karasunowo

[karasunowo]

title: to rebuild a home pairing: kuroo x f! reader genre: angst / fluff, post timeskip! wc: 6.8k m.list

a/n: companion piece to the original love knows not its depth, from kuroo's perspective.

Kuroo Tetsuro is doing alright. 

He’s deftly juggling the roles life has handed him. His tenth wedding anniversary is coming up. He’s gotten a nice pair of earrings and a reservation at Tokyo’s hottest omakase for you to celebrate. The girls are doing nicely at school - Aiko’s grades are excellent, and Fumiko’s not gotten into any schoolyard fights unlike Bokuto’s trio of sons. His bosses seem happy with him too, paving the way for him to climb the corporate ladder rung by rung. He’s earned each promotion by burning days in the office, nights in the izakayas schmoozing with his bosses, but it’s worth it, even if it admittedly comes at the expense of being with you and the girls. 

It’s a sacrifice he has to make so he can provide you with the fairytale life he’s always promised you. Not that you’ve ever complained about the trade-off.  

“She’s the best wife and mom I could’ve asked for”, he tells Kenma, when the former setter asks about you. “I don’t know how she does it.” 

Kenma frowns. “You make her sound like a video game character.” 

“That’s cos she’s amazing -”

“Kinda sucks that she pretty much has to juggle a full time job and the kids on her own most of the time.”

“She manages perfectly well”, Kuroo enthuses, oblivious to the barb in his friend’s words. “By the time I get home, the girls are in bed, the house is clean, and there’s even a lunch box packed for me each day. She’s a rockstar at work too - should be up for a promotion next financial year.” 

“Huh”, Kenma sniffs. “I wonder when she gets a break.” 

Kuroo’s too distracted by the round of beers that’s delivered to his table to think deeply about his best friend’s apprehension. When he stumbles through the front door that night, he finds you crouched over the coffee table, frantically typing at your laptop. As expected, the girls are in bed, there’s nothing out of place. 

“All good?” he asks you in passing, his mind already filing the tasks on his plate for tomorrow - organising a publicity event jointly held by the JVA and Bouncing Ball Corporation to introduce new national team members, reviewing the proposed budget for this year’s international competitions, popping by the under-19 team to see if there are indeed any promising candidates - he’s already one foot in the bedroom, ready to call it a night. 

He doesn’t notice the violets blooming under your eyes. 

“Mm.” You don’t look up. “Have a good night.”  

Kruoo Tetsuro thinks he’s doing alright. 

Bokuto Kotaro, for some reason, doesn’t think so. “Mitsuki said you’re lucky you’re not married to her cos she’ll skin you alive”, he informs him, as if Kuroo shares his love for women capable of chomping his head off in one bite.

Maybe the Bokutos operate on a different metric - because yes, they’re the model of egalitarianism with Mitsuki the high powered general counsel for Kenma’s Bouncing Ball Corporation (based on his referral, he likes to add, cos’ it’s funny to watch Mitsuki growl) and Kotaro the part time coach, full time stay at home dad to his wolfpack of sons, but that doesn’t mean his marriage is on the rocks. 

As a child, he was the unwitting witness to his parents’ fights, which culminated in his mother walking out of the door, his father crying over a thick stack of divorce papers. His grandparents took him in, gave him stability and love and comfort but he swore to himself he’s never going to put his daughters through that. 

Sure, it’s been a while since you’ve had a night to yourself. The last time he remembers you taking time away from the girls was to go out for dinner with him to celebrate his latest promotion - his conscience stings a little that he can’t remember the last time you’ve taken a break from everything you’ve been doing for him and the girls, but he’ll make it up to you once he has time. You always understand. 

Still, just to be sure, he checks in on you again. 

“You alright?”, he reaches for your hand, when he climbs into bed that night. 

You’re lying in bed. He should find it odd that you’re still awake at this time of the night, staring up at the ceiling as if there’s something to be found there, but he falls asleep in the slow seconds, doesn't hear your response. When he wakes, you’ve already taken the girls to school. He gets himself ready for work, loops his tie around his neck, grabs his briefcase and the bento you’ve so lovingly packed for him, and hops on the train. He runs through his routine like clockwork, but there’s a niggling feeling that he’s missed something important, possibly something to do with you. 

Did you say something to him last night? 

It doesn’t matter. He makes a mental note to purchase a spa day for you - but that’s promptly forgotten when he’s greeted by a flood of emails and an invitation from his boss to go out for drinks that night. 

Kuroo still thinks he’s doing alright. 

“You’re lucky”, his boss toasts him. “Your wife doesn’t complain like mine when I go out drinking, even though I tell her I need to do it for work.” 

“She’s an angel”, Kuroo replies, quietly bursting with pride. “Never complains.” 

“Lucky man”, his boss says. “My wife is such a nag.” 

He misses the last train home that night, drops you a text not to wait up and stumbles around Shibuya trying to find a cab. It must be a busy night because by the time he manages to flag down one, it’s three a.m. and his head is pounding from the excess of alcohol and lack of solid food and water. He fumbles with his keys, almost falls through his front door when the lock gives way. “Tadaima”, he says out of habit, too-loudly, before his stomach lurches and he has to make a mad dash for the kitchen sink. 

“Tetsuro?” 

He wants to respond, but he’s too busy emptying out the contents of his stomach. He shouldn’t have woken you up. He shouldn’t greet you with a mess for you to clean up. He shouldn’t lean so heavily on you that you stagger beneath his weight. 

He shouldn’t do all of that yet he does so anyway. You tuck him, a grown man, into bed.

Tomorrow, he’ll apologise. Tomorrow, he’ll make it up to you. 

Tomorrow comes. He wakes up. 

You’re gone. 

Kuroo Tetsuro is not alright.

He’s ashamed to admit that he doesn’t even notice you’ve taken off until it’s way past lunch when your mother drops him a text to ask if he’s picking up the girls or if he intends to leave them with her overnight. 

“What d’you mean?” he texts her, confused.  

His heart stops when your mother responds to say you dropped off the girls at her place without much of an explanation, an overnight bag slung over your shoulder. You don’t pick up your phones, his calls going straight to voicemail. For the first time in forever, he sheepishly asks his boss for urgent leave from work so he can rush home to figure out what’s going on. 

You always take your laptop with you, but it’s sitting at home. He knows it’s an invasion of privacy, but he types in your password (his birthday), and your web browser reveals a booking for a ryokan in Hakone, where the both of you honeymooned almost a decade ago. It’s an hour away by train, far too much time for him to sit and stew in his thoughts. He wonders if you’ve become sick of your life with him, whether you’ve found someone new, and by the time he’s reached the ryokan and charmed the receptionist to let him into your room, he’s teetering on the edge of giving into his frustration, entertaining thoughts about yelling at you for being so goddamned irresponsible, cos how could you just walk out on him and the girls -

Until you walk in, thankfully alone. 

It strikes him that it’s the most refreshed he’s seen you look in a very, very long time. Your cheeks are glowing, your eyes sparkle, and there’s a spring in your step that he hasn’t seen since you’ve had the girls. 

Still, he can’t help but remain a little peeved. “I’ve been calling you all afternoon”, he informs you. “I was worried.” 

He immediately regrets his words as he watches the light die in your eyes. 

“Were you?”, you ask, as if you were addressing a stranger. “Really?” 

“Of course”, he frowns, slowly getting up to approach you, concerned when you start to sway. “You’re my wife and the mother of our girls, of course I care.” 

Laughter spills from your lips, an undercurrent of bitterness and contempt that’s threatening to drag you under before his very eyes. “If you really cared, you’d have noticed that your wife is broken”, you tell him between gasps, your shoulders caving in. “I tried fixing myself with a break, but you can’t even give me that.”  

He’s starting to realise that things aren’t alright at all. You flinch when he takes a step towards you, an action which stabs him clean through his heart because he’s your husband, your Tetsuro, your person. Tea, then, a neutral offering that manages to calm you down enough to take a seat, even if you’re still shaking, falling to pieces while laughing, laughing -

“Tell me what’s wrong”, he begs. “Tell me what I can do to fix you.” 

