#kita shinsuke fic

[narumi-gens]

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

[teamatsumu]

kinktober 2023 -> day 28

double penetration - kita shinsuke x reader x miya osamu

word count: 1186

warnings: smut, swearing, kita and reader are in an established relationship, fluff towards the end

kinktober masterlist

You liked to believe you knew your boyfriend, Kita Shinsuke, pretty well.

You had met as mere kids in diapers. You had grown up with him. You knew of his careful routine, his vigilant schedule. You knew how caring he was, how wonderfully attentive. His love for his profession, hours and hours put into his precious fields, to earn a living for himself and you, his loving, doting housewife. All of these qualities, and more, were what made you fall in love with him in the first place.

Never in your wildest dreams did you think Kita would ever suggest something like this.

You stared into his burning gold eyes with tears in your own, mouth dropped open, struggling to breathe. He reached for your face, careful thumb brushing over your wet cheek. You inhaled deeply as your body was jostled forward again, your stare with Kita breaking as your eyes squeezed shut and a low groan sounded from behind you.

“Go slow, Osamu.” You heard Kita say. “She’s hurtin’.”

A huff from the man in question. “I thought ya said ya prepped her for this.”

“Apparently not enough.” Came the reply.

It took another few minutes before Osamu was fully buried inside you, both men finally filling you up to the hilt. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, shaky and broken.

“Relax, sweetheart.” You heard your husband’s voice, gentle and doting in your ear. You felt his hand run through your hair where your head rested against his shoulder, trying with everything in you to undo how tense your muscles were. You weren’t used to this. You and Kita enjoyed a very vanilla sex life. It wasn’t even until one month ago that Kita had started playing with your ass, experimenting by prodding it, then entering, fingering, fucking.

You had loved it.

“Shinsuke,” you lifted yourself up, supporting your weight with your hands on Kita’s chest. You felt your back brush against Osamu’s front, felt his breath hit the back of your neck as your movement caused both men to shift inside you.

“You okay, baby?” Kita intertwined the fingers of his right hand with your left, the other running slowly down your side for comfort.

You nodded. “Feels- feels good.”

Kita’s lips turned up slightly in a smile. “Yeah?”

You nodded.

Kita shifted his hips then, just enough to change the angle of his cock in your pussy, causing you to whine. Behind you, Osamu groaned.

“Don’t do that, Kita-san.” His voice was so strained it caused worry to stir in your chest. “She’s clenchin’ round me so tight. I’ll cum too quick.”

Your cheeks burned at how crude he sounded, and you would feel embarrassed if you weren’t so preoccupied with how stuffed you were. Growing up with Kita meant growing up with Osamu too. He was your friend. And now here he was, buried balls deep in your asshole.

“Move, Osamu.” Kita finally said, before holding your hips tight with both hands, planting his feet steadily on the bed, and thrusting up into you.

You cried out and Osamu groaned, immediately following suit. You felt the breath get knocked out of you, eyes rolling up as both men began moving in earnest.

The sounds filling the air were nothing short of filthy, wet squelching that caused your body to heat up in embarrassment, yet somehow made you even more horny. God, you had never felt like this before. Never for one second were you left empty. If Kita pulled out, Osamu thrusted back in, and when Osamu left you, Kita filled you up. You couldn’t breathe with how shot every nerve in your body was, eyes crossing when Kita quickly found your sweet spot, making you yelp and arch back, once again making soft contact with the sturdy torso behind you.

Osamu’s arm wrapped around your waist, holding you in place against his chest. His teeth grazed the side of your neck before leaving a tiny bite on the skin.

“Watch it,” Kita choked out. “No marks.”

Osamu’s lips replaced his teeth then, moving up to nibble at your earlobe. Throughout all of it, neither men even slowed their pace. You felt your body jerk and jolt, manhandled by these two men as they used you for their pleasure. You moaned loudly at the thought.

“F-fuck.” Osamu groaned into your ear. “F-feels so good, Y/N-san. Yer tight as anythin’.”

The undulating of three bodies felt heavenly. Touches felt on every part of you at any given time. Your holes ached, as if protesting the intrusion, the carving of big cocks inside your tight insides. Kita’s hands ran over your thighs, soothing any ache that formed with your position, while Osamu’s big hand ran over your front, groping and squeezing your breast with eager motions. Kita’s noises were low and consistent, small groans leaving his lips every few seconds. Osamu was louder, whining and cursing in your ear as if he was losing his virginity all over again.

You were so turned on you couldn't think straight.

You felt a familiar thumb find your clit, clenching hard when Kita started working it in tight, hard circles. You wailed at the feeling, almost trying to push away from it. It was too much. It was all so overwhelming-

“I’m gonna cum,” you weeped, eyes catching your husband’s while your nails dug into the arm Osamu had wrapped around you. “Shinsuke, I’m gonna cum.”

“Do it, baby.” He replied, tugging you down onto his body again and holding your hips still as both him and Osamu picked up the pace. You screamed and cried as your orgasm hit you full force, briefly whiting out your vision and making your body twitch and jerk all over. You heard Osamu moan, low and loud, before he buried himself in you to the hilt and warmth spread inside you. Kita was next, thrusting a few more times before he came as well, groaning and huffing in your ear.

You fell limp onto Kita, wincing when Osamu slowly pulled out, his cum dripping down to where you and Kita were still joined. Kita made no move to do the same. Instead, he wrapped his arms tightly around you, turning you both to your sides.

You heard Osamu mumble something about a shower before pattering out of the room, leaving you in the warmth of your husband’s arms. You let your eyes fall shut.

“You okay?”

You hummed and nodded, hugging him tighter. You felt him lay a kiss on the crown of your head.

“I take it that you’ll wanna do that again?”

You giggled and looked up at him, grinning sheepishly. “Was it that obvious?”

He ran a hand through your hair, pushing it off your forehead. “You shoulda’ seen yerself, baby. Pretty little thing, moanin’ and cryin’ on our cocks. Ya looked like ya were gonna pass out.”

You groaned and buried your head into his chest again, feeling it vibrate with his laugh. A smile tugged at your lips when you heard the shower turn on in the next room.

Taglist:

@bxbyyyjocelyn @thisbicc @lazuliquartz @dreamayy @kuroosluthoe @true-form-hoe @akumakitsune21 @cham0mil3-and-h0n3y @samisfunky @universal-s1ut @msbyomimi @dohwaesu @leothesquishy @n0tmykays @tsukiran @reyofsunshinelol @bleach-your-panties @galaneiaeris @leyra-giovanni @erenspersonalwh0re @peachesncats s @soapsoftheworld @iwannabecamiloshovel @vintagevict0ria @smithieandy @moonlit-mizukage @snazzyturtles @argwein

A/N: For those whose tags arent working, im sorry! I tried and for some reason, your names wont show up in the mentions :( another way of being notified is to turn on my blog notifs for @teamatsumufics . I only reblog my fics there so it serves almost like being in a taglist!

#kita shinsuke #kita shinsuke x reader #kita shinsuke x y/n #kita shinsuke x you #kita shinsuke smut #kita shinsuke fluff #kita shinsuke fic #kita smut #kita x reader #miya osamu #miya osamu x reader #miya osamu smut #miya osamu x you #miya osamu x y/n #miya osamu fic #haikyuu smut #hq smut #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu fic #haikyuu imagines #kinktober

[h4mmiee]

evening on the farm

#i had a whole fic idea for this scene but i cant write so you get this instead #oh look its 10-1 that's a funny coincidence #kita shinsuke #suna rintarou #inarizaki #haikyuu #haikyuu fanart

[nariism]

a place to call home — k. shinsuke

one bed + childhood rivals/friends to lovers

synopsis. "be kind, shinsuke." that's what yumie always told her grandson. and he would live by those words—even if it meant sleeping on the floor every weekend.

wc. ~2k

— for @mastering-procrastinating & an anon bff! 🫶 | event masterlist ✉️

The day after Kita Shinsuke turns six years old, the vacant house across the street suddenly springs to life with occupants.

His life spirals from being humble and quiet to chaotic in 24 hours. Suddenly, he's responsible for taking care of the bratty kid next door even though they're his age. His bedtime gets thrown out the window because he needs to chase them down to get them to brush their teeth, and his dinner always has some suspiciously missing elements that he never finds.

You become the centerpiece of his entire existence—a floating memory in every crevice of his mind.

Kita hears your laughter in the songs of his childhood; feels your hands roughly pushing him and dragging him around by the wrist; smells the minty toothpaste he forcefully shoved into your mouth after finally catching up to you. 

It seems as though you and him were born to be polar opposites. Where he climbs you stumble. Where he sits quietly at the dinner table, you have a never-ending stream of anecdotes to tell Granny (even though half of them are greatly exaggerated—he was literally there to witness it). Where he behaves like a normal child, you can't even sit still during storytime in class.

However, your differences do little to remove you from his life. Where he goes, you go.

It's a consequence of growing up thirty meters from your front door and having you over when your parents suddenly uproot to go on week-long business trips.

And he wouldn't care so much, really, if it weren't for the fact that Granny had equal amounts of love to go around. That, and he would have to sleep on the floor whenever you came around.

For someone so disciplined and grounded, Kita Shinsuke was an envious child. He hated having you in his home, because it meant that his beloved Granny had to split her attention between the two of you. Because she would always tuck you in before him. Because you were louder, more needy, more everything. Because he often woke up with back pains at the ripe age of six years old.

When Kita turns eight, he finally bubbles over.

You're on the swings behind one of your friends, standing on the back of the seat and clinging to the chains. You're being careless, and he would be remiss if you were to hurt yourself.

"Get down from there," he scolds, standing in front of the swing set to stop you from continuing.

"Make me!" You exclaim back, childishly sticking out your tongue and rocking the swing back and forth, gesturing to your friend to keep going.

