#Deep talks with Suna rintarou

[kurooh]

MIGHT LET YOU MAKE ME JUNO ! — HAIKYUU

⊹₊˚. featuring timeskip! miya atsumu, miya osamu, kuroo tetsurō, iwaizumi hajime, & suna rintarou tryin’ to knock up their pretty wife !

warnings ★ 18+ content — mdni, fem! reader, breeding, cuddlefucking, doggy, talk of kids & pregnancy, fluff, creampies, shower sex, minor cockwarming, squirting, full nelson, mirror sex, mention of lactation, mating press, cum in panties (offscreen), not proofread.

xoxo, juno ★ my namesake?! hehe, cheers to the surviving haikyuu fuckers on my blog <33 ty for your patience!! as always, send in some asks/reblog if you enjoyed, i love reading comments/tags

— MIYA ATSUMU

“go ahead ‘n slut yerself out all over my cock, baby.. fuuuck, jus’ like that.”

atsumu’s lips part around a needy moan, jaw hanging slackly in some kind of disbelief. after such a lengthy, tiring day, he found himself trudging into your shared bathroom to greet you.

he’d gotten hard in seconds, seeing your tits pressed against the glass door as well as your face, lidded eyes and cute pout enticing him to come join you. when he got onto his knees to get you ready, you’d bent over and tossed him a knowing smirk over your shoulder.

“lemme see that ass move again.. shit, ‘s perfect. yer perfect.” you giggle, throwing your ass back onto his cock, eyes rolling back when his tip kisses your cervix just right, sending sparks of pleasure right through your veins.

“tsumu, this isn’t all that fun,” you huff, the wild need for him to truly ruin you growing by the second. “wan’ you to fuck me, and make me yours.”

“baby, yer already mine,” atsumu lands a slap on your wet asscheek, startling you enough for your legs to spread further. “good girl,” he praises, hushed and under his breath. he reaches upwards and pulls the shower head down, pushes it into your hand and changes the setting.

“use this on yer clit, ‘kay? when yer feelin’ like ya wanna cum, don’t. hold it ‘n we’ll cum at the same time, yeah baby?”

you nod, and he smacks your ass hard, leaning backwards. atsumu pushes a hand through soaked gold strands, chuckling lowly although his voice has a serious edge to it. “‘s not how we say yes, is it?”

“y-yes, tsumu. at the same time.”

he draws his hips back, then finds himself advancing forward brutally. he doesn’t think about anything beside you — you, you, you. with the scent of your body wash tangling in the hot air, the beautiful curves and slopes of your body, the noises you make for him only.

your chest heaves when the steady spray of the shower head soon reaches your clit, immediately proving to be overwhelming and intense paired with him fucking you.

“so god damn tight,” atsumu hisses, nails digging crescent moons into the plush skin of your hips as his own collide with your ass. the bathroom is full of steam and the rhythmic clap of skin against skin — it’s hard to keep from trembling with how good everything feels, all over.

frantic panting cuts through the sound of your whimpers as atsumu feels himself nearing his peak. it’s nasty, downright filthy, the way your nails drag down the wall tiles as you desperately hump your ass back into him.

gasps of your name and affectionate nicknames fall from his lips like a sacred prayer, blending into a whiny harmony as atsumu’s thrusts grow rougher.

“baby,” he chokes, voice tight. “ya better be close, can barely last.”

“tsumu, cum inside me,” you beg, skin burning and pussy squeezing uncontrollably, squelching growing louder. “p-please, i can’t— i’m gonna cum, ‘m gonna—” your body tenses, and the shower head falls to the floor with a clunk that neither of you register.

luckily atsumu looks down at the right moment, sees you squirt, pussy gushing onto his pelvis. as if your back arching and your clenching pussy wasn’t enough, he ends up cumming too hard, ribbons of white gushing deep into your awaiting pussy.

