled ends of your blouse and fixed your messy hair. Your hands still had invisible dust stuck onto them, yet you tried to get rid of it.

It was a stark contrast between the both of you.

A reminder that in the end, he was a son of rich doctors from notable families.

And, there was you. Just an ordinary girl, born to ordinary parents , and set out to live an ordinary life.

At least, in the few years that you knew each other, social classes and privilege never mattered.

“Aalis na ako.” I'm leaving. He says, taking your hand in his. He lowers his lips against it, placing a soft kiss. You wipe a tear from your eye with your other hand, trying not to cry. He lets go of your hand, picking something from his pocket before handing it to you.

You tilt your head, staring at the small thing beneath your palms. It was a small flower, its colors faded. Its beautiful White turned into a soft Brown. The sweet smell laced lightly across its small petals. You held the small flower on the palm of your hand and smiled.

“Ang Ganda…” Its beautiful... You whisper in amazement. He nods, smiling as well.

“Bibigyan kita ng maraming magandang bulaklak sa pagbalik ko…” I'll bring you beautiful flowers when I return..

He promises. His father calls for him, making Zayne look away from you and return to his Father. You waved goodbye to each other, seeing them leave the house and close the door behind them.

You glanced down at the flower again, before placing the dried flower inside your pocket, patting it gently before getting back to work.

#nezukoo-channn #nezukoo channn #love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #zayne x reader #zayne x you #reader is not mc #nezu-writes #nezu-fics #zayne #li shen #zayne li #lads #lnds zayne #nezukoo-channn writings #lnds x reader #lnds x you

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saigethearies · 2 years ago

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osamu and you leave your daughter with her uncle atsumu for the weekend. chaos ensues.

___

“i woulda felt better leavin’ her with kita or aran.”

you let out a snort at your husband’s statement. “over your own brother? her blood relative?”

you and osamu were driving to a weekend getaway in the mountains. while the two of you were excited for a break and some quality time, there was no denying that there was some apprehension in the car.

it was the first time you’d be away from your baby daughter. as great as a vacation sounded, it would be a lie to say the two of you weren’t reluctant to go.

in order to ease your nerves, a suitable babysitter was chosen.

only osamu didn’t have a lot of faith in your choice.

“exactly, he’s ma brother, so ‘m the only one who understands just how much of ‘n idiot he truly is.”

“but you saw how happy he was to offer to watch her! atsumu loves being a uncle, he won’t half-ass taking care of her. besides, if he ends up needing help your mom is just a call away.”

“ma’s hostin’ her book club this saturday, she can’t just drop everythin’ if tsumu’s dumbass ends up needin’ help.”

you let out a sigh. “samu, just try and relax. i’m sure everything over on his end is fine.”

____

“COURT BABY! COURT BABY! COURT BABY!”

hinata and bokuto chanted as they watched your daughter crawl across the shiny floor of the msby practice gym.

having grown tired of the play mat and toys her uncle atsumu had laid out for her, the little one decided exploring her surroundings would be far more exciting.

“she’s crawlin’ earlier than most babies would,” atsumu chimed proudly. “must’ve got ma athlete genes.”

sakusa rolled his eyes from behind the fake blonde.

“she’s really going fast! let’s time her to see how quick she can move!” hinata suggested, fascinated by the little human on the ground.

“we’re supposed to be doing passing drills-“

“GREAT IDEA HINATA!” bokuto shouted.

“i give up,” the masked brunette said, moving to sit down on the bleachers since apparently no one was going to actually bother to follow instructions.

atsumu smirked while watching his teammates fawn over his niece. he knew it would be a good idea to just bring her to friday practice. the vibe for fridays was always a little more laid-back, and he knew having a cute little baby around would earn him brownie points with his excitable teammates. who didn’t love babies?

his brown eyes shifted over to sakusa momentarily, who was gazing at his niece with a look of disdain on his face.

okay, maybe he didn’t enjoy kids, but the rest of the team sure did!

“hey hey hey, baby miya! let’s see how quick you can crawl to your uncle tsum-tsum!”

atsumu grinned, moving to kneel on the ground so he can encourage his niece to move towards him. seeing the familiar face of her uncle- who shared a face with her father- had her happily babbling away as she pushed towards him.

“awe, she’s trying to talk!” hinata cooed, lip wobbling as he watched the precious exchange.

“alright, everyone,” a voice boomed. everyone turned to see a muscular figure with a head of spiky black hair enter the gymnasium.

“your coach asked me to come over to ensure you boys were actually practicing,” iwaizumi hajime (27) athletic trainer stated. “i have some specific stamina exercises i want everyone to participate in. we’re gonna start by-“

movement in the lower peripheral of iwa’s vision caught his attention and the former ace found his gaze turning toward the floor.

“…why the hell is there a baby here?”

“don’t fuckin’ curse in front’a ma niece!”

“you just- nevermind,” iwa grunted, trying to be as patient as possible considering there was a literal infant present.

slotting his clipboard into the junction of his shoulder, the athletic trainer bent down to gently pick up your daughter. balancing her on his hip as if he’d done it a million times before, he turned back to the team.

“alright, jumping jacks and high knees, i want those heart rates getting up!”

before atsumu could open his mouth, iwa shot him a pointed look.

“i’ll hold your niece, miya, now get moving.”

the squeaking of shoes against the linoleum floor began to sound off. after ensuring everyone was properly following his instructions, he turned to the baby in his hold.

everyone knew iwaizumi was tough, but few knew how much of a complete softie he could be at times. giving your daughter a small smile, he lifted his hands to wave his fingers at her, to which she smiled back and tried to mimic his movements.

he let out a light laugh. “motor skills coming along there, i see-“

“iwaaaaa-chaaannnnn,” a voice sounded off from behind him.

iwaizumi froze. that voice, that stupid nickname, he knew it from anywhere. he began to turn his head to look behind him, gradually as if he was moving in slow-motion.

there was no way…

“guess who flew all the way from argentina to surprise you with his presence,” oikawa boasted as he stepped into the room. “that’s right, me-“

the seijoh grad fell silent as his chocolate colored eyes fell on the small human in his best friend’s hold.

oikawa blinked once. twice. three times. then-

“since when did you have a kid?”

“tooru, this isn’t-“

“how could you keep this from me?”

“will you please just-“

“a whole child? when?”

“shittykawa just shut up-“

“STOP CURSIN’ IN FRONT’A HER!”

“-and listen to me for a second!”

oikawa finally stopped his tirade, moving towards iwaizumi to study the baby in his arms. he bent down to be eye level with her, the both of them staring at each other curiously.

the brunette hummed to himself, reaching a finger out to poke your daughter’s cheek. “she doesn’t look like you.”

“wow, what an observation, it’s almost like she’s not my kid.”

“then who’s is she-“

“she’s my niece,” atsumu growled out, pushing oikawa away from the baby he was prodding at. he fixed the other man with a glare, well aware of who he was and what position he also played. the fact that this potential rival thought he could casually touch his flesh and blood had the fake blonde heated. “i’m takin’ care’a her for the weekend, which means i ain’t letting no lesser setter lay’a hand on her.”

“lesser setter?”

“oh boy,” iwa said, moving away from the two ego-fueled players. he could tell they were about to scuffle and he couldn’t let a baby be anywhere near that.

placing your little girl safely to the side, iwa crouched in front of her, sounds of “never saw ya at spring nationals” and “let’s see what your stats are, huh?” airing in the background.

“you stay right here, i’m gonna go get them to knock it off.”

standing a few meters away from all the chaos, sakusa watched as iwaizumi tried to wrench the two setters apart. sighing, he shifted his gaze to your daughter sitting unattended on the ground, babbling at nothing in particular.

sakusa grimaced. he really didn’t like babies. they were so…germy. and gross. but, he supposed the babies themselves couldn’t really help that fact. it wasn’t their fault they were so little and had such new immune systems.

a shadow then loomed over your daughter, bokuto and hinata standing over her. now that iwaizumi was too distracted to lead them in workouts, the two’s attention was back on the infant.

“i know!” bokuto exclaimed. “let’s do passing drills with baby miya! we can pass her back and forth to each other!”

“she’ll feel like she’s flying! like she’s a little crow!”

“or an owl!”

“you two will be doing absolutely no such thing with this child,” sakusa interjected, scooping your daughter up and going to sit down on the bench with her.

“but ki-“

“no.”

he wasn’t a fan of babies, but considering your daughter’s uncle was currently holding oikawa in a headlock, sakusa figured he could keep an eye on her for just a few minutes. it wouldn’t be too much longer before iwa finally decided he’d had enough and smacked the shit out of both of them.

hearing a little gurgle from below him, the brunette cast his eyes downwards. your daughter’s sight was transfixed on him, a smile coming onto her face when she saw she had the spiker’s attention.

from behind his mask, sakusa felt the corners of his lips twitch upwards.

okay, maybe babies were a little cute.

#osamu miya x reader #osamu x reader #osamu miya #atsumu miya #atsumu miya fluff #hinata shoyuo #bokuto koutarou #sakusa kiyoomi #msby #msby fluff #iwaizumi hajime #oikawa torū #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff

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haikyu-mp4 · 5 months ago

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Repetitive routine

Your son's bedtime routine with dad Kita, for my Parenting event<3

requested by @stellar-headquarters. word count; 519 – gn!reader

“Why do I have to brush my teeth every day, can’t I just skip this one?” the young boy whined, staring angrily at his toothbrush in the cup by the bathroom mirror. Kita stood beside him, already well on the way to brushing his teeth.