"Stop."

He comes up behind you and tugs at your shirt, making you wobble.

"Quit it, Shin!"

"You'll hurt yourself!"

He convinces himself that he only cares so much because Granny would have to spend more time with you to patch you up if you fell, and not because he would hate to see your snotty, crying face.

No, it doesn't make his heart squeeze. Not even a little.

Eventually, you end up face first in the wood chips anyway, with Kita hovering over you looking guilty as ever. He hadn't meant to pull you off so roughly, nor had he meant for you to land on the ground like that.

Oh. Why does it hurt him so much?

That night, you don't sleep in his room.

You end up tucked into Granny's bed instead, down the hall. He misses your presence—he even ends up on the floor though the bed is empty for him to take.

He blinks up at the space where you should be and feels bitterness swelling in his throat. 

"Shin." His Granny calls softly when she eventually comes into his room. She doesn't sound the least bit angry, but he still aches with nothing but guilt.

"M'sorry." He knows the apology should be for you, but you couldn’t even look him in the eye over dinner.

His Granny only sighs, kneeling down beside his futon with a tired huff. A reminder of her age. He only feels worse.

"Be kind, Shinsuke."

"I'm tryin'," he argues weakly.

She's silent for a pause before she carefully tucks the silver hair from his eyes.

"You'd be lonely too if I were gone all the time, eh?"

"..."

Kita pulls the covers closer to his chin. Yes, he was aware there was a reason you were always here. There was a reason your house was devoid of life despite being filled with furniture. There was a reason you wanted Granny to love you so much, cementing in the gaps where your parents were always absent.

Did you ever want him to love you like that, too?

The next night, he sits you down on the edge of the tub with no complaints. And he's surprised that you accept the toothbrush into your mouth so easily, no resistance and no qualms like you usually have.

He sees the tired defeat in your eyes, feels the awkward tension in the bathroom, and guides your hand to the end of the brush so you can do it yourself.

"I'm sorry," he tells you without elaborating. You never need him to. (When you reminisce about this day, you sometimes laugh to yourself. You always did love how straightforward he was.)

His words are followed by a tense hug, his hands holding your head against his tummy. The brush stops moving in your mouth as you hug him back.

It dawns on him then: he's just as much of a kid as you are—feeling something as petty as jealousy when all you needed was a hug.

One day, he swears, he'll make it up to you. And he'll be nicer, too. It's the least he can do if he's all the company you have until your parents return.

Be kind, Shinsuke. That's what Yumie always told her grandson. And he would live by those words—even if it meant sleeping on the floor every weekend.

The day after Kita Shinsuke turns twenty-two years old, your apartment floods.

Of course he's the first one there, helping you move what you could salvage from the apartment into suitcases and onto the back of his truck. Of course he's the one to offer a place to stay, because if not him, then who else? And of course he's the one who holds you when you're stressing about what to do and where to go, hand firmly on your back as he lets you snot on his shirt like you've done since you were six.

For a brief moment, it feels as though he's just a little kid again with you making a mess of the home he grew up in.

Well, mess is a stretch—you've infinitely matured since starting food wars with him over dinner, but the point stands when he ends up helping you with an assignment. It had been pushed to the backburner with everything going on, whilst you were moving essentially everything you owned into his house as if you paid rent there.

He should have known that some things never change.

"I can't believe you kicked me out onto the floor."

Kita shuffles in the comfort of his duvet, resting atop his mattress. He stares at you with honey brown eyes swimming in conflict from the bed.

You curl tighter into a ball on the futon. And he knows this ploy—knows that you're trying to guilt trip him into swapping places with you. You've always been manipulative when it came to him, and god-forbid he be anything but an angel to you. (Because his Granny told him to, not for any other reason at all.)

"M'not the one who made a bet they couldn't win."

Words straight and cutting as ever, like a blade through your heart. You pout childishly, rolling over so that your back is turned to him.

It was your idea to challenge him when he said you were on your phone too much while working. It was your idea to be a brat and defiantly say that you could finish your assignment by midnight. It was your idea to bet this all on the most beloved yet war-inducing place in the entire house: Kita's bed.

It's hardly his fault that you got distracted with YouTube.

"I hate you, Shin."

"No y’don't."

"I do."

"No. You don't."

"Okay fine, I don't, but can we please swap now? It's freezin’ down here."

He can practically hear the pout still engraved into your face right now. And it takes every ounce of fight in him not to give into you with the snap of a finger. To argue back and list a million reasons why he should be allowed in his own bed.

Yet here he is, slipping out of the sheets almost instantly and crouching down beside the futon. He shakes your shoulder.

"Fine. Get goin' before I change my mind."

Any resolve left in his body melts away when you shoot upright with a bright smile, victorious as ever.

Sometimes you made it hard for him to imagine why he cared about you at all. You were too sly for your own good. How could he ever deny such a smile? It's not fair.

You scurry into his bed instantly, making yourself comfortable where you have hundreds of times before. "You should make sure I'm comfy. I am a guest in your house, y’know?"

Yes, Kita knows this all too well. You're trying to provoke him, to see how far you can push him until he breaks. Stubborn and obedient, he reaches down to slowly pull the blanket over your body.

There's a pause from you as he drapes you in warmth, blinking up at him dumbly as if you weren’t expecting him to do so without complaint.

"I'm..." You seem to choke on your own words, silently contemplating whether or not you should push further. "My face is still cold."

His hands hold your face instantly, warming your cheeks skin-to-skin. You stare at him with wide eyes, looking so surprised that he wonders if what he's doing is a mistake. But then your hands gently cover his, and you tug him closer until his knee is sinking down on the mattress beside you.

"M'super cold."

"It's twenty-two degrees in here," he informs you flatly.

You make a face, nose slightly scrunched in thought and brows pinched. It's such a troubled expression that he can't help but scoot a little closer.

He's being kind, that's all. He's just making sure you're okay as a friend. No, not even a friend—an obligatory companion. The lifelong thorn in his side. The reason why his back still aches some days.

Be kind, Shinsuke.

When did being kind turn into this? Into moving involuntarily, into having a second nature response to you? Into a stubborn body only movable by one soul, one voice, one pair of hands?

"Keep me warm, Shin."

He gives in to your whims without reason, without logic or hesitation. You are the sole person able to break down any semblance of routine that's been methodically coded into his muscles.

He doesn't get you, perhaps he never would. He would never completely understand your wishes, or how your cheeks were so cold yet burning hot at the same time, or why he was submitting to you so easily.

The only thing he knows is that you are still somehow the centerpiece of his life, dancing in the middle of it all like a black hole sucking in everything else; the whirlpool swirling in the center of calm waters; the supernova of his galaxy.

"...'Kay."

Maybe he doesn't need a reason to care about you. Maybe your very existence is reason enough. And he’s okay with that for once in his life. He had never been the type to go with the flow, but your hands are dragging up his neck and pulling his body onto the mattress.

That night, you both fall asleep in the bed.

© ALABOADOA 2023 — please do not translate or post my works to other platforms.

#— whispers in the wind: 1k event ✉️ #haikyuu #hq #kita shinsuke #kita shinsuke x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu fic #haikyuu fluff #shinsuke kita #kita shinsuke x you #kita shinsuke x y/n #shinsuke kita x reader #hq fluff #hq x you #haikyuu x you #haikyu #haikyu x reader #haikyuu!! #haikyuu!! x reader

[clubkira]

FIREWORKS.

── SHINSUKE KITA. ┊ HAIKYUU!!

raining in japan m.list. // hq. masterlist.

premise. the perfect fireworks display ending to your first date with kita gets cancelled due to unforseen weather changes; and he seems more upset about it than you are.

content. shinsuke kita / f!reader. somewhat established relationship (first date). set pre-timeskip.

word count. 2k-ish

soundtrack. rainy tapestry : lamp.

19:57

“Attention all park-goers, the fireworks display for tonight is cancelled due to the untimely weather.”

The overhead speakers loudly declare several times to the entirety of the amusement park of the recent development, with a few still turning their heads in confusion at the sudden announcement.

“Please make your exit out of the park, and have a great rest of your night.”

Kita’s hand is grasped firmly in your own as he leads you out of the designated fireworks viewing zone, in tow behind you both are the several hundreds of other disappointed families making their way out.

Unclear at first glance in the darkness of the night, rain clouds have already begun to form over the park. Light trickles of rain start to shower above, quickly increasing in intensity at an alarming pace and drenching those caught in the downpour.

Dozens of children can be seen and heard crying into their mother’s laps across the viewing area, covered in hastily bought clear ponchos while holding their extinguished sparklers. Some quietly trudge behind their parents in sadness, their sneakers and socks getting soaked by the puddles of water that have begun to form on the ground while they walk.

Passing by a small girl sitting on a bench crying to her parents about missing the fireworks show, the slight dip in Kita’s usually relaxed expression doesn’t go unnoticed by you. His hold on your hand tightens ever so slightly the more saddened families he walks past, the pace of his footsteps quickening with each puddle he unintentionally splashes in.

“.. I’m really sorry,” He manages to speak after some time, the exit of the amusement park becoming clearer in the distance with a sigh.

“I didn’t know it’d rain so hard tonight that they’d have to cancel the fireworks display.”

Your head perks up to meet his own as you give him a sympathetic smile, “no, it’s okay. You couldn’t have known this would happened in advance.”

It was true, nobody had prepared for this outcome at all. The weather forecast for the night said it would only be a light drizzle; with the park’s staff not even being aware of the cancellation until fifteen minutes before the viewing, when they were told to rush out the emergency ponchos and begin handing them out to the guests who were waiting for the fireworks show before one of the staff got on the loud speaker to address the viewers.

