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#suna rintaro oneshot
rinsaint · 1 year
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What are your thoughts on Suna x reader who wears a purity ring and everyone makes fun of them for it until the walk into class one day and see that they are not wearing and they only get they answer as to why is when Suna asks reader to meet him in the school gyms locker room
suna definitely is the type to make fun of reader for being the innocent christian girl. He would tease and bully you every day just to get a rise out of you. He would never miss up the chance to rile you up and watch you get flustered.
so when your math teacher told you that you would have to tutor suna rintarou, it made you slightly annoyed but nonetheless, you still obliged.
even if you would never admit it, there was some tension between you and suna. His constant flirtatious act towards you made butterflies swarm in your stomach. But you couldn’t do anything about it, your family didn’t want you to be with someone until you got married.
not like you had a chance with him anyways.
or so you thought, you’d never thought you find yourself on your bed as suna rintarou’s hands roamed your body. He squeezed the sides of your hips and you let out a whimper as he starts leaving kisses on your neck.
was this really happening?
You could have ever imagined that something like this was going to happen. Being in a christian family, you had made a purity pact with your mom and dad, the ring on your finger being a proof of that. But suna is too intoxicating, the way he treats you, the way he lets his flirty comments slip pass his mouth, the way he smirks everytime you stutter out a response from his teasing, the way his rings fit on his fingers and how he knowingly knows what to say to fluster you up, is all too much. But you liked it.
You let your head fall back as his fingers starts to rub circles on your clothe clit, “mm i wonder how your family would react if they saw their little angel spreading her legs right now.”
“S-suna-“
“Call me rin, yea?”
You made eye contact with him as his finger pulled your panties aside, teasing your hole, he slips two fingers in slowly, watching as you arch against him. His fingers pumped in and out of you, you gripped the back of his hair as he left noticeable marks on your neck. Suna felt you clench around him and he sped up his pace.
“rin.. i-i think m’close” you whined, you could feel sunas smirk that always has you weak in the knees against your neck.
“well cum for me then pretty.”
your toes curled and your vision was blurred and went white as you blissfully came around rins thick fingers. You gripped onto his fingers and felt his movement when he continued to pump his fingers in and out of you, overstimulating you.
“r-rin i cant please.”
“yes you can angel, and you will, give me one more yeah?”
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sunarinscumdump · 1 year
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nothing sweeter than sunarin peppering your face with kisses and showering you with affection after you show him your ootd so you won't go out with your friends and instead, just stay at home with him.
- 18+ only, minors dni -
“rin, that tickles~" you giggle as you try to pry your clingy boyfriend off of you.
his hands warmly remained on your waist as he continues pressing light kisses all over your face and neck. “you sure you really wanna go out, doll?”
“staying home's a lot more fun...” he tries to convince you, but you just roll your eyes.
“i've had to cancel two hangouts with my friends last month because you keep doing this.” you giggle lightly when he pouts. “and what do you mean fun? we only ever end up fucking and you know that.”
he eyes thepointed look you give him and raises a brow, “so you mean to say making love with me isn't fun?”
your eyes widen and you let out a squeal as he sweeps you off your feet and carries you over to the king sized bed that you and your boyfriend, ejp middle blocker suna rintarō share.
"not fun, huh?” he looks at you, a look of accomplishment flashing in his face when he sees your eyes glossed over with the way his prominent bulge pressed against your clothed pussy.
“i'll show you what's ‘not fun’."
another hangout with friends: cancelled.
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kiyosamu · 5 months
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Cheater, Cheater. ♡
———— ♡ ————
Pairing: Rintaro Suna x Reader
Synopsis: Suna’s cheating on his girlfriend with you. He can’t help it. You’re just so… addictive. Something about you. He’s obsessed.
CW(?): Implied smut, not explicit. Reader is shameless and doesn’t really care that he has a girlfriend. Reader is into him, but doesn’t want anything more (and he hates this).
———— ♡ ————
“Why do you lie to her so much?” You ask, tilting your head. His fingers tighten into your hips as you sit on his lap. “What’s the point?”
Suna sighs.
“Because she’s my girlfriend and I’m cheating on her with you. It’s not like I can just come clean with that information.” Suna leans in, kissing your neck softly. “It's fun. I don't love her like I love you. I don't feel real passion with her. I don't feel like she completes me. When I'm with you, I get that excitement. That rush.”
Suna stops for a moment, thinking of his next response before murmuring against your lips. “I have fun with my girlfriend, yeah, but that's it—fun. You make me feel… alive.”
“So?” You ask in response, pressing your lips back to his. “Why are you with her?”
“She’s good company. She’s my friend. She’s… comfortable, I guess. I can’t just break her heart like that.” Suna looks into your eyes. “I might not love her, but I do care for her. She just doesn’t give me what I need.”
You hum softly, sliding your hand under his shirt. “And? What is it that you so desperately need?”
Suna chuckles, his pupils slightly widening as your fingers softly trail circles on his toned abdomen. “I said it earlier—the excitement…”. He looks you in the eyes, his lips just barely an inch from yours as he whispers, “the passion… the rush.”
You nod, acknowledging his answer silently and resting your hands on your thighs. “Right, well. I gotta go.”
“Wait, no.” He rests his hands on top of yours. “Where? Why?”
“Relax, Rin. I have a final tomorrow.” You take his left hand and pull it close to your mouth, sucking on his index and middle fingers as you stare innocently into his eyes.
Suna groans, pulling his hand back. “You know that’s torture for me. Don’t do shit like that. Don’t look at me like that.”
You laugh softly, giving his cheek two little taps and getting out of his car. You lean in the passenger side window and continue your conversation. “I’ll see you later. Hopefully the sweet girl waiting up for you can take care of…” You glance down at his obvious erection. “That.”
“You’re such a bitch.” You smile wickedly as he says those words. “I like you, you know that?”
You roll your eyes. “You’ve told me once or twice. Bye, Rin.” Your smirk returns to your lips as you turn around, walking back through your college campus, swaying your hips with the knowledge that he was watching you.
——
Suna spends time idly pleasing his girlfriend by taking her for dinner and dessert. He couldn’t stand this. As much as he loved you, he couldn’t stand the sick thoughts running through his head as he sat across the table from such a kind girl. A good girl. Tall, blonde, athletic. They had so much in common. On paper, they made a great match. Perfect, even. But Suna was bored. She bored him, and he didn’t know why. She was safe.
You, on the other hand, were unpredictable. You didn’t fawn over him the way other girls did. Hell, he wasn’t sure you even liked him half the time. But when your lips met for the first time he knew that he wouldn’t be able to stop. Ever. It was like a hit of the most delicious high he’d ever had. He wanted you. Even if you didn’t want him, you were his.
Suna begins to think of you the moment he’s alone again. You didn't want him to call or text you very often, so he contemplated just popping by your dorm. He wondered if that would be too much, and if he should wait until the next time he was on your mind.
Suna shrugged, threading his fingers through his hair.
Fuck waiting.
——
You lazily opened your eyes as your phone buzzed and woke you from your half asleep state.
>> I’m coming over.
You laugh to yourself, typing back.
<< I ruined you, didn’t I?
The response was instant.
>> Yeah, you really did.
You get up and open the door as you hear his footsteps in the hallway.
“Hi.” You grin, trailing your gaze down his tall, muscular body as he comes in.
Suna gives a soft grunt in response, shutting the door with his foot and sliding his hands down your sides, squeezing your ass.
“You have a good evening?” You ask, looking up into his eyes with a false innocence. “Good time with your girl? Have a good fuck?”
He nods, looking back into your stare. “Yeah, it was… alright.” His voice is quieter. It’s almost as if he was on autopilot, he was barely even listening to your words. Something else was on his mind. “Can I kiss you?”
You nod. Suna smiles and leans forward, putting his lips to yours. Your lips were different than hers. So soft and sweet, so delicious, he could never get enough. He pulls back for a moment and looks at you, his eyes squinting slightly as his fingertips caress your face. “You're so beautiful.”
You smirk up at him, putting your hand over one of his. “You’re a sick fuck, you know that?”
A low moan leaves his lips as he kisses you again. “I know, I'm disgusting. But I can't help it.” He leans back slightly, looking at you. “I can't fucking help it, I need you. I need your lips… I need your hands on me.” Suna bites his tongue slightly and swallows. “And I need you so much that it hurts. I'm in so deep and I can't get out. My body needs you, my brain... God, I just want you so bad.”
“Hm.” You shrug. “It’s too bad you can’t have me.”
Suna slightly lowers his gaze and breathes sharply through his nose. “Why? Why can't I have you? I just want to feel you more. I just want to touch you more. To love you and to make you feel good in my arms.” He chuckles and takes a deep breath. “You're cruel, you know that?”
“I’m cruel? You’re the one with a girlfriend.” You shake your head, sliding your hands in the back pockets of his jeans as you continue to look up at him. “Plus, I don’t do relationships.”
“Of course you don’t.” Suna laughs quietly, “But you're just so damn tempting. You're so irresistible.” His fingers trail down your cheek and neck, stopping at your collarbone. “You could break my heart with the slightest touch.”
“Aww, poor baby. I’m sure you’d recover.” You tease.
He purses his lips in thought. “I'd never get over you. I'd feel the loss of you all the time.” He pulls away slightly and shuts his eyes. “But we could have... this. Just these moments, when we're with each other. Nothing more than that would be needed.” His eyes glance down to your lips. “You just tempt me so much. You're like a drug to me.”
You sigh, looking down. “So why do you even stay with her?”
“It's comfortable. I told you.” He frowns and looks at you. “I love her, I do, but it's never been like this with her. She'll never pull me in like you do. And fuck, you don’t even need to try.” Suna takes a deep breath. “I love spending time with her, but it's not the same. I love you so much. I'm so goddamn sick of her, even though I love her.
You lead him over to the couch, sitting next to him and resting your legs on his lap. “I’m sure you’re sick of me too, hm? Sick of how in love you are with me?”
He sighs and chuckles quietly. “So fucking sick of it. But God, I love it so much. I'm like... obsessed. With you. I swear, I think about you all the time. Suna shakes his head as he smiles at you. “God, I'm so screwed up. Look at me. I can't stop thinking about how much I want you.”
“I kinda like it.” You grin.
Suna bites his lip. “You do? You like seeing a guy obsessed with you? You like it when a guy wants to throw away his entire life and jeopardize his relationship all because of you?” He leans in again and kisses you, pulling you on his lap. “And to think you call me the sick fuck.”
You kiss him back, grinding your hips down on his. Suna lets out a low groan.
“You're so cruel.” He chuckles quietly. “I'm literally obsessed with you. I don't care about anything else. My grades, my team, any of it. I just want you.” He kisses you again, his hand slowly sliding down your back. “You really like seeing me lust after you this much?”
You smile against his lips, tangling your fingers in his hair and opening your mouth slightly. He moans softly, gripping your thighs tightly and grinding back up into you.
The two of you separate as you’re startled by knocking on your dorm room door. Your name is called, your best friend practically in hysterics as she calls for you. “Are you home? Please tell me you’re home. I think he’s cheating on me.”