“We have a routine. If we brush our teeth every day, we’re less likely to get cavities. It’s a good routine,” his dad answered easily. His son already knew that would be the answer and squeezed out some toothpaste to start brushing.

“But it’s so boring,” he answered, slightly muffled by his toothbrush. The duo were dressed in matching checkered pyjamas, the boy still with slightly damp hair.

As Kita noticed this, he picked up a comb from the counter, letting his toothbrush hang from his lips as he smoothed out his son’s hair. “If you complain less, you might finish it quicker,” he said with a small smile.

Surprisingly, the boy swatted the comb away and kept brushing his teeth. “We do hair after teeth. That’s the routine, Dad.”

And if Kita felt slightly choked up, could you blame him? Hearing literal proof that this is his son, and still seeing the stubborn pout on his lips that so obviously came from you. “You’re right, buddy.”

You were already putting away some toys in your son’s bedroom when he came from the bathroom. He smiled sleepily, and you opened your arms with the sudden need to squish him. He walked into your embrace and groaned as you hugged him, before leaning back and seeing a little toothpaste stain by his mouth. Licking your thumb, you rubbed it off despite his complaints.

“Ready for bed?” you asked rhetorically because the sleepy face he wore was already a clear indicator. And yet-

“Can’t I stay up for just a little more to play?” he asked, putting on the puppy eyes. You weren’t sure who he got those from, but you almost felt sorry for Kita if they came from you. They sure were powerful.

“You have your first volleyball practice tomorrow, little fox. You’ll be so tired if you don’t sleep now,” you cooed, letting him go to fluff up his duvet so he could get in.

“Hey, now.” You heard a darker voice behind you and then a squeal, turning around to see Kita had picked your son up and tickled his sides. “We have to take care of ourselves to do well.”

You pursed your lips when you saw your son holding up his hand and gesturing like a bird talking in playful mockery of his father. It would undermine Kita’s parenting if you laughed, but gosh did this adorable boy make it difficult.

“Bedtime, let’s go.” And when your son was finally under his duvet, quickly dozing off after giving Kita an unnecessary recap of how he imagined tomorrow’s practice would go, you and Kita made your way to the living room.

“Am I really that repetitive?” Kita asked with a hint of humour in his voice.

You giggled, kissing his cheek. “He’ll thank you one day, that’s what we’re here for.”

masterlist

for the requester: the baby fever is so real, I totally get u<3

#parenting event #haikyu #haikyuu #haikyu x reader #haikyuu x reader #fanfiction #hq #hq x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x you #haikyu fluff #kita #kita x reader #kita shinsuke x reader #kita shinsuke #dad!kita #kita fluff #kita x you #inarizaki

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captain-hawks · 7 months ago

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kita and dark red🤞🏼

shinsuke kita x f!reader

c: yakuza!kita, arranged marriage

In the months following your whirlwind betrothal to the Inarizaki clan’s kumicho, Shinsuke Kita, (at the behest of your scheming father) you’ve made little to no headway in figuring out much of anything about the calm, stoic man that’s soon to be your husband.

His interactions with you have been formal and brief, at best, and much to your surprise, you were even provided your own private quarters upon your arrival. He’s not so much as set foot past the boundary of the large wooden door that closes off your room, nor has he requested your presence in his bed.

And it’s this relentless air of mystery and disinterest that leaves you shifting awkwardly atop the countertop now, all too aware of the fact that it’s well past midnight and you’re sitting in his kitchen wearing nothing but a faded t-shirt, a spoonful of dry cereal suspended midair between the bowl and your lips.

You accompanied Kita to a formal dinner hours earlier—and were embarrassed to find how frustrated you became as the night went on and nearly every other man in attendance snuck a glance at the sight of you in the dress the oyabun himself had picked out for you. (Well, he’d had it delivered to your quarters by someone else.)

A dress that Kita himself said not a single word about, his gaze hardly bothering to find you for the entirety of the evening.

The white marble is cold against the back of your thighs as Kita approaches you now, still donning his slacks and a white button down shirt, though he’s since removed his tie and rolled the sleeves up to his elbows.

Eyes drifting from the bowl to your face, a small, rare smile that you’re not sure you’ve ever seen makes its way across his lips.

“Do ya often pillage the cabinets while everyone else is sleepin’?” he asks, and you swear you hear a hint of teasing in his tone, his voice slightly raspy in the late hour.

“Am I not allowed?”

His eyes shine in the illumination of the pale yellow light hanging above the sink.

“Nah, ya certainly are. But one of the boys could bring it to yer room for ya.”

One of his hands comes to rest atop the counter, a respectful distance from your bare thigh, but you’re exceedingly aware of every centimeter of space all the same as warmth rapidly floods your gut.

“Maybe I like sitting up here and stuffing my face,” you counter with a playful shrug, just because you can.

He tilts his head to the side, his steady gaze briefly flicking over your form before pointedly returning to your face.

“Hm,” is the only response he deigns to offer you, eyes not leaving yours as he reaches into the bowl and takes a piece of the cereal, placing it in his mouth.

He’s quiet for a moment as he chews, and you make no effort to hide the way you watch his throat bob when he swallows.

Slowly, he reaches out again, this time toward your face, and your heart slams against your ribcage as his hand—with a touch that’s far gentler than you ever could have imagined—cups the curve of your jaw.

“I like this color,” he comments, pressing his thumb against the dark red coating that you’ve yet to wipe from your mouth.

You blink, throat going dry as your toes curl, bare heels pressed firmly against the cabinet beneath you.

He drags his thumb all the way across your bottom lip, and you can feel your lipstick smudge against your cheek as he swipes the digit well past the corner of your mouth in one fluid motion.

“It suits ya,” he murmurs softly, eyes drifting back to yours as he briefly runs his teeth over the tip of his thumb, the skin there now stained red as well. “Sleep well.”

You stay seated atop the counter long after the sound of the stairs creaking beneath his footsteps fades to silence.

#shinsuke kita x reader #kita shinsuke x reader #kita shinsuke #shinsuke kita #yakuza!kita #haikyuu #dee writes #rambling: s. kita

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narumi-gens · 2 years ago

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Traditional Values

yakuza!Kita Shinsuke x f!Reader

summary: You’ve never known a yakuza to be boring. But what else could they mean when they say that Kita Shinsuke, the head of the most powerful yakuza group in Kansai, is traditional?

warnings: 18+, smut, yakuza au, arranged marriage, inherent sexism and misogyny, smoking, mentioned drug and alcohol use, violence (sorry to the oc in this fic lol), blood, spit, oral (f receiving & mentioned m receiving), mild exhibitionism, orgasm control, possessive!kita, hinted yandere-ish behavior, implied dom!kita, fingers crossed he's not too out of character 🤞🏽, reader is a spoiled little yakuza princess, idk if reader is all that likable but I like her and that's all that matters

notes: I feel like I'm starting to specialize in chaos characters bc while Kita is not one in this fic, the reader certainly is. but a different kind of chaos.

words: 5.9k

minors, ageless, and blank blogs do not interact

The one word you hear over and over again when people talk about Kita Shinsuke, the head of the Inarizaki, the largest and most powerful yakuza group in Kansai, is traditional.

Despite his current position, he comes from a long line of traditional rice farmers. Once he took power over the Inarizaki, he put in place a stricter, more traditional code of conduct that all members were expected to adhere to. Instead of partying away his nights in Kobe’s clubs and brothels, he spends his evenings in a traditional house in the Hyogo countryside.

And he has traditional family values, with traditional expectations of what he wants in a wife.

But you know that traditional really just means boring.

Unfortunately, a traditional and boring life seems like all you're destined for because your father, the head of Kanto's largest yakuza syndicate, the Fukurodani, has decided to seal an alliance with the Inarizaki through marriage.

Specifically, your marriage to Kita.

After all, you're a woman and a woman can't lead the yakuza. Your only value comes from how useful you can be as a tool to build alliances and cement power. You had at least just hoped that your father would have chosen someone more exciting for you to spend the rest of your life with.

While he would never stomach seeing you at the head of the organization, he could easily have married you off to his right-hand man and hand-picked heir, the Fukurodani's young and wild wakagashira, Bokuto Koutarou. After all, nothing would ensure an eventual smooth succession better than a marriage to his only child.

And even if he decided you were more useful as a means of building his power rather than ensuring his legacy, there were still other options.

There were plenty of crazy yakuza out there who would have kept your interest piqued if only your father had chosen to further consolidate his power in Tokyo or to look for an alliance up north rather than out west.

But your father has made his choice and Kita has agreed and you have no say in the matter. It's not long before the young yakuza kumicho, along with his most trusted men in the Inarizaki, arrives in Tokyo to negotiate the finer details in person.

And when you finally meet him at dinner with your parents, you can't say that you're impressed.

He's polite. He's soft-spoken. He's respectful. He's so. utterly. boring.