You take a sip of tea. It’s hot enough to burn you, but you don’t seem to notice. 

“I can’t do this anymore, Tetsuro.” 

“Don’t say that”, he snaps, his inner child recoiling because he can’t bear to have his girls go through what he went through, wondering if it was his fault, his very existence that caused his parents to split up. “The girls and I need you -” 

You don’t seem to hear him. 

“Princess”, he falls back on his pet name for you, rusty from lack of use. “Come back to me.” 

You’re unmoved, your eyes unseeing, deaf to his pleas. Sip after sip, you gulp down scalding tea, each action jerky, mechanical. Frozen, in an impenetrable placidness that he can’t read. You’re sitting right in front of him but you’re not really there at all.    

“Let’s talk when you’re back home”, he finally says. “Have a good break.” 

The immature little boy that still lives in his psyche is still unconvinced that it’s a bad idea to drag you back home with him posthaste, but you asked for a break, and it’s the least he can give to you.

You allow him to roll out your futon for you, to swaddle you in layers of blankets as if that would keep you from falling apart any further. As he kisses your forehead to bid you goodnight and goodbye, he feels the brittleness of your bones, the thinness of your skin beneath his palms and he spends the hour-long train ride home wondering how he managed to look away long enough for you to turn into a shadow of your past self.   

He goes straight to your mother’s house to retrieve the girls. As penance, he stands at the front door, head bowed, letting your mother yell at him in front of the neighbours for being a useless husband and an irresponsible father. After all, he deserves every word she flings in his face. He’s just thankful that she doesn’t ream him out in front of the girls. 

“Where’s mama?” Fumiko mumbles half asleep into his neck. “Want mama.”

He cradles her closer. “She’ll be home tomorrow”, he tells her, hoping with every fibre of his being that that does not turn out to be a lie. Aiko, older and wiser, just stays quiet, so he forces a smile on his face for her sake.  

Kuroo Tetsuro is far from okay.

The strain of the day wears on him and he’s sure there are burning emails in his inbox for him to firefight, but there’s a long list of chores to be done in your absence. The girls’ school bags need to be packed (in the case of five year old Fumiko) or checked (for ten year old Aiko), their uniforms to be laid out, the laundry sorted and folded. He barely gets any sleep before he has to hop out of bed to throw together a cold breakfast of milk and cereal that makes Fumiko burst into tears and Aiko’s face droops. By the time he shuffles his two cranky children out of the house and into their respective schools, he’s late for work. 

He meets Bokuto and Kenma for lunch since there’s no lunch bento waiting for him in the fridge, though he regrets the decision to leave the refuge of his work desk for the boardroom of Bouncing Ball Corporation when Mitsuki joins them and, sharp-eyed as ever, sinks her talons into him. 

“You look like shit”, she says to him as a greeting. 

“Thanks”, he grounds out. The girls demanded he work their hair into the neat braids they insisted you always do, so bedhead would have to do for him today. 

“I’ve never seen you without hair gel before”, Bokuto marvels. “You look weird.” 

“I had a crap morning, okay”, he snaps, biting the head off the karaage fish in his store bought bento, which he resents for tasting worse than those you usually make for him. “So I’m sorry if I look slightly less than presentable -” 

“You look like a man whose wife just left him - “ 

Mitsuki’s just stepped right on the wound he’s tried to keep hidden, festering and bleeding beneath his skin, so like an animal lashing out when it’s hurt, Kuroo slaps the table with both palms and snarls. 

“Don’t - don’t fucking say that, okay? She’s just taking a break. She’ll come home.”

He can’t stand to see the shock and pity on his closest friends’ faces. “She’s coming home today”, he repeats softly, almost to himself, as if he’s little Fumiko in need of reassurance that the person she needs most in the world hasn’t just abandoned her. “It’s gonna be okay.” 

Perhaps it’s the maturity that comes with fatherhood, because Bokuto is the first to react. “That’s right, you’re gonna be okay”, he soothes, pulling Kuroo into his seat. “Kenma’s gonna call your boss and tell him that you’re gonna spend the rest of the afternoon here to plan some event - “

“Sponsorship for the Under-19 team, done”, Kenma snaps his phone shut.

“Guys, I’m fine - ” 

“Pretending everything’s okay isn’t going to help.” 

Kuroo deflates. “Thanks, Kenma.” 

Shelving his worthless pride to lay bare the situation he’s found himself in, that by neglecting his duties as a husband and father, he’s forced you to the brink of a mental breakdown, bad enough that you’ve left him - temporarily, he hopes. In the span of a few hours, he’s already found himself at his wit’s end, struggling to handle both the demands of the kids and his job, something that he realises he’s left you to bear, alone. 

“But I can’t figure out why she didn’t just tell me she was feeling overwhelmed”, he says, pulling at a fraying thread in his shirt. “I would’ve listened. I would’ve done better.” 

“She shouldn’t have to tell you to do your part”, Mitsuki waves away Bokuto’s desperate gesture for her not to kick a man when he’s already down. 

“But I didn’t know -” 

“Y’know, I really can’t stand men like you. You guys are amazing at work, able to anticipate your bosses’ and clients’ needs. At this point, you don’t even need to be told by your bosses  to jump, you don’t even ask your clients ‘how high’ - yet, for some reason, you manage to turn off your brain the minute you walk in through the front door at home.”

 “Maybe I should ask her for a list of things I can help her with -” 

Bokuto claps his hand over Mitsuki’s mouth. “Ehhh..you might not wanna finish your sentence or Mitsuki might really bite your head off.” 

Kuroo winces, snapping his mouth shut. 

“Maybe you can think of it in a different way”, Bokuto says. “Instead of ‘helping’ her - cos that’s just placing the mental burden on her - at least, I think that’s the term Mitsuki-chan used when she explained it to me -” the affronted lawyer nods begrudgingly, and beaming, he continues - “you gotta do your half of the work!”

“Level up”, Kenma provides, rather unhelpfully.

“Open your eyes and use your brain”, Mitsuki says bluntly, rolling her eyes, though her tone is less sharp.

“Where do I start?” Kuroo asks. 

Step one. 

He picks the girls up from his mother in law’s place, bears with the lecture that’s awaiting him, and sheepishly asks them what their mama usually feeds them for dinner and breakfast, making a mental note of it. Tonight, he’ll cheat by feeding them gyudon at Sukiya, but he drops by the supermarket to procure the ingredients he needs for tomorrow’s breakfast and a bouquet of pink roses, even though he knows it’s probably too little, too late. He counts himself lucky that Fumiko loves bathtime, only needing supervision to wash and dry her hair, and Aiko’s responsible enough to work through her homework without prompting, but he’s still exhausted by the time they both head to bed. 

His job doesn’t end there. Running through the checklist Mitsuki begrudgingly allowed Bokuto to give him, he surveys the apartment, comparing it against the mental image of how everything was before you left it. Toys scattered, to be put back in place. Dust on floor, to be vacuumed up. A heap of laundry in the basket, to be hung, dried, ironed. 

Just as he finishes all these tasks, the front door swing opens. 

“Tadaima”, you call out, voice hushed. 

He nearly trips over his feet in his haste to relieve you of your luggage, usher you into a seat by the kitchen counter. “Okaerie”, he breathes, 

“The girls?” you ask. 

He’ll buy Bokuto lunch next time. “I picked them up from your mom”, he responds. “Don’t wake them up, I just put them to bed.” 

You peek into their rooms nonetheless. “Thanks”, you say, heading next to the fridge. “By the way, I’ll pay you back for the hotel room from my own money, don’t worry.” 

That’s the last thing on his mind. Besides, his sin is being a neglectful husband, not a miser. “It’s fine, I’ll cover it”, he scratches his head, embarrassed that you’re even bringing it up. “I should’ve realised you needed a break.” 