“I know, I know,” Kita runs a hand through his hair disheartenedly, eyebrows knitting in frustration when he pulls the both of you underneath a nearby overhang to shield you from the ensuing rain. “it’s just, awful that our first date ended up like this.”

Kita’s pristine, cleanly pressed and ironed white shirt is now stained with little specks of rain, wrinkled with splotches of water lining the chest area and his watch decorated in tiny droplets that slide off and drop to the ground. Eyes shifting around the entrance, the other families slowly begin to trickle out group by group just as disappointed as before.

The crease in his eyebrows becomes more prominent than before, his frustration clearly showing with how he stares angrily at the soaked stone tiles beneath your feet with a huff.

“I can’t believe this..” you hear him mumble underneath his breath, looking up and around at your surroundings when the rain begins to pick up, several families standing around nearby as some are looking at signage for bus routes or getting into their cars in a hurry.

“Our first date, and I’ve already screwed it up.”

Your stare quickly hardens at his words, “You didn’t screw this up,” comes a sigh, eyes flickering to meet his.

Even in the chaos that surrounds the two of you, your quiet words manage to reach his ears when you notice the way his gaze visibly softens upon seeing the concern your eyes hold for him. His shoulders relax, untensing as his arms fall to his sides.

You’ve never seen Kita so frustrated before, and over something he has no control over. He’s always been levelheaded no matter the circumstances, usually being the type of person who doesn’t go undeterred when things don’t go his way or how he intended.

But you can’t deny the annoyance displayed prominently on his face and in his body language when it’s presented right in front of you. The way his knuckles tense when he feels the rain beginning to come down harder around you two, bouncing off rocks and soaking into the grass below.

The calm mask that Kita normally wears seems to slip off for a brief moment as he visibly swallows, shoving his hands into the damp pockets of his pants. An awkward laugh bubbles it’s way up his throat in his attempt to soothe over the situation.

The smile he gives you doesn’t even reach his eyes.

“Ah, I’m sorry things had to turn out like this.” He apologizes again, like he’s been doing repeatedly in what only feels like the past fifteen minutes; an attempt to assure you that he genuinely is. “I really am, is there anyway I could make this up to you?”

You shake your head, “I told you it’s fine, you don’t need to keep apologizing for this, Kita.”

“But it’s not fine,” he laments, grimacing when the rain from his hair trickles and drips down onto his face, wiping the raindrops away with the sleeve of his shirt. “I wanted to do something special to end off tonight,” his voice is tinged with disappointment, a reflection of his own self-frustration.

He looks away from your eyes, staring off to the paved parking lot ashamed, “Someone like you deserves a better first date than.. this.”

You scoff at his statement, huffing when he keeps depricating himself, “Kita, what’s so bad about this first date, hm?”

Kita’s face morphs into something of somewhat confusion, stuttering lightly when he turns back to face you. He chuckles unsurely like you’ve just told a good joke, “What do you mean? Do you not see what’s happening around us right now?”

He gestures to the still remaining families surrounding the entrance of the amusement park nearby, the children having calmed down but still visibly deflated by the rain and cancellation of the fireworks. Most are preoccupied with a device or toy of their choosing while being shielded from the rain by coats, signage or the strollers of their younger siblings.

Disgruntled parents stand just out of reach trying to figure out the best routes to take home, arguing with the park’s staff about refunds for the fireworks show while heckling them about the poor management and lack of communication with the staff and park-goeres.

The chill of the wind can be felt through your soaked clothes, goosebumps rising all over your arms that cause you to shudder. Everything begins to slow down to what seems like a barely moving standstill; anything from outside of your little bubble with Kita being reduced to a snail’s pace in your eyes.

The movements of those surrounding you become like smear frames in the distance, the raindrops still raging on even more heavily now serving as the only remainder of reality; the only constants being the sounds they make when they fall from the darkened sky up above onto the two of you.

“Does this look like a perfect first date to you?”

Kita’s question snaps you back momentarily, the pace of the world resuming in an instant. He turns to face you; arms crossed over his damp shirt and wearing a skeptical expression on his face that is mixed with something else that you can’t quite discern otherwise.

Confusion, frustration, desperation?

Your lips purse in thought for a brief moment, which he takes as his answer as he rambles out another hasty apology before you can even respond. “See what I mean? Look, I’m so sorry about all this. I swear, if you let me take you out again next time I can do better—”

“Shinsuke.”

The sudden use of his first name shocks him into silence, gulping as he waits for your reply. A sense of worry envelops him when you don’t respond immediately, uneasiness in his voice when he speaks again.

“Yes?”

Stepping towards him, the feeling of the soaked soles of your shoes slosh around in the puddles underneath make shivers shoot up through the calfs of your legs. Kita’s gaze follows you expectantly, eyes afraid to leave yours when you reach for his hands from deep inside of his pockets.

They’re cold to the touch from the cold rain and wind chills of the night when you hold them in your own, thumb brushing over his dry knuckles and settling into the folds of his palms.

“You haven’t even asked me about how I felt about the date yet.”

Kita blinks owlishly, his eyebrows unfurrowing as confusion settles into his face again at your response before letting out an unsteady laugh, shoulders shaking with mirth.

And the timid smile he shows you this time does reach his eyes.

“I’m sorry, my dear,” he apologizes again, this time more freely before pulling you in closer by the hip. His head settles into the crook of your neck with a hum, “What do you think of the date then, hm?”

Kita’s breath feels hot against your skin, a sharp contrast to the chill that circulates in the air around, carried through the rain and wind in it’s journey. Bodies swaying blissfully in the darkness, hidden away from the blaring headlights of the cars pulling out of the parking lot underneath the overhang.

Sparkling specks of water drip and fall down around you, pooling into that puddles that have for sure already begun to ruin the bottoms of your shoes. Rainwater has begun to seep through the soles, your socks becoming victim to the nature of your circumstances.

The wet fabrics of your clothing clings to the sides of your figures, the image of Kita’s collarbone and upperhalf of his chest glazed underneath his shirt.

Kita’s hair is fully drenched, now clumped and pushed to the side from when he ran his hand through it. Droplets of water litter his cheekbones and eyelashes in perfect spheres, cascading down the edge of his jawline in a resemblance of tears.

Even when soaked to the core, like a housecat who was caught in the sudden rain; Kita looks as handsome as the day you returned his feelings.

Your voice is low, settling into the background sounds of the rainfall. “I think, that our date was wonderful;” you reassure him, “even without the fireworks.”

Kita looks unsatisfied with your answer, confused and asking you questions in rapid-fire succession. “But the fireworks were the whole reason you came here—” He begins to say, “Aren’t you, disappointed..? That you didn’t get to see them?”

“No, Shinsuke,” you chuckle, “I didn’t come for the fireworks, I came for you.”

As wonderful and flashy as fireworks are, and indeed what could be considered major highlight of a trip for many of the visitors of the amusement park, your heart was never dead set on seeing them.

Fireworks can be seen anytime, but your first date with Kita can never be repeated.

“I’m pretty sure you didn’t come to get rained on at the end though,” he chuckles, bringing a hand out of his pockets to cup your warm cheek. The warmth radiating from your skin defrosts the chill in his palm almost instantaneously, “I wished to have a very dry end to our date, preferably,” his choice of words makes you snort.

“You wanted a dry end to our date?” You repeat jestingly, “Maybe you don’t actually like me in that case, Shinsuke.” His head drops in quiet laughter, “Fine, fine. I’ll rephrase what I meant then.”

His fingers smooth over your jawline tenderly, eyes soft and heart full of love. “I wished to kiss the most beautiful girl underneath the fireworks as the perfect end to our date, how does that sound?”

“Who said it had to be under the fireworks?”

“No one,” he smiles, “But it would’ve been very romantic if we did.”

A grin of your own tugs at your lips, “We can still kiss right now if you want.”

“While we’re soaking wet?” He laughs, drawing his face closer. His hands itch to grab hold of your face and pull you in, but he holds himself back in fear of overstepping his boundaries.

“Are you sure?”

Kita looks to you for permission, lips barely an inch away from your own. The steady rising and falling of his chest is accentuated by his sopped shirt clinging to his frame, hot breath fogging up in the cool night air.

You nod, without a doubt in your mind, finally connecting the distance between you two. Kita smiles into the kiss, eyes closing in satisfaction while his hands stay planted at your hips, never straying away from their hold.

The taste of rainwater is evident on both of your tongues, the two of you giggling as the twinkling sounds of rain and ripples of the puddles flow through the atmosphere around.

Kita’s the first to pull away, hesitating when he chases your lips one final time before reeling his head back to catch his breath.

Even in the darkness, only illuminated by a street lamp several feet away; Kita’s cheeks are rosy with euphoria, eyes crinkling with sparks of happiness flying throughout.

His forehead leans against your own, the wet strands of his hair sticking to his head. The whites of his teeth gleam when he smiles, quietly whispering for your ears to hear only.

“Maybe I should make sure it’s raining when I take you out on a second date.”

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#haikyu!! #haikyuu!! #haikyuu fluff #shinsuke kita #kita shinsuke #kita x y/n #kita x reader #kita x reader fluff #kita x you #kita fluff #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu fic #haikyuu #haikyuu x y/n #haikyu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu kita #haikyuu x self insert #haikyuu x female reader #haikyu imagines #haikyu scenarios #haikyu x you #haikyu x y/n #haikyu fluff #hq x reader #haikyuu oneshot #( 𝒫𝓇𝑜𝓅𝑒𝓇𝓉𝓎 𝑜𝒻 : 𐚁 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝐿𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝒞𝓁𝓊𝒷 ) #𝒮𝓌𝑒𝑒𝓉𝓈 𝓃’. 𝒯𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓉𝓈 ෆ

[gardenofnoah]

there are reasons why a body stays in motion

summary: you work too hard—kita knows it the second he meets you. he’s not expecting you to take him up on his offer. you don’t either, until you end up on his farm.

tags: shinsuke kita x reader, strangers to lovers, fluff, smut (oral, reader receiving), afab reader (no pronouns used, terms for body parts used("clit")), reader is a first responder, kita is a mother hen wc: 4.7k

the farmer’s market is quiet. mostly because it hasn’t opened yet.

you walk between stalls as the owners of them set up, smiling softly at those who greet you. it’s still a little dark out—the grass under your feet still a little dewy without a sun to warm it. if you were anyone else, you might still be in bed.

but you never made it to bed. in fact, you’ve been up for more hours than you care to count. that much is obvious by the way you sway slightly on your feet in front of Hanaka’s tomatoes.