As you sit next to him in a private room at one of Tokyo's finest restaurants, listening to him as he genially answers your mother's questions about his own upbringing and tells her about his close relationship with his grandmother, all you can think is, 'what a waste.'

Regardless of how handsome he is and how much his men seem to respect him and how powerful his position is, he's missing that wildness inherent to every true yakuza.

By the time the plates are cleared and the manager of the restaurant is falling over himself to thank your father for his patronage, you’ve made your assessment of your new fiancé.

Kita is dull.

It’s all you can think as he cordially thanks your father at the end of the evening.

‘You’re so boring.’

It’s all you can think as he humbly accepts your mother’s compliments and adoration.

��You’re so boring.’

It’s all you can think as he politely bids you goodnight with a bow, telling you softly how nice it was to meet you.

‘You’re so boring.’

You have to bite back the urge to say the words aloud, directly to his face, just to see what he would do. Would he drop his courteous smile? Would he clench his fists? Would he slap you?

‘You’re so boring.’

He would probably just look slightly taken aback before doing his best to laugh off any offense.

“It was nice to meet you too, Kita-san,” you finally reply, your tone suggesting anything but. You feel the disapproval rolling off of your parents in waves and can already hear the lecture that awaits you once you’re alone with them.

Your father will chastise you for the disrespect that you’ve shown to a new ally, and by extension him. He’ll sternly remind you that this is your duty as his daughter. If he’s really feeling irritable then he’ll light up a cigarette and grumble about how he’s spoiled you for too long and hopes that Kita has a firm hand.

Your mother, however, will almost certainly turn so shrill in her anger that you’ll want to cover your ears. She’ll berate you for insulting your husband-to-be. She’ll scold you for your clear disinterest and boredom through every course of dinner. She’ll then blame your father for being too lenient with you over the years, to which your father will respond by simply taking a long drag of his cigarette.

But in the present, Kita simply gives you a polite smile in return and the chorus continues in your head.

‘You’re so boring.’

Just because you’re now technically engaged doesn’t mean that you need to change how you live your life. If anything, you need to savor all the fun you can before you’re shipped off to Hyogo to spend the rest of your days popping out kids and taking care of some big, empty, country house with a man who’s less interesting than the rice his family grows.

It’s not even an hour after you get home from dinner before you’re leaving once again. Only this time, you’re wearing something far more revealing and decisively less conservative than the formal kimono that your mother forced you into for your meeting with Kita — something meant to appeal to his traditional taste.

Your current outfit is one that’s perfectly suited to the high-end clubs of Roppongi. Not that it really matters considering you’re tucked away in a private VIP room, away from the large crowds and deafening music and prying eyes.

Normally, you would be surrounded by a group of your friends. But after being confronted with the man that you’ve been sentenced to marry and seeing the unending boredom in your near future, you've recognized that it also applies to your sex life.

You’ve only spent a couple of hours with Kita, but it was more than enough to know that he probably prefers fucking in missionary with the lights off. The only orgasms that you can expect as a married woman will probably come from your vibrator — unless he decides that a vibrator isn’t traditional enough, in which case you’ll have to rely on your fingers exclusively.

So, instead of the VIP room being filled with your friends, it’s just you and the man whose face is buried between your thighs, Ito Tatsuya. While your feelings towards Tatsuya tend to lie closer to ambivalence than anything else, his skilled tongue is more than enough to make up for it.

With the way his lips are wrapped around your clit, it’s easy to ignore how he acts tougher than he truly is. He talks a big game but has refrained from acting on all of his talk and joining a yakuza group. Ultimately it works in your favor as no yakuza would dare lay a finger on the beloved daughter of the Fukurodani’s feared kumicho, knowing that doing so would bring the wrath of the entire criminal organization down on their heads.

Tatsuya is the closest that you’ll get as he’s only tangentially affiliated with one of the few other powerful yakuza groups in Tokyo, the Nekoma organization. Although their power will never come close to the strength of the Fukurodani, your father has a good relationship with their kumicho, Nekomata Yasufumi. The two yakuza groups have had a strong alliance for decades.

Likewise, Bokuto has his own sense of camaraderie and friendship with Nekomata’s wakagashira, Kuroo Tetsuro, whom you’ve had the pleasure of meeting on multiple occasions as you run in the same circles. Unfortunately, it’s never turned into anything more, despite your best efforts.

Kuroo Tetsuro. That’s a man. That’s a real yakuza.

If your luck was better and if relations with the Nekoma group were worse, you probably would have been married off to him rather than the snoozefest that you’ve ended up with.

It’s easy to slip into the fantasy that it’s Kuroo whose grip feels scorching on your thigh, whose fingers are pumping in and out of your dripping cunt, whose tongue is lapping at your needy clit. The image in your head pushes you closer to the edge as your hips buck in time with his fingers.

But just as you can see your orgasm within reach, your attention is yanked away from your pleasure when the door to the VIP room opens with a BANG! as it’s kicked in. You protest with a whine as Tatsuya lifts his head from between your thighs, pure murder written across his face at having been disturbed.

Unaffected by the interruption, you use your grip on his hair to try and tug him back to his original task, but it’s of no use. He’s already removing his arm from around your thigh to reach back and pull out the gun that’s been tucked in the waistband of his pants.

You're momentarily impressed that he would flaunt the country’s severe firearm restrictions. Although the effect is lost a few moments later when he sits up only to freeze, his features going slack.

When you finally turn your head to see who’s behind the disruption, you frown unhappily.

“Kita-san,” you greet with an irritated sigh. And even you know that you’ll never get Tatsuya’s mouth back on your pussy at this point and you release your hold on his hair with a resigned huff.

Tatsuya scrambles to remove himself entirely from between your legs, carelessly dropping his gun onto the low table before the couch that you’re sprawled out across. He lifts his hands to show that they’re now empty and he’s not a threat, as if anyone would ever believe he was one.

You wonder if his panic stems from knowing exactly who it is that’s found you both in such a compromising position or if it’s solely due to how intimidating Kita and the two men on either side of him look.

For as boring as he is, you’ll give him credit. The sight of him standing in the doorway, the black jacket of the same suit he wore to dinner draped across broad shoulders, his arms crossed casually over his chest, his expression giving nothing away, is impressive. Even if he didn’t have two of his underlings with him — one with grey hair and one with dark hair, both of them wearing similar looks of apathy — it would be more than enough to put the average person on edge.

However, you’ve spent your whole life surrounded by dangerous men, with dangerous men at your beck and call.

So, as Tatsuya begins to babble, making excuses and insisting that he doesn’t want any trouble, you simply roll your eyes and push down your skirt just enough so that your pussy is no longer on display. But even in the low light of the VIP room, the insides of your thighs — and how they shine with the evidence of your rapidly-cooling arousal — are clearly visible.

“Suna,” Kita says, his gaze fixed on you. The dark-haired man needs no further instruction before he’s moving past his oyabun towards Tatsuya.

He easily grabs the cowering man from the couch by the front of his shirt and roughly shoves him to his knees on the floor, keeping him in place with one hand fisted tightly in his hair, just as yours had been only a few minutes earlier.

Kita slips his jacket from his shoulders and in doing so, you catch a glimpse of the blood-red lining on the inside. He passes it to the man still at his side, who carefully folds it over his arm in a way that won’t leave any creases. He then methodically begins to unbutton and roll up the sleeves of his crisp white shirt, exposing his forearms and the large swaths of tattooed skin that extend almost to his wrists.

Part of you is surprised. Kita seems too dull to have even the smallest tattoo, let alone full tattooed sleeves. But another part of you knows how much significance tattoos have historically held to the yakuza and he’s nothing if not traditional. Your thighs unconsciously squeeze together as you imagine how far they spread over the rest of his body.

The action doesn’t seem to escape his notice because he raises an eyebrow at you but makes no further comment before he turns to Tatsuya, who continues to plead for mercy.

“Enough.”

Kita doesn’t raise his voice. He doesn’t put any force behind the single word. Other than ensuring his sleeves are snugly held in place just below his elbows, he doesn’t even move. But there’s a danger to him that Tatsuya is quick to pick up on and his blubbering comes to an immediate halt.

He fearfully waits for the silver-haired yakuza to go on and when he does, it’s probably not in the way he was expecting. Because rather than explaining who he is or why he’s there — which Tatsuya has probably figured out on his own by this point — Kita places a hand on the back of the kneeling man’s head. The other man, Suna, releases Tatsuya altogether, wordlessly deferring to his oyabun and taking a step back to give his boss space.

The tension in the room is thick as Kita looks down at the trembling man on his knees, his face still as blank as it’s been since his sudden arrival. It snaps in an instant when he sharply yanks Tatsuya’s head down and his nose meets Kita’s raised knee with a sickening crunch! that would leave a less seasoned group of onlookers feeling queasy.

As it stands, both Suna and the other Inarizaki man appear to be amused, entertained even. You get the sense that displays of this nature from the yakuza boss aren’t common.

But as you see the blood pouring from Tatsuya’s nose and hear his howling and watch as your fiancé’s fist repeatedly makes contact with the man’s face, you feel none of that same amusement. You also don’t feel afraid or disgusted or concerned.

You’ve long grown desensitized to the violence associated with the yakuza. If anything, you can feel the boredom setting in once again.