That makes you frown, but you accept anyway. He watches you stack bread, eggs, ham, cheese, and it strikes him that you’re already worrying about the girls’ breakfast when you look as if you haven’t even had your own dinner. 

“You haven’t had dinner?” he asks. 

You reply carelessly that you’ve had a bento on the train back. You don’t even bother to look at him. 

“I’ll take the girls in the mornings from now”, he tells you. “Sleep in and take a break.” 

That gets your attention. 

“Really?”

He plasters a confident smirk on his face to reassure you that he’s got it all in hand. 

“Oh”, you’re adorable when you’re confused, but he hates that he’s given you reason to doubt him. “Wake me up if you need my help?” 

“I won’t”, he promises. 

It’s time for him to level up.  

Step two. 

He’s not going to lie to himself that he finds it difficult to do even half of what you used to do. Taking over the responsibility of wrangling the girls out of bed and into school, coming home early enough for dinner with you, that requires him to have hard conversations with his boss about not being able to go out for drinks or come in early anymore which probably hurts his chances for his next promotion, forces him to give up an hour or two of sleep, but it’s worth it if it allows you to heal. 

“Don’t expect a gold star for your efforts”, Mitsuki warned him. “It’s just what you should’ve been doing before, so it’s time for you to go above and beyond.” 

He takes her words to heart. You deserve to go to work well-rested, to wind down at night with a hot bath. He’ll buy a robot vacuum and pour over its manual that’s thicker than a textbook, do laundry loads while hopping on and off conference calls, wrestle the iron to press down his own shirts. 

You seem baffled by the sudden shift in the winds, but he just pretends everything is normal. Business as usual. Things are just as they should’ve been. 

In his next push to right his wrongs, he organises a Saturday dinner date with you. The girls are packed off with your mother, he makes the reservation, books the cab, compliments your dress. He asks you about your work (tiring), your boss (a micro-manager), the books you’ve read recently (nada, zilch). In the uphill battle to keep the conversation from being stilted, he makes a fatal mistake. 

“We can make it work if you want to quit your job and stay home full time with the children.” 

In his mind, that was a reasonable suggestion to make since you seem to hate your job and boss with a fiery passion. But you stare at him wide-eyed, your initial confusion hardening into anger. 

“Did the guys at work tell you it’s easier to have a housewife instead of a working wife? Are you saying this because you don’t think I’m a good enough mother to our girls?” 

You don’t give him a chance to backpedal, shooting a sarcastic apology for being selfish enough to refuse to be reliant on him, so he just slumps back in his chair in defeat. 

“I just want you to be happy”, he murmurs. “Forget I ever said that.” 

Step three. 

To figure out step three, he schedules an emergency lunch meeting on Monday. The troops convene in Kenma’s boardroom to listen to his sorry tale with Mitsuki in charge of the post–battle analysis. 

“And remind me again, where did you two meet?” 

His face lights up at the memory of his first meeting with you. “Finance 102”, he replies. “We used to be academic rivals turned teammates after I convinced her I was smart enough for her to work with on projects.”

“What made you fall in love with her?” 

“As much as I hate it, I have to admit she’s probably smarter than me”, he says, though the fond smile that creeps onto his face betrays the fact that he loves that about you. “She’s just - her, she’s headstrong and funny. Did I tell you how she tried to stab me with her fork when I stole food off her plate -” 

“Only a million times”, Kenma interjects. 

“She’s always been independent and ambitious, with big dreams and an even bigger heart.” 

“Well”, Mitsuki says, adopting the mildest tone she’s used on him this month. “Does that sound like a woman who’d choose to stay home and depend on her husband? Not that there’s anything wrong with being a stay-at-home parent - Koutaro makes my career possible, and I’m the luckiest woman in the world to have him as my husband.”

“Babyyyyy.” Bokuto bawls, looking at MItsuki as if she hangs the moon in the sky. 

Gross. Kenma seems to agree. “Let’s get back to Kuroo’s failing marriage”,

“So I shouldn’t bring up the suggestion that she quit her job again?” 

His three person council shake their heads in unison. “Just keep what you’re doing”, Bokuto pipes up. “Sounds like you’re already doing the right things! Just gotta keep making sure she’s not holding up the sky herself.” 

He can do that. 

“And maybe talk to her?”, Kenma offers.

That’s the suggestion that he wants to dismiss right off the bat because he’s too much of a coward to even face the possibility that you might leave him. He doesn’t want to become his dad so he resolves to keep his head down and continue pushing ahead with his efforts to prove to you that he can be the husband you deserve, so you won’t wake up one day and decide to walk out on him again. 

But his subconscious fears force his nightmares into overdrive. Dreams of packed bags and stacks of divorce papers makes him yelp loud enough for you to roll over and shake him awake. He’s a terrible husband for disturbing your sleep, but in his sleep-dazed state of confusion he just sinks back into the pillow, exhaling a sigh of relief. 

“Thank the gods you haven’t left.” 

“Why would I leave?”, you mumble, turning away again. “It’s my home, isn’t it.” 

He sits up, rubs the nightmares away from his eyes. “I was afraid you left me.” 

The silence nearly suffocates him. The sudden need to know exactly where you stand eats away at him and he crawls towards you. “Are you going to leave me”, he asks, praying to all the gods in the universe that you’ll reassure him otherwise. 

His heart breaks anew when he hears a small sob, buried in the bedclothes. “I don’t know, Tetsuro”, you finally say. “I’m tired of being alone in a marriage when it’s supposed to be us working together.” 

“I’m sorry.” There’s nothing much he can say. 

A broken whisper. “I’m tired”, you exhale. “I think I deserve better.”

“I’ll make it better”, he promises. 

He will. He will. 

Kuroo Tetsuro is trying his best. 

He takes a cooking class on the weekends to learn how to prepare bento boxes that are nutritious and easy on the wallet. He takes over the ferrying of Fumiko to her swimming lessons, work on Aiko’s art projects with her. He hires a part time cleaner to pick up the deep cleaning, so you and he have time to take the girls out on weekend outings instead of spending all day on a week’s worth of cumulated chores. A dishwasher appears in the house. He makes it a game for he and the girls to load and unload dishware each night. 

“There’s a networking wine night for finance next Wednesday”, he tells you casually. “I’ll make sure to be home so you can go, if you want.” 

You goggle at him. 

“Go schmooze so the world knows you’re as amazing as I know you are.” 

You trust him enough to leave the girls behind in his care and go. He counts that as a win. 

Some nights he still can’t get home in time for dinner, but he always makes sure he’s home in time for a bedtime story and a goodnight kiss. Aiko avers that at the grand old age of ten, she doesn’t need her papa to tuck her to bed anymore, but she sidles into Fumiko’s room everynight and sits in the corner of her little sister’s bed as the littler girl listens to his tall tales. 

“I met a princess when I was eighteen”, he says with a grin when he notices you listening in. “Instead of a crown, she armed herself with a fork, ready to cut down anyone who’d cross her.” 

His heart skips a beat when he hears your voice from the doorway. “Don’t be dramatic”, you interrupt, a small smile growing on your face. “You were trying to steal my food and didn’t stop ‘til I stabbed you.” 

Fumiko huffs, unhappy that her story’s being interrupted, but he can’t seem to tear his gaze away from you. “You left it on the table, princess. I consider that fair game.” 

“Let ‘to-san tell the story, ka’san.” Aiko grumbles. 

He savours your laughter. It tastes better than the finest wine. 

“I can’t believe I have to fly all the way to Italy just to meet Kageyama-kun”, he huffs. “At least Hinata is meeting us there, I’ll revolt if I had to go up to Brazil as well.” 

“You know it can’t be helped”, you reply. “The promotional activities planned need your presence, and it’s only for a week.” 

“Will you be okay when I’m gone?” 

His fears melt away when you hand him his suitcase, a flask of his favourite tea. “I’ve always managed fine. Nothing’s changed.” 