“hey, you,” she murmurs, affectionate and maternal—reaching beneath the wood top to grab the coffee she’s brought you, as is your weekly tradition. “long night?”

“mm,” you hum around the plastic lid, tipping your head back. the coffee is a little bitter and a little grainy, but it doesn’t matter. truthfully, you’ve been up for so long that things are starting to lose their taste. in this case, that might be for the best. “on call. the phone just kept ringing.”

she nods, sympathy apparent on her face, and you know she understands. Hanaka is retired now—blissfully so, she says—but when you met, she was your coworker. she’d adopted you as some sort of pseudo-child, teaching you and looking out for you. it was a loss when she left, but you were happy she finally was getting to rest. when you found out she’d reserved a stall at the market, you made the effort to be there. even if it meant losing out on your rest.

“silly of you to come straight here,” she admonishes you sweetly, in the way that only she can. it makes you smile.

“and let the coffee get cold? never.”

she rolls her eyes, turning to busy herself with stacking deep green cucumbers into weaved baskets. you let your eyes roam the spread in front of you, reaching to brush a fingertip over the waxy skin of a tomato. your stomach growls—abrupt, and loud.

Hanaka snorts, shaking her head as she calibrates the scale. “head down the row,” she says, pointing in front of her without looking, “there’s a stand that does rice.”

you feel a bit like a zombie as you move among the crowd—still mostly vendors, until you can smell someone cooking. your feet bring you to a halt in front of a grey-haired man, shaping neat triangles of rice around what appears to be pickled cabbage and bean curd. your mouth waters.

"we're not quite open yet—oh." he pauses when he looks up at you, concern immediate and all over his face, "you need to sit down, darlin'?"

it makes you laugh. "is it that bad?"

he smiles at you, directing the man to his left to bring you a folding chair. you thank him, plopping unceremoniously into the seat. when you look up, there's an expertly assembled onigiri in your face.

"ah." it's warm in your fingers and you fight the urge to unhinge your jaw and shove the entire thing in your mouth. "thank you...?"

"Kita," he says, and his smile is kind in a way that feels a little disarming this early in the morning, "don't mention it. can't have you passin' out in front of my stall—s'bad for business."

you chuckle around a mouth full of rice—and holy shit, is it good. you try to tell him that, but to stop eating does not feel like an option. it makes him laugh.

"glad to hear it. can't take credit for the recipe—but the rice is from me."

"you're a farmer?"

"mm. have been for more than a few years now. just started comin' to the market though."

you nod, shoving the last of the onigiri in your mouth and greatly suppressing the urge to lick the stray bits of grain off your fingers.

he goes back to work, packing and shaping in a way that feels casual, but you have a hunch that the motions are some that he's practiced greatly. your lack of sleep emboldens you to let your eyes wander—his hands are calloused and careful, and it's obvious what he does just by the look of them. corded muscle flexes under sun tanned forearms as he shapes each onigiri with great focus, and you find yourself fascinated by the repetition.

"y'think you're closer to livin' now?"

you look up and find his eyes already on you, mirth all over his face. you grin, caught, warmth spreading up your neck.

"think so. what do i owe you?"

"nothin'," he waves you off, brown eyes crinkling. "just go take a nap."

you smile—warmed by his generosity. you get up and leave of rough estimate of coins on top of his register anyway. "see you later then, Kita."

.

..

later comes quicker than you thought. the very next week, as it turns out. you're a little more rested when you see him again, and it's the first thing he notices.

"y'look like you slept." he says by way of a greeting, handing you another perfectly formed onigiri—this time with pickled plum and what you suspect is salmon. it falls apart decadently in your mouth, the flavors complimentary and not overpowering against the rice. it's good.

"i did," you tell him around a mouth full, "wasn't on call last night."

he smiles, gentle around his eyes, as he watches you. "work?"

you nod. "social work—kids, mostly."

he crosses his arms over his chest, leaning against the counter. he considers you for a moment before he speaks again.

"so not sleepin' is normal for ya."

you shrug, avoiding his gaze. it's a little too early in the day to feel chastised by a man you only just met last week, even if he is admittedly a little handsome and insists on feeding you. he sighs, reaching for a stray piece of register paper.

"you like ducks?"

"like, the bird?" you look up at him, eyebrows arched in confusion. "yeah, i suppose i do."

he smiles down at the paper, scribbling a few lines down on it and handing it to you. "have a few babies that just hatched in the paddies. come by and see 'em if you ever feel like y'need a rest."

he waves you off, turning back to his work, and leaves you a little shellshocked as you look down at the paper. it has an address on it—for what you assume is his farm. you fold it neatly and push it down into the pocket of your jeans with the mental reminder of taking it out before you wash them. you shake your head, smiling to yourself as you turn and head back down the lane, dodging a few folks that are entering the market. you have a few hours before work—just enough time to knock out on the couch.

.

..

a few weeks later, you find yourself bouncing down a rocky lane, rice paddies on either side of the thin road. you figure you have to be in the right place, but feel a little nervous until you arrive to a little cabin at the end of the gravel, the numbers on your paper painted neatly on the side of the mailbox.

it's late—probably too late to be stopping by unannounced—but Kita didn't give you a phone number, and the day had been long. the thought of baby ducks and looking at anything that wasn't the blue light of your laptop felt like a lifeline.

he's leaning against the doorframe as you shut the car door behind you. you smile when you see him—maybe sneaking a little peak at the way his white t-shirt stretches around the biceps he has crossed over his chest. he doesn't say anything until you clear the porch steps.

"y'alright?" he asks quietly. it's a little startling—you're always careful not to let the effects of the day show. you feel exposed in front of him, and it has you shifting on your feet.

"i believe i was promised baby ducks."

the corners of his eyes crinkle and you find yourself genuinely charmed. he doesn't acknowledge your lack of an answer, and you're grateful for it.

"sit," he says, gesturing to a wooden rocker on the porch, "i'll grab 'em."

you do as he says, leaning back and taking in the view. the sun simmers a deep red on the horizon, bathing everything in it's hue. the paddies stretch on for what feels like miles. the house itself feels like an island—the one lane road it's only connection to life beyond it.

the rocker creaks as you push your toe against the porch, swaying gently back and forth. it's quiet, save for the chirp of the cicadas and the occasional bloat of a bullfrog. you jump when you feel something furry rub against your shin.

you look down and are greeted by an orange cat with the most round cheeks you've ever seen. old and a little ratty, it chirps at you, headbutting your leg.

"hello there," you smile, bending forward to scratch behind it's ears. "where'd you come from?"

"that's Barn Cat," Kita says, trudging up the wooden steps. "he hangs out in the fields."

you chuckle, looking up at him. "his name is Barn Cat?

"yup," his grin is contagious. you let your eyes roam around him, looking for the ducks he was supposed to get. they stop on the pouch he's created out of his shirt—widening as you hear several little quacks come from inside of it.

"hold out yer hands," he says, standing in front of you now. you do as your told, and a few seconds later, there's a teeny tiny baby in your palms.

"oh my god," you breathe, not quite able to wrap your brain around how something can be so small, "oh my god."

Kita chuckles, smiling when you look up at him. something about it brings you back to this moment—you're suddenly very aware that you've interrupted this man's evening and ordered him around at his own house.

"i'm sorry for showing up like this," you say quietly, running a fingertip over the downy-soft little body that's now nestled in your lap.

"no need. i'm glad yer here."

you can feel that the smile you give him doesn't quite reach your eyes, and you know that he notices.

"long day?"

you hum, watching the tiny duck tail twitch in its sleep. suddenly feeling a little envious of the rest it's able to get, and how simple its life will be. wake up, swim around, eat bugs, go to sleep. it won't ever think about anyone else. its little conscious will always be clear.

"yeah," you murmur. "it was."

he moves to sit down in the rocker next to you, smiling at the little duck that has taken up all of your attention. when you look up, his eyes are gentle and unwavering from yours. you're certain he's looking too deeply, but you know there's nothing you can do.

"i should get going," you say, mostly to convince yourself that it is true. Kita's mouth turns downward for only a moment, and then that soft smile is back again.

"give me yer phone," he murmurs, extending a hand toward you. you shrug, pulling it out and handing it to him. he types something quick and hands it back to you, Shinsuke Kita and a phone number on the screen.

"meant it when i said you can come by anytime," he tells you, hand lingering still in your space. "call me if ya need anything."

.

..

you get to texting, after that. it's funny—he's a man of few typed words, so you learn about his days through pictures. a criminally early shot of the rice paddies. the baby ducks that look bigger each day. Barn Cat sprawled out in the sun on the porch. dinner there, too—filleted tuna and rice under a waning sun. sometimes he calls, when your schedule allows it. the low timbre of his voice through the speaker frequently (and embarrassingly) lulls you to sleep. you have a hunch that he does it on purpose.

you've showed up at the farm enough times now that you're unable to use the excuse of the ducks anymore, especially now that they're bigger and far less cuddly, but neither of you acknowledge it. he starts showing you around. walks across narrow paths in the fields become excuses to bring you inside—into his home. the cabin is quaint and cozy, and decorated in a way that surprises you. pictures cover the walls—some of Kita as an adult, but mostly of Kita as a child, which makes him bashful and you smile. you stop at one of him as a chubby toddler, sitting in the lap of a woman he's clearly the spitting image of.