You reach out to the table in front of you for the ashtray where your cigarette rests, having set it down when Tatsuya buried his face in your pussy. However, as soon as you pick it up, a long column of ash falls from the end and you realize with a pout that it’s already burned down to the filter.

The little noise of irritation you let out can’t be heard over Tatsuya’s pained cries or the brutal sound of fist meeting flesh again and again. You pull a new cigarette from the open pack on the table and perch it between your lips before grabbing your cheap lighter.

Once it’s lit, you take a deep, contented inhale of smoke before exhaling a large cloud that sits atop the room before dispersing. You glance back to Kita and Tatsuya to find that the scene looks exactly the same as when you looked away — except for Tatsuya’s face is completely bloodied and already swelling, and he seems on the verge of passing out.

“Really, Kita-san?” you finally ask with a yawn as you roll onto your side, your head pillowed by your bicep.

He pauses, his fist raised mid-air, and looks over at you, his eyes roving over your lackadaisical sprawl across the couch. He wordlessly releases the front of Tatsuya’s shirt from his grasp, who then drops to the floor in a bloody mess.

Suna immediately steps in to harshly kick the man over onto his stomach and places a heavy, threatening foot right on his spine. Not that it matters considering Tatsuya seems to be in and out of consciousness by this point.

But your attention isn’t on Tatsuya; it’s on Kita as he approaches you, his pace unhurried. You’re slightly impressed that he’s barely out of breath from the beating he just delivered. He picks up the discarded gun from the table and in one smooth motion, pulls back the slide to look at the chamber before releasing the magazine to check it as well.

“It’s empty,” he notes before tossing it to the man holding his jacket, who easily catches it and claims it for his own. A loud bubble of laughter escapes you at Tatsuya’s expense, finding it hilarious that the only marginally cool thing that you’ve ever seen him do was all for show.

You slip your cigarette to rest between your smiling lips as your gaze flits between the other Inarizaki men and find that they too appear to think it’s funny. Suna even presses his foot harder into Tatsuya’s back with a smirk that only grows wider when he receives a groan in response.

However, the yakuza boss doesn’t seem to share the humor that you and his men are feeling. He grabs the edge of the table and lifts it up just enough to tilt it and send everything on top of it to the floor with a dull crash. You frown at the waste of a barely touched bottle of champagne, a top-shelf bottle of whiskey, and Tatsuya’s small, unopened bag of cocaine.

Kita pays none of the mess any mind as he takes a seat on the edge of the table’s now cleared surface, directly in front of you. With you still laid out on the couch, you’re eye level with his knees.

You look up at him and raise a challenging eyebrow, daring him to make his next move, daring him to keep you interested. You’re sorely disappointed when the first thing that he does is tug down your skirt to protect your modesty, something you find truly pointless considering the three men walked in on you in the middle of having your pussy eaten.

The sensation of the backs of his fingers running along the skin of your thigh as he pulls on the fabric sends a small shiver down your spine and reminds you that you were interrupted before you could cum. You shift your leg to expose your inner thigh to him in a tempting invitation for him to finish what Tatsuya started, but he simply ignores your provocation and gives your skirt one final tug to ensure it’s in place.

With a displeased roll of your eyes, you take another deep drag of your cigarette. But before you’ve finished, Kita plucks it from your lips and holds it aloft. He ignores your cry of protest as he waits half a moment for Suna to take it from him. You sit up in an effort to try and grab it back, but Kita’s fingers suddenly grip your chin hard enough that you think you’ll still feel them tomorrow.

He’s grasping you with the same hand that he used to pummel Tatsuya and you can feel how his fingers are warm and sticky with the man’s blood. It only takes a quick glance down to see that his knuckles are drenched in it.

With his hold keeping you in place, you’re unable to see what Suna does with your cigarette. However, you soon hear Tatsuya let out a low moan of pain and you have an idea.

“That’s a filthy habit,” he says. His tone is rather benign but you’re certain that you’re being scolded. “I won’t have ya keepin’ it up as my wife.”

You let out an unattractive snort and hope your expression conveys just how unimpressed you are.

“They’re my lungs. If I wanna turn them black, that’s my right.” If he didn’t have your chin held so firmly, you would probably have stuck out your tongue and pulled down on your lower eyelid to taunt him.

“Yer rights extend only to the ones that I allow ya to have,” he comments and from any other man, there would be a threatening weight to his words. Kita, however, speaks them so casually that it sounds like he’s making nothing more than an absent observation of an indisputable fact.

You can only pout in return and he releases his grip to give your cheek a gentle, condescending pat. He then lifts his unbloodied hand out at his side with his palm facing up.

“Osamu.”

The Inarizaki man with the grey hair is quick to come forward, his hand slipping inside the jacket that he’s still carrying to pull out something from the inner pocket and place it into Kita’s patiently waiting palm. He then returns to his previous spot near the door, ensuring that there’s a respectful distance between himself and Kita and you once more.

The small, carefully polished wooden box that he’s been given piques your interest. When he opens the lid, your eyes widen at the ring sitting inside of it. It’s elegant and beautiful — a traditional round diamond set atop a thin, pavé diamond band. It manages to avoid being ostentatious while still leaving no doubt about its expensive price tag, and therefore the status of the man who gave it to you.

For such a boring man, he apparently has good taste.

Your left hand moves on its own as you lift it for him expectantly. There’s the briefest flash of amusement in his eyes — the first real emotion that you’ve seen from him. But he wordlessly takes the ring from the box and slips it onto your third finger.

The first instinct you have as soon as you feel the cool metal on your skin is to bring it to your face so that you can examine your new engagement ring more closely. But he grabs your hand so suddenly to keep it in place that it startles you.

You raise your gaze to see that his own is glued to the ring that you’re now wearing. His thumb gently sweeps across the band and the gesture is a sharp contrast to how tightly his fingers are clasped around yours.

“See this?” He nods towards the ring, as if there were anything else that he could be referring to. “It’s not just a beautiful ring on yer pretty finger. It's a symbol of our commitment — yer commitment to me.”

It’s slight, barely even noticeable, but there’s an edge to his tone that’s been missing all night. You can suddenly imagine how it is this young, unassuming man with his calm and collected temperament worked his way to the top of the most powerful yakuza syndicate in Japan.

He takes a long moment to pause thoughtfully and it seems so natural that you wonder if this is a common occurrence when he speaks. You suppose you’ll have the rest of your life to figure it out.

“I have a lot of respect for yer father,” he breaks the silence, confusing you with the direction that he’s chosen to take your conversation. “He’s built one of the most sophisticated operations in the country. He’s a smart man who’s surrounded himself with people he can trust, who would take a bullet or a prison sentence for him without question. I won’t hesitate to say that he’s earned his reputation.”

He sounds sincere, but you still have no idea where he’s going with this. If this were anyone else, in any other situation, you would ask if he was more interested in marrying your father than interested in marrying you. You have enough self-awareness to know that doing so with Kita wouldn’t go well — but only just.

“He’s a man of honor and I don’t mean to insult him.” He pauses again, this one shorter than the previous one. However, something about it feels heavier and when he finally looks back up at you, his eyes are much colder.

“The Fukurodani may be the most powerful syndicate in Kanto, but when it comes down to it, no one can match the power and numbers of the Inarizaki,” he states.

Maybe it’s the matter-of-fact way he says it, maybe it’s how composed his expression is despite the events of that evening, but you’re suddenly incredibly aware of how his grip on your fingers has slowly tightened over the last few minutes, almost bordering on painful.

“I already own everythin’ from Kansai to Kyushu. If I wanted Tokyo, I could come and take it.” You believe him. While your father won’t let you in on his operations, you’re far from clueless about the politics of the criminal underworld, including who has power and how much.

And Kita is right. The Fukurodani are the most powerful group in Kanto, one of the most powerful groups in all of Japan — second only to the Inarizaki. If a war broke out between the two over control of the country’s capital, it would be a hard and bloody conflict but the Inarizaki would undoubtedly be the victors.

This marriage benefits your father more than it does Kita.

“Maybe one day I will. The alliance doesn’t really matter,” he tells you. But while he looks slightly pensive as he speaks, the corners of your lips begin to slowly turn upwards.

“Then what is it you want, Kiiiiitaaa-saaaan?” you ask, playfully stretching out his family name — what will soon be your family name.

The coldness in his demeanor seems to melt, although not into anything that could ever be considered close to warm. If you had to describe it, you would probably call it patronizing.

“Y’know they call ya Tokyo’s yakuza princess?” he replies and your smirk widens. It takes some effort with how tight his grip is, but you manage to wiggle your fingers just loose enough to intertwine them with his.

“Do they?” you ask innocently, as if you haven’t proudly worn the title over the years. You look at him knowingly through your lashes. “Even in the Hyogo countryside?”

“Even in the Hyogo countryside,” he answers mildly, briefly humoring you and you reward him with a pleased grin.

“Oh really?” you muse, bringing your joined hands up to your lips to lightly skim them along his bloody and torn knuckles.

His tolerance seems to have hit its limit because he quickly yanks his hand from yours to grab your jaw, his fingers digging into your cheeks so roughly that you give a small wince. His hand is large enough that it covers your mouth almost entirely.

