hyun

notes : this is js a harmless headcanon of mine!!

TIMESKIP! oikawa tooru is allegedly into girls with long legs

husband! oikawa tooru x tall wife! reader

now before yall come at me, i js thought of this hc and i can assure you that i myself am a fat fuck but im pretty tall for a woman but my legs are gross i promise, this is js a hc since ive read somewhere that he likes healthy skinny girls or sumn like that (not confirmed tho!)

it started small.

just a casual “oh, those shoes are cute, babe!”

or sometimes a drop of “you should wear this more often”

like a usual supportive husband he is, always complimenting you whenever you’re beautifully dressed up or fresh out of your slumber because you’re always captivating in his eyes, no matter your state.

you noticed how his eyes always drifted from bottom to upwards whenever you’re asking for his opinion on a dress, skirt, pants or shoes but you didn’t think much of it. you’re both adults here, it’s completely normal.

but behind those dark chocolate penetrative eyes you see everyday is a man who’s downed himself into a pathetic simp.

the two pieces of charred bread popped out of the toaster’s socket, signalling the athlete that his toast is ready to be eaten. with a lick of his lip, he padded over to grab a plate.

the door of your shared bedroom creaked open, you walked out with a folded blazer in hand and your workbag hanging off your shoulder, “ugh! i’m gonna be late!” you yelped out, a small frown decorated your face, making the brunette perk up.

which he regretted had he not lift his gaze.

you were just in your usual work attire, white blouse and a skirt, the formal and very appropriate outfit— well before he drifted down to see your pretty pretty oh so pretty (did he say that already?) legs hugged by a pair of thin thigh high socks.

his throat aches, his heart beats so fast and hard it threatens to break his ribcage, his brows shot up.

you just successfully knocked the air out of him.

he shook his head, coughing into his fist and regaining composure. he narrowed his eyes at you, “that’s criminal.” he muttered to himself, chanting whatever prayers to get a fricking grip.

his lips then stretched into a grin, “oh, looking sexy, wifey.” a comment that earned him a playful glare, he expected that. you paid no mind to his not-really-that-surprising comment before slipping into your heels.

oh.

oh.

oh, you really were trying to kill him.

in his head, toru’s already creating excuses why you should skip work today.

as if your legs couldn’t look anymore hotter.

wait, toru’s that weird— but it’s just appreciating your wife’s features, what’s so weird about that?

it took one second to have the piece of 185.6cm and 82.4kg of a man kneel down like a puppy, one calloused hand already fixing on the straps of your heels.

you gaped, raising a brow and watching him hum a tune while helping you out with something so awfully trivial, he noticed and simply smiled innocently.

“what? can’t help out my wife who’s late for work?” he simply said.

you were about to say something before he leaned in to press a kiss on your sock-covered thigh as if it was something precious, thumb brushing the fabric covering your skin.

he closed his eyes, sighing softly, this is what heaven feels like.

“my beautiful wife, leaving me for some job.” he grumbled playfully, still very much obsessed with your legs.

then, smack.

“ow! what the hell was that for!?” he whined, rubbing the top of his head where you assaulted before slowly straightening up.

you rolled your eyes, “it’s 7AM. wrong time for you to be all kinky and gross about my legs.” you chuckled, he immediately gasped.

“oh, of course, blame me for appreciating my wife’s features!” he said dramatically, clutching his chest as if you just punched him.

you simply chuckled at his theatrics, leaning in to press a small kiss on his lips as one hand reached the door knob. “see you tonight, toru. love you.” then, whoosh! you were gone.

he blinked, not even getting to reply before huffing, shaking his head.

later at work, you got a text from none other than him.

annoying pretty boy :

husb! katsuki who immediately joins the fight when the villain gets a little too close to hurt you (he has some spidey sense built in)

husb! katsuki who picks you up and blasts you off to the nearest medical help when you get injured

husb! katsuki who denies your marriage when he’s being bombarded with reporters, always shutting them away with a “fuck off, you nosy extras!” before blasting back to his agency

husb! katsuki who accidentally exposed your relationship together during an interview because he called you by his nickname for you instead of your hero name

husb! katsuki who immediately accepts any mission that involved you

husb! katsuki who claims he’s doing the bare minimum when really he’s doing the absolute most, just to flex (he did not need to blast that robber into the next prefecture)

husb! katsuki who sends his sidekicks to buy your merch at exact time the shop opens

husb! katsuki who actually doesn’t hate getting injured because it means you’ll tend to his wounds

husb! katsuki who needs your help to fix his tie whenever he has a press conference to attend (the reporter might’ve caught you fixing his tie behind curtains)

husb! katsuki who hoards your merch and keeps it all in a glass shelf in his office and has a built in switch to hide said shelf whenever you visit his agency