"that's gram," he says quietly, behind you. "this is her place. i moved out here when she got sick, and then i just..."

"stayed," you whisper, tracing the edge of the frame with your fingertip. he hums, closer to you now.

"didn't feel right t'leave."

you think it's admirable, but you don't want to embarrass him, so you keep it you yourself. he leads you down the hall, pointing out rooms as he goes—bathroom (you can't hide your surprise at the massive clawfoot tub in the center of it. he just shrugs, continuing down the hall—flushed up to his neck. it makes you smile.), guest room ("mostly unoccupied," he says, and you wonder if it was intentional). his bedroom is slightly larger than the guest room and considerably less decorated, but still tastefully so—the bed is large and looks temptingly soft, and the dresser adjacent to it is an antique, heavy and well-loved. you both linger in the doorway, coated in warm lamp light and shoulders brushing, not talking much and still saying a lot between you.

"you hungry?" he asks, voice a little gruff. you shrug, following him into the kitchen. you take a seat at the bar stool on the other side of the counter, watching him work.

he doesn't ask what you want and truthfully, you know he doesn't need to. there hasn't been a time yet that you haven't liked something Kita's made you. he moves with the same fluidity and grace he does at the market—he prepares your food with the same care, too. you watch him blatantly, this time. his brow furrows a little as he plates it. it's cute—it makes you ache.

you're expecting it to be good, but this is really good—unagi over rice, soft and chewy when it hits your tongue. you groan audibly, savoring each bite. Kita grins at you across the counter.

"good?" he asks, even though he doesn't need to.

you nod emphatically, not bothering to pause long enough to answer him.

"good." he looks awfully proud of himself. that ache twists in your chest again. "don't make it too often. glad ya like it."

it's quiet between you as you eat—you try to leave a few extra for him because he was nice enough to make you something so luxurious, but it's hard to stop yourself.

you linger in the cabin for the next hour or so, finding every reason to stay until you can't anymore.

"y'know," Kita mutters, looking a little shy, "yer welcome to stay in that guest bedroom. s'not like anyone else uses it."

he goes red immediately and it makes you smile. you fight yourself hard to keep from teasing him.

"i have to work early tomorrow," for the first time, that fact feels disappointing. "but i'd be happy to next time."

the smile he gives you leaves you a little breathless. "be careful gettin' home."

.

..

next time comes sooner than you thought it would.

the weekend comes and you shoot him a text, asking him what he's doing tonight. his reply comes immediately—whatever you're doing. come over—i'll cook.

you sit outside to watch the sunset after dinner. it goes down past the hills, extinguishing the light like the flame of a candle. you kick your feet out over the rail in front of you. the cicadas sing from their perches in the trees and the paddies look like an undulating, dark sea from where you sit. the only light is the dim bulb above your head, and the stars don’t pay it any mind. bright and shining, you can’t remember a time that you’ve seen so many.

“do you ever get lonely?”

he’s watching you—you can feel your skin warm where his gaze lingers, but you keep yours in front of you. Kita’s been the picture of hospitality, sweet in the way he’s shown care to you—but he’s seldom talked about himself. you feel vulnerable, toeing the line. he’s silent for a moment, and then it stretches on long enough that you start to regret asking.

“s’hard to, out here with all of this noise.” he says it lightheartedly, but you wonder if he’s deflecting. you have your answer a moment later when he says, quieter, “at night, mostly. y’notice when yer the only person for miles.”

you hum, picking at a splinter in the wooden arm of your chair. you feel the same, somehow. though you have trouble understanding how you can feel lonely being around as many people as you are. you tell him as much.

“they don’t really see you though, right?” he asks, but it’s rhetorical. “you help ‘em but it’s one sided. they remember what y'did but they don’t know who you are.”

it never fails to rattle you, his ability to see right through you. your face heats. “that’s the way it should be.”

“sure,” he says, smiling softly. “but it weighs on ya.”

you tuck your knees under your chin and close your eyes—frustrated, knowing that he's right and still wanting to fight him on it. you jump when his knuckles brush against your own.

"i didn't mean to upset ya, darlin'."

"you didn't," you murmur, shaking your head and willing your limbs to relax, "you're right. i just wish you weren't."

he smiles and keeps the back of his hand pressed to yours. it's a sonic interruption to the silence—you're so aware of the warmth of his skin that you feel it in your eardrums. you wonder if he can, too.

it's a while before you speak again—to bid him goodnight, even if you don't want to.

"goodnight, darlin'." his voice is low and soft, nearly a whisper over the cry of cicadas. you still hear it like he screamed it. "extra quilts're in the closet."

it makes you smile, how he can't help but make sure you're comfortable. it would be easy to mistake it for something else—something more.

"goodnight, Kita."

.

..

you get in the car and drive on muscle memory alone. eyes burning, you dial the number you now know by heart.

"hey darlin'," Kita's voice comes through the speaker like a warm blanket. it helps to settle you.

"hi," you croak, immediately wishing you'd taken a minute to get it together before you called him.

there's a pause. "you been cryin'?"

"only a little." you don't see a point in lying to him. "you around?"

"yeah, i'm here—where are you? i'll come get ya, don't want ya drivin' out here upset—"

you let out a wet laugh, shaking your head. "i'm alright, Kita. i'm already halfway there. i just wanted to let you know i'd be over."

there's another pause, and you can hear the way he's fighting with himself on the other end of the line.

"alright," he says finally, "be careful."

he's waiting on the porch steps when you pull up to the cabin. you're barely out of the car before he's pulling you into his chest. new tears threaten to spill over into the fabric of his shirt. you can feel the way he softens himself to hold you—like you'll shatter in his arms if he's not careful.

"c'mon," he whispers into your hair, "let's go in."

he takes your coat (and your shoes, and your bag) before he's pulling you closer again—keeping you tucked under his arm like something will swoop down and snatch you up if he's not careful. you'd laugh if you weren't soaking in every second of his affection like a sponge.

"can i run a bath for ya?" he asks, reaching to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear. the callouses on his fingers brush the curve of it and it makes you shiver. you nod.

he only leaves you for a few moments before he's back, corralling you down the hall and into the bathroom. there's a pile of comfy sweats folded and set on the toilet, and a fluffy towel hanging on the hook.

"holler if ya need anything."

you smile at him, a little more genuine this time, and he leaves you to it. you strip the clothes from your body slowly, hoping that if you do it right, the day will come off with it. you sink down into the warmth of the water and sigh. your eyes start to burn again as you lean your head back on the rim of the tub, this time just at Kita's kindness. you feel guilty for relying on it.

you feel guilty knowing you've been keeping what's in your heart hidden from him.

you use his soap, knowing you'll smell like him—knowing it won't be enough to satiate the longing you feel, but doing it anyway. you're not sure when it started—if it hadn't been there all along—but it's been tearing up your insides for months. he makes it worse with the way he cares for you. it's almost cruel.

you drag yourself out of the tub eventually, drying off in record time just to be swallowed by his clothes , soft and warm and smelling of him. you brush your hair out in the mirror and tie it up on top of your head. you feel a little more like a person now.

Kita's up and hovering at the end of the hallway as soon as you open the bathroom door. you manage a little laugh this time—mostly content and only a little guilty, letting him mother hen over you. you close the distance between you, looping your arms around his middle. you feel him relax, just a little bit.

"you need to talk about it?" he asks, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and pulling you closer. you shake your head. "alright. come lay down."

he penguin walks you down the hall, grinning when you laugh. he moves right past the guest bedroom and into his.

he arranges you on the bed to his liking—cocooned in blankets and reclined against his pillows. he lays down next to you, on top of the comforter. respectful of your space, even if you wish he wasn't.

"thanks for taking care of me," you whisper, turning your head to look at him. "sorry for turning up like this."

his eyebrows knit together like he's never heard a more wrong thing in his life. "i'll have ya any way you turn up."

you blink at him, feeling like you've short circuited. you huff out a laugh, closing your eyes. "how unfair."

"mm?"

you open your eyes and feel stuck, pinned to the bed underneath his stare. there aren't many other options than to spill your guts onto his sheets.

"you make it hard not to love you, Kita."

he freezes, eyes locked on yours. your stomach ties and unties itself, but you can't look away.

it's another agonizing moment before either of you even breathes, and then you blink, and he's hovering over top of you, hands planted on either side of your head.

"say it again."

"i love you." it feels like the easiest thing you've ever said.

"tell me i've got it wrong," he rasps, leaning in to nose along your cheek.

"you don't."

your hand fists around the material of his shirt and you yank him down to your waiting mouth. it feels exactly the way you knew it would—warm and soft, not unlike the feeling you get every time you walk through his door. it’s gentle and unhurried, and you know he knows no other way. you let him break you apart slowly. 

he pulls away from your lips, only to press soft kisses to your cheeks, your chin, your brow bone. his mouth brushes against your temple and to your horror, you let out the world’s most pitiful little moan. 

his eyes go wide as he looks down at you, flushed and breathing hard beneath him. your fingers still tangled in his shirt, he closes his own around them and brings them to his lips. he keeps his eyes on you when presses them to the sensitive skin of the inside of your wrist. 

you feel no control of your reaction—your eyes flutter closed as the rest of you shudders underneath him. it’s so little and it’s almost too much. you know he’s figured you out when you’re able to meet his gaze again—deep brown filled with as much adoration as they are hunger. 

“tell me what you need, darlin’.”

"your mouth," you whimper, feeling hot.

"where?" his smile turns a little wicked, still pressed to your skin.