If anyone else were in your position, they would most likely be trembling in fear. You can only smile into his palm, the mischief mirrored in your eyes.

Kita doesn’t come across as a man who often — if ever — gives into temptation. But although his patience with you has grown thin, he seems willing to allow himself just one small indulgence.

His hand shifts so that he can slowly run his thumb across your lips, leaving behind a sticky smear of blood in its wake. As his touch reaches your cupid’s bow, you slightly part your lips to press a soft kiss to the pad of his thumb before opening your mouth and catching it between your teeth.

You use just enough pressure so that he can’t simply slip it free. The metallic tang of blood is strong on your tongue as you brush it teasingly against the tip, your gaze meeting his coyly. You close your lips around his thumb and give it a light suck that would have a lesser man on his knees, begging for you to let him between your thighs.

Kita reacts with a thoughtful hum and nothing else, not even the most minute muscle twitch.

“Tokyo’s spoiled little yakuza princess whose father lets her get away with whatever she wants,” he remarks, entirely unbothered even as you continue to suckle on his thumb while he speaks. “I won’t be anywhere near as lenient with ya. And I won’t have ya makin’ a fool outta me just because we’re not married yet.”

Although the danger is there, completely unmistakable, his voice lacks the menacing tone that should accompany his words. Instead, they’re low and soft, caressing your ears like a lover’s would, luring you in seductively.

Impulse control has never been something that you’ve practiced; it’s never been something that you’ve needed to practice. In an act of utter shamelessness, you take his free hand, the one casually hanging from his knee, and place it high on your bare thigh.

When you try to slide it further under the hem of your skirt, which has already begun to ride up since he tugged it down, you find that his hand is immovable. His fingers dig into the fat of your thigh, sinking into your soft skin with the weight of both his grip and his possessiveness.

“Yer mine now,” he tells you, his voice still gentle and entirely at odds with his burning touch and the taste of blood in your mouth. “I don’t need to wait for paperwork or a ceremony to make it official.”

His heavy gaze drops down to look pointedly at how you’re thighs are squeezing together, even as he keeps one of them firmly in place. He then slowly drags it back up to meet yours, leaving a scorching trail in its wake.

“I’m not just gonna give ya whatever it is ya ask for.” The words are a threat, even if he speaks them like a promise. “If ya want somethin’ from me, yer gonna have to earn it.”

Right now, there’s only one thing that you want from him and it's at the forefront of your mind.

“But I didn’t get to cum,” you whine around his thumb, your pitiful complaint slightly muffled.

Osamu and Suna’s matching looks of disbelief go unnoticed by you and Kita, neither man ever having imagined that someone would dare to say something so brazen to their fearsome oyabun.

There’s a flash in Kita’s eyes and the corner of his mouth twitches upwards for a fraction of a second. Both happen so quickly that you only notice because he has your rapt attention and it slowly dawns on you.

He likes it. He likes your audacity. He likes your impertinence. He likes how you sound like the spoiled brat that you are. He likes that he has Tokyo’s spoiled little yakuza princess squeezing his hand between her thighs and sucking on his thumb as she pathetically pleads with him to make her cum.

His thumb is slick with your saliva as he slips it from your mouth despite your efforts to keep it where it is by trying to sink your teeth deeper into it. He leaves a quickly-cooling trail of spit on your skin as he readjusts his hold on your jaw, once again digging his fingers into the hollows of your cheeks. The action only exaggerates the pout that you’re already giving him.

“And ya won’t again ‘til we’re married. I don’t care if it’s with someone else. I don’t care if it’s with yerself. The next time ya do will be on our wedding night.” He pauses, letting the silence hang over the room so that the impact of his next words is truly felt. “If yer good.”

You let out a displeased noise in protest but it goes ignored as he uses his grasp on your jaw to move your head a bit to the side so that you’re looking over his shoulder and directly at the grey-haired Inarizaki man behind him.

“This is Osamu. He’s gonna be stayin’ in Tokyo for a bit.” He gives you a single wave in acknowledgment from where he stands. “Yer father’s already agreed to it.”

The implication is clear: Osamu is to be Kita’s eyes and ears in Tokyo. If you act in any way that’s unbefitting of your new status as the woman set to marry the Inarizaki’s kumicho, he’ll certainly know.

“You’ll be seein’ a lot of him,” he tells you as he returns your focus back to him. He then leans forward, closing the gap between you to tenderly press a light kiss to your forehead, his lips moving against your skin with his next words. “So, be good for me.”

He sits back and meets your gaze expectantly and it’s clear that he wants your assurance that you’ll do as told. You give a childish roll of your eyes and his grip tightens in warning.

“I’ll be good,” you reply, the words feeling foreign on your tongue but they seem to appease him.

However, his eyes soon land on your lips and then narrow. It’s a small movement, but the temperature of the room seems to drop with it. His next question is spoken as softly as everything else he’s said that night, but there’s a new kind of gravity to it, one that promises danger should he receive an answer that he doesn’t like.

“Did ya use yer mouth on him?”

It’s clear that Tatsuya’s life depends on your response. Luckily for him, there’s only one answer that you can give.

“I don’t suck cock,” you say and it’s only because Kita is grasping so tightly onto your jaw that you don’t physically turn your nose up at the suggestion of you getting on your knees.

But then something unexpected happens. The calm and carefully controlled expression on Kita’s face softens into something finally approaching fondness, a faint smile forming on the straight line of his lips.

“You will for me,” he promises and you raise a challenging eyebrow, even as your own grin begins to grow.

“I will?” you ask playfully and he nods.

“You will if ya wanna be good,” he’s kind enough to remind you and there’s a strange fluttering in your stomach that you’ve never experienced before.

“Yes, Shin-kun,” you smile, and despite barely having had any of the champagne that’s now spilled across the floor, you feel drunk.

You hardly wait for Kita to order his men to leave with a firm but impassive, “out,” before sliding from the couch and sinking to the floor between his parted legs. Your knees already ache from the unfamiliar sensation of resting against such a hard surface.

The weight of his hand on the back of your neck burns as you rub your cheek against the expensive fabric of the slacks covering his muscled thigh. As you reach for the buckle of his belt, you look up at him to find him watching you ravenously.

It absently occurs to you that throughout the entire evening, you never once heard him raise his voice. Even when he was brutally assaulting Tatsuya, he never seemed angry or bothered. No matter the situation, he remained unfazed.

But as you slide a hand inside of his pants to grip his half-hard cock through the soft material of his boxers, you can see it. Underneath his composed visage and mild temperament, burning bright in his shining and hungry eyes, is a dangerous flame — one that threatens to consume you and every inch of Tokyo in a devastating and all-consuming blaze.

Maybe Kita Shinsuke isn’t as boring as you thought.

#kita shinsuke #kita shinsuke x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #kita x reader #kita shinsuke fanfic #kita shinsuke fic #kita fic #kita fanfic #haikyuu fanfic #haikyuu fic #mel writes #traditional values

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kings-highway · 9 months ago

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some haikyuu ships first date headcanons because im in a mood and want some fluff

daisuga: they absolutely took a train into the city to walk around some shops and get dinner and it was agreed upon as a date but they both agreed low expectations/really casual vibe. They sit together waiting for the train to arrive and neither of them are speaking or making eyecontact and theyre just so shy in a way that they have never felt before and they keep trying to hold open doors for each other and getting in the way and its super awkward and at one point suga spends like 20 minutes psyching himself up to take daichi's hand while theyre walking and they only just barely manage the lightest hand holding that barely even counts but when they get home they are both just absolutely overwhelmed with excitement over "how perfect" it was and then asahi has to hear about it twice

iwaoi: because they did so much together as friends first the transition into proper dating is really hard because they kinda just do what they normally do + kissing sometimes until like 8 months later at their first christmas together as an official couple and Iwa realizes that theyre going to be at a restaurant, on christmas eve, and it's going to be like a real thing, so he sort of panics but ends up borrowing his father's suit and bringing flowers and oikawa had had the same realization and brought chocolates and then they are sitting across from each other at a candlelit dinner and for the first time in their lives they are not best friends and it feels like theyre meeting for the first time, properly, and iwaizumi will never admit that he will never forget the colour of oikawa's eyes in candlelight. even if they go back to bickering and their normal not-very-romantic selves afterwards they never doubt their relationship ever again.

arankita: they go out for lunch on a sunday and aran is so unbelievably nervous because kita is, well, nearly a robot, so he has no clue what's going to make him happy, and sort of fumbles around trying to compliment him and suggest they do something more exciting, but kita insists that the little lunch date they had originally planned is perfect, although it gets derailed when kita has a family emergency he needs to leave early for, and although he's devastated aran walks him back to his bus stop and kita assures him he did nothing wrong and they'll try again shortly, and then gives aran a kiss on the cheek that he will be thinking about for weeks until he kisses him for real (on that promised second try). the twins bully him relentlessly for being "stood up" by kita.

ushiten: tendou is afraid that he, somehow unintentionally, "tricked" ushijima into going on a date with him, because he's cannot believe he'd actually reciprocate his feelings, and spends the whole day trying to be perfect and prove he's a good date, and they walk along a little shopping district, and get ice cream, and tendou cannot - like, painfully cannot - stop talking. nervous chatterbox to the extreme. they sit in a little cafe and watch the sunset and tendou will not stfu for even a second and even he's starting to wonder why he won't just shut his mouth because at this point its just embarassing but Ushijima is just leaning his head on his hand and watching him instead of the sunset and falling so deeply in love he will never be the same again.