“fuckkk,” he groans, overstimulation setting in way too quickly and causing him to pull halfway out of your fluttering cunt.

“no, tsumu,” is all you can heave out, pushing back hard enough to send him into the wall behind him, muscled back hitting the tiles as he lets out a startled oomph. “wanna keep it inside, feels so good.”

— MIYA OSAMU

“samu,” you mumble into his lips, tossing a leg over his hip. he grunts, nose nudging your cheek as he pulls back. “yeah? what’s on yer mind, angel?”

“had a dream about a baby,” the words are spoken softly, and osamu’s fingers lightly graze your chin as he makes you look up at him. “i know it’s kinda stupid, but it was so..” your voice trails off sheepishly and there’s a pause before you admit, “you were such a good dad, samu, ‘n so sexy too.”

your bare bodies are bathed in the morning sunlight, warm and comforting as it peeks in through the curtains. this is the perfect moment with him, skin to skin, his cock still inside you as you kiss and talk about dreams of the future.

in his chest, feelings stir and ideas come to life in his head; osamu presses his hips forward with a hushed moan.

“well, i’ll give ya a baby, angel,” large hands smooth over your hips as he helps you turn away from him; then they pull you close, grabbing at your tits and tugging your nipples between his fingers.

“samu,” you sigh, words fading into a content moan as you feel his hips draw back, then advance forward, against your ass. “i want you to fill me up, give me everything.”

“only if ya take it all,” osamu huffs, tucking his face into your shoulder and closing his eyes as he starts to fuck his cock into you deeply. the thick tip kisses your sweet spot over and over, and if that wasn’t already overwhelming enough, your hand wanders towards your swollen clit.

somehow, osamu’s faster than you, releasing one of your tits and swatting away your hand before he’s finding your clit with his index finger and rubbing it in messy circles.

“s-samu, fuck— jus’ like that, don’t stop!”

your back arches against him, hips twisting as a heat spreads through your veins, fiery and intense in the best ways possible. the movement of your body and then the frantic clenching of your pussy is too intense for him; sharp whines escape his throat, muffled as osamu bites into your shoulder desperately.

“i-i— shit, ‘m gonna fill you up,” is all you can make out from his rushed mumbling, and you turn your head quickly, desperate for his lips.

“kiss me, samu. kiss me as you cum inside, please.”

it’s as though the words break him — his face twists as he kisses you, whole body tensing. he presses his cock deep, thickening and throbbing before he’s gushing cum and can’t seem to stop.

“ah, fuck,” he tosses his head back, fingers scrabbling at your nipples as his chest heaves against your back, heart pounding steadily.

you cum with a whine, grinding down on his cock in an effort to get him impossibly deeper. as you ride out your highs together, trembling deliciously, he can’t help but dissolve into giggles of pure happiness.

“angel, ya got that baby for sure, jus’ like ya wanted, hm? ah, i can’t wait for a mini-me or a mini-ya. yer gonna be the prettiest mom, swear.”

— KUROO TETSURŌ

“fuck, babe. you’ve got no idea about what i saw today,” tetsurō huffs, warm breath fanning over your tits as they bounce, controlled by your bra.

spices clatter as tetsurō sweeps his arm across the kitchen counter behind you, clearing the space so you can lean back a little easier. his grip on your thighs doesn’t waver, nor does the ruthless tempo of his hips.

“tetsu, what’d you see?” you gasp, tears threatening to pour over your waterline.

“well, i saw this family,” he grunts, thrusting into you particularly hard now that he’s recalling the memory. “the dad had their kid on his shoulders, and the mom was pregnant. they looked so happy, and it made me think of you.”

“is that so?” you ask, spreading your legs impossibly wider as an invitation. you bite your lower lip, rolling your hips against his in an effort to get his cock deeper.