Suna’s eyes widen. The last person he expected to interrupt the two of you was his girlfriend.
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kira-fluff · 9 months
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hi,can you do yn who sleeps with no pants pt3 with kenma and suna please?
sleeping with no pants on | fem!reader x haikyuu!!
a/n: i finally got my new laptop today so it's back to writing ^^
tw: language, NSWF, kenma's is a lil more than that lol (why? idk)
pt. 1 pt. 2
kenma kozume
you liked to sit and watch while kenma gamed, smiling as you heard the curses he said under his breath at a loss, or the smirk at a triumphant win. you laughed to yourself as you sat this time at 3am, recalling how kenma used to wake up early just to play his video games when he was younger. now that he was older, he had the luxury of playing as late as he wanted. the two of you hadn't been dating for very long, still very much in the kiss-hand-holding phase, so you balked in surprise when kenma suddenly said, "hey, are you sleeping here tonight?" while his eyes were still glued to his screen. you choked on your words. this was a big step for you, but not one you didn't want to take. you were just surprised at how causally he had brought the whole topic up. it seemed to shock you too evidently because he then added, "you don't have to though." you shook your head, "no, no, I want to. it's getting late, ken. lets get to bed." normally, kenma would fight tooth and nail to get even one more hour of gaming time like you were his mother, but he also knew it was out of concern that you often asked him to finish for the night. however, this time, kenma felt no need to continue pressing the buttons in rhythm with his console. you decided then and there that you would take the leap, and change in front of him. slowly, you lifted up your shirt. the rustling of fabric caused kenma to turn around in time to see your breasts bounce free from your bra. he whipped his head back in time for you not to see, his ears beet red. "kenma?" you said quietly. "..hmm?" "I-uh--well. so, when I sleep, I can't sleep when I have pants on..." kenma swallowed. "no problem." in all honesty, kenma didn't wear them either. he wore clothes for comfort, not for style, and the same was for sleeping. being able to be free from the confines of clothing was one of his favorite reasons for finally turning to going back to sleep. when you pulled down your shorts, exposing your panties, his eyes pooled with a dark gold. still, he pushed the thoughts away and instead decided it was time for him to head in too. after removing his sweatpants after turning off the light, he heard a little gasp as he slipped into the covers. kenma's bare leg had rubbed against your own. he wasn't wearing pants either? you could scarcely hold yourself together as you searched for things to think about other than the fact that your boyfriend was lying down next to you, pant-less. that morning you awoke in kenma's arms, the warm feeling of his chest against your back. <3
suna rintarou
you and suna ended up sleeping at each other's houses for the night several on several occasions. after watching movie with your best friend since middle school, it was pretty much a given that you didn't care much what the other did. still, you hadn't really reached the gap where you could step in and possibly admit your feelings for him. so, whenever he spent the night or vice versa, you would slide into the bed you both agreed to share (because who really cares?) with your complete pajama set on. you figured you would be going too far if you decided to be comfortable and take off your little shorts. this, of course, made it difficult for you to sleep. you moved around in an effort to get more comfortable, but all that did was rearrange your shorts so they were almost reversed - front in the back, back in the front. you sighed. "why do you keep rolling around like a burrito?" "that makes no sense." you said. "burritos are rolled." he said in the obnoxiously snarky way he speaks when he thinks something is obvious. "why are you awake arguing with me about burritos?" you muttered. "because you woke me up."m "it's just hard for me to fall asleep right now. it's too.. hot in here." "liar. the a/c is on full blast." he said. you sighed again, "well I'm just uncomfortable, ok?" he sat up a little, resting his head on the palm of his hand, his head turned to you. "why?" "it's really stupid and embarrassing." "everything about you is stupid and embarrassing." he smirked. he was rewarded with a flick on his forehead. "shut up, rin." his stare urged you to speak once more. "well," you began, "I can't sleep if my pants or shorts are on." he was quiet for a moment before his voice came out in a rasp, "well then don't wear any." you looked his way, noticing his eyes glowing in the moonlight creeping through the blinds. "but we're...friends." he swallowed thickly. "doesn't mean you can't take your shorts off--" he cut himself off. "it doesn't mean you can't be comfortable. there's covers anyway." you stared at him in apprehension before bringing your hands to your hips below the covers. slowly, you pulled them down, only the sound of the sheets and fabrics ruffling. suna sounded a bit like he was getting hot too because he was panting a bit when you turned to him. you looked at him with a questioning expression. "sorry.." he muttered, "kinda hard to breathe in here with the air quality and stuff." you were well aware the windows were closed and that was probably bullshit, but you decided not to press further. "well, anyway. thanks. goodnight." you smiled meekly, turning to your side. what you weren't aware of was that suna wasn't able to sleep a wink that night, much less when you shoved off the covers while sleeping (I guess you were actually a little bit hot). suna was suffering, truly, as he tried not to stare at the bottom half of you - only panties covering you. the morning couldn't come soon enough for him.
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junosmindpalace · 10 months
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Suna isn’t the type of person to go out of his way to impress someone. To quit slacking off during practice when he senses Kita’s watchful gaze, sure, but to invest time grooming himself into other people’s likeness? No way. 
He’s secure in himself for the most part, laid back and nonchalant. It wasn’t as if he didn’t put any work into himself, it was just that he only gave effort in areas he cared about or where it was required of him, and that usually didn’t transcend outside the realms of school and volleyball.
Most of the time (when he isn’t slacking off), Suna is practicing getting down a more efficient spike and doing his best to keep up with his agonizing classes. That was the most he cared about in terms of himself…until you had started to talk up a classmate of yours.
Suna was used to getting attention as an athlete, a lot of times indifferent to it. Atsumu was the one who enjoyed that sort of attention more, but he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t a blow to his pride when he hears you gush about a guitarist friend of yours. You would seemingly drone on and on about how impressive he was. You swooned, you would say. Guitarists are so cool. Rintaro listened to all your starstricken rants with raised brows and an annoyed look on his face. He couldn’t help but scoff and look away when you once mentioned something about attending one of his gigs. 
You were enthusiastic about Suna’s volleyball games, but never had you talked about his plays with such reverence. What was so great about guitarists? You could get all the excitement from a concert at one of Suna’s games. There was no need for you to attend that guy’s show. The rush in the stands are pretty much the same you’d feel at a concert venue. 
“Athletes are obviously better. What does plucking some strings have on power and scoring points?”
Suna’s mouth curled downward into a small frown as he listened to Atsumu’s attempt at trying to pick him up during practice. Suna didn’t mean for it to start getting discussed, but Atsumu, dumbfounded by Suna’s irritable mood, got curious on what could possibly make his very nonchalant teammate so…chalant. And so he poked and prodded, making exaggerated comments about his ugly face due to the deep frown on his lips and how he could see the steam coming from his ears until Suna caved in. 
“Obviously something.” 
Rintaro, you should see him play! He’s incredible, it almost has me falling for him. You had joked, but alarm bells were going off in his head, a wave of nausea washing over him and wiping out the remainder of his ego and any sort of nonchalance he was able to feign. That was his final straw. 
It was Aran who was the first to find out about Suna’s new hobby when he visited his house one afternoon, staring in surprise at the new addition to his usually unchanging room sitting in the corner.
“When’d you get a guitar, man?”
“Last week.”
“I didn’t know you were interested in playing an instrument.”
Suna's gaze shifted to the ground as he only gave a shrug in response, because he really wasn’t. At least, not out of a passion for it. He liked listening to music, he didn’t mind listening to other people play, but he himself had never been interested in learning. Well, until he learned about your love for guitarists. 
“They’re just so….you know?”
“I don’t.”
You laughed, even though Suna had meant the words with all the sincerity in the world. And he never got a clear explanation, so now he’s taking it upon himself to figure out what makes a couple of chords so impressive. 
He’s ready to bash his head into the guitar only a couple of days in. The metal strings on his acoustic were harsh on his fingers and always slipped from their position on the fretboard. He gets down the chord shapes decently quick, which motivate him to immediately move onto barring and suddenly he’s back to square one. Transitioning between each chord was also a pain, and don’t get him started on reading sheet music. Injuring his fingers during a game set his progress back a week.
He tries focusing on learning to play your favorite music; solos, riffs and the like. But each tutorial requires another tutorial, and it becomes a vicious pattern of Suna going down a rabbit hole trying to learn one thing after another. 
He’s ready to give up on the whole thing and find some way to impress you with volleyball, but the plan to abandon his progress halts after your reaction to him casually bringing up how difficult it was to play. 
“Wow, Rin, you play? I had no idea! That’s awesome! I’m sure you’re incredible!” 
And suddenly Suna’s back to looking up various tutorials, practicing transitioning between different chords and properly starting out with the basics. He even borrows workbooks from the music rooms to practice outside of school. The patience required of him made his head spin, but it was no matter. He was an athlete with an oblivious crush- patience was his middle name.
He’s surprisingly dedicated, not staying too late after school for volleyball practice and instead opting to work out of his books in the afternoon. He’s gotten farther than he ever expected he would- he even picks up on the language naturally. He doesn’t even realize it until he’s ranting to you about some annoying technical details, not even in an attempt to make you fawn over him.
When he turns to look at you, he’s caught off guard by the impressed look on your face.
“Sounds frustrating. I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it soon.” You said slowly, tilting your head to the side. 
Suna admits that despite having a lot to learn and a lot of practice to be doing in order to improve his musicality, he’s actually found this new hobby of his decently fun. He was slowly starting to understand the appeal you talked so much about, the satisfaction of being able to play a set of chords correctly reminiscent of hitting a good spike.
But ultimately, it’s your almost shy smile and tinted cheeks as you look up at him in admiration that, despite the insane amount of frustration, make Suna glad he decided to pick up guitar. 
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forusomimiya · 11 months
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Thinking about how smoker!Suna would spank your ass as he study your lips stretch for the thickness of his cock, and how you slide up and down slowly, from tip to base without so much as a grimace, except when he spanks you, that you can't help but moan even with your mouth full. He'd take one last puff as he grabs your hair to make you bob up and down faster on his cock, and blow the smoke out just in time before he spills into your mouth.
"Good job bunny… now come and kiss me, let me taste myself…"
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hxltic · 9 months
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i had no idea this was sent in so this could be super late but hi ofc!! Also tysm i love you <33 also i’m sorry i didn’t know how rough you wanted it👩🏾‍🦯👩🏾‍🦯
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𝐎𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐊𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐒. 𝑺𝑼𝑵𝑨 𝑹𝑰𝑵𝑻𝑨𝑹Ō
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part one | part two
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Genre: smut
Warning: heavy degradation, handjob, blowjob, facefuck, public bathroom sex, spit kink, brother’s best friend
He’s one of your brother’s dumb friends (the actual dumbest—in your opinion), and no matter how much you locked yourself in your room to be excluded from whatever activities prolonged out there, the inevitable feeling of hunger is sadly inescapable.