tsukkiyama: okay but they definitely had a "first date" when they were like 13, and their moms had to drop them off at the movie theatre, and they saw some animated movie they didnt really like because it was the only one playing, and they sit in the dark and both think about trying to hold hands but neither of them commits to it because theyre so awkward and they leave and stand outside the movie theatre talking for like 40 minutes in the dusk and they do really like each other but theyre 13 so they just end up calling their moms and going home. 3 years later tsukki would tell him he loves him for the first time in that same spot but neither of them would realize that.

kagehina: technically they went on a few dates but they were all volleyball related, so they were calling them dates even if it was basically just more practice. Eventually, they decide to go out for kageyama's birthday, and they end up having such a nice time at dinner, and they take a really long walk afterwards and hold hands the whole time and they realize they dont get to hold hands on dates very often because theyre always playing volleyball, also, they dont really get to talk all that much either... anyway they end up sitting outside in a park until like midnight just catching up on months worth of date conversations theyd never had before, and walk-in-the-park date nights become a monthly, if not weekly staple.

anyway thats all i got ♡♡♡

#haikyuu ships #haikyuu ship headcanons #daisuga #iwaoi #arankita #ushiten #tsukkiyama #kagehina

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suguwu · 1 month ago

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single dad kita and his daughter who wishes on a star for her father to find love again, only for the two of them to find you asleep on the engawa in the first kiss of morning, and the last star—the one that always accompanies them through the start of their day before dawn swallows it whole—missing from the sky

#bee chats

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spadesolace · 1 year ago

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analyze my heart

thomasian! chaewon x lasallian! reader

one thing chaewon developed while taking her undergrad course, she unintentionally psychoanalyzes the people around her, especially her girlfriend

word count: 1.4k

spade speaks: advance valentine’s day 🩵

chaewon isn’t one to make her feelings known that easily. partially that was the reason why she took psychology as her major, to better understand her mind and what she feels- only to end up psychoanalyzing everyone around her.

it started with her parents - her dad specifically. the small mood swings that always resulted in a screaming match only for chaewon to run back to her room and cry about it. every conversation would start with them having a lovely chat and one small mistake from her would lead to her father asking her credibility.

“oh- why aren’t you confident when we talk about these things?”

“dad, i just-“

something simply caused their relationship to be rocky. no longer was her father the same caring man that she looked up to when growing up...

but their fights slowly decreased, once she found a way to slowly manipulate her father that would benefit the two of them. one that would result in a peaceful evening with little to none fighting and for her mother to finally relax.

her mother was next - her own insecurities being the target in every conversation. one of which is how religious her mother is. the idea of her daughter liking women brought such a drift in their relationship that it was chaewon’s goal to find out how it all started. all it took was a few glasses of wine and the right questions just for her mother to spill everything to her. to which everything made sense - her own grandparents were the stereotypical traditional family.

chaewon understood that psychoanalyzing her parents let alone sometimes her friends are crossing the line but then - you.

for her, you were the biggest mystery she has encountered. for someone that goes at the university that is known as the reddest of flags, you were the same as your university. a walking green flag.

your first date within españa made her realize how guarded you were. little to no details but the basics being shared yet you had chaewon swooning over you within the course of three hours. a complete mystery that she wishes to unveil.

it continued on - as you slowly opened up to chaewon a part of her wishes to learn more how deep your thoughts go. there were little icks she had gotten but that was merely due to the status quo. all she did was analyze you, yet you ended up analyzing her feelings.

“y/n… gusto kita (i like you).”

“i like you too, chaewon.”

even when things were made official between you two, chaewon still tried her best to unravel the mystery that is you. to find an answer as to what makes you - you.

on the other hand, you were making sure that kim chaewon wouldn’t break your heart. the stereotype that thomasians are ghosters left a bitter taste in your mouth, and hearing your friends warn you while dating chaewon. your guard was up and even if you’ve shared sentiments and traumas to her, it wasn’t one that would make her break you that easily.

you’ve heard stories of psychology majors being the reddest of flags but you never believed in them until you experienced it yourself.

sure, her university isn’t the best considering the amount of dramas and conspiracies you’ve heard from your friends but you never once thought of it as something that could affect your relationship with chaewon.

you’re well aware that chaewon tends to bottle her feelings up, not until she explodes like a soda bottle shaken and explodes as you open it. here she was, in your apartment ignoring you as she sighs every other minute. chaewon and amongst all other students from her university despise the admins at how inhumane their workloads are or how students are treated like robots but here you are.

“chae, take a break for a bit? you haven’t eaten anything yet.”

chaewon choose to ignore you as she read through her assignment again and again, switching from one file to another but you only grow more concerned as she continues to ignore your presence.

“chae… come on, just eat something.”

ignored yet again, you would have let it slide if it weren’t so later in the evening that you caught her up at 2AM still doing her assignments and readings. you’re used to her ignoring you when she has a bunch of schoolworks to finish but you’re still concerned for your girlfriend.

“chae…”

“Y/N. STOP! can’t you see me studying here? ihave to finish this by tonight and I can’t focus if you keep on-“

a part of you blocks out the rest of what chaewon had to say. the last thing you wanted to hear from her is screaming at you and blaming you. you watch her spit venom at you, taking it all in and realizing this was the girl you’ve been dating for two years. she broke again and you could only see how fierce and annoyed she is at you.

you made sure she won’t break your heart - yet here you are standing still as she packs her stuff. feeling your heart break as you do nothing and let her walk out of your place like many nights before.

this wasn’t the first time it’s happened.

this wasn’t the first time kim chaewon walked out on you.

this wasn’t the first time you heard a knock at your door at 3AM with a drunk chaewon waiting for you to open the door.

this wasn’t the first time you kissed her back while she’s intoxicated in your arms.

it’s a cycle. she breaks then leaves for a couple of days, you ignore her and she comes crawling back to you asking for forgiveness.

you’ve long analyzed her heart and her desire to keep you around despite how toxic it has become - despite knowing she wishes to learn more about you to use it against you.

everytime it happens, chaewon can’t hate you. she’s aware that half of the time it’s her that’s the problem. you’ve been so understanding and just wanting to take care of her yet here she is fucking it up once again by screaming at you as you let her do it.

you aren’t a people pleaser.

“do you not care about people’s opinions?” chaewon could only watch you shake your head as you finish writing your paper and ignoring every message and plead your classmates send your way for help.

“let them talk, it’s not my job to remind them of their responsibilities.” there was no sign of caring for what your friend’s have to say as you leave them in the dark as you close your laptop and silence your phone. ending the day with chaewon in your arms as you lay in her bed.

your family is so supportive.

she hasn’t seen any parent that is so supportive of their child who went for their passion, even if it were a small thing on a paper once you graduate. still, it baffles her knowing that you wanted to venture out and although there were some restrictions that made your parents say no to your crazy desires. they were still supportive as you tell them your project for your minor program with a huge smile on your face as they listened intently and asked questions. she feels out of place whenever your parents would ask her questions about her life, is this what having a normal conversation with relatives feels like?

and you never mentioned anything that left you questioning everything in life as you hit a dark point in your life.

you’re a mystery to kim chaewon because how could you be so perfectly fine with her screaming at you at the top of her lungs and leaving you for days until she’s back at your place wearing your clothes.

you have her wrapped around your finger as she circles around looking for a way to be above you. one thing chaewon never accounted for is that you’re too self aware.

chaewon can’t find your issues, what makes you imperfect but you know well enough what those are to hide it from anyone but yourself. not a day goes by where you mentally beat yourself for things you have no desire of telling anyone and sure, chaewon loves to psychoanalyze you as you keep this facade.

at the end of the day, you have her heart, knowing what she wants in a relationship and simply taking it as it is. even if there is something chaewon could use against you - you’ve analyzed her before she could even realize it.

#chaewon x reader #chaewon imagines #kim chaewon #chaewon #kim chaewon x reader #le sserafim imagines #le sserafim x reader #le sserafim #le sserafim chaewon #big 4 au #big4 #thomasian! chaewon #we love a red flag fr

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kleftiko · 2 years ago

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❦ FAMILY MEN

ft. kita, suna, atsumu, osamu

MHA VERSION | BLACK CLOVER VERSION

—kita

another long and exhausting week. because your husband always gets up early and comes back late everyday because of his work, and you watch the baby all day, you both are dead to the world when you sleep until you hear the cries of your child. it’s instinct; so when you didn’t hear the baby in the middle of the night, you woke up anyway with worry. only to find shinsuke bouncing them, his lips singing a soft and out of tune lullaby that took you back to your childhood. you know for a fact that your child didn’t cry that night, your husband just wanted to hold them while they slept, despite his tired eyes, he wouldn’t trade that moment for the world.

—suna

“no, i’m mom’s favourite.” your husband argued rather vehemently with your son as you ate dinner together. it was endearing to listen to, especially because of the fact that your son couldn’t speak. his baby babbling created bubbles of his food along his mouth. rintaro shook his head and wiped him with the napkin.