"everywhere."

if you were overwhelmed before, it would pale in comparison to this—his kisses turn hard and heavy, soft lips sucking harsh bruises into your skin. you keen and whine underneath him, writhing both toward and away from his searching mouth. he doesn't take his sweatshirt off of you—he just pushes it up to kiss every inch of skin it exposes. he only pauses to check in with you, only stopping for a second to ask half of a question you'd already started answering before he'd asked it.

he cradles your waist in strong, wide hands and bends down to lap at your navel, nipping sensitive flesh, tongue slipping inside the dip of your belly button.

your hips buck violently, whimpering into the crook of your elbow while you reach down to card your fingers through silver strands. you feel yourself making a mess of his sweatpants.

"please, Kita," you hiccup, nearly slurred in his onslaught. he hums against your skin and you feel it in your belly.

"s'alright sweetheart," he murmurs, pressing gentler kisses between your hipbones, taking the elastic of the sweatpants down with them. "i got ya."

he reduces you to something less than human with the hot slide of his mouth against the inside of your thighs, licking and sucking his way up to where you need him the most and then back down, too far away. it takes a wholly unreasonable amount of begging to get him there, and to get him to stay.

"please, please i just need—oh," your spine bows off the bed and then pulls taut at the feeling of his tongue sliding slowly through your wet heat. he lets out a groan at the taste of you, and you watch through hooded eyes as he grinds his hips into the mattress.

one hand keeps a steeled grip in his hair, and the other one sneaks under his sweatshirt to pull at your nipples. it's sensory overload—the feeling of the pebbled flesh under your fingers and the way Kita suckles gently on your clit has you squealing. he opens his mouth, panting and tongue lolled out, encouraging you to ride it. you don't need to be asked twice.

every snap of your hips against his face pulls a weak moan from him, and a louder one from you. everything is wet and hot and your thighs shake around his head with every drag of your achy clit across his tongue.

"Kita," you whimper, feeling the warmth start to spread, "gonna cum—i'm—"

it damn near melts you into the mattress. every muscle in your body contracts and then releases, leaving you immobile under his tongue. he holds your thighs apart, sucking on your clit while you shake and cry under him. it doesn't stop—every brush of his tongue pulls another dizzying contraction from deep inside you. he only relents when he's licked up every last drop of you.

he kisses his way back up your body and you feel like you're on fire. when he presses his lips to yours again, finally, it douses it. you only smolder underneath him now.

forehead pressed to his, you can't help but let out a little giggle. he grins, his pretty mouth pulled up in the corners, and presses another round of kisses to your jaw.

"i love you," you sigh, pulling him closer. he hums.

"i love you," he nips at the point of your chin, "and you're callin' out sick tomorrow."

there's nothing in your heart that wants to argue with him.

#something possessed me and wrote this today #sad? fuck a rice farmer #shinsuke kita x reader #shinsuke kita x you #shinsuke kita smut #haikyuu x reader #hq smut #hq fic #bea writes ♡

[gatakat]

Listen to me

Kita regularly drives from Hyogo to Osaka to hang out with Osamu and everyone else, and they have some drinks or whatever (Kita doesn't drink bc he has to drive back) and then when it's getting late Kita is like I need to leave cause I wake up at dawn tomorrow bye, and his friends aaaalways insist for him to stay a little longer but they know he's not going to stay bc this is Kita-san we're talking about.

Until one day one of the guys brings you with him. Like hey everyone this is my friend/classmate/cousin. And it's love at first fucking sight for Kita. That night when he stands up to leave you give him puppy eyes and say something like "aww we were having so much fun, are you really going to leave so soon?" 🥺🥺 And. Well. Fuck his life bc he's going to hate himself tomorrow morning when he wakes up on 3 hours of sleep, but it'll be worth it.

#x reader #haikyuu x reader #Kita x reader #Kita shinsuke x reader #Currently trying to base my fic abt him around this #But idk if I'll manage

[justnnyx]

just haikyuu boys being sappy

As your fingers caress his back, he shivers. Your touch is cold and yet, you're so warm.

You breathe his name into his chest, and he wonders how a single word could have such an impact on him. How a word from you could have him feeling so... loved.

He feels the soft press of your lips on his cheek, then his neck, then his collarbones, each kiss washing over him like a gentle wave.

You hold his hand in your arms, embracing him in your warmth.

With you comes the end of winter, and the arrival of spring. With you comes comfort and warm temperatures and flowers and birdsong. Your presence alone is enough to ease him.

He doesn't care if he's being cheesy. He doesn't care if his thoughts right now are embarrassing. It's just that your flushed face makes him feel so happy. So, so happy.

"I love you," he mutters in between gasps. "I love you."

KITA, akaashi, sakusa, ushijima (!!), aran, kageyama, kyotani (i will die on this hill.), daichi, KUROO, atsumu

#these boys def sappy af #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fic #haikyuu x gender neutral reader #haikyuu!! #fics #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu #akaashi keiji #akaashi x reader #haikyuu smut #kita x reader #kita shinsuke #sakusa x reader #haikyuu sakusa #sakusa kiyoomi #ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima x reader #kageyama tobio #kageyama x reader #daichi x reader #daichi sawamura #aran ojiro #aran x reader #kuroo tetsuro #kuroo x reader #kyotani kentaro #kyotani x reader #haikyuu hcs #haikyu x reader

[cerisesakurainspring]

KITA SHINSUKE × READER

~~A compassionate love you will never trade for any riches.

"Anata?" You call for your husband.

You had just put your twins to sleep not long ago and were about to retire for the night when you saw Kita wasn't on the bed in your room. You like to think you knew him like the back of your hand, so with your confident knowledge of his routine, you decided to go to a place he frequents.

You ascended the attic with a lamp in your hand, then climbed through the mini-steps that led through the rooftop. Against the window frame was your husband leaning his shoulder on it. You smile at his serene expression and how it softened further when he saw you.

"How's our two little rascals doing?" He held his hand for you to take, and you took it gratefully.

"Finally fast asleep." You wrapped your arms around his waist and snuggled closely, craving his warmth in the chilly night. The silver-haired lad indulged you by wrapping his well-built arms around you and giving you a peck on the temple. The view in front of you was one of serene ambience and you could not help but feel relaxed in the calmness of the night.

Kita has always loved connecting with nature. He much preferred the clean air and peace of the countryside to the hustle and bustle of the towering main cities. This was one of the reasons why he chose to start a farming business instead of taking on a salaryman job. Quite a stretch away from the standard practices of men his age.

You nestled closer into his embrace and sighed contently, the memories of yesterday pulling you back to when your life started turning for the better. Five years ago, you gave birth to twins and Kita was slightly anxious about the fact for he had experience dealing with twins. He was nonetheless the happiest man on earth when he held them both in his arms as tears of joy cascaded down his alluring features.

Occasionally, his former volleyball teammates would visit and play with your adorable children. To no one's surprise, they bonded with the Miya twins the most. Two twin flames merging and creating an inferno, for every time they visited, trouble was always guaranteed.

You remember seeing an angry Kita for the first time when Atsumu taught your kids how to prank his brother. Osamu was to pick up sets of rice sacks for his onigiri shop then, and when he lifted the last sack, the grain came bursting from the hole the three monsters had created. Two mini monsters incited by a supposed mature adult. The full-grown monster Atsumu.

To escape the wrath of the silver-haired Miya, Atsumu carried both your twins on his shoulder and ran across the rice field. The two 4-year-olds giggled as they bounced on the pro player's shoulder while he skipped through the run-off platform. This was a bad move on his part for it had just rained the day before, so the soil was still moist. To his bad luck, he slipped and the three ended up falling into the rice paddies.

What would have been a fun play of tag ended severely for all of them.

The older of your twins cried his lungs out when he fell, and Kita came running from the rice mill. The fear on your husband's face was still vivid in your memory, and he was pretty livid when he found out Atsumu was the one liable.

The fury in his demeanour was enough to root all five of you in place that even the crying twins hushed down. Kita stared down at his kouhai with anger no one expected him to have.

You remember him pointing at the parked car with gritted teeth and only saying, 'Leave.' and all the Miya twins could do was bow their heads in apology and rush out.

Poor blonde Miya was almost banned from visiting your twins.

The memory made you giggle, and your husband turned his head to look at you, curiosity dancing in his breathtaking eyes.

"I guess twins are naturally born to be troublemakers," you proposed.

Kita chuckled at your remark and then kissed your temple once more. "You're doing a marvellous job keeping them on their toes."

You melt in your husband's embrace and let the gentle breeze caress your skin as it carries the scent of earth with it. The rice field before you swayed softly against the whispers of the wind, and it seemed to be in tandem with the crickets singing. 

It was like watching a concierto of nature made for just the two of you.

You stare at the stars above as it continued to twinkle in the velvety sky. The moon towering over the nocturnal landscape seemingly made the moment feel like a dream of wonder. Time seemed to crawl at that moment, and the sense of harmony and tranquility permeated your very core.

A content sigh escaped your lips as you realized nothing could make the moment more perfect.

You were grateful for the man beside you and the two little munchkins you were gifted with. Even though you were a full-time mother, you were very appreciative of the affluent yet simple lifestyle Kita has provided for the family.

It was like your own little paradise. Full of warmth and laughter.

Your husband's brown eyes look over the field stretching out far with a happy smile on his lips. For him, there was no greater joy than living a farming life with you and the twins. He was content to live out his days, experiencing the simple pleasures of what life offered him.

He did not need anything more.

To Kita, the three of you were his ikigai, and that was more than enough.

This is part of a one-shot series called Haikyuū Lovers. It was previously called Haikyuū Husbandos, but I had to rename it because it started to sound cringy, lol.

It is also up for reading on AO3 and Wattpad with the same title and pen name.