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Following a creak from your door, right before another from the stairs, you cascaded down into the living room. Openly, the kitchen stood nice and bright, accompanied by snacks aligned on the island that held several filled lanyards with attached keys.
Arriving down the stairs in your red pajama set was the same thing as yelling and notifying everyone you were there. Heads turned. You didn’t take the time to count, frankly because it felt like crawling into the lion’s den and now needing an escape. You should’ve known there were people coming by the way everything was taken out of the pantry and neatly placed anyway. Your hair was frazzled from rolling around trying to get comfortable; your reddened face was visual proof of the relentless makeup you scrubbed off; the several necklaces you wore and forgot to remove were now entangled in each other—it would be just your luck for a bunch of boys to be over. Not ones you were trying to impress, persay, but the last ones that needed to see you in your tired hobo fit.
“Whatever you’re about to say—don’t. don’t be a dickhead,” you call out. You were getting this snack and going back upstairs, negating anything that could be said to you from here and then with your course voice.
“You think so horribly of me, what’d I do?”
Suna’s sly tone carried across the room to bring you to a stop. It was obvious was him; when was it ever not him? The only other people were Kita and the twins, but they were preoccupied.
“Exist, essentially,” you rebut, and after selecting a bag of skittles and a cosmic brownie, you reach over and grab the keys farthest to the left before your leave; staring him dead in the low, mustard, dumb eyes.
The keys were his. You recall because a few years back, you plucked off a single tag or attachment every time he came over. It took a bit for him to notice how weightless it had become and demand for all of them back, so you made him beg after assigning him as your personal chef for the day.
Which you weren’t a horrible person, so you kept them tucked away in a box on your dresser.
He examined the action to be reminded of this, but let you go nonetheless. He’d be damned if he let you see his smugness falter.
“Your hair looks great,” he taunted, with his long arms spread across the couch lazily. Your brother giggled from afar. To the back of your head, slim eyes scanned you in a judgmental manner—the same one you usually glanced at him with. The steps you took became bouncy and joyous.
Then you remembered how your hair actually looked, so you trudged up the stairs and grumbled, “jump off a cliff.”
You hadn’t completely decided what you’d do with the keys, but you’d most likely hold them hostage in your room somewhere. The plan was just to be a minor inconvenience.
And this was effective for the moment being—rattling Suna with the flashbacks—but sleep weighed your eyelids and, obviously, the door was locked.
. .
3:48 A.M.
A continuous knock drives you out of your slumber. Grumbling, your sleeping feet swing over the side of the bed and you rip the comforter from your body. The pitter-patter of steps notify the dark-haired man of his disturbances, guiding one side of his lip to lift and his toned arms to cross as he patiently awaits you.
Your tongue swipes at your dehydrated lips and your fingers correct your messy braided hair before opening the door. Suna languidly leans on the parallel hallway wall, sending you a look that it is too damn early in the morning to acknowledge. With the little strength in your freshly awaken arm, you throw the door closed to turn your back and close your eyes for the journey back to bed.
Suna’s sneaker sat where the door should’ve connected to the wall. He already knew the best of your unkind tendencies. The corner of the door swept into his large hand following its ricochet and he pulled you by the forearm, twisting your body to him. Your face slammed into his chest due to your lack of stabilization. You got a whiff of his faint cologne.
He didn’t even apologize. Fuckface.
“Jesus. No need to be so rough,” you croaked.
“It can get a lot worse than that,” a genuine smiley grin spread onto his features as he tilted his head and inspected down the hall for anyone that could hear him. Of course you hadn’t caught this in your state, not even processing the implied indecencies. “Maybe you shouldn’t close the door on me.”
He pressed the pad of his finger to your forehead and presses you back off him.
“Why are you here? Like for real.” Nothing was funny and you need to go to sleep. You have work in the morning. If you were awake enough, you would’ve taken the forehead poke as disrespect.
He treads the hand not on the door through his dark hair (which somehow returned to the exact same position it held before) and shrugged, “I can’t get home.”
“So?”
“You have my keys.”
Oh shit. You did bring this upon yourself though.
You sigh and rub the side of your face drowsily, “I’ll get them in the morning. I literally don’t even remember where I put them to be honest.”
As bad as he wants to be irritated, he can’t. The silhouette of your figure in front of him was something else. This was the day that he learned you don’t wear bottoms to sleep, but wear them just to keep some dignity whenever you show your face downstairs. In other words, you only put them on to eventually come back into your natural habitat and kick them off.
Your half naked body stood swaying in the doorway, reflecting into Suna’s yellowish eyes. Had he forgotten to respond? His gaze flickers before focusing strictly on yours. “Let me come look.”
“No, I’ll get them in the morning.”
“I’m coming in.”
Not very carefully, he shuffles past you, then your bed, unaffected by your futile efforts to groan and push him away. He had a sleeper build, unfortunately. As he rummaged through your drawers, he comments, “This would be a lot easier on the both of us if you just told me where they were.”
“Never. Get out! I just cleaned up!” You whisper yell into the morning. It seemed to be a sight you could only watch with the weight difference, but you had to try. Your fingertips connect around his small waist so you could push backwards off your heels. Whatever you could muster has done nothing but prove your weakness to him; he continued side-stepping drawer to drawer and smirking at your actions. That stupid expression only made your blood boil. You retreat.
Inevitably, he found your underwear drawer. Nobody wishes for that on themselves, although the way he held aside one of your thongs on a single finger as if it were a hanger, just to re-fold it before neatly placing it back where it once was; even the darkness couldn’t hide your tightening chest and darting eyes trailing everywhere but him.
The crickets were wide awake, and now so were you.
Your spread fingers modify into fists, you plant your feet. You come back full force to grab him. His head dips back in pure laughter while he attempts to be mindful of the time of night, even when his fair hands creep to yours and slowly pry you away from how you were linked around his stomach. Finger after finger.
The carpet floor, however, was not on your side, and your heels suddenly slide under you, between his feet. It also didn’t help that with Suna’s build there wasn’t much to grab onto: his torso is smooth, slim, but hard. Anytime you reached for grip, you just felt the curve of his muscles under the dark blue cotton t-shirt.
The last finger came undone, and you hadn’t realized why he’d swiftly attached himself to your wrists until you immediately saw yourself tumbling backwards, landing with a hard thump loud enough to wake up everybody in the house. The tightness of his grip confuzzled you.
It was one of protection and instinct rather than anything else. He didn’t seem concerned (as foretold by the small hints of laughter emitting from somewhere upwards), so you wondered why he still held your wrists with his arms backwards and you flat on your ass. He gathers himself, lets go, and turns to face you.
Trying to soothe the pounding muscles, you roll on your right and rub the area cautiously. It was most likely redder than your cheeks.
“You know, to be holding me so tight, you didn’t really lessen the fall,” you scowl.
“No, but you also didn’t crack your head open,” he retorts. You just glance at him and that villainous expression once more, one that was plastered on his tilting head in fake pity. You grunt and roll your eyes.
After declining help from your literal downfall, you push off your right hand to get up. Your nose meets a structure. Wood.
It was the wooden footing of your bed, so close that had your head tilted back any further with the force of the fall—it would be a concussion, no doubt.
You pause and return your focus to him. He smirks down at you.
. .
The next dull morning, you groan obnoxiously as you walk in so the shirtless man currently in your kitchen would take the hint and leave. His keys landed with a mix of a thump and a clink on the soft couch from your toss. He curls the island corner holding a bowl of cereal, sweats hanging loose on his hips; however, he just leans and eats, watching your moves silently.
Your uniform was definitely one to strike a customer: leather shorts and short sleeve top perfect for showing off cleavage. You slipped a jacket on and headed out the door. Before you left, it was necessary to shout “When I get back, you better be gone!”
He just rolled his eyes. You weren’t there to watch it, but you knew.
. .
“Of course, I’ll get that right out for you,” you shoot the fakest smile to the middle-aged man leaning probably too close just to be giving an order. Your sneakers spin on the hardwood floors of the food bar and your hand slips the ticket order into the side pocket of your waitress pouch. Audiences of whatever sport on the tvs and bellowing men ring through your ears until you get called by a coworker of yours. The day had been long, and quite frankly, you were just tired and couldn’t give a damn what she had to say.
“Hey, can you take over that table for me?” Dammit.
She curves her soft hands over one of yours she harshly tugged from your side. With pleading eyes so heavy it looked as if she would cry, she continues, “But I also would like you to give this to one of them. The one with the dark hair.”
She retrieves a small, crumpled paper from her unbuckled pouch lying folded on the waitress stand. You peek at it as she forces it into your hand. You glance at her again.
“A lot of people have dark hair, which is it?”
Her head shakes frantically in reassurance, “You’ll just know. Table 17, corner booth. Just please slip it in the check or something like that.”
An unintentional sigh hinting at your annoyance hangs in the air, but it isn’t like you can stop her from leaving, whether you were just about to clock out or not. Apology is displayed on her face nonetheless, so you grant a soft smile and make your way there after her continuous stream of thank you’s.
You wish you hadn’t.
You walk up to the booth occupied by faces that couldn’t get any more familiar, one being the someone you couldn’t stand, the other that was even more intolerable, and Aran. You liked Aran. He was cool.
Suna has nothing but innocent deceit on his face. After looking around for any employees, or rather managers, you drop next to him on the left side.
“What are you doing here!?” You mainly scolded him, but you looked around at the other two as well. Once again, not really Aran; he was never informed of your workplace and it was most likely your brother’s idea.
“We just came to eat. Yknow, like regular customers.” Your head snapped to your own blood, feeding into the torment of what you were experiencing right now. Was this what bullying felt like?
“Now you can eat with us though, it’s the end of your shift anyway.” Suna adds. That wasn’t the case due to circumstances. As long as you have this uniform on and as long as they were a table in the restaurant with no waitress, you weren’t off duty.
“That’s not how that works.”
“Sit here for a bit. Customer’s request.” The ravenette mouths. You doubt that would work either because interaction with customers were limited. Honestly, with how you were dressed, you loved the rule. Suna’s back lifts when his arms reach out around you, creating as much space as possible to remove his jacket. The man lays it out over your lap, covering the pouch and any signification you were on duty with the exception of the shirt, but you leave and walk in with it on so it didn’t matter.
All things aside, you give in, everything goes well. Catching up with Aran was a joy. Ascertaining that Suna took a shower in your home, just to put on another pair of sweats your brother leant him and the same t-shirt he’d just washed overnight, he did not listen to you and did not leave. You wonder if he ran through your room again just for fun.
You ignored the other two most of the time. Having to see your brother every day; there was no reason to converse with him, but the other took this personally. Extremely personal.
He kept doing things to get your attention. When the person taking your shift came as waiter, he ordered for you just as the words began to spill from your mouth. Only having four people in a wall booth, he had more than enough room to manspread—so he left you nothing but a sliver of space. You tried to scoot him over manually, but of course, it didn’t work. You place both hands on his thigh in an attempt once more.