“yea, right, i’m way better at volleyball than you.” he scoffed at his kid. “that’s why your mom fell in love with me in the first place.”

“rin,” you couldn’t help but laugh. “stop it.”

he sent you an innocent smile before turning to the baby again, he made sure you could see him mouth ‘you won’t beat me.’

—atsumu

if you couldn’t find your toddler, she was with her dad. today, they were in the garage, atsumu had arm and chest day, he sat on the bench, daughter in his arms as he curled her. despite the smile on his lips, his breathing and counting were even, only interrupted by her continuous giggles as she squirmed in his hold. when the set was done, he set her down and you saw them look at each other with stars in their eyes.

“’m gonna be as strong as you when i grow up!” she told him.

“hell yea!” atsumu raised his hand and your little girl jumped to smack is hand.

“hell yea!” she repeated and atsumu’s face dropped.

“…don’t tell yer mum i taught’cha that.”

—osamu

“ya gotta shape it with love, baby.” he told his daughter, hands full of rice as they stood in the kitchen.

your daughter pouted, fingers stuck with rice as she glared at the tuna filling that fell on the cutting board. “i make with hate.” she said and you couldn’t help but burst out laughing.

“yer too much like yer mum—go sit down.” osamu shooed her to you, and she happily obliged as she ate the rice off her fingers.

“why’d you do that, baby?” you asked and pet her head. “you’re great at this.”

“daddy makes the best onigiri.” she smiled at you before turning back to her father and watched him work. “i want him to cook for me my whole life.”

she clearly didn’t mean for him to hear, but you could see the foolish smile tugging at his lips.

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyu x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu imagines #kita x reader #kita fluff #suna x reader #suna fluff #atsumu x reader #atsumu fluff #osamu x reader #osamu fluff

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lonigiri · 2 months ago

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oneshot about my king atsumu miya 🙏🙏🙏

(hope you’re having a wonderful day)

meeting the parents

pairing: atsumu x f!reader

warnings: atsumu meets readers parents, if ur parents arent like this... well sucks ig?, parent issues, established relationship, fluff and if you squint angst,

notes: this went in a completely different direction then what i thought it was gonna go, i also started this request like three months ago and i never finished it so here mb anon love ya

you were always a little bit scared when you thought about atsumu meeting your parents, aswell as your family. its not that you were scared that they wouldnt like him. its just that atsumu is a little, well, a lot when you first meet him. and your lovely parents told you to bring him to the familys big thanksgiving because "they wanted to meet their favorite daughters boyfriend." (you're their only daughter) and there you were in the car with atsumu trying to coach him on what to say and what not to say. "babe i got this dont even worry! im so good with parents!" "tsumu, im the first girlfriend you've had that your meeting their parents." "i was always good with kita, suna, and aran's parents!" you just sighed and rolled your eyes. you opened the car door and got out, walking to the front door of the house first. atsumu came shortly after, you put your hand on the door handle and pushed the door open.

you went into the house first, kicking the snow off your boots and then taking them off at the door. you removed your jacket placing it on one of the hangers as atsumu did the same movements as you. "oh my god is that my favorite daughter!" "mom im your only daughter." your mother just laughed and shrugged, calling the house saying that you were here. "and who is this handsome young man?" your mom smiled and took atsumu's hand, shaking it. "i'm miya atsumu! yn, you didnt tell me you had a sister!" atsumu exclaimed, with a small smile on his face, you gave him a look, but that didnt stop him from kissing up to your mom. "oh now now, no need to kiss up to little old me! oh you're so strong i think we can put those muscles to good use!" your mom started feeling atsumu's biceps, "mom, you're being weird." "oh come on yn its just a joke! lighten up a little bit!" you just rolled your eyes walking away as your mom basically flirted with your boyfriend.

you made your way to the back room where everyone was sitting, waiting for dinner to be finished, "your wife is flirting with my boyfriend by the way." you said jokingly to your father. him giving you a quick laugh then a hug. "you know your mother, thats how she is." you just shrugged and went on and greeted everyone else. atsumu and your mother slowly made their way back to the room everyone was in, arms interlocked with eachother. "you have got to be kidding me." your eyes rolling at the sight. "and i'm assuming this is the boyfriend?" your father said, getting up from his seat and going to shake atsumu's hand. "nice to meet you! i'm atsumu, you're daughter is absolutely lovely." "no need to kiss up to me son, i know what shes like." obviously hinting that you're not so lovely. "okay just because i brought my boyfriend doesnt mean you all have to pretend im not here." "of course we know you're here sweetheart, we just want to get to know the boy you brought along." "the boy you begged me to bring along." you grumbled.

okay maybe the reason you didnt want to bring atsumu along wasnt because you were afraid he wouldnt get along with them. you were just afraid that your family would like him more then you, and can you really blame them atsumu is charismatic and attractive and a d1 volleyball player. of course your family would like him more then you. you watched as your family practically fawned over him, asking him about what it was like to play in the big leagues, and if his hair is naturally blonde and are they crazy of course his hair isnt naturally blonde?? "dinners ready!" a voice called out from the kitchen, your grandmother, the only one in this god forsaken family that likes you the most out of anyone here, even your d1 athlete boyfriend.

everyone gathered around, picking their seats at the dinner table, somehow you were able to score a seat next to your boyfriend. as your whole family chatted your boyfriend up you just kinda sat there and ate your food silently. "yeah i have no clue how i ended up with her, she really saw the good in me when others didnt." you heard being spoke from your right side. you looked up and saw atsumu looking at you with the most love anyone could possibly ever give. "awe isnt that so cute, yn you really dont deserve him." there goes your mom, always ruining the cute moments. "what i was saying was that i dont deserve her." atsumu chimed in and squeezed your hand under the table, standing up for you. he obviously realized how uncomfortable you'd been with this whole situation and he was trying to comfort you in anyway possible.

after dinner atsumu had came up with some sort of excuse to leave and he practically dragged you out of the house. you slid your shoes on bidding an irish goodbye to everyone and left. "wow your family-" "hates me? i know." you said cutting him off leaning your body to the opposite direction of him, looking out the window as he drove. "i mean, i was gonna say a lot but, yeah?" "wow thanks that makes me feel so much better." rolling your eyes and taking out your phone you started scrolling on instagram. "you see why i didnt want you to meet them? they use anything they can to bring me down. they think im a disappointment." you let out a sigh, you could feel atsumu's eyes on you, the look of pity. you loved him so much, it just hurt when your family thinks everyone in the world is better then you. he placed his right hand on your thigh, using his thumb to rub circles into the flesh, helping you calm down a bit. "its okay we dont ever have to see them again if you dont want." "really?" "really."

#lonigiri #haikyuu #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #hq x you #hq #atsumu x reader #miya atsumu #haikyuu atsumu #hq atsumu #atsumu fluff #atsumu x you #msby atsumu #atsumu x y/n #miya atsumu x reader

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nectardaddy · 9 months ago

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'88 Ford | Kita Shinsuke

Prologue | I like this one

masterlist

ignore timestamps

"I haven't seen you before," catching the voice of a woman from a far, he turned. "My dad just hire you?" Posing the question to him as she neared him, a friendly smile gathered in her words.

The picnic table the man found himself at was adjacent to the far left side of the field, away from the beating sun and away from the chaos that the farm house brought in the distance. Eating his lunch here every day rather than the latter - it was peaceful, it was quiet. No one bothered him, and no one fought him on having a moment to himself.

He formed the pieces together in his mind quickly, connected that 'dad' must be the man who hired him; gratefully giving him the job without a second thought. And his breath hitched in his throat at the thought - he was filthy, and in no place to talk to such a woman right now. Not a woman as pretty as she was, especially not a woman who's father hired him all together.

Hat pulled off his head earlier, his grandmother telling him long ago that wearing a hat to eat was considered rude, his hair stuck to his forehead. Sweaty, and dirt ridden- a bad habit of wiping his brow with dirty gloves, he had yet to break; he felt more tense than he should.

"I've been here for a week, ma'am," replying with a small, considerate, smile. Fighting every urge to apologize right then and there for his appearance, but it wasn't as if he had a choice with the dirt. Opening his mouth to utter an apology, but promptly shut it as she joined him at the table. Stepping over the table's seat before taking it across from him.

"You don't have to call me that if you don't want to," she assured. "So, what d'you go by, man who's been here for a week?" Asking informally with a wry smile, teasing only slightly as she placed her hands on the table.

"Kita. It's nice to meet you, ma'am." Now neglecting his lunch as she had started a conversation.

"Kita," she spoke to herself as if to remember it immediately. "It's nice to meet you too," she offered her name to him, posing to instead call her that instead of ma'am - to drop the formalities all together. But he'd be damned if he did that, not with her at least.

Though just as quickly as she joined him, she stood up to leave just as fast. "Finish eating." Flashing him a smile as she stepped over the picnic table seat once more, "I don't wanna' disrupt you. It's awfully hot today, you're gonna' need it busting your ass out there."

He wished to tell her that she was, by no means, a distruption. If anything, she was the highlight of his day. But just as soon as she got up, the sooner she started walking away. "Have a good day ma'am," calling out a goodbye to which she turned and waved.