His little monsters, realising that he’s about to leave, decide to launch a synchronised attack on him. Aiko throws herself at him in a bear hug. Fumiko yanks at his sleeve demanding a thousand kisses. 

“Yes, well. I’ll be home soon. Please wait for me” he says to you when the girls finally release him. The expression on your face is unreadable, but you don’t pull away when he takes the liberty of taking your hand in his. 

He feels your heartbeat accelerates. You glance up at him, almost shy. “I’ll see you soon.” 

He’s so tempted to call his boss and pretend that he’s too ill to get on that damned flight, but he’s pretty sure that would get him fired. Instead, he calls you and the girls every day, and brings home a luggage full of presents for all of you. 

When he’s home, he celebrates by putting on the frilliest pink apron he’s ever seen (courtesy of Yaku, who sent it to him all the way from Moscow as a joke) and throwing an elaborate takoyaki party, replete with customised toppings - octopus, cheese and shrimp, which the girls enjoyed even if he burnt the first batch and had to call Fukunaga frantically for tips to rescue the rest. It turns out to be such a success that he makes it a weekly event. Okonomiyaki is next, which he flips with expert confidence on a hot plate to the applause of you and the girls. 

“Itadakimasu”, you clap your hands together. “It tastes good.” 

He nearly melts into his pan. “Thank you”, he replies. “It means a lot, coming from you.” 

His nights are still plagued by nightmares.

Things are better with you, he likes to think. The violets beneath your eyes are replaced by roses in your cheeks. He hears you humming about the house again. You pick up reading again,  the shelves in the house start to groan under the weight of books belonging to the girls and you. You’re as eager as the girls to go on the next adventure, whether it be a summer night out in the park with sparklers, or a nerf gun battle at home on rainy days. 

Still, he doesn’t know for sure what he’s doing is enough for you and he’s too much of a coward to check. So he’ll wake up almost every night, fumble in the dark just to make sure you’re there. 

You’re there, until you aren’t. 

It’s three in the morning. The space beside him is cold and empty. 

He throws off the blankets, trips on his bed slippers. He crashes through into the living room and oh, there you are - sitting at the dining table, typing furiously at your laptop while mouthing off to yourself about the ridiculous demands your client makes. 

“What’s wrong?” you frown. 

He walks towards you, trying to discern that you’re real, you’re there, not some trick of the light.. 

“You’re - you’re still here.” 

You nod slowly, eyeing him strangely. “My boss called and asked me to send out an urgent email. I was just about to go back to bed.” 

He exhales, tries to force his trembling heart back into his chest. He thinks he’s doing a good job trying to act nonchalant, smoothing back his frazzled mane of hair, but you see right through him as you always do. 

“Tetsuro”, you say slowly. “Is everything alright? 

The truth tumbles out of his mouth. “I thought you were gone.” 

Then he hangs his head, looks at his feet, afraid that he’ll only see rejection in your eyes. He’s a pathetic failure of a husband who has a decade’s worth of sins to make up for, and there’s no justification for him to selfishly to seek your absolution. 

It comes anyway, in the form of soft hands pulling him forward. 

“I’m here”, you say, pulling him into your embrace, letting him rest his heavy head in your lap.

He doesn’t allow himself to sink into your warmth. “Are you happier now? Are things better for you?” 

“Yes”, he hears you say. The tension he’s been carrying around these few months lifts. “Thank you, Tetsuro. I appreciate it. I really do. You don’t have to work yourself to death - that’s never what I was asking for. If you’re tired -”

He shakes his head at your suggestion. He’s got a long way yet before he earns any reprieve. 

“Tetsuro -” 

He sits up abruptly, takes your hands in his. 

“Promise you won’t leave me”, he pleads. “I know you’ve had to carry what must’ve felt like the weight of the entire world on your own, and I don’t have any excuse for that.”

“You don’t”, you agree. 

He accepts the blow but he takes comfort that you don’t pull away. “I know that now. I know now how fucking hard it was to do it all alone.”

“It was hard. It was so, so hard, Tetsuro. I became numb to the pain. I don’t think I was functioning, I haven’t been for a while. For a long, long while.” 

“I’m sorry”, his voice cracks. 

“I know.”  You cup his face in your hands, offers him comfort he doesn’t deserve. “That’s a chapter of our marriage that’s past, that can’t be unwritten. But the past few months have been different. You’ve shown me that you’ve changed.” 

The first glimmer of sunlight after a long, dark winter. Hope blooms with your smile. 

“I think”, you say. “I think we can make this work again.” 

He stares at you, dumbstruck. Then the fact that you’re giving him another chance dawns upon him, and he crashes forward to rest his head on your shoulder, unashamed to cry tears of relief. 

“Thank you”, he exhales brokenly. “I won’t fuck this up again, I promise.”

You press a kiss to his forehead, curl up trustingly in his arms. “Don’t thank me”, you laugh. “Thank yourself for making me believe in you.” 

 He drinks up each drop of your affection, falls asleep in the cradle of your arms. 

“Is this what flirting is like?” 

He wakes up to Aiko’s impertinent question, her hands on hips looking distinctly unimpressed at finding her parents asleep on the sofa, entwined together. 

“Who taught you that word?” Kuroo asks, aghast that his ten year old daughter even recognises the existence of the opposite gender. 

Aiko sticks her tongue at him, and he’s too distracted by Fumiko taking a flying leap onto the sofa with them, chattering a thousand miles an hour about what’s for breakfast and whether they can go to the zoo this afternoon - though he pins his suspicions on Bokuto’s trio of sons. 

“Monsters”, he says. “Can’t even give your to-san a break to snuggle up to your pretty ka’san.” 

The girls shriek in dismay - Aiko, at being a witness to further gross displays of affection between her parents, Fumiko, at being called a monster despite being a self-proclaimed princess. You prod at the soft flesh between his ribs. 

“Don’t be mean”, you admonish him. 

He sniffs, taking the chance to draw you closer. “I’m cranky in the mornings unless I get a morning kiss.” 

You snort, swatting at him. “You make it sound as if kisses contain caffeine.” 

The girls giggle, but he protests. 

“Full of nonsense”, you tease, but you kiss him, again and again and again. 

Things settle into a steady, sustainable pace. 

You refuse to allow him to bear the weight of the household on his back alone. There are frank conversations to be had about what each of you can realistically handle without burning out. He leads the charge in the mornings, whipping up breakfast with the aid of his two sous chefs, building an expertise in braiding and french twists that could possibly allow him to moonlight as a hairstylist. You, on the other hand, take charge of evening pick-ups, cooking dinners, supervising homework and art projects until he comes home and tags you out. 

Chores are evenly split. He doesn’t allow you to assume the mental load of organising the household by yourself. “We both have a degree in business management”, he likes to remind you, because he now knows that remembering to run errands, scheduling appointments - all of this is work too. 

You force him to take breaks. If you get to relax with your friends, so should he. “If you get too stressed, you’ll lose your hair and we can’t have that.” He yelps when he imagines himself bald and obediently complies when you call Kenma up, talk him into getting him and Bokuto and Akaashi (when he’s feeling less morose about his singlehood) to go for a round of pick up volleyball. “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself”, you note wryly when he returns home crowing about how he stuffed an Olympic player with a kill block. 

“I did”, he replies, catching your hips to pull you in, cheekily ignoring your complaints that he’s sweaty. “But I enjoy coming home to you even more.”

“Gross”, you grumble, but you seem content to remain in his arms. 

It’s another small moment he treasures. Life, he learns, is made of moments, both big and small. He’d made the mistake of only focusing on the big ones - graduation, playing at nationals, the day he was lucky enough to marry you, each of his daughter’s birthdays. Now, though, he cherishes each moment, each second he has with you and the girls, no matter how little, no matter how small. 

He likes to come into the bathroom each night, leaning his elbow on the edge of the bathtub as you chat to him about your day, luxuriating in the bath he drew for you. You and he take turns to complain about life’s inconveniences as you clear emails once the girls have gone off to bed- colleagues who shirk their work, bosses who nitpick overmuch, washing everything down with steaming cups of herbal tea. 