Having not learned your lesson previously, you’re going to try again. Your fingernails dig into his skin so it would hurt (but he didn’t flinch); you push with all your might and he continued casual conversation. Shoving again, you watch as his eyes flicker in shock, frantically glance to you, and revert as if nothing happened, even though a stern hand held the top of your left still. He fake laughs it off to the rest of the table. So fake, you hadn’t realized it was.
A large, pale hand squeezes yours in its spot, prohibiting movement. Was he ticklish? You force your hand back and forth against his thigh, your hands being unable to lift but having no choice but to move with his flesh, and he squeezes even harder. This hand was closest to his torso, located on the inside of the very top thigh area. So high it was basically his hip.
You hadn’t realized your nails curled right into his groin. Unaware of what was actually happening, you continued for the sole reason it was bothering him in some type of way, resulting in warning looks being shot to you with his tired eyes. Ones you ignored. It hurt because of the coffin shape, Suna had to admit, but it didn’t deflect the blood rushing there.
Finally, his leg closed, but he took a tight hold of your guilty hand and pulled you roughly. He mumbles sternly with his mouth to your ear, “Sit still, you don’t know what you’re doing.”
You just laughed in his face and put both hands to your chin, elbows stationed on the rectangular table. You’d do it again when he wasn’t looking.
He’d caught you less than halfway there the second time, but third is the charm. His guard was let down.
The air was thin and light with loose conversation. Aran’s sister was fine and your brother was thinking of applying for another scholarship. When everything seemed to have died down, french tips clanked against the counter impatiently and your left hand dove under the table once more.
In your peripheral the male visibly stuttered, hips lifting for adjustment and eyes darting to you nervously. This time they hadn’t left and it took everything in you not to acknowledge the mustard gaze. To make it worse, the squeeze of your hand allowed an audible grunt to fall from his lips. His eyes fell as well so your friends noticed, questioned it, but the false voice you’ve fabricated over years of customer service was just too believable.
You squeeze again, the muscle unknowingly growing under your hand. He became fidgety and his breath slightly irregular. Turning your head to glance at him, he locates your eyes immediately—the eyes usually low and apathetic—were yelling to stop. A mischievous giggle worsens the situation, causing his eyes to slim down angrily. He’d prove to you why.
He takes a hold of your wrist and stretches your fingers using his own, sliding them between. He adjusts in his seat again before flattening your hand around his print, using his other hand to cover his mouth casually as he leaned forward on the table. His digits wrap around yours, causing you to wrap around him.
He gave you a preview. With no underwear to hide any inch of it under the fabric, you (he) basically caressed from the base all the way to the tip, the outline becoming more prominent and his body shifting under your touch. You look at him in disbelief at: what he did, what you unconsciously did, or in all his, what—a solid 8 inches at least? If you had to guess?
The idea was to scare you off, but it did quite the opposite. Whenever your hand was released, much to his surprise, it just returned with the same motion tenfold. Luckily, nobody else could hear the sudden deep groan over the laughing people, and the way his back landed with a puff on the soft booth seat only looked somewhat out of the norm. His face was flooding cherry red no matter how bad he didn’t want it to. Both his hands came up to run over his eyes, forehead, and cheeks. Now he braces himself on the seat, gazing down at the sight of your pretty fingers and nails dragging up and down the entirety of him through his pants. The friction was indescribable.
He held watch as you dipped past them.
You knew you’d do anything to get under his skin, but not like this. Of course people found Suna attractive, light athletic build with killer thighs and small eyes, only to be complimented by his dark brown locks and good style (when he cared). So when Nali passed the note to you to give to someone, you could assume it was her number. It’s somewhere lost on the table now. Primarily because if something did happen, coming downstairs to more than two people you can’t stand would send you over the edge and he doesn’t need anyone boosting his ego more than it already is.
But now as you’re stroking him slowly, only the movement of cloth from your hand’s action could describe what was going on. Apart from the man’s darkening gaze too. He was beaming fire into your neck, just as you were chatting away.
“Are you okay?” Your brother is worried for his friend who was flashing a sickly face hinted with anger. The plump of your lip met white teeth, a reddened spot building up as you tried your best to prevent any unwanted facial expression or laughter. Aran became intrigued as well.
Sunarin comes forward to statue both elbows on the table, but without saying a word. Consequently, the question hung low in the air, creating palpable tension at the silence and his direct, unmoving eyes. You ignore it.
Instead, you ring two fingers and ride over the heightened band right where the tip begins. You tighten your hand. Your fingers close around it and meet at the peak, collecting pre-cum and the last of Suna’s patience. The job is done and your hand retreats.
“Yeah.” Breathlessly but barely noticeable, he continues, “Your sister’s just a pain in the ass.”
You dramatically gasp and keep the façade going, just to eventually let him out as per his request for the bathroom. The two boys laugh over their food as Aran receives almost every bad deed you’ve done to his former teammate, just giving him an idea on how you two operate, though you announce your leave to completely end shift and take the pouch off. Once you reach the back and remove any resemblance of your relationship to the restaurant, you reach the one person bathroom. It was a fairly good size.
“Hello? Sunarin?”
©️hxltic
628 notes · View notes
renardiererin · 9 months
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hey babes!! <3 what about friends with benefits with suna where we catch feelings first, but he falls harder??
you have spent countless nights up in your room, waiting for the pebbles to hit your window as a signal that rintarou suna would be coming up to your bedroom. countless nights with your hands in his hair, clothes littering the floor, hands anywhere they can grab, his head between your thighs, you on your knees between his legs, his dick down your throat, in between your tits, in your tight little pussy, in your hands, even in your ass a couple of times. countless nights spent up in your bedroom with the door locked and a strong hand belonging to a certain middle blocker covering your mouth to shut up his little screamer. he never had a problem being aggressive, he knows it makes your pretty eyes roll back when he hurts you a little. it's all consensual. he has no problem telling you filthy things about how "daddy loves his princess' cute little cunt," and how he "needs just one more" even after your pussy has been throbbing in pain for over five minutes. countless nights spent with him shoving his dick as far into your pussy as he possibly could, hand wrapped around your throat-- which occasionally travels up to your hair to yank you back from how you're bent over so you can be with your back flush to his chest-- and his dick pounding in and out of you. he'd kiss you by shoving his ridiculously long tongue down your throat, immediately putting his hands down your pants. it was hard to not fall captive to the way he'd kiss your cheeks and hold your hands- even if it was always in sexual contexts. damn near impossible to keep your feelings platonic, what with the way you passed each day with his initials on a necklace you never took off, with the way he always helped you clean up and gave you head rubs until you fell asleep, how he texted you good morning and good night each and every day; it was among the most difficult things in the world to not fall in love with rintarou. but it was just sex. barely even friends, just a good sexual compatibility holding your relationship together. he was never romantic in the way you longed for, never held you the way you so desired. it's the same every night. always aggressive, and to the point; always just sex. until tonight. he snuck into your bedroom around midnight, greeting you with a soft kiss on the cheek and a delicate: "hi, princess." he brought you flowers, preparing a vase for them without you asking. he had no reason to, other than that he "thought they'd brighten up your room." the domesticity in the way he held your hands the way you always wished he would, in the way he adjusted your lights to be just the way you liked, the way he gave you his favorite shirt to put on after; the simple domesticity of the whole night so far had your heart racing and your head in shambles. he'd walk over and sit beside you, rubbing little hearts into your inner thighs while he kissed you-- more sweetly than typically, as well. "rin, what are you doing?" now, rin's never been a shy person. he's as blunt as it gets. so why would this be any different? false assumption. the way his ears turned pink & his cheeks deepened their faint blush made your head fuzzy with the schoolgirlish daydreams swirling through your head. you could only hope he felt the same, after all this time.
"you know i'm not the kind of guy to get embarrassed. i'm not the typa person to keep secrets and hide feelings, so i just wanna be direct with you, pretty, is that okay?" a slight nod was all he needed to continue talking. "i really like you. really really really like you. more than i like jelly sticks and volleyball combined. i want you to be there at all of my games and be the first person i talk to about anything no matter how big or small-- even though you know with me, nothing's ever small," he winked to lighten the mood, but a small puff of air and a ghost smile was all you could muster in your shocked state. "please tell me this isn't one sided, because if it is that's gonna be really fuckin' embarrassing for me and i would have to stop fucking your tiny pussy which would be the death of me." his hand slid further up the inside of your thigh as he spoke, the pad of his thumb brushing against your clit through the pretty panties you'd put on for him. the pair you'd chosen were almost fully lace and way too thin for this type of torture. you lifted your hips up slightly off the mattress and grinded your clit further onto his thumb. "do ya love me, pretty? tell me ya love me, and i'll have to touch you without this flimsy fabric in my way."
"i love you rin, i really do."
"nah hun, i don't need ya doin' me any favors. s'okay if you don't."
"rinnie i swear i'm in love with you. i have been for almost a year now, please take them off."
"i'm in love with you too, sugar. i guess i can touch your pretty cunt for you. if you insist." aaaand then he'd crack the widest smile he could muster before flipping you onto your back and shoving three fingers in your little hole immediately as your ass hit the bed below you, with no warning or prep whatsoever. he'd silence your protests with a soft kiss and say, "that's just love, darlin'."
(could you tell i had a lot of thoughts about this?)
815 notes · View notes
beebabae · 10 months
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polaroids.
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lovebirds - fluffy rintarou suna n fem!reader.
warnings - mentions of smoking, swearing, and lowercase lol.
words - 453.
note - idk how to feel about this tbh. but rin has been on my mind non-stop for like a week now and i just had to write for him. this is also supposed to hint at a friends to lovers typa deal. :)
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fuck. you were absolutely perfect in his eyes. 
from the way your soft eyes gleamed in adoration and excitement whenever you talked about what you’d done that day, to the way your lashes fluttered when you���d look up at him, or the way your plush cheeks ceased as you smiled so lovingly at him with glossy blush lips. 
you were a dream to him. a dream he desperately never wanted to awake from.
even now as you both laid hazed beyond recollection, eyes low and pink, laughing at complete randomness like giddy kids in love.
both friends enveloped by the surrounding clouds of smoke and the blue led lights illuminating your cluttered room in riveting hues.
he knew he wished for nothing more than for this moment to last forever.
you both did.
you gave him the loving smile that always made him melt inside as you maintained ongoing eye contact.
“we should take polaroids, rin.”
rintarou smiled lazily at his crush’s suggestion, playing with the loose ends of her hair.
“sure, princess. whatever you want.” he’d said, voice raspy and low.
it felt like you and rintarou were the only souls left in the world. no, the universe. 
he made you feel infinite. or maybe it was truly just the weed and your stupid hormones talking.
“rinnie, you look so cute, right now.” you held up the pretty pink camera to your eye.
rintarou let out a breathy laugh as he brushed a veiny hand through his apparent bedhead.
“nah, princess. that’s all you.”
you laughed at his compliment, cheeks hot when you muttered a quick shut up.
“smile!”
rintarou flashed a small soft smile, throwing up the middle finger on reflex. the bright flash making you both hiss in slight discomfort.