#haikyū!! #haikyuu #haikyuu fic #hq fic #haikyuu x reader #hq kita #haikyuu kita #kita shinsuke #inarizaki #inarizaki kita #kita shinsuke x reader #haikyuu fanfiction

[kitasgloves]

— ♬ N S F W

guardian angel! KITA SHINSUKE who was tasked to watch over a particularly cruel girl. He's watched over nasty people before and made sure they were safe so he assumes you won't be a problem. This might be the first time that he's wrong.

You were good at being bad was the easiest way he could put it. You loved to stir trouble and cause havoc. You lacked remorse upon doing unlawful actions and always avoided getting the consequences of your actions. Kita was beyond a human being but damn he could use an Advil and some vodka right now.

"What is she up to this time?"

Kita rubbed the bridge of his nose. His job was to look over you and not force you to convert into becoming a religious woman. However, he can't help but think that things would've been easier if you were a bit nicer.

You were smoking with your friends and laughing while Kita watched over you with a deadpan expression. One of your friends were high as a kite when they asked you a question.

"Do y'all think guardian angels exist?"

Kita couldn't help but be curious about what your answer will be. You laughed.

"What kind of stupid question is that?"

"Dunno, I mean you've been into a lot of shit but you're still in one piece"

Your friend made a fair point and it's all thanks to Kita that you're still in one piece. You may be bad but he'll be damned if he lets you get harmed.

"Nah, I'm just born lucky"

You cackled. Kita thinks you're ridiculous. He watches you until you get home safely. As you fell asleep under the covers, he flies down to your sleeping figure. As he silently mutters a prayer, he's startled but your wide pair of eyes.

"Who the fuck are you?"

Kita just stays silent as you blink rapidly, taking in the heavenly features of Kita Shinsuke. His wings were glowing and golden, his face was beautiful and his sculpted body hidden under a white robe just made your clench your thighs.

This was bad, you weren't supposed to see him. You squint your eyes at him and pointed.

"Are you supposed to be my guardian angel?"

"Unfortunately, yes"

You hummed at his reply. You sit up and traced your finger on his jawline.

"Are you sure? You don't look like those biblically accurate angels"

"There are different kinds of angels"

"Yeah, but you look hot as a devil"

Kita gulped you pressed yourself against his body. He knows he shouldn't but something about your touch was intoxicating.

"How do I know if you're really an ange?"

"Are the wings not convincing enough?"

"You have to do better than that. C'mon, make me believe"

And made you believe he did because he just managed to make you cum more than five times with his fingers alone. Kita should be embarrassed with the way he's aroused by the sound your desperate moans, the way your eyes rolled back when he abuses your clit, the smell of your sweat mixing with your perfume, and the taste of your cum when he licks it off his fingers.

"More, I want more"

"Do ya think ya deserve it? For all I know you've been nothin' but a bad girl"

"No! M'not, I'm nice please, just want your cock"

You whimpered desperately and tugged at his robe. He wanted to do God's work by punishing you first and making you admit for your sins.

"You have to ask for forgiveness and promise to be a good girl"

"Pleeease! M'sorry! I'll be good!"

Kita slaps your pussy making you yelp and moan at the same time. You were full onsobbing and begging to get dicked down so bad by your guardian angel.

"How am I going to know you ain't lyin'?"

"I'll stop being a bad girl and-hiccup-pray every day and got church! Just please gimme your cock!"

Honestly, Kita couldn't care less if you went to church and become a devoted christian. Knowing he has power over you was enough to think he can keep you in line. When his enormous cock slaps your tummy, you looked at him, eyes wide and watery.

"Think ya can take me, angel?"

*runs away giggling*

#— ♬ ©kitasgloves #haikyuu #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu fic #haikyuu smut #kita shinsuke #kita x reader #kita x you #kita shinsuke x reader

[moonswolfie]

the way i sCREAMED

I slapped my poor bed full force😭

I'm not sure how to get them tho, which is a sad moment

You can see their chibi forms in game tho through little icons and playing the event and they're so CUTE AHSJKADGAHD

#˗ˏˋ ★ ꕤ 「Wolfie’s posts」 ꕤ ★ ˎˊ˗ #this is the last non-fic post i swear😭 #things have just kinda been hectic because of the school year starting #haikyuu!! #haikyuu #inarizaki #haikyuu!!: touch the dream #osamu miya #miya osamu #miya atsumu #kita shinsuke #kita haikyuu #suna rintarou #suna rintarō #miya twins #atsumu miya

[dabiekql]

HQ Kita - First Date (Fluff)

-----

Imagine y/n going on her first date with Kita. Kita will probably just dress neatly, but simple while y/n wakes up as soon as the sun was up to prepare. She was nervous yet excited for her date. She wanted to make sure she looked pretty. She even arrived at their meeting location earlier than agreed upon. As she waited for him, she checked herself through her mirror, making sure she didn't ruin anything.

Unknown to her, Kita arrived as soon as she did. But instead of approaching her immediately, he watched her fix herself with a smile before approaching her. He was thinking of how adorable she was.

When y/n saw him approaching, she will blush as she shyly wave at him with a smile. She then saw how he dressed and then looked at her outfit. It felt like she overdressed and that disheartened her a little as she it made her feel like she was the only one excited. Although deep inside, she knew it wasn't like that. She understood that Kita prefers to dress simple.

As an observant person, Kita immediately caught on her thoughts. Honestly, he found that adorable as well. He smiled at her and told her how nice she looks and how her outfit suits her well. This immediately brighten up her mood as she twirls her hair in shyness. "T-Thank you..."

While they are enjoying their date, y/n constantly glance at Kita's hand as they walk side by side. She was wondering if she could hold hands with him. Was it okay for them to hold hands as they walk? Can she just grab his hand? Or is it too early to hold hands? She knows Kita isn't really a type who enjoys PDA. Is holding hands considered as PDA?

As countless of questions cloud her thoughts, Kita glanced at her before holding her hand gently as if he knew what she was thinking. Y/n felt her heart leap in shock, at the same time, she could feel heat rushing to her face. She then wrapped her fingers around his hand as well with a smile.

#hq scenarios #hq headcanons #hq hcs #hq x you #hq imagines #hq fluff #haikyuu #hq x y/n #hq x reader #hq kita #kita shinsuke #kita fluff #hq fanfic #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu fic #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #kita x reader #kita x y/n #kita x you #inarizaki

[minarixx]

❛𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐔𝐧𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧❜ 𝐇𝐚𝐢𝐤𝐲𝐮𝐮 𝐎𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐬

A series of Haikyuu one shots inspired by Taylor Swift songs.

All of them are angst I will not be writing part 2's or follow ups for any of them and the endings are all sad for reader because its kind of boring writing a happy one If it says '???' in the character list slot, request a character pls lol FEM (AFAB) reader x Various Haikyuu Characters

List

𝐃𝐞𝐛𝐮𝐭

Tsukishima Kei - Should've said no

𝐅𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬

𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐍𝐨𝐰

Miya Atsumu - Speak Now

Iwaizumi Hajime - Back to December

𝐑𝐞𝐝

Kuroo Tetsurou - All Too Well

Suna Rintarou - I Almost Do

𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟗

𝐑𝐞𝐩𝐮𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 Miya Osamu - Getaway Car

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫

𝐅𝐨𝐥𝐤𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐞

Suna Rintarou - Cardigan

Oikawa Tooru - August

Remake Oikawa Tooru Oikawa - August

Kita Shinsuke - The 1

𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞

Tsukishima Kei - right where you left me

𝐌𝐢𝐝𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬

Sakusa Kiyoomi - You're Losing Me

Miya Atsumu - High infidelity

Requests

??? - Red

??? - The way I loved you

??? - Exile

??? - Champagne Problems

??? - Foolish One

??? - Tolerate it

??? - Mr. Perfectly Fine

??? - Illicit Affairs

??? - Enchanted

??? - Babe

??? - Betty

Spotify Playlist

©Minarixx 2023 - please don't copy, repost or translate without my knowledge credit or permission.

#haikyuu one shot #haikyuu angst #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fic #kiyoomi sakusa #suna rintaro #suna rintarou #oikawa tooru #atsumu miya #tsukishima kei #kita shinsuke #osamu miya

[nishipostitz]

haikyuu characters x gn!reader

tw! none for now. just fluff

he was the boy your parents wanted you to bring home. before you woke up, he would've already finished making your breakfast. he had opened all the curtains, folded the fresh laundry, and possibly cleaned your bags... he was so fond of you. every little thing he did showed how much he cared for you. in return, he wanted your love, and you were never coming short of that. walking out of the house to your next destination, the car would already be warm or cool for you before you enter. his job was always opening the door for you. on some days, if he's feeling extra generous, he would do the iconic drama seat belt thing.. hehe.... anyways- if you guys were going to classes, he would carry your bags for you while you walk to class and get you seated in class before you leave. if you were shopping, he would push the cart and hold your things. now, moving on to food dates. upon leaving the house, he would rush to the car to open the door for you. then when you arrived, he would get out of the car and open the door for you. entering the restaurant, he would pull out your chair and push it in for you. honestly, he was just really in love with you and you really don't understand how. he has treated you the best out of your last relationships. he was really the ideal.

kita, iwai, daichi, ushijima, kageyama, kuroo, yaku, akaashi, sugawara, asahi, osamu, aran, sakusa, hinata, makki

finals and exams are coming up!! so I haven't been alive nor writing lately, so this post might've been just a sht post.. sorry guys!!

#akaashi fic #kita shinsuke #iwaizumi fluff #ushijima fic #kageyama fluff #kuroo fluff #yaku x reader #sugawara fluff #asahi fluff #osamu fanfiction #sakusa fanfiction #haikyuu hinata #makki x reader #haikyuu #anime #hq fluff #fluff

[lou-struck]

Taste of Home

Shinsuke Kita X reader

Day 19: Taste of Home

25 Days of Ficmas Masterlist

~ You try your hand at making one of Shinsuke’s grandmother's recipes

Although he wouldn't admit it, something has been off about Shinsuke lately.