“Are you happy?”, he asks you, night after night. 

“Mm”, you say with an impish grin. “I’d be happier if you let me put my toes on your calves.” 

“They’re freezing”, he groans but scoots over anyway. “Better?” 

“Much better”, you hum, content. “Life is good.”

He’s not remiss in planning the big moments too. 

A year passes quickly to your wedding anniversary. He packs your suitcase, books the train tickets and whisks you back to the ryokan in Hakone, though this time he upgrades you both to their largest suite. “I feel like a princess!” you exclaim, twirling about the room. 

Your happiness is worth every yen he spent. 

You spend the day strolling down avenues lined with cherry blossoms, Mount Fuji looming in the backdrop, the evening exchanging heated kisses in the private onsen he booked. You’re older now, with laughter lines creased into your forehead, grey streaks in your hair, but you’re still the same girl he fell in love with all those years ago. 

“And you couldn’t wait ‘til we got back to our room?” you smack him. 

He also loves how there’s fire burning bright in your eyes, the way it always used to. “You kissed me first!” 

“You kissed me second!” 

“I don’t hear you complaining”, he cackles. 

You try to shush him, to no avail, as he draws the attention of everyone around him.

“What a happy couple”, an obaa-san remarks out loud. “They must be newlyweds.”  

Well, she’s not wrong. You’re as radiant as you were fifteen years ago, his spring bride, but he’s an old man doddering on, hopefully with his edges sanded off with time. “Just your regular old, married couple”, he chortles when you’re safely back in the room. 

“A happily married couple”, you reply, serenely sipping your tea. “That obaa-san definitely got that part right.” 

There’s a lump in his throat that he can’t swallow. “Are you happy?” he manages to ask anyway. 

“With you?” Your smile is warm, bright. Always.”

Both of you are doing alright.

a/n: it's been a while, hasn't it. i've been alright - how are you guys doing?

#kuroo x you #kuroo x reader #kuroo testuro #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fluff #kuroo series

[karasunowo]

“I didn’t know you had moles down your back.”

Kiyoomi pauses briefly to look at you over his shoulder, post shower body care being interrupted with your statement.

“We’ve been together for how long and you never knew that I had more moles on my body?” He asks, going back to applying his moisturizer. “Do you even look at my body?”

“Only the important parts,” you say, shrugging as you let your eyes wander slightly. There are more than a few freckles and moles on the broad space of his back, tracing like a constellation against the paleness of his skin. They lean along the right side of him, a few scattering on the left for an intricate design-

“Holy shit, stop staring at me,” he snickers, his eyes looking at you in the mirror. “I have moles. You kiss the ones on my forehead every morning. Chill.”

You get up and stalk over to him, arms wrapping lowly around his waist and face nuzzling into the dip of his back, “gonna have to kiss these ones too; they’ve been neglected too long.” You plant a few pecks to the bigger ones along his shoulder, and you smirk at the goosebumps that raise from your affection. “Ticklish?”

“I’ll knock you out with this lotion bottle,” he snarls, continuing his routine with you merely an add on to his body.

“Whatever.” You let your nails rake up the dip of his hips, only letting him go when he hisses and bumps his back against you to get you off. You kiss his warm skin one last time before making your way back to the perch on your shared bed, watching as his muscles and moles contort with every shift of his broad body as he applies his deodorant.

“What else are you hiding from me?”

“I’m having an affair,” he says simply.

“With who? Meian?”

“Yes.”

“You could never score Meian.”

“You’re just mad because Meian saw and admired my moles before you.”

You let out a few snorty laughters while he smirks to himself in the mirror, the night settling down into nothing uncommon or surprising, but perfect all the same.

God, you adore him.

“You’re ugly.”

“I love you too.”

#OGUYGBHRBGH #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa ficlet #ficlet #fluff #fluff ficlet #sakusa fluff #sakusa x reader #sfw #sfw ficlet

[karasunowo]

staycation

hirugami sachiro x cisfem!reader

summary: it’s the first day of your staycation with your fiancee, and Sachiro is ready to start things off right.

WC: 2.2k

tags: NSFW, MDNI, pwp, playful teasing, oral (reader receiving), Sachirou eats it from the back uwu, lots of biting, ass worship (no anal or anal play), sex in the kitchen, vaginal fingering

A/N: a piece for @mydiluc! thank you gray for commissioning me so long ago, and i’m sorry for the wait! your patience did wonders for my anxiety, you’re literally the sweetest person on the planet and i hope you really enjoy this piece!

mdni banner by @/cafekitsune

Bumping the door open with your hip, a grocery bag in each hand and purse swinging precariously on your shoulder, you’re pleasantly surprised to nearly trip over Sachiro’s big tennis shoes where they’re lined cleanly next to your house slippers in the tiny genkan of your shared apartment.

Normally, you would have grumbled over how huge his feet are while kicking off your own shoes, but knowing he’s home earlier than usual on the day that marks the first of your planned couple’s stay-cation has you rushing quickly into the apartment, gleeful that he’ll be home for dinner instead of staying late at work.

Keep reading

#iiuguuguuuuhggghh #uuUuUUUU #hirugami sachirou #hirugami sachirou x reader #hirugami x reader #fic #smut fic #sachirou smut #sachirou x reader

[karasunowo]

After Katsuki breaks up with you the city feels like a coffin. The tall buildings box you in, the anonymity they gave you now feels like a crushing weight on chest that's only amplified by the broken pieces of your shattered heart that stab into tissue and muscle with each step. Soon you feel like you'll be able to pull the fragments out of your chests and look inside the hole it left to see an empty cavity where you're heart should be.

You decide to leave the city that night, booking a flight home. Home is a funny word, considering it's been years since you've last been there. You know every street sign, every field. Most of the people are different. Your friends and family decided to move out after you did. "City life is better," they all said. And maybe there's some truth to that, but it's also so lonely and confining, and it doesn't have the one thing you desperately wanted to see.

You drop your bags off at the small bed and breakfast in town and then set off again. You walk past your old school, past the 7-11 where you would get snacks with your friends, the old bridge where that black cat always used to lay was replaced, the giant willow tree next to the river is nothing but a stump now, but the roads stay the same. You vear off your path as the sun starts to set, making your way through brush and trees to the spot you used to know so well.

The large clearing in the trees is just how you remember it. The grass grows tall enough to reach your knees in some places, green and full of memories you've forgotten. The orange and pinks of the sky fade into purples and blues just as you find the old metal bench that someone left here long before you ever found this place. You wonder if this was their favorite place in the world too.

Little blips of green light catch your eye, the lightning bugs slowing starting their dance through the field. Crickets and frogs add their symphony to the rustling with, and the little bugs begin their unchoreographed dance across the stage. The bursts of light sparkle through the grass, and you hate that even your favorite things are tainted with memories of him.

The last time you were here was with him, and even then, the way the bugs sparkled, small little explosions of color sprinkled through the field, reminded you of him and his quirk. Your chest aches again as the fragmented piece gets closer to the surface. Why can't you even have this moment of piece without thinking about him. Of that last fight and of the last words he said to you. Tears stream down your face as you remember the way the door slammed on his way out.

The symphony of crickets gets louder, rushing through your ears as you double over, tears falling from your face, making the world around you blurry. The dark blue tint of grass and trees are a soundboard for your wails as you add to the symphony of the forest; the lighting bugs continue their dance.

#idk where else to put this so #fic #breakups #breaking up #bakugou katsuki #bakugou fic

[karasunowo]

eta ;

boys be always lying

800+

"hi," osamu says, sliding into view.

you catch yourself before you can smile, your mouth freezing into some sort of weird grimace.

"hi," you grit out before turning away.

there's a room full of people around you and about a dozen different threads of conversation, you just need to find one—

"can we talk?" even though his tone is soft, it still cuts through the din of the party. you feel him lean over you, his mouth now level with your ear. there's no physical contact but still, you recoil.