“and, now we wait.” you said, placing the newly taken polaroid onto your bedside table in order for it to develop properly.
“your turn, princess.” rintarou stated lowly as he took the polaroid from your hands. his volleyball calloused ring filled hands brushed your delicate ones momentarily.
you sat on your bed, readying yourself for the picture.
“you ready, cutie?” rintarou questioned as he angled the polaroid to be centered on you perfectly.
you nodded your head, making a noise of approval as you positioned yourself smiling sweetly with closed eyes and your hands forming a “v” under your jaw for the picture.
oh my fuck. you were so gorgeous.
“fuck.” he muttered.
“what?” you worried. had he accidentally broken something?
“oh, shit, nothing. just the flash.” rintarou lied.
he sheepishly brushed through his bangs, internally debating his next words, “can…can i get that picture, please?”
you were a dream to him. a dream he desperately couldn’t get enough of.
✩ sincerely, b. <3
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932 notes · View notes
yenqa · 1 year
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catcher
synopsis : suna is forced to pick you up after you get horribly drunk
warnings : established relationship, mentions of alcohol, reader wears heels, uhh thats it i think??
pairing : suna x fem!reader
wc : 0.2k
a/n : my third hq work!! they cant all be for tsukki so your girl had to switch it up
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“you’re so clumsy, c’mon let’s go home.”
suna didn’t know how much you had drank. he had never seen you like this, so uncoordinated almost like you’re about to fall apart any nearing second.
“i’m not clumsy oof-!” you shamelessly trip and fall into suna’s chest, where his arms are happily waiting for you.
he smirks at the sight, “really, love? here-”
he straightens you up, keeping his arms on your sides to keep you from falling again, “can you even walk in a straight line?”
you scoff, clearly offended by his words, “uh- yeah i can, watch me.”
suna carefully watches you take step after step, shortly falling after the third one. but as always, rin easily catches you.
much to your offense to this idea, he lifts you up, carrying you bridal style. you later give in, too tired to be walking in your painful heels.
“hey rin,” you quietly say, happily staring into his keen eyes
“hi, love,” he responds.
“you know- you’re always there to catch me, you’re such a good boyfriend-” you ramble on, pinching his reddening cheeks.
“i am a pretty good catcher,” he responds, to which you light up with an idea.
“hey! you should be a professional catcher- is there a catcher in volleyball? because you would be an awesome one-”
he catches how your smile grows as you ramble on about him. he was a pretty good catcher after all.
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yenqa © please do not copy, steal or translate.
936 notes · View notes
yntaro · 2 months
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HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO SUNA RINTARO 🖤
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kyoghurts · 9 months
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𝐢𝐭 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐝, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨 𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐝. | suna rintarou
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— you know well enough that things don't stay forever. but if there's no proper closure you are left to feel in turmoil from the silent storm, a battle in which there is no victory. ( angst | there is no comfort | friends falling apart )
— notes: this can be triggering to some, especially because suna is a bit (a LOT) of a jerk here. please read at your own discretion!
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these eyes were never once known to be gold, they were never warm as you made it up to be.
you stare at suna rintarou, at the hallway with the crowd swimming to and fro. you stare but his gaze never lands on you, there's too many people on here, you think. there's too many distractions, one of which is when you're about to walk towards him, your not-so close classmate striked up a conversation, a small talk that's meaningless and baseless. suna's occupied with his own, yet not once did he even tried to look for you right after lunchbreak started. he normally would have offered you a wave and a lazy, familiar 'let's eat together?' the lopsided grin all too prominent and fond.
when you tear yourself away from your daze, you nod without an ounce of care to your classmate. you soon find yourself standing in front of your friend, suna already cut to the chase. "i'll be with them." suna points to the small circle behind him, each of them wearing a smile you're not particularly inclined to return the gesture.
"oh, okay." he pats you in the head, but somehow it's not as comforting as it should have been.
"bye." he then bids farewell, his new (?) friends following suit.
you watch a little more before their figures blur into the distance. it's fine, you think. guess you'll be sharing your spare bento (that was originally for suna) to osamu today.
you say it's fine but two weeks have passed and you've been sharing your bento to osamu almost everyday.
the monochromatic sky drowns the day into an agonizingly slow, colorless morning. history class kills you of boredom, your teacher's voice lacks life as if it died the moment he uttered the tales no one can even be too sure if it all happened. you're apt to scrutinising the gloomy firmaments from your classroom window instead, absentmindlessly twirling between your fingers the beaded bracelet you were wearing. the sky grumbles, you await for the rain to shower you to sleep.
maroon catches your eye, suna's slouched at front with his hand rested in his chin. you dare to catch his attention, but as you were about to mutter his name your eyes drift to his wrist and your smile (that had naturally made its way to your lips) dropped.
he's not wearing the bracelet you had gifted him anymore.
ah maybe— maybe he forgot to wear it this morning. he did arrived a little late than usual. did he stayed up late last night? he hadn't responded to your messages though.
history class ended with a bitter taste searing in your tongue and a violent downpour to drown out everyone, especially suna who had reached for his friends and headed out without you.
you hadn't look at his way ever since.
perhaps you consider yourself petty, perhaps you've been reading too much into this, this vicious cycle of second guesses and doubt takes its time to eat you away. you had always been the first to initiate, but suna didn't really seem pleased, like you're the last thing he wishes to see. the random times you both shared eye contacts at breaks were painful, and it doubles over when you see him outside of school, as if he's looking into someone he never once knew, never once ate and laughed together, never once hugged when the other was under the weather.
cuts that slit into your skin deep within into the countless veins of effort you had put in, it stings, of course. but when osamu puts a gentle hand (one that is undeniably big and warm) in your shoulder in concern, the smile you had pasted would have fooled anyone, even yourself.
osamu's frown had you faltering just by an inch, thankfully he didn't press further.
you blink, days have passed no, weeks— months. they say gold never truly rust, never strips away it's alluring hues, never and never and forever will be its shimmering little thing. they say gold is where you laid eyes with suna rintarou, an oddity but also a familiarity in ways where he silently acknowledges your presence, or where he presses an arm on your small back in reassurance to compensate for the lack of words you ever so wish to hear, in ways where he smiles at you for no damn reason or when he relentlessly tease you when he's got nothing to do with his life.
they say gold is when they see suna rintarou but…if you look closely enough, gold is never really the definition of suna rintarou. not quite, not really.
the familiarity was yesterday, now is the oddity of the so called 'gold' that is suna, the word barely seems to fit in a sense.
you tried to stay in the surface, not too keen in the thought of diving deep into the inexplicable thoughts swirling around your head.
and even to your heart, you turned callous. you don't know why every passing beats have felt tiring, but it's not like you care.
(it's not like he cares, either.)
(he doesn't care. not when you decided to pop a message after the long ghosting and indifferent glances for months.)
there's a time you're well known of it's existence—loneliness. it's not a violent friend everyone says it to be, but they are the one that pushes up a mirror at your face and reflect you, and suddenly it all crashes down. it's like a friend that does the punishment when you're not inflicting it yourself. they put up more and more mirrors in every corner, surrounding you, and only you. it's not violent, but it is deadly.
you failed a test. it's inevitable, so it should be fine. you hadn't poured any effort into revising that subject, it wasn't your forte as well. it should be fine really, you know better than anyone you're not at your best at the moment. despite the aching sensation, you're seated in a cold fast-food chain beside a window, treating yourself for still trying, for still easing away the worries of osamu and your other friends with that smile you had carefully crafted, every muscles trying to lift itself to play out the act you put on.
it should be fine, if it wasn't for the pretense, and if it wasn't for the fact that suna, who hadn't exactly been approachable for months, just gave you a pity look.
why does his eyes look so gray in the distance?
you arrived home with each step heavier than the last. it feels like a warm welcome when you see your bedroom but, you know better. you know as you fall into that soft silken duvet, your pillows accompanying you, you know that the silence already killed you. loneliness is at your doorstep. you stare at your phone with it's blinding light illuminating the dark and unforgiving room, moments pass, and you grow numb as you watch your fingers type out a message. one that every fibre of your mind and heart begs not to.
but just one last message, your hope faintly flickering in its wake.
you | hey, it's been a while :) you | you did well on the test, i'm happy for you
"…" your grip around your phone tightened, your hands gradually shake as the next thing you type out comes in full view, staring back at you. vulnerable. bare.
>> don't you care about me?
your fingers froze when you saw 'read just now'. you expect—you truly do, to see that bubble that indicates he's typing, you expect him to, like he always would, like he always used to.
but it never comes.
read 15 mins ago
your throat chokes up on you, and by then you can't see shit anymore. everything is blurry and your eyes feel hot, cheeks wet with melting tears trickling all over. you grab your chest with immediacy, as if to push back the pain flooding out. your sobs are strained, quiet, suffocating.
without even sending the question, you had already gained what you so desperately wished to confirm.
the silence is already an answer in itself.
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— notes: im still experimenting with angst, but i had fun writing this! definitely gonna be one of my personal works. i know, this isn't really your typical angst. it's not even romantic (but can be interpreted as such, it's open for various interpretations!), but this IS realistic, it happens to all of us. i promise my next work will be fluff again!! rin itoshi drabble kind of stuff hehe, and possibly another bllk hc aaaa
a little tag: @yuquinzel , @noomon ♡
© kyoghurts ★ reblogs & likes are well appreciated!
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171 notes · View notes
selarina · 1 year
Text
She’s giving me The Maybes
→ Suna Rintaro x Fem!Reader
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Summary: Suna isn't entirely sure why he’s driving at the peak of midnight to your place – a place that is almost half an hour away – to kill a fucking cockroach.
Content Warnings: friends with benefits, friends to lovers, fluff, smut (MINORS DNI), angst, realisation of feelings, suna’s perspective for the most part, cockroaches, unedited work
Word Count: 5.7k words
Author’s Notes: The final part. Beware of graphic description of a cockroach.
Not going to lie I lost motivation to finish this series up but I’m glad I did. This is part 4 of a series, but it can be read as a standalone.
Series Masterlist | Read on AO3
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You
12:03 am: Suna
Oh? He peers down at his phone, his palm covering the entirety of his phone in an inconspicuous manner. His brows pinch to the middle, as his eyes zero in on his phone. His hand comes to soothe his forehead like it hurt for him to frown. You haven’t spoken to him in a month.
You
12:03 am: come online 12:03 am: emergency
He reaches for his jacket before bending to put his shoes on, the laces sit undone on the foyer as he types.
Rintaro
12:03 am: What happened? 12:03 am: Where are you? I can come rn
He hears a couple of pings as he grabs his car keys and walks into his car. He attaches the car belt from over his shoulder. Then, he checks his phone.
You
12:03 am: *1 Image*
Suna hits download on the image and it slowly loads, a consequence of not upgrading his WiFi plan.
12:03 am: cockroach in my bathroom 12:04 am: and I really need to take a shower
He blinks.
He turns his phone off and his hands come to rest on the steering wheel in front of him, and he blankly stares at nothing in particular.
A beat later — What a fucking idiot, he thinks.