The holidays have come and gone leaving the two of you a bit tired from the hustle and bustle. While it was fun getting to see your friends and loved ones, sharing gifts, and eating delicious food, someone important was missing from the fun.

Yumie, his grandmother was unable to come to his family's Christmas Dinner after catching a little cold. Although it was nothing serious it was enough to keep the sweet older woman away from the festivities.

Your Boyfriend is very much a grandma’s boy and was crushed by the news. If it weren't for his grandmother’s fragile condition, the two of you would've dropped everything to spend the holidays with her. But neither of you wanted to make things any worse for the number one fan of your relationship.

Christmas dinner was missing more than Yumie’s sweet smile and familiar stories, one thing that noticeably lacking from the tabletop was her delicious cooking.

With the holidays over and Yumie still not well enough to be receiving guests, you decide to take it upon yourself to give your Fiance a little taste of home.

~

With Kita off making a last-minute rice delivery to Onigiri Miya, you knew you had the perfect window of opportunity to put your plan into action.

Weeks ago when you called Yumie to ask for one of Shinsuke's favorite recipes of hers, she took it upon herself to pen it down in her own hand on a notecard and express mail it to you.

“When you asked why she would go through the trouble of writing it down she chuckled.

“So you’ll always have it,” she said on the phone.

When you look at the carefully penned recipe in your hands it's hard to not feel a bit emotional, Yumie is a kind woman, but she keeps her prized recipes close to her chest. The fact that she gave you one so freely is enough to make your eyes water. You swore then and there that you would go above and beyond in making the dish.

Although the recipe is fairly simple, it took you hours to shop for all the ingredients ensuring that each and every scrap of food you used was of the highest quality because your partner is worth every minute of effort.

With all of the ingredients washed and displayed in front of you, you begin to prep the food. Peeling the carrots, and radishes and chopping the onions into small strips until your eyes begin to water. Blinking away the hot onion tears you turn your attention to the Loin you got from a small butcher's shop. Carving it into small strips and letting it marinate in a bath of seasonings.

When you are so focused on following the steps in front of you, hours seem to pass like minutes.

Just as you remove the finished product from the heat source you see the headlights of Kita’s truck pull down your long driveway. An excited squeak escapes your lips and you hurry to put the finishing touches on your surprise. He comes through the door just as you place his portion at the table dressing it with some chopped scallions just like how Yumie instructed you to do so.

His cheeks are pink from the cold and a few snowflakes rest lightly on his shoulder, you were so focussed on the task of hand you didn't even realize that it started snowing outside. He gently removes his boots and jacket placing them in their proper spot before glancing up at you with a relieved smile “y/n, I didn't realize you’d be home,” he says wrapping his arms around you. The cold on his skin melted away under your touch.

“I had an off day,” you smile as he warms up a bit. It's then he takes a deep breath in and his head pricks up. “Is something wrong?” you ask innocently.

“It’s nothing.” he says shaking his head, “Something just smells wonderful.”

“I did just make some dinner,” you say gingerly taking his hand and leading him toward the kitchen table where his surprise awaits.

“You’re too sweet on me,” he says following eagerly behind you towards the mouth-watering smell. 

The table couldn't look any more perfect. The stew you made still steams lightly in the colorful bowl from whence it sits and the candles you just lit burn brightly. When your boyfriend looks down at the all-too-familiar dish he stops in his tracks.

“Is this what is think it is?” he says quietly dropping his hand and sitting down at the table.

“Maybe,” you humm taking a seat across from him. “Does it look familiar?”

“Extremely,” he says lifting his spoon and placing it lightly in the broth. “May I try it?”

It’s then you realize you forgot to taste test the food before serving it. A feeling of panic hits you as you nod slightly. As all sorts of questions run through your poor brain.

What if you missed a step?

What if it’s bad?

What if it’s terrible?

Kita sips the broth before you have time to object. His face is unreadable as he swallows the stew. He just clenches the cutlery tighter and stares down at the dish.

“Shin,” you call from across the table but the words don't seem to reach him. Unable to take not knowing if your cooking tasted edible any longer, you take your spoon and try the broth.

Tasting it you brace for the feeling of a mistake on your tongue, but it doesn't ever come. The broth tastes…good.

It doesn't taste like you made it at all, it's warm and comforting in the way only a grandmother's cooking can be.

Looking back across the table you see that Shinskue’s gaze is now locked firmly on you. “Did you make this?” he says with a shaky breath. His eyes turn glassy as he waits for your response. “It tastes like my grandmother's recipe.”

“I did…” you say “I asked her for the recipe and she sent it over.”

"I-i can't believe how similar it tastes," he says taking another sip. "She has never given out one of her recipes before."

"So you like it?" you ask "I just wanted to do something for you since she couldn't be with us during the holidays."

"I love it, you did an amazing job." he praises getting up from his seat and coming over to hold you tightly. "but more than that, I love you. There is no one else who would do something like this for me."

"You know I'd do just about anything for you," you smile as he tilts your chin up towards him so he can give you a more than thankful kiss.

"And I you," he says returning to your lips to enjoy another comforting taste.

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #kita hq #shinsuke kita x reader #shinsuke kita #kita x reader #kita haikyuu #kita shinsuke #kita scenarios #kita fluff #MIU collab #haikyuu fluff #25 days of fic mas

[torhues]

kita shinshuke.

w. bittersweet, yet still sweet, dare i say

kita thinks he has lived enough.

it's december of twenty-twenty-two, almost new year, almost twenty-twenty-three, the numbers which felt like distant future around forty years ago. he has seen decades change, he's far too familiar with seasons, a little too well versed with minute climate changes to assume the weathers. things are new and unfamiliar and yet, oddly comforting. there are wrinkles on his body, white hair shining like silver on his head under the sunlight; kita is old, he's seventy-two, the younger you wouldn't believe.

time flows like water because it feels like just yesterday, kita had met you. as if it has only been a day since he accidently took his english notebook before test, just a day since you asked him for an answer during the exam, just a day since he cheated for the first time in his life; and it wouldn't be an overstatement to say, he felt like a criminal. even though it was you who poked his back with your fingers, whispering the question you needed the answer to, kita felt equally responsible.

things took a turn when he met you because you bought him taiyaki as a thank you gift for helping you during the test and for some odd reason, kita felt content. the second first thing he did with you was skipping school to attend music festival at a local stadium; the third one was going to the rooftop which was prohibited by the school premises; fourth one being, stealing flowers from a nursery because it was your birthday and he forgot to buy gifts, neither did he have money; and the fifth, kissing you in the classroom after the classes were empty.

kita had shared his firsts with you, from good things to bad, breaking rules, reforming them according to his preferences, in a way that made him feel better, told him that it was okay to let loose at times.

it feels like just yesterday, he asked you out for a date after saving up money for two months, not because his family was financially unstable, but because he didn't tell anyone about his relationship since he didn't know if it's okay to do so, because he wanted to buy tickets to meiko hirota's concert that you'd been dying to attend, because he wanted to take your responsibility from the very first day. it's as if just yesterday, you both were given extra home-work for passing chits in class, just yesterday since his eyes had started diverting to you during lessons instead of the board, just yesterday when kita cried the night you left for college and just yesterday, he felt like he could breathe again when you came back to him, saying studies didn't feel right.

it feels like just yesterday, kita married you at twenty-five.

he didn't believe the moment when you walked down the isle, when he slipped a ring onto your finger, when you looked like the prettiest version of yourself. kita didn't believe what has happening until he got home with his hands in yours, and yours lips against his, and his heart in your hand, with nothing to worry about. he dreamt about spending his entire life with you, and his dream was in front of him, in his hands. kita didn't believe in anything except the moment you said i love you in front of the moon peeping through your curtains and spirits of old lovers dancing in the air.

life felt like the romance novels he read to you on afternoon that were laced with laziness. walks through the sunflower fields resonated of a fever dream, where his hands were intertwined with yours, and the world would reduced to nothing. tiny dates, bunch of flowers— the first thing in the morning, a kiss shared on the benches by the bus stops, long walks up the town, picking grapes, sunsets by the bridges, names carved in the barks of trees, it felt as if you both never grew out of your old highschool love story.

time flows like water, because it feels like just yesterday, he held his son in his arms for the first time and today, kita is a grandfather to two daughters. years passed, the pace of your lives changed, but he still loves you like the very first day. pictures from his golden days that hung up on the wall never let him feel like he has grown old and is no longer able to go on day-long dates with you, because it feels like just yesterday, kita met you, and he has his whole life in from on him to spend with you, even with an IV, even next to a heart monitor, even when he has you next to him 'round the clock, telling him that you love him and having him say it back until when you couldn't hear it back anymore.

kita once asked you if it was fair for him to leave first, if you felt alright because he is leaving you alone, and you said there was nothing unfair about it because you promised to stay with him for his entire life, and you are living up to it. and it feels like just yesterday, you both celebrated your first wedding anniversary.

he would've stayed longer but kita has lived enough. he doesn't have anything left to do, no undone tasks, no loose ends. you're sitting next to him with your hands still intertwined with his because they don't want to let go. kita doesn't have any regrets because it feels like just yesterday, he fell in love with you and tomorrow, in some other life, he would fall for you all over again.

#♡ hues'. #♡ handmade. #kita x reader #haikyuu x reader #kita fluff #haikyuu fluff #kita angst #haikyuu angst #kita drabbles #haikyuu drabbles #kita headcanons #haikyuu headcanons #kita shinsuke #haikyuu kita #kita fic #haikyuu fic #help this has been in my head for weeks now ... didnt know it would be angst tho lawl #i dont count this as angst btw #this is fluff #v much fluff