"umm," the back of your socked heel nudges up against the wall. "no, that's—no, i don't think... i have to..."

you duck past him, the lukewarm remnants of a cup of rosé sloshing in your hand as you make a beeline towards the kitchen.

"who the hell brings rosé to a party," suna had snorted earlier that evening.

you did. you brought rosé to a party and now you were glad everyone else was drinking the harder stuff instead because there was no way you could partake in that tonight.

"i just need you to hear me out," his voice follows you down the hall.

you shake your head but he catches up with you anyway. even in the unflattering cool light of the kitchen fluorescents, one look at him is enough to make your hands feel uncomfortably clammy.

"i don't need to do anything," you say, with just not enough resolve to sell it.

"okay no, i'm sorry. you don't need to do anything, i just, i wanted to tell you myself, but—"

"so then why'd you tell half the student body first?"

all the chatter around you comes to a startlingly abrupt halt and you feel the gaze of everyone within a ten foot radius shift towards you.

fuck this, you think. because you're so over it. so over the embarrassment and confusion, the late night phone calls, and the blank stares the next morning in class. plus you're so over how stupidly fucking hot it was in this house.

but instead of storming out and telling him to fuck off once and for all, you walk over to the sink, pour out the rest of your drink and place the cup in the nearest trash bag.

by now, people have started to drift back into their own conversations and are polite enough to avoid looking at you when you pass directly by them to get to the door.

shoving your feet into your sneakers, you rush to pull open the door and escape the personal hell that this party was metamorphizing into.

you speed walk past the throng of people smoking outside, your heels not even in your shoes and you pull up the maps app on your phone in an attempt to gain your bearings on the endless sprawl of suburbia around you.

"can i at least call you a ride?"

that voice again.

there's a heavy dose of exasperation in his tone and a touch of what you can only describe as...hurt? but you know better.

at least, you think you do.

you slow down, soles scuffing on the pavement as you squint down at your phone screen.

"why do you keep following me," your voice betraying your own exhaustion.

"and why do you keep telling everyone that you like me," you continue. "a-and that you want to date me and that you can't stop thinking about me." your face burns as you recall what you've only heard secondhand.

"like seriously, why do you lie about these things," you press. "is it fucking funny to embarrass me like that? that shit's like pathological."

"you think 'm lying?" he asks incredulously, like you'd just proved to him that the moon was made out of cheese.

"well, yeah," you say. "because i know what you did with haruka and miho and wakaba—"

"did you see me with anyone else tonight?"

the question is simple enough but you still struggle to answer, your tongue heavy in your mouth. you hadn't seen him with anyone else that night, but you've heard so many things from so many people...

"i like you," he says, with so much gravity that it draws your gaze to his. "i like you a lot 'nd honestly, you're making me kinda anxious right now and i'm worried that i won't be able to say this right."

"but i'm being real when i say that i like you 'nd only you."

"and..." a warm hand cups your jaw, tilting your chin up towards him. "if you'd let me, i'll do anything to prove it. just say the word and i'm yours."

but it's probably you that's his now as any doubt you had crumbles away.

this feels good, you think, as he leans in; as you're captured in his orbit.

this feels right.

inside his pocket and out of your sight, his phone buzzes and the screen lights up with a notification:

from: miho 😘 (1) new message

#OH SONUVABITCH #miya osamu x reader #miya osamu #osamu fic #fic #angst #angst fic #osamu angst #cheating #infidelity #sfw

[karasunowo]

thinkin' about being ushijima's neighbor who waters his (surprisingly numerous) houseplants when he's traveling for away games

#ushijima x reader #ushijima wakatoshi #WEH #ushijima ficlet #fluff #fluff ficlet #sfw

[karasunowo]

cw - ANGST, hurt no comfort, kuroo x reader, cw infidelity

Kuroo bounces his knee, sensing the miles of distance between you as you sit across from him in the cafe.

"How're things?" He asks awkwardly, usually able to make music out of silence, he finds that around you today his performative social graces are out of reach.

"Fine." You say softly, mouth pressed into a hard line. "Why did you want to see me so badly?" He bounces his knee harder, he knew this would hurt, but hadn't imagined your edges to be so jagged so many months later.

"Obviously to apologize." He says, and then regrets his choice of words almost immediately. You nod a couple of times, the tension in your mouth spreading to your jaw, you look down at his hands, folded on the table next to his coffee, black with cinnamon, no sugar, like some kind of sociopath, you'd used to joke with him about it.

"So apologize." You manage, and he looks past you, still as handsome as the day you'd met him, the crisp collar of his shirt, his sharp cheekbones, his amber eyes light and alive.

"I am sorry for cheating on you." He says, and surprises himself even with how hard the words are to get out. "I can't imagine what finding that out would have been like for you."

"No you can't." The words are bitter even in your own mouth. "No you can't imagine." He nods.

"Of course. Of course not." He glances at his coffee, wondering if he sips will it burn his tongue. "I thought it would be good, to say it to you."

"Good for whom?" You ask, eyebrows raised. "Do you feel better? Lighter?" He swallows.

"In my head, this was for you, and not for me." He explains, and the noise of the cafe is deafening as the blood rushes in your ears. "I'm realizing in this moment that this might have been a selfish endeavor." You take a long slow breath in, and then blow it out. The pastry he'd purchased for you sits untouched on it's little blue plate.

"Can I know?" Your voice gets tight and pinched and fuck it you hate it you hate him, you hate crying and you're not going to- "Can I know why?"

"There's no why," He blurts, practiced, ready for this question. "There isn't, she didn't have anything you didn't, and uh," he laughs nervously, "It's not like the sex was better, it was just there, and I just,"

"Just fucked her?" You say, a little too loud, drawing stares from a few onlookers. "It was just there, so you just-"

"Please." Kuroo says, maintaining his pleasant smile, "We can go, do you want to go on a walk, or something we could-"

"Oh because god fucking forbid someone stare," You snap, the volume of your voice rising as you stand, the screech of your metal chair against the tile floor is deafening. He chases you out of the cafe, palming a few bills to the waitress.

"Come on," He catches up to you, taking your arm gently and you whirl around on him as people pass by, eyes volcanic. "I just-"

"She was just fucking there," You snarl, "You expect me to believe-"

"She was there and it was easy," He says, anger in his voice, some of his mask finally fucking slipping, "She was there and it wasn't a production, and she wasn't sad and tired, and broken, and it was fucking easy, okay, alright, is that what you wanted to hear!" He looks down at you, your eyes wide, expecting you to shout back, for you to fight, but instead, you wilt, melting as a light spring rain starts to fall. "Wait," he says, as you turn from him again, walking slowing away, "Wait, wait, wait, this was, this was supposed to be-"

"Go away." You mutter.

"I didn't mean-"

"You did." You turn back to him one last time, the rain is dappling the shoulders of his shirt. "You did. You did mean it. Do me the favor of being fucking honest for once you meant it." The two of you stand there as the storm picks up, as you watch him struggle with something you couldn't understand.

"I thought I could fix you." He says, eyes finally finding yours. The tears you've been holding back finally start to flow.

"Well," Your voice is lighter than you think it will be as thunder rolls in the distance. "You couldn't."

#screams #angst #angst ficlet #kuroo angst #kuroo ficlet #kuroo x reader #ficlet #kuroo tetsurou #infidelity #cheating

[karasunowo]

more

semi eita x f!reader

585, angst

“babe, can you imagine? an arena full of people,” he says as he jumps onto a park bench, arms spreading wide above him, “and they’re all singing my songs. the songs i wrote.”

you giggle at semi’s sudden outburst and he continues even as strangers passing by stare at him with questioning looks.

there’s a tint of pink on his cheeks. you can’t tell if it’s from the cold or from the drinks you had at dinner, although the last bottle of beer may be the cause of your boyfriend playing the air guitar and singing into his imaginary mic on your walk home.

he sings in earnest, without a care of who’s watching or listening, and you can’t help but smile. semi’s always been passionate, whether it was volleyball or music, but you’ve always thought he was the most radiant when he was performing. it’s as if he belongs on the stage, even if his stage is just a bench in your neighborhood park at that moment.