He’s shaking his head and yet, he’s driving in your direction anyway. He’s not entirely sure why he’s driving at the peak of midnight to your place – a place that is almost half an hour away – to kill a fucking cockroach.
He's almost there, and he thinks about how much of a humbling experience it is to drive at night – he seems to always feel rather tiny and insignificant as he sweeps through the empty night streets. There is nothing but the trees and the moon, both of whom only seem to tower over him. But today, he can't bring himself to focus on the trees, the road, or even the gleaming full moon and it seems to be the last part that bothers him the most if he had to emphasize.
He knocks on your door when he gets there. Two quick knocks, and you’re opening the door wide open like you were waiting right behind the door. Like you were waiting for him.
“Hi,” you say with a flushed face. He can see a tinge of sweat over your neck. Your hair’s tied up rather sloppily, and you’re holding a mop. At this moment, he could swear he would give anything to witness what you may have attempted to do with that mop and the cockroach.
But, more worryingly — the persisting, secondary thought that he seems to be having is that if he's being truly honest — he thinks you look properly beautiful. He isn’t sure if it is because he hasn’t seen you in a while, but he finds it odd all the same.
"Hi," he says, and then rubs his neck when you don't say anything in return.
You're just staring at him, rather wide-eyed and he’s sure you're going to ask him if he came all the way here for a cockroach. To which he would most likely respond, "Of course I did." Instead, he decides to ask, "Where is it?"
“Bathroom,” you say, and throw the mop towards him.
He’s startled for a second but he catches it and stares back at you, eyes brows raised questioningly.
“Use that,” you say. “To protect yourself.”
You say that so seriously that it genuinely kills him not to make fun of you. But things have changed, and he realizes it. He also realizes that he can't pretend nothing has changed because he knows you'd probably go along with it, which would probably kill him even more.
“On it, ma’am.” He hands the mop back to you, “I’ll probably just use my hand though, thank you.”
Your face crunches in disgust, and his lips twitch into a small smile before he heads over to the bathroom.
And it’s quick and simple really. One minute, it’s sitting in the middle of your bathtub, and the next minute Suna’s holding it up over your toilet with its antenna.
He decides to amp up the dramatics before he flushes it down though, holding it up and swinging it just a bit, which results in you scolding him and landing soft pats on his shoulders. He eventually flushes it down the toilet because his heart wasn’t in for playing around tonight, not when you looked more annoyed than amused.
He’s been wanting to see you for weeks, but now that he’s here all he wants to do is leave.
He washes his hands with hand soap, twice because you insisted. His hands smell medicinal and woody. You've changed your handwash since he was here last, and he misses the pomegranate one you used. He grew rather fond of it, maybe he’ll look for it in the store.
You’re sitting on your couch, cleaning up a bunch of papers scattered around the table. He presumes it’s from work.
“I’ll get going then,” he says, which makes you stop and turn around.
“Do you want to stay for dinner?” You ask, and you look hopeful too. It’s not something you tend to wear lightly on your face.
“Not today,” but he will soon he wants to say. He’ll figure this out but not today. “I have practice.”
“Of course,” he catches the tinge of bitterness to your words but he ignores it immediately because he needs to leave so he nods, and gives you a soft goodbye. He takes one look at your face and swallows any desire that tells him to stay.
As he walks out, the sky is as clear as it can be, and the moon is stunning, he thinks. He walks over to his car, thinking he might be in love with you.
You sit there across from him on his clothes-infused drab, olive couch. You haven’t bothered taking your clothes back, and now they take residence on his couch and in his closet. He’s sure the two of you have managed to almost equally exchange your clothes – after all, he does the same. It’s akin to leaving little trinkets in his head. And, he likes your clothes – they’re warm and soft on cold days and somehow also cold and comforting on a hot day.
He realizes he has been staring for a while now. He doesn’t shy away from it, he continues to stare.
You look up but not before closing the book you’re reading. He scarcely hears you mutter a page number to yourself – 140? Just 40? He can’t tell.
"Do you have anything to eat?" You ask him as you finally seem to pay full attention to him.
“Not much. I have to order some groceries soon,” he says since he has mostly been eating at your place, he has gotten into a habit of leaving any food he gets at your place. But lately, the two of you have been staying at his.
It started because you wanted to stay at his since it was closer to your conference, which seemed to be too early in the morning. But somehow, you’ve been here even though that was two weeks ago. He knows you’ll go back once the holidays are over, but he likes this for now.
He likes staying at your place more though if he had to have a preference.
“There’s some fruit,” he adds after quite a bit. You look up from your book again – he didn’t notice you opening your book again.
“Okay,” you say, as you beeline to the kitchen.
A moment later, you return with an apple and a knife. You sit back, wiggling until you’re sitting comfortably. You open your creased book and place it on your lap as you go back to reading.
It’s rare for the sun to show itself during this time of the year but a distant, tapering ray of sun hits your face, and he isn’t blind to it but you look beautiful like this. You cut right into the middle of the apple from one side but you don’t completely cut the apple in half, you stop right in the middle before you repeat the same only a few centimeters apart this time. You cut out an imperfect semi-circle of an apple piece, and then you plop it right into your mouth.
He walks over to you and plops himself right next to you. You barely acknowledge him, too immersed in the book you’re reading before he asks “Can I have some?”
You don’t respond, apart from a soft barely audible hum. You simply continue cutting into the apple again, before you finally look up at him.
He thinks he should hold his hand out so you can place the piece in his palm but he hates eating fruits for this very reason. He doesn’t like getting his hands sticky, it’s a sensory nightmare. He could wash it off, but that’s just an effort on his part, he could just not eat instead. But before he could hold out his hand, you say, “Open up.”
He does.
You lean forward, holding the piece of apple between your thumb and the knife before you put the small piece of apple into his mouth. Your finger brushes barely against the corner of his mouth, but somehow the sensation lingers as he hears the crunches as he chews. The apple tastes sweet, with almost a caramelized taste to it this time.
You feeding him felt like you were carving a mark in his space, but you’re here just reading your book like it’s just another Saturday.
It was supposed to be just another Saturday but it wasn’t — not to him. Maybe it was because he couldn’t remember someone who fed him since after he was 5 years old, or maybe it was because it was the day he started to fall in love with you.
Two fingers support the bottom of the kettle, as you tip the kettle over towards your empty cup. Nothing pours out, there is no more tea. You frown as you place it back on the table. Your hands come back up to lift your book, as your eyes flit across the page to find where you've left off, and then you start reading, he presumes because your eyes squint ever so slightly.
He falls back to sleep a few minutes later. The weather was too hospitable to not take a nap, he pulls his blanket closer as he woke. He's no longer surprised at this, you always throw a blanket over him when he falls asleep on the couch. Sometimes, it's too hot for a blanket, he would prefer not to sleep with one but he finds himself still wearing it despite feeling slightly uncomfortable because you took the time to put it on him. It's only slightly uncomfortable after all.
"Hey," your voice comes from behind him. He sits fully upright, as he tries to fix his sleep-doused hair. "How are you feeling?"
"Mm. Better," he responds. The nap did help, his head still throbs a bit but it seems manageable, and only slightly uncomfortable.
"Need some food? Tea?"
"Mm," he tries to make the choice. "I'll have tea. Chamomile. Don't want it too hot though. And, no food. I wouldn't want your burnt food to kill me," he snickers but he's only half-joking.
Given the choice, he would like to be the only one cooking. He likes it – the ritual of following a well-written recipe, but he likes it when you cook your comfort dishes since you're so familiar with them. He likes watching your hands move almost on their own like its muscle memory from a dance you've practiced for years. In a way, you have. And, he trusts that you will not burn the kitchen down while cooking those specific dishes.
"I could always poison your tea if it pleases your grace," you squint as you mockingly bow to him, before you come up to cross your arms to your chest, "Now – say 'please' and I'll consider bringing it to you."
He smiles. "Pretty please, make me some tea. I'll eat you out in return." He grins wider.
You squint, but a smile graces your face, ever so slightly, "Fine."
He’s resting against his arm that’s desperately holding onto the ceiling strap of the train. It’s not much of a rest if he’s getting bumped into by the same passenger who for some reason is refusing to hold onto anything. He contemplates pushing him off the next time he bumps into him, but he doesn’t want to start a fight. He wants to go home and sleep until tomorrow afternoon.
He feels a soft thump against his back and looks behind him to push him off but it’s you. He raises his eyebrows in questioning.
“Pregnant,” you mouth. Before he gets to nod in understanding, the same passenger that was bumping into him bumps into you, which leaves you squished against another passenger, whose elbow strikes you, and that leaves you hissing as your hand comes to rub the sore elbow.
“Okay. Okay, Sir.” He calls out to the passenger, who turns around with a shocked look and a sweaty face. “Here, take my place, and feel free to hold onto this completely free strap meant only for you.” The passenger switches with him, missing or ignoring his passive aggressiveness.
“Thank you,” he turns around, rolling his eyes. His eyes soften, “Are you okay?”
You nod. His hands rise to your waist as he feels the train sharply make its stop. A slew of people begin to disembark, and he realizes it's only a matter of time before the next swarm of people piles in.
Suna catches you by your arm, and says, “Come here.”
He maneuvers the two of you into a corner near the door, making it easy to make your exit. Your back is now against the glassy window. Suna places one hand on the door, and his other hand wraps around his strap in front of you to create a comfortable distance between you so you can finally breathe.
That doesn’t last long because as much as he wanted to give you enough space he was pushed closer and closer to you. You seem to notice because you move to him, showing him that you can lean against the soft pads against the windows, therefore creating more space for him to move closer.
“It’s hard to breathe in here but at least our stop’s next,” you say, and he feels every word of it against his neck. He agrees except he’s not sure if it’s because there are too many people inside the train. He takes a deep breath and looks up at you.
You're pretty, he silently admires. Even when you appear sweaty and flushed out from your intense walk to the station. And he hated to admit it but he remembers how terrible he was at taking his gaze off you when you dressed yourself up in your room this morning.
After you had sucked him dry, he was lounging in your bed as you got up to get ready first. His gaze remained fixed on you — the way you put on your bra, the way you adjusted the straps of your dress, the lipstick you meticulously applied — the ritual of it all. It was absorbing, but only because it was you.
He must admit he sees you differently from when you first met him in college. He has always seen that you were pretty because he has eyes, but the way he sees you now is different and it can't quite place it. His hands spontaneously rise to brush a strand of hair away from your face.
And you stare at him, clearly surprised. "Could have poked your eyes out," he says.
"OK," you say, your eyes squinting together, but that's all you say openly before reaching out to push back the poking hair on the other side of your face.
“That was fucking horrible. This is why I don’t go use the trains during the weekends,” you say as the two of you make your way out of the train station.
“I want ice cream,” he says all too suddenly. He didn’t even know he wanted it until he said it.
“We need to have some dinner first,” you say.
“I want ice cream,” he repeats as though he hadn’t heard you. You groan and softly chuckle. “Fine, you big baby. There’s ice cream at home.”