"Have a good day, Kita, I'll see you around." And goodness, he sure hope he would.

#haiykuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu smau #haikyuu!! smau #hq x reader #hq smau #kita shinsuke #shinsuke kita #kita shinsuke x reader #shinsuke kita x reader #hq kita #haikyuu kita #series: 88 ford #hbd kita I love you so much omfg #this only took me like 30 mins to write I'm insane

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mintmatcha · 2 years ago

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5 pm on a Friday night, Kita starts a video call with Aran, Atsumu, Osamu, and Suna. thinking this is a mistake, none of them answer.

Until he calls again.

And again.

Atsumu answers from a bar, shouting over the rising noise.

"Are you dying?" he bemoans, "What warrants calling three times?"

"This could have been a text." Suna is hoarding a squat rack in his gym, leaned against a suspiciously heavy load.

"Guys, cool it," Aran whispers. His daughter is curled on his chest, blowing bubbles in her bottle, "Kita, tell us what's up."

Osamu says nothing. He's busy working, ear bud in one ear. Every now and again he nods to show he's still listening.

"I'm sorry, it's not an emergency."

"Kita-san!"

"Atsumu, shut up."

Kita gives a shaky laugh as he fumbles with his phone. It falls a couple time as he tries to stand in up against a ledge, but once it's settled, he steps back.

"I have a date tonight," he explains, rubbing the back of his neck, "Do I look like...?"

The grey haired man gestures to his outfit; a striped shirt under overalls. "Like a rice farmer?"

"Yes."

"You are a rice farmer, so it's not really a bad thing."

"It's not great."

Osamu spares the screen a glance, then nods wistfully. Then, he fumbles with his headphone cord, encrusting it with dirty fingers as he lifts it up to his mouth. "You gotta change the pants."

The rest of the group agrees.

"Do you still have those jeans from high school? Those made your ass look so fuckable."

Suna groans. "Dude, shut up."

"What do you want from me? I'm gay for men."

Aran's baby coos, detaching from her bottle.

"I'm with Osamu." The proud father of the group handles both crisises easily. "Lose the overalls. Maybe a clean shoe, too."

"Yeah, the white rubber boots are killing the vibe," Suna says.

"I think we are ignoring the fact Kita has a date." Atsumu says in a sing-song voice, taking a sip from a martini glass. Another hand quickly snatches it away.

"Drink your own drink, Miya."

"Omi-"

Kita has peeled off his outer layer and has begun scrambling through a nearby drawer. He finds what he's been tasked to: an older pair of blue jeans that fit just right. It takes a couple of jumps to get into them, but once they button, the chorus starts again.

"That's better."

"You look nice."

"Sooo fuckable."

Osamu gives the screen a thumbs up.

"Thank you all," Kita hopes they don't notice how pink his cheeks are, "I appreciate it."

"I expect an invite to the wedding," Aran takes the tiny hand of the baby and forces her to wave goodbye. She's too focused on dinner to notice.

"I expect juicy details about the sex." Atsumu nudges his date's side conspiratorially.

"Kita isn't a sex on the first date kind of guy."

"He should be!" Atsumu nudges his date, "We all deserve a little wet on our dicks-"

"Atsumu!"

"Tiny ears are listening!"

"Gag."

Kita laughs, but he's not sure why. Nerves he didn't realize were tense have been soothed.

"Thank you," he says, "I appreciate it."

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tsunaaism · 4 months ago

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𝐓𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 | Miya Twins.

"Such prowess; such beauty... are not for humans to witness."

Pairings: Immortal!Reader x Miya Atsumu x Miya Osamu

Genre: Fantasy, Mystery.

Words: 970

Warnings: A little, teeny-tiny bit suggestive.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 (you're here.)

The night is empty. Silence engulfs the forest; the atmosphere is devoid of anything but the waterfall’s stream. Gravel crunches beneath your feet, jagged edges threatening to tear. Freezing water pours over your form, the flow cooling your mind.

The truth has always been there; not in hiding nor beneath a spotlight. Simply idling in your peripherals.

“It wasn’t ignorance.”

The waterfall continues to wash over your form as your voice lulls within the empty air.

“It’s indifference.”

Over the fact that you needed the imperial family—Shinsuke Kita and his father—his grandpas and his ancestors. You needed humans. Their thoughts. Their memories. Their desires—their prayers.

The waterfall’s crashes no longer resounds. Your eyes flutters open. The river had dried up, leaving the moonlight’s fragmented glow. A large basin of water circulates above your form. Your worries must’ve gotten to you. Slowly, they swirl around—flowing—returning to where they belong. As everything falls back into place, the river streams again.

Benjirō was someone you couldn’t have lived without. You took a deep breath, listening to the caws of the crows. A God created from words and desperation. From the half-assed drawing you had stuck on the civillians door thousands of years ago, and the thousands of battles you fought.

Simply a myth, and yet, he lives. He thrives.

But so do you.

If the famed war hero is forgotten, so would your existence. After all, immortality is a bliss; one every elusive beings of the world dreams of. When the actuality of a mythical being is forgotten—then the world erases them.

Ironic, right? Possessing unmatched knowledge and power, yet having to rely on the mere desires of humans—their selfish needs.

The caws of the crows morphs into the swallows chirps. The forest glows a yellow hue. You sigh, ending your meditation this night. The water sloshes in your leave, no traces of you within the forest.

Ah, yes. Back home.

Except it’s all over the place.

Papers littered over the engawa. Ink spills over the fallen table and wooden floor. Only darkness was palpable inside—as if an endless tunnel. A smudged drag of blood stops near the opening of the door. The small sparrow twitches, trying to salvage whatever bit of life it has.

It has only been a day since you left.

Slow footsteps ring in your ears. But far—faraway. Almost as if they’re hidden deep inside the house. The scent of burnt incense mingles with an animalic odor. You feel blood rushing through your heart, beating slower… and slower.

Yōkais. You were right.

“You are scared.” You walk closer to the sparrow, scooping the carcass into your hand, “Both of you.”

You placed it on an untainted paper.

“I don’t like when someone turns my home into a nest, you know?”

You step inside. Still, nothing but pitch black darkness. It reeks of musk and blood.

“Especially when it smells like foxes.”

A screech echoes. A deep growl follows. You suppose all Kitsunes hated to be called foxes. The word does sound domesticating.

From far, faraway—a lantern-lit figure walks to you. Slowly. Almost drifting. You smile. The structure of the house is gone, replaced by an endless dark void. No traces of the door you stepped into.

“Lady.” A mature, masculine figure drifts closer. Yellowed hair flows like burning ember. He smiles beneath his ironically fox-shaped mask. You stifle a laugh.

“—Or should I say,” A whisper’s warm breath looms behind your ear. Its sudden appearance doesn’t bother you. The fox with the lantern inches closer, now standing idly in front of you.

“Child of Vaiśravaṇa.”

“Fragment of Bishamonten.”

Both whispers in unison, dangerously close.

“You’re the one.” A thin, sharp claw draws circle behind your neck, “Who should come home.”

“I am home.” You muse, “I am everywhere.”

“Is that so?” The blonde kitsune raises his lantern. Light glints upon his hazel eyes, “Yet, you co-exist. Helped humans. Are you.. dying? Has the… Ōmikami rejected you?”

“Or have you… rejected the Gods?”

“Such power,” The sharp claw continues to glide over your back, almost tearing the fabric of your yukata, “Such prowess. Such… beauty. Are not for humans to witness.”

Deftly, your hand cracked the wrists of the fox behind you. Within a blink of an eye, you flew over both of the Kitsune’s figure. They didn’t move, still adorning the smile they’ve always had on—even as a child.

“We know of your capability.” A chime echoes within the void, “We do not wish to fight, Lady.”

Yellow hair, grey hair. Which one is which, you wondered?

The grey kitsune healed his cracked wrist with a lick. His eyes pierces through you as he continues to fix his wounds.

“Insolent cats.” Your vision sharpened, “Take your masks off.”

Surprisingly, they do. With a snap, their masks fall, coming undone. Sharp eyes stare at your form. The rounded features of the faux children are long gone; replaced by strong, almost angelic features.

You scoff.

“Shapeshifting foxes.”

A familiar cold stings your hand, glowing red. Sparks of darkened electricity swirls around your fingers. You relished in the burn as the spear merges into your grip.

“What do you intend?” Your words echoes like a gale, “What dared you to deceive me?”

“Us?” A strong wind fills the void. Their claws sharpened. Light strikes your vision, the void flashing into an endless blooming forest. Pink petals sway in the air. The pungent scent of honeyed florals invades your lungs, as if a perfume masking the scent of blood.

Sun falls from crevices of the trees. Soft, mossy grass covered achres of rich soil. Flowers bloom at every wake of the Kitsunes movement. The green landscape moves—alive, singing. Rabbits and deers gathered, surrounding the foxes. They gaze to you.

“Come,”

“With us.”

@chaseyui @malinq-ashida @allykat7599 @underratedmage @dazaisfavgf @denkisclown @ku-ragee @officiallyjaehyuns @sabrina-senpai @zukiakiraa

Sorry for just continuing this after like.. three years. Hihi. Just got a break! Coming back to writing and continuing some stuffs very-very soon. Putting this out before laying out all da big guns 🫡.

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