“encore!” you clap as semi finishes, taking a seat on the bench opposite of him. you fish your phone out of your pocket, and the flash from your phone lights up the dimly lit path. semi breaks out into a laugh as you sway back and forth, with hands in the air, cheering his faux park concert on.

he takes a leap off the bench, rushing over to pluck the phone out of your hands, pulling you into a kiss. “hey!” you laugh in-between each peck, “i was recording the show!”

“you’ll have plenty of other chances—” he chuckles, “—when you’re sitting front row at my actual shows.”

“oh, really? i get to be front row for every show?”

“of course, who else is gonna catch the panties girls try to throw at me?” you shove semi away, although he barely moves.

“who says i won’t be one of the girls throwing their panties at you?” you huff.

“then yours are going to be the only ones i catch,” he grins. you playfully roll your eyes, giving semi your cute annoyed face he adores so much.

“come on.” a quick kiss to the forehead soothes you, your lips curving into a soft smile as he slips his hand in yours. “gotta take my number one fan home with me.”

Keep reading

#auuugfhhfb #sfw #angst #angst ficlet #ficlet #semi eita #semi x reader #semi angst #semi ficlet #gn reader

[karasunowo]

Strangers to lovers with your fave meeting you at a Halloween party dressed as—

[karasunowo]

does this mean we can talk about grandpa ukai again

#YES mint gets it #EVERYONE (read: Vivian) THOUGHT I WAS CRAZY FOR THINKING UKAI SR IS HOT #AND HE IS

[karasunowo]

Someone left a kudos on this and it reminded me that I did in fact wrote a small iwaoi onshot some time ago :D

A small thing from Iwaizumi’s pov.

#iwaoi #fic #iwaoi fic #iwaizumi hajime #oikawa tooru #ship fic #no reader #sfw #fluff #awawa #CUTE

[karasunowo]

God I just love little brother energy. Your younger brother's friend who's had a crush on you since high school and has been waiting for the day when he's old enough for you to take seriously. Your best friend's younger brother who was always crashing your hangout sessions but only because he thought you were soooo pretty and cool and now that he's got his big boy job he's trying to shoot his shot. Your ex's younger brother who's eager to prove that he can take care of you so much better than his shitty older brother ever did.

#misc thirst #fr why is that so cute lol #he's just baby

[karasunowo]

ukai keishin x gn!reader minors and ageless blogs dni

ukai loves to spoil you. but not in a "buys you whatever you want" and "lavishes you with expensive gifts way." ukai spoils you in a softer way.

he saves the last slice of cheesecake in the fridge for you, telling you that he's not a big fan of cheesecake because he thinks it's too rich even though you know for a fact it's his favorite dessert. after all, for his birthday, he always wants a cheesecake from his favorite bakery instead of a proper cake.

whenever you disagree over what to watch, he's always caves first and goes along with your choice. he'll grumble about it as you're navigating through your apps to find whatever he's agreed to, but he always makes a good faith effort to at least appear interested.

he always tries to get to chores around the house before you can. he knows how much you hate having to fold laundry so he's already putting things in drawers before you can even check and see if the clothes are dry. the trash is always emptied before you have the chance to wonder if it's time to take it out. even when your hands are elbow-deep in soapy water at the kitchen sink, he'll nudge you aside with his hip, wordlessly letting you know that he'll finish up for you.

although he prefers sleeping on his stomach, he often falls asleep on his side so that you can sleep how you like, curled up closely into his chest. one night, on the verge of falling asleep, you apologized to him, saying you knew that he didn't like sleeping on his side, but he just held you closer and said that sleeping on your stomach is actually bad for your spine.

and when he's at home between your thighs, grinding against you, grinding into you, as you whine into his neck, begging him for more, he never even thinks of denying you. he just groans low and asks, "what do you want, baby?" right into your ear through heavy pants. and as soon as you've answered his question, "your fingers. your mouth. you." he gives you exactly what you want.

#SIGHS #WHAT A MAN #ukai keishin #ukai x reader #ukai keishin x reader #ukai fic #fic #suggestive #ukai suggestive

[karasunowo]

Retired Pro-Athlete Bokuto

Retired pro-athlete Bokuto who as he aged and played less started to take more interest in your job and reading up on your career. Before you know it he’s talking about articles he has read and even places he feels would be better suited for you.

Retired pro-athlete Bokuto who started to get soft around the middle and despite his occasional gripe over it, you always tell him how sexy he still looks.

Retired pro-athlete Bokuto who started to work out again–much to your dismay–and decided to start coaching at the local and very prestigious university in town. He claimed it had nothing to do with the fact that it was the university you attended.

Retired pro-athlete Bokuto who spent his free time tracking down your old professors just so he could hear their stories about you. Were you always so smart? Were you as punctual and stuck to routine as you were when he first started dating you? At least you had mellowed out with age, he supposed he had too. Bokuto could never pass up gushing over you and your job. About how someone so amazing, smart, and attractive could ever be with someone like him. Your old professors just look at him blankly wondering if he realized just how attractive he was.

Retired pro-athlete Bokuto who would sometimes snuck into the university library and read some of the books he took for granted when he went to university. As he flipped through the pages and really appreciated the information and the stories, he thought how different–how much easier– things would’ve been if you had gone to the same university. Would you have been his tutor? Would you have been as patient with him? Or would you have lost your patience and never talk to him again? He shook his head knowing he shouldn’t think about the what ifs and be thankful that you had met when you did and were now married.

Retired pro-athlete Bokuto who would still do his signature ‘Bokuto Beam’ if you happened to swing by and watch him as he coached the young athletes. You smiled as the ball bounced off his chest, the small crow’s feet at the corners of his honeyed eyes. His hair now greyer and his chest somehow wider than when he was in his prime. Who were you kidding? He was still in his prime. Maybe not as a pro athlete, but physically, mentally and emotionally. He matured in so many ways, but he always remained the Bokuto you fell in love with. 

Retired pro-athlete Bokuto who sometimes felt that pang of jealousy in his chest when he watched his team play with such vigor. Self-doubt crept its way into his heart, but this time he knew how to talk himself out of it. He had his time and in a couple of decades these guys would too. Maybe they’d be retired athletes that become coaches like him. Maybe they'll be athletic trainers like Iwaizumi and maybe they’ll leave the sport as soon as they leave university.

Retired pro-athlete Bokuto who still blushed hard every time he got a kiss from you, especially if it was in front of his team. College guys are the worst. 

Retired pro-athlete Bokuto who had made especially difficult exercises the standard every time one of the boys looked at you for too long and smirked or their locker room talk consisted of you. Did they not realize how sound carried in the locker room? They soon caught on and were always on their best behavior when you swung by for practices or matches. 

Retired pro-athlete Bokuto who still had the energy of a regular twenty year old, but not the energy of his younger self. That was fine by him, he loved to relax with you after a long day, even if he wasn’t the one running around and playing like he used to.

Retired pro-athlete Bokuto who felt the aches in his bones, who also noticed the crow’s feet, the laugh lines and the increasing amount of grey in his hair, but he didn’t care. He was growing older with you, even though 40 really wasn’t old– unless you’re an athlete of course. Your hair started to become grayer as well, he found it sexy. He found everything about you sexy.

Retired pro-athlete Bokuto who aged like fine wine, and even if he didn’t, you’d love him no matter what. Because it was never about what was on the outside. It was always about his heart, his passion and his spirit. 

#CUTE #bokuto koutarou #bokuto x reader #bokuto fluff #bokuto scenarios #scenarios #fluff scenarios #sfw

[karasunowo]

Suna’s always been on the lookout for Kita Shinsuke’s weakness.

Kita knows it. Suna knows he knows it. But the middle blocker insists the steadfast captain has a weakness.

Everyone does.

“Sunarin yer in fer a real treat today.”