He opens his mouth, before you beat him to it, “Yes, there’s black currant.”
He smiles, as the two of you walk home.
His tongue darts out from between his sticky lips, dragging it against the spoon, before he licks his lips clean. “This is so good, you should get these more often.” He says.
You hum, your tongue dragging across your ice cream spoon. Suna always found chocolate ice cream to be far too rich in taste, to the point where it made him a bit sick every time he ate them.
“I think I’m getting too old for this,” you motion to your dress adorned in minimal glitter in the light.
“You said the same thing in college, shush.” He chuckles.
You glare back at him, with your eyebrows furrowed and he senses that you genuinely feel bad, so he adds, “You just hate traveling back home, you should let me drive us back next time.”
“You don’t get to drink then,” you say.
He shrugs because he doesn’t drink much anyway. He’s a professional athlete, and given the choice, he would never drink, it lost its appeal since college, and now he mostly does it for formality.
“You don’t really mind because you get car sex out of it,” you say, grinning.
His mind didn’t necessarily go there but now that you mention it, every single time the two of you dress up and take his car, it ends with the two of you in the backseat. He grins back at you, with a shrug once again.
Suna returns his gaze to the ice cream, smacking his lips as he swallows the mouthful. And then he lifts his head to see you staring at him. You slowly reach out to take his ice cream tub in his hand and place it on the kitchen table before pulling him in for a kiss.
You pull back with eyes infused with sleep. “Let’s go back and sleep,” he says. “ ‘M tired,” he yawns.
You hum, leaving a soft peck on his lips again.
It's around 5 in the evening, and it's raining pellets, which is normal for this time of the year. He doesn't like it one bit, he thinks as he sits on the couch. His suit is infused with small water droplets from rushing in from his car.
He always hated this time of the year, but he remembers when his father would make them chicken soup whenever he would feel annoyed with the rain and would mess with the TV cable.
He remembers his mother sipping on hot tea, humming a soft tune as she walked into the kitchen placing a kiss on his father's cheek. Later, she would come with the chicken soup his father prepared and she would offer to feed him the soup but 11-year-old Suna would insist that he was old enough to eat by himself.
He would secretly hope that she would ask again — one last time because he knew he would have said "Yes" if she did, but she never did.
He's not sure if what he remembers is a specific day or a combination of all the days it rained and he ate chicken soup, but it was a memory or memories he cherished.
He thinks back to when you fed him, he goes back to that memory a lot, and it's not surprising to him anymore. The first few times, he stopped himself but now he lets it play out. Now, he even smiles to himself knowing he wouldn't be able to stop himself if he tried.
He thinks back to when he told you about the story of how his mom left on a quiet afternoon. No notes this time, no explanation, only her absence. Just empty cupboards empty of her clothes, empty spaces empty of her soothing voice.
He remembers telling you about the blazing sun and its burden on his then throbbing head. You held onto his hand as it was hailing rhythmically outside. You told him she didn't deserve to come back into his life but if he wanted it, you would support him because of course you would.
He smiled then, knowing no one ever cared enough to get mad on his behalf of him, not even himself. But you did, and it made him happy for a second there.
And now, he's here, not having spoken to you in months, and he knows it's all his doing.
He also knows that this creeping feeling, this scared and humiliating feeling is love. It didn't occur to him through any whimsical epiphany, it simply occurred to him one evening after practice.
He went back to his apartment feeling rather empty, and null. He remembers pouring himself a drink, a scotch maybe? He's not sure, could've been a bourbon. He poured himself a drink but didn't take a single sip of it. He just realized he loved you, not in the way he had already confessed. He loved you in the way lovers did, with yearning hands and heavy eyes.
He gets up now, walking to his car keys, not bothering with an umbrella. He rushes into his car. He doesn't avoid much of the rain, it's raining more heavily than when he got into his house.
He starts the car, but it grrs a bit, and shuts down. He tries again, a couple of times more before he realizes it's a lost cause. Clearly, something's wrong with it but his mind's too occupied to think about it.
He gets out of his car and simply runs.
You rush out with an umbrella, your heels clicking against the pavement before they splish and splash against the wet mud.
"What the hell, Suna?" Your voice reaches him before you reach his side, holding the umbrella over his head.
He doesn't say anything, he's only staring at you with eyes a bit teary, but he knows you can't tell, it's raining and he's drenched. He hopes his eyes aren't red, he hopes you can't see the desperation in his eyes.
"Are you done with work?" He asks.
You squint your eyes, clearly agitated by his lack of response to your question. He feels the urge to smooth down your creased eyebrows, he feels the urge to yell out wax poetry of confessions. But he knows this isn't the place, it's your place of work. He already created enough of a scene by showing up this way.
You turn your face neutral, clearly making the best of the situation. "Yeah, I was packing up."
"Okay," he says. He gulps and purses his lips before he says, "Ca—” He wipes his face, the water dripping off his chin. “Can we have dinner?"
You say nothing for a bit, he expects it all — some yelling, some pushing, alternatively, you just turn away and walk away from him. That would hurt the most, he thinks but somehow, he knows it's not like you to do that, not with him. You could leave, you could always leave but he knows you would tell him first.
You sigh, "Okay, I'll see you in 10." You shrug yourself out of your coat. It takes him a bit to realize it's for him, he was thinking about how you agreed, he's not sure what comes next but you agreed.
He wants to refuse the coat, but he's cold so he takes it and lets you wrap it around him properly. You then pull his hand, placing the umbrella in his hand before you rush back into the office, avoiding the rain.
He should have walked you to the entrance but maybe it was good of him to not show up like a sad, drenched puppy for your coworkers to see.
After the longest minutes of his life, you walk out, a black bag in your hand and your phone clutched against your chest.
"Let's go," you say as you get under the umbrella. He holds it out and higher for you, he feels his shoulders get wet and heavy once again, but you're completely under the umbrella so it's fine.
"Where's your car?"
"I didn't get it," he says.
"How did you come here?" Your quirky brows up, a bit guarded with your expression, evidently upset with him.
"I walked," he answers.
You cinch your brows once again and look at him with apprehension.
"From?"
"Home."
Your brows cinch harder, and this time he doesn't think when he brings his fingers to smooth them out.
Your face softens. "You can't just do that," you tell him sternly. He sees the edge sleeve of his coat drip a drop of water on your office shirt. He immediately moves his hand away.
"Sorry," he says. He doesn't know what to say next, he knows he should be doing more.
"Where are we eating?" You ask, taking the lead.
He sighs and feels a sudden whiff of confidence. "It's just around the corner."
He sits across you, hands shaking partly from the cold, in a dingy restaurant that has its appeals when set against the pouring rain. You haven't said anything since the two of you arrived, and his eyes have been following you almost in a daze as you order soup for the two of you.
He focuses on the restaurant, hoping to zero in on details, hoping it will calm him –  the décor is almost rustic, and there are brick walls and wooden floors that give this place a shabby effect but it seems charming for the very same reason. To add to that, there is soft lighting everywhere, yellow hues from overhead lights that only mildly light the space, and the candles on the tables lighting up each individual table even more.
He looks up and sees that you are done.
“Care to say something?” You say, and your guards are up, he can tell. Rightfully so, he thinks, but this only makes it harder for him.
“I missed you,” he says, not knowing what else to say. I am in love with you is certainly not something he can start with.
“Suna, you can’t j—”
“I know. I know, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry for treating you the way I have been for the past few days. I just— I've missed you so much.”
You don’t say anything for a bit, and it doesn’t scare him surprisingly. He could sit in this silence if he needed to — you have been for weeks after all.
“Me too,” you say defeatedly. “I don’t understand — I don’t understand.”
You’re lying, and he knows.
“I just want things to go back to the way it was, Suna.” You say that with a certain longing, a longing he had never seen on your face, a longing that made it seem like you may have missed him even more than he missed you.
"I don't. I—” But he does, he does want things to go back to the way it was, but he also does not. It's complicated really, but all he wants, he thinks, is to lie limp in your bed, your hair tickling his chest, your body warming him as the cold night air flits through, and he's talking — about you? About the future? He's not sure, but he's relieved knowing that you're listening and knowing that you'll say something after he's done. And then you'll fall asleep, and he'll draw out his consciousness — just to stare at your face before surrendering to the sleepy haze.
And he’s not sure if it’s the way you looked with the yellow hue of the candle flickering ever so slightly against your face, or if it's the soft muted jazz playing in the background, or if it’s even the old couple in the back who are kissing each other – but he tells you, not for the first time, “I love you.”
Your eyes widen, and then you smile — a warm smile and he knows. He knows.
You stumble into your apartment, immediately finding the couch to fall into, the exhaustion seeping into your calf muscles. Suna insisted on commemorating your first date as he called it with an ice cream trip. Sadly, the closest ice cream parlor was quite a bit away from the restaurant. Your hands reach down to languidly stroke them to ease the pain.
A few seconds pass before another body stumbles into your house. The sound of keys being hung, shoes being taken off, and the front door being locked before you see him walking towards you.
He shrugs most of his clothes off almost immediately, knowing about your distaste for wet clothing, but to be fair, his clothes seem to be almost dry so it seems rather unnecessary and rude of him to flaunt his beautiful abs.
He plops himself next to you. His hands reach to push the hair that curtains your face – a new ritual he seems to have started ever since you started sleeping together. He does this mostly after sex, in the gloomy haze of the night, in the heated haze of the afternoon but now, it feels different, it feels careful and methodical, and you can’t help but rewrite the past with your new lens.
"Tired?" He asks, it comes out as a mumble.
You nod, too tired to speak. His eyes flit down to your rubbing hands before your hands are replaced by his own, calloused ones. They press into your muscles, a lot harder than your exhausted hands did. You feel nice, and he can tell by the way you're slightly groaning.
"Let me take you to bed, hm?" He reaches for your hand. You take it, the purse on your lap abandoned on the living room couch.
You fall onto your bed, and he's on top of you, his forearms supporting him to be just inches away from your lips. His lips graze against your own, testily, before they press against yours, a bit gentler than usual.
He keeps kissing you as your hand finds purchase in his hair as you carelessly stroke him. His soft and citrus-scented hair. His hands come to lift your top as the chill air hits your skin. You feel the whoosh of the goosebumps erupting on your exposed thigh.
And just as quickly as you fell onto your bed, you're out of your clothes, sitting completely naked beside an equally naked Suna who's kissing up and down your neck. Littering soft, warm kisses, his hands run up and down your body. Pinching your nipple, squeezing your waist and thighs before he moves away from you to move you in front of him.
You sit a bit oddly with your back facing his front before he comes up to your neck again. He starts littering soft, warm kisses, as his hands come to part your legs. He doesn't do anything else but kiss your neck for a bit and it has you whining before he decides to indulge. His one hand rubbing just below your stomach but not quite, his other hand pulling your neck back onto his shoulder to kiss you.
His hand on your neck reaches further up to your mouth and you instinctively suck on his fingers. You can see him watching you from your peripheral vision, you turn a bit to catch his eyes, and then down to his lips — they're parted a bit with anticipation, or something else? You can't tell, but you let your eyes linger back to his eyes and they're intense and fixed and it sends a chill down your spine in anticipation.