husb! katsuki who keeps an ID picture of you in his wallet and will literally combust if you find out

husb! katsuki who collects your hero cards, specifically buying the signed ones because he’s too embarrassed to admit he buys those shit and ask for your signature

husb! katsuki who insists on doing laundry-related chores because you ‘always do it wrong’

husb! katsuki who’s a good cook and loves to cook for you especially when you’re sick

husb! katsuki who watches your interviews on youtube repeatedly and even records the whole news session if you appeared in the news

husb! katsuki who scoffs when he sees comments under videos that are related to you because wdym “dynamight can’t handle allat”

husb! katsuki who yanks you close by the hem of your shirt and giving your ass a small spank when he’s in a playful mood

husb! katsuki who loves playing fight with you and bonus points if you get to straddle him

husb! katsuki who goes on jogs with you but feels slightly competitive and maybe starts to use his explosions to be faster than you because he’s petty like that

husb! katsuki who rarely goes on talk shows but only does when you’re invited with him

husb! katsuki who practically screeches at the interviewer but then softening up when he’s talking to you (this scene later trended with #dynadownbad)

husb! katsuki who’d create a fake account and fight with some random thirteen-year-old that commented ‘they kinda suck tho’ on your post

husb! katsuki who saves edits of you under a folder named ‘do not open’

husb! katsuki who isn’t scared to scare off reporters that bothers you, flipping them off casually followed by “you wanna fucking die?”

“i really hope you don’t hate me for this.”

he muttered, his chocolate eyes averting your gaze because he couldn’t really muster the courage to even look at you in the eye. he let out a soft sigh, the cold air forming pass his lips.

his bottom lip quivered slightly. god, why is it so hard for him to do this? he practiced it multiple times, in front of the mirror, at hajime, at his poster of blanco— yet it isn’t the least bit similar to whatever the hell he’s doing at the moment.

his long slender fingers reached up to fix his scarf, the autumn air taking his breath away or taking his life away. his eyelashes fluttered, his stupid tears just can’t help but well in his eyes.

he remembered the many, many times he pined– no, yearned for you. his first and second year of high school may had been filled with volleyball practices and countless flirts with you. he remembered you actually accepting him at the end of his second year of highschool, it was winter.

and it was now autumn— the cold was nothing compared to the winter air but it indicated a warning that winter is bound to hit mercilessly.

“i think it’s best for the both of us if we broke up.” there. he said it.

and suddenly it hits.

gasp. he immediately sat up on his queen sized bed in the comforts of his moderate apartment in the heart of buenos aires. he shuddered at the cold air trespassing through the opened windows. he clicked his tongue slightly before sighing.

“god, what the hell?” he murmured, his fingers rake his dark brown roots as his eyes gazed onto the clock on his bedside table. 4:53AM. he groaned at the time being so early. he’s been having those sleepless nights again.

the kind of nights where he is drowning in the never ending cascading water of regret. the nights where he dreamed of you, your smile, your laugh, your jokes.

what has gotten into him? he thought. the events of him dumping you to pursue a professional career in volleyball kept replaying in his mind like a broken vinyl player. he’d rather someone hit his head with a baseball bat than experiencing the pure heartbreaking moment repeatedly.

soon enough, he walked over to the kitchen to get himself a drink. coffee? ew, no. he hates caffeine with a passion. caramel macchiato? sweet and energetic but still coffee, heck— it was your favourite sweet drink. scratch that, he hates caramel macchiato. matcha? pfft— he remembered that one time you tried to make matcha on your own and spilled it onto your biology homework.

and oh my god. what has actually gotten into him? why is he suddenly reminiscing the memories of you? it wasn’t sudden, no. not when he’s been like this ever since he saw you at the Buenos Aires airport a couple months ago.

he unlocked his phone, his thumb hovering over an old number. your number. you probably don’t even use this number anymore. it’s stupid, he’s stupid.

ringing…

he leaned against the kitchen counter, biting his bottom lip as he awaited the response from the other line.

“hey, it’s (y/n)! you know what to do.”

he was so stupidly missing you that he almost answered at the greet, only to realise it was a voicemail. he can’t believe it. you still use this number.

“hey, uh. i know it’s been like what— five years since we’ve last talked? as horrible as it sounds, i miss you. i miss you a lot, (y/n). you’ve been running on my mind these couple months.”

he let out a sigh before ending the voice mail. he’s stupid, seriously. he then decided to change into a windbreaker and some shorts.

as he jogged until he saw sunlight, his phone vibrated. he immediately took it out to see if it was you. spoiler alert! it wasn’t. it was a message from his manager.

“toru! your last sports agent had to quit due to some family problems. good news is we found you a really impeccable replacement. she’s new to the industry so be nice! meet her at the office in two days and ask the receptionist for a (y/n) (l/n).”