Suna rolls his eyes at the faux-blonde’s haughty tone. “Yeah? Why’s that.”

“…‘Cause.” Atsumu throws an arm over the middler blocker’s shoulder as they walk into the gym. “I heard a rumor that our senpai’s senpais are in town.”

“Why do I care?”

“Since ya weren’t here when they stopped by last year…” Atsumu pushes off to dramatically walk away. “Guess yer just gonna hafta wait ‘n’ see.”

Practice is practice and Suna’s unimpressed with the people who sneak in and wave to the third years.

He mentally questions Atsumu’s sanity–not for the first time–and goes about what’s expected of him until break is called.

“Oh. My. GOD!” There’s a shriek of enthusiasm that grates Suna’s nerves as the visitors come down. From the corner of his eye he sees you launch yourself into Aran’s arms. “O. Ji. Ro!”

The ace spins you around with a huge smile, hugging you back. “Hi!”

When he puts you down you lightly slap his biceps. “Look at you my little not-so-little-anymore wing spiker!”

He grins, playfully guarding himself from anymore of your excited hits. “Hey, come on, I’m the ace now!”

“Top five in the country, I know!” You beam at him until– “OMIMI!”

Suna cringes at the pitch of your voice and expects the senior middle blocker to disregard you but he cracks a small smile and accepts your hug one-handedly.

“Oh my gosh,” you shake him though he doesn’t budge. “Look at all of you!” You turn your sights on the libero next who receives a hug that sends you both spinning, only staying up because of him. “Mygodd I’ve missed you all so much.”

Akagi keeps an arm wrapped around your waist as a voice separates the crowd.

“It’s nice to see you senpai.”

“Kita,” you grin keeping an arm over Akagi’s shoulder, “I heard you made captain this year. Congratulations.”

“Thank you very much.” He bows his head. “But we’re in the middle of practice,” he scans you and the other alumni mingling among his team. “Perhaps we could properly catch up after.”

Suna’s about to tune out the rest of this conversation until he sees the smallest shift in your eyes. You’re still grinning but there’s a flicker of something darker as you say “I’m not surprised you run a tight ship. We don’t mind waiting, after all we don’t want to hurt your chances at making nationals.”

You return to the stand quietly talking with the others and Suna gently bumps Atsumu on their way back to the court. “So? Who the hell is that?”

Atsumu smirks. “That was the manager for our captain’s first year.”

After practice the team decides to take the reunion to a cafe but there’s a glaring absence.

“He said he’ll catch up. You know him,” Aran drops his voice. “He insists on doing his whole routine.”

Suna turns in time to see you pat Aran’s chest and murmur something that makes the ace sigh.

“If anyone can break him from his routine, it would be you.” He waves off your smirk and walks on with the group. He catches Suna looking back. “You good?”

“I think I left my phone in my locker.” He makes a point of patting his pockets and cursing under his breath. “I’ll meet you guys at the cafe.”

He doesn’t wait for Aran to reply before strolling back to campus.

You’re already out of sight.

 The gym’s dark when Suna slips inside but there’s a sliver of light from one of the equipment closets.

Like a shadow Suna crosses the courts and silently sidles up to the door getting as close as he dares.

“You’re doing well.” Your voice is friendly but Suna can still here that hint of something more. “I’ve heard through the granny-grapevine that you’ve become quite popular this year. Been getting a lot of confessions.”

“It’s all a matter of perspective.”

Suna leans closer, trying to peek through the crack and see what the two of you are doing. You’re absentmindedly tracing shelves while Kita wipes down volleyballs.

“Aren’t you going to ask me about uni?” Your voice drops and you slowly walk behind him, eyes following every subtle movement while he keeps his eyes on his work. “Come on Shin, don’t be like this…” You walk around the ball cart to face him. “Don’t ignore me.”

“I’m not ignoring you. I’m just not interested in catching up.”

“Really?” You circle the ball cart. “So you haven’t missed me?” 

He keeps his eyes down methodically wiping.

“Haven’t wondered anything about where I’ve been…” You’re watching him closely, fingers trailing the edge of the cart. “…What I’ve been doing?…”

“No,” he answers simply and Suna wonders if this is a lost cause, too; if you’re just like everything else that can’t get under the captain’s skin.

“So you’re not upset with me, then?” You’re approaching him again. “You’re completely indifferent to me being here–”

“You’re the one who left!”

Suna freezes, eyes bulging at the sharp snap of his captain’s voice.

You pause as Kita finally looks up, his normally calm features creased in frustration.

“Stop playing games,” he says forcefully and frowns. “You left and never looked back.”

Slowly exhaling through your nostrils your eyes trace the details of his face. “A rice farm.”

Kita looks as confused as Suna feels.

“Is that still your plan after graduation?” you ask. “To own a rice farm?”

“You…remember…” Kita’s brow dips incredulously and you sigh in frustration.

“Agricultural Business Development.” You slowly start closing the small distance between the two of you again. “That’s the major I chose, Shin…”

Suna can see understanding spread through his captain.

“I always planned to come home to you…” you murmur. You’re stalking toward him and Kita starts to back up, step-for-step, and when he bumps into a shelf you cage him in.

“I’m sorry I’ve left you for so long…but you’ve been waiting for me right, Shin?…” Kita’s eyes flutter closed as you lightly touch his hair and whisper “…my good boy?”

#OOOH THIS ONE GOOD #kita shinsuke #kita x reader #reader insert #female reader #sfw #kita ficlet #ficlet

[karasunowo]

「lily blooming」

warnings: kageyama tobio x f!reader. fluff.

there are many things that you can go to an affable, arrogant, and arguably very attractive argentinian volleyball superstar for: free food, good company, and depending on the day, inexpensive clothing recommendations. but as you’ve quickly learned, going to oikawa tooru for relationship advice is not one of them.

it’s not that he doesn’t have the experience to share. he does, with his bucketful of exes and the dozens of florist shop phone numbers committed to memory. and now that he’s even in an even more committed relationship with a nice girl that owns a peach farm in california—a friend of iwaizumi’s, naturally—it says a lot about oikawa’s qualifications in that department.

the only problem here is that it takes a certain kind of person to take advice on love and all its beautiful complications from oikawa tooru. the list is short and of the limited honourees, kageyama tobio is not one of them.

and as the japanese setter’s publicist, you’re starting to find the argentinian’s love advice real annoying.

“kageyama-san, please go back to wearing your compression shirt every game,” you sigh, looking up at the player as he sits down for your biweekly scheduled catch up. “we really can’t get anymore complaints about this.”

kageyama frowns, and when he does, you want to both curse and praise the heavens for landing you a job where you get the kageyama tobio tilting his head in confusion at you every other week, big blue eyes, furrowed brows and all.

“but you said i did a good job,” he almost pouts, and you have to remind your mouth that it exists to speak and not in desire to fly towards your client in a violent, decidedly unprofessional kiss.

“yes,” you bite the word mechanically, haltingly, “the first time. really appreciate your help with that month’s KPI. but then you got weirdly dedicated and it became pretty obvious that you show off your abs only when we play the jackals.” he follows your gaze as it lands on a thick folder. it opens up to a single page. “they just sent in an official letter saying we’re enacting ‘psychological warfare’ on them.”

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#NOT QUITE DONE READING BUT YUREN THIS HAS ME ROLLING #I ADORE THIS GOD YOUR WRITING IS CHEF'S KISS #kageyama tobio #kageyama x reader #kageyama fic #kageyama fluff #fluff #fic #fluff fic #timeskip

[karasunowo]

T/N: I cannot guarantee the complete accuracy of this translation.

Please do not repost or share this translation elsewhere.

Haikyuu Character: Oikawa Tooru

VA: Namikawa Daisuke​​

Context: You’re engaged to Oikawa and you’re helping him run a hot springs resort. HAPPY BIRTHDAY, OIKAWA! <3

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#audio #oikawa audio #translation #AAAAAA #SCREEEEEE #oikawa tooru #oikawa x listener