You move your hand to his, finally bringing them down between your legs.
“Missed you,” Suna murmurs against your neck. You feel the wet sensation of his tongue sitting cold against your skin. “I hated—" He groans, "Don't ever not fuck me for a month."
“A-And whose fault is that?” You say, more or less rhetorically. You manage to wriggle yourself free from his grip, but his hands seem to trail behind you in tandem. His hands stay connected to the dip in your hip, lightly mapping out the curves, deliberating if he should do more, deliberating if he has convinced you enough to forgive him.
“I’m sorry,” he says as if it pains him, or maybe it’s just the effect of your teeth sinking into him.
You stop, your eyes flitting up to meet him. Your lips turn into a soft smile. "It's okay," you say.
"It's okay," you reassure him, as your fingers are coming to stroke the edges of his jaw.
His brows uncinch, his hands coming up to meet the hand that’s on his jaw. He moves it closer to his mouth, placing a soft kiss on it. Your smile widens, a lot more visible now, and at that, he smiles back at you.
The two of you smile at each other like idiots, and you feel a bit embarrassed. And you think, maybe he senses and feels it too, but he doesn't stop smiling back at you, so you don't either.
You understand now what people meant in all those poems about love and vulnerability because you can admit now that you're in love for the very first time — you feel a bit slit open. Like your guts are falling out of you; with only him to hold them, with only him to care for them.
His fingers come up to brush your cheek, barely touching you, but you feel it, and then he presses a chaste kiss against your lips. You don't rush anymore, because this is different from your heated kisses, this feels like it's something more. You want to tell him it's something more, you want to tell everyone it's something more but when he slows down to pull away, with lidded eyes and a goofy smile, you know he already knows.
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bumpkinnnnn · 9 months
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Suna Rintarou ִֶָ☾. Fluffy Headcanon‧₊˚ ☁️
When it’s very late at night, you’ll feel someone snatch you from the back towards the other side of the bed, and yes, it is Suna. He always does that, ALWAYS. You are his personal side pillow, while snuggling to you and burying his face on your neck he would mumble some sweet affirmations about how precious you are to your ears. Maybe about how cute you are, or how you made his exhausting day better and he would love to be with you all day tomorrow.
Waking up besides him feels unreal, his fluffy hair softly rests on his peacefully sleeping face, and damn, this man is just so DECENT. You would always wonder how the hell on earth this dude is so good-looking, like, GORGEOUS, while you are on your little observation he would peek from his sleep and grab you in for a peck on your lips. 
Suna would probably call you by a cute pet name, for example, pumpkin, darling, honey. He loves to spend quality time with you, but he hates to go outside because he is a little lazy to travel, so in your shared bedroom, there’ll be a mini projector to watch movies together. Suna will make sure that your favorite snack is well-stocked and ready for you. He would offer his hoodies for you to choose to wear and snug in with him on the bed.
Grabbing you by your hand and kissing it along while watching the movie, cuddling with your hand near by his face, he loves the scent from you, not your perfume, or soap, but YOU. He would ask you for a kiss but then he’ll be the one to tease you by moving away from you, seeing you unsatisfied is super adorable, but he’ll make it up to you anyways after a few teases.
When you guys are a new couple, he got teased by the Miyas a lot on how he is so playful and soft towards you, but he doesn’t care though, he is so proud of the fact that you are the only one who he will do this to, and sometimes he even changes his voice while scolding the Miya and then turn back to talk cutely with you. How cute was that.
Suna would bring you to the practice, seeing you on the bleachers makes him more motivated to play, because he wanted you to see his cool side as well, since normally  he would be a fluffy puppy when he’s with you. And plus, he is SUPER CLINGY, he also gets jealous easily if you talk with his teammates and seem to enjoy it, because he wants to be the one who makes you laugh the most, that's all.
** Greetings! ~ **
Hi thank you for reading this til the end, I'm a newbie here, just wanna write down some headcanons and share it to y'all, hope you enjoy it!
Oh oh, please tell me if there's anything you would like to recommend to improve my writings! OR if you would like to request for any characters from Haikyuu and Jujutsu let me know!
P.S. Spicy headcanon can be rq as well <3
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jjeulip · 1 year
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You were cute. Too cute.. too cute for his liking. He doesn't like the way he couldn't resist you nor the way he couldn't keep his hands to himself whenever he saw you. He hates it so much. Yet, he still found himself always around you, his arms wrapping around your shoulder, hiding his face in your shoulder.
Suna, feeling the sensation of you and his knee touching while scrolling through your phone. You and the twins were talking.
"Anyway ___, ya still dont have boyfriend?" Atsumu asks, throwing popcorn in his mouth. Suna fingers stop scrolling the phone, paying attention to your answer. You kinda shrugged. And suna doesn't like that answer, you should give more informative answers like "no" or smh. "Think so, yer wouldn't have chance to date someone when suna kept barking those people off acting like you are his or smh," atsumu said as he threw another popcorn in his mouth.
Osamu sighs, oblivious to the situation. Suna just scoffed, and you just went quiet. Suna clicked to check dms on your phone where he found something interesting. Someone who named __ texted you about meeting at an aquarium tomorrow. He eyebrows furrowed. Who is this guy? Why is he meeting up with you at an aquarium? Is it a date? Is he your boyfriend? How come you never mentioned it to him?
"Hey suna, mind giving back my phone?" You said as you nagged his knee with your knee. Suna looks up to you. "Sure," handing your phone back innocently. He stretched his arm and wrapped around your neck. He clings to your shoulder, hiding his face in your shoulder. Atsumu scoff. "Seriously, suna?'
When you and suna walk together, he would put his hand on your shoulder, pulling you really, really close to him. Whenever the twins and you meet at his house, he would always clings on you, his hand around your waist, hiding his face in your shoulder. He is all over your body. Sometimes, he would lay down on your thighs to scroll through his phone and will sometime fall asleep on them. Is not that you never rejected the actions of him, but the fact that you never responded to those actions still got him thinking, "That maybe you don't like those at all." But, if you didn't, you will deny those from the start. The way both of your knees touch eachother during class, the way your arm and his arm touch eachother during lunch, the way both of your shoulders touch with each other while reading in library., tells him that somehow you like being touch by him., or may be his mind playing tricks on him.
But why? why is he still feeling really far from you regardless of how he is close to you. You never ruffle his hair whenever he sleeps on your thighs. You never hug back whenever he hugs you and snuggles his face in your shoulder. You never intertwined back whenever he intertwined your hand. You never lean on him no matter how he keeps his arm around your shoulder to keep you close with him... will you ever gonna return the same if he told you that he loves you?
No. You didn't. You rejected him.,. with a "sorry." He wanted to cry.. he wanted to cry until he got no tears left to cry, until his eyes started to hurt, until he couldn't breathe anymore, until he passed out, until his feeling for you disappeared. He knows.. he knows it's very out of character for him to cry, but he's just.. he's just.. just wanted to cry. He knew you wouldn't return the same as him. He knew that. He knew he would get rejected, too. He knew. But fuck why.. why is he hurting too much?
©jjeulip
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rintarolovebot · 1 year
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TO WAKE UP TO AND COME HOME TO
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summary just like the title suggests, this is the best thing suna rintaro knows a man could experience whenever he wakes up and returns home.
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warnings/tags none. suna rintaro x fem!reader. momma reader <333
author’s note this week had me in a baby fever chokehold. i was watching this youtuber’s daily life and made me think about suna (what’s new?). so, here’s my take on how your everyday life will be with suna rintaro!
additional notes d/n = daughter’s name. n/n = nanny’s name. this fic is just all over the place oh my god i wrote this at 2 am when i was on the verge of falling asleep.. embarrassing.
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suna rintaro knows that the best thing to wake up to is when he sees your sleeping figure beside him. the cute little noises you make as you twist and turn in his arms.
you flutter your eyes open as the sun shines through the curtains, you guess, your husband had just opened. he turns to you and smiles, opening his arms wide open and plops down on you.
“rin, you’re heavy,” you mumble against his neck. he moves his nose towards your cheek and nuzzles it. “good morning, my love,” he says and continues to nuzzle his nose gently on your cheek.
“g’morning,” you whisper and gave his cheek a kiss as it was the nearest part of him that you could kiss as of the moment. “d/n’s awake and i think our nanny is feeding her right now,” he says as he gets up and takes your hand in his, giving the back of your hand a soft kiss.
you smile and let yourself get pulled up by him, cradling you in his arms. his arms were wrapped around you as he gave you multiple kisses on your temple.
“come on, babe. let’s eat breakfast,” he says. you nodded but continued to nuzzle yourself against him. his warmth and smell were comforting in a way. he smelled of a faint manly smell and lavender as it is the aroma coming out of your air freshener.
you pulled away after a few seconds as you stretched. rintaro was just watching you with a loving smile while his hands were in his sweatpants’ pockets.
when he saw your stretching had stopped, he wrapped an arm around you and guided you out of the bedroom towards the kitchen.
you smiled when you saw your daughter on her feeding chair as the nanny fed her.
“good morning, my baby,” you beamed as she giggled with her arms raised up, also excited to see you.
rintaro, as always, watched you in awe. loving how you were this mama-like with his kid. he always had this thought wherein he is so damn lucky to have you as his wife and the mother of his kid.
hopefully, his kids soon.
atsumu had always teased him whenever they had high school reunions, asking how he pulled you. you and your husband just laughed it off and even joked about how you just barged in his life.
he practically watched you two grow.
from high school sweethearts and to the happily married couple with a kid in the present.
“have you eaten already, n/n?” you asked your nanny. “yes, ma’am. thank you for asking,” she smiled at you. you returned the smile and grabbed a water jug inside the refrigerator.
you made drinking at least two jugs of water a routine ever since your daughter was born. you breastfeed your baby so it was very important to always produce a lot of milk — and you’ve read a mother’s guide book that drinking tons of water everyday can help produce a lot of milk.
“rin, you have practice today, right?” you asked as you put down the glass of water. he was leaned on the counter as he watched your daughter gurgling in her high chair.
he smiled before turning to you. “yeah, i don’t want to go, though,” he said. you furrowed your brows, “you have to, my love. championship’s just around the corner,” you explained.
he sighs. “i know, i just don’t want to leave today. look at how cute d/n is,” he frowned.
you knew how your husband hated leaving the house because he wanted to spend more time with your daughter. though, every time he’s out for practice, you always send him pictures and videos of your daughter just so he wouldn’t miss her too much.
spoiler: it does not work.
in fact, he misses her even more and video calls you just to see his girls. he never fails to greet you with a loving smile and a “you’re beautiful” every time you accept his video call request.
and when he does come home from practice, he is always greeted with a warm side hug from his wife (you) and his little girl in your arms.
and so suna rintaro knows that the best thing to come home to.. is when he sees his girls running towards him with a smile.
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end note this sucks goodbye but reblogs are appreciated <3
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