“tetsu,” he raises his eyes from the mess between your legs to your face, earnest and flushed. “kiss me, baby.”

tetsurō obliges, lets you tug him forward by the chin, mesh his lips with yours. it’s warm and sweet, the aftertaste of the dessert you’d been making as his surprise for when he’d come home. your tongue slips between plush, parted lips and moves with his gently, quite a contrast from the rough way he’s fucking you.

“ah, shit,” he moans, struggling to kiss you back when he feels your sticky walls clenching down on his too sensitive cock.

tetsurō leans forward and buries his flushed face in your shoulder, kissing the tender skin a few times before nipping it and then finally biting down into your shoulder.

he practically loses it when you wrap your legs around his back, heels digging into muscle as you push him forward. in a hushed tone and into his ear, you say sweetly, “tetsu, fuck a baby into me.”

“oh, i fucking will, princess.”

although, despite his rough words, he’s wheezing and whining every now and then into your shoulder, hoping it muffles his sounds.

your hand slides up his neck and tangles into dark tufts of hair, pulling tight as your own orgasm approaches. your pleasure mixes with his own, and just before the knot in your belly snaps, you feel a strong pulsing deep within your pussy.

he groans loudly, burying his cock deep just as it starts to gush, painting your walls white. your nails dig hard into his scalp and the sting of pain only seems to make him get a little more vocal.

tetsurō pants into your neck, trying to find his bearings now that his limbs feel like jelly.

“hold me?”

— IWAIZUMI HAJIME

“h-haji, this was a good call..”

“oh yeah?” hajime’s voice rumbles in his chest, strong and steady against your back as he keeps your legs wide open. “have we ever tried this one?”

“i don’t think so, but we definitely will in the future.”

“feels that good, princess?” hajime chuckles, eyeing your reflections in the mirror mounted across the bed. for a moment, he considers the two of you puzzle pieces — he sees that his cock fits snugly inside you, and the thought that you may be made for each other briefly crosses his mind.

“of course it does,” a sheen of sweat glimmers on your face, skin glowing beautifully in the mirror. “god, hajime, y-you’re so deep..”

he notices your eyes falling shut, head tipping back, and he raises his hand to lightly smack your cheek. “mm, princess, gotta keep watching. i want you to see yourself cum, alright?”

“fine,” you huff, feet dangling in the air and bouncing every which way as he fucks into you, heavy balls smacking your pussy with each stroke.

“what made you wanna try this?” you ask, knowing you should save the question for later, but you’re too curious not to ask. why would your husband come home someday and randomly want to try a new position you’d never heard of?

“well, you know..” in the mirror, you catch the flush on his tanned cheeks. “we’ve both caught the fever recently, and this is a solid position for makin’ babies.”

you gasp sharply when hajime turns his hips ever so slightly, and the resulting sensation causes pressure to build in your pelvis. “shit— right there, haji, just like that..”

he grunts, body stiffening as he tightly holds you in place and fucks into you like it’s the last time you’ll ever be like this together.

“wanna get you pregnant,” hajime groans, abs flexing with the effort of maintaining his merciless pace, “i wanna—shit—wanna breed you.”

“you want it that bad?” you breathe, just barely keeping your eyes open and focusing on your bouncing reflection. “fuck me full, then, haji.”

hajime doesn’t question it, thinks of you with a swollen belly and milky tits all for him to hold and take care of. you, with your glowing skin and beautiful body from all the pregnancy hormones.

the idea of it all is too much to bear, not to mention cumming deep inside your cunt, this time with the intent to breed.

he can’t even muster the words to warn you that he’s cumming as hard as he is; after a choked, tight groan, he falls silent and rocks his hips into you.

“fuck it deep, haji,” you whisper, on the edge yourself. obedient and too far gone in his fantasy, he does exactly what you ask, whining very quietly from the sensitivity.

shaking on top of him and watching the reflections in the mirror, you cum hard, dissolving into unmatched pleasure. and you’re thankful you keep your eyes open, moaning at the very sight— hajime doesn’t even pull out, he’s still pushing his cock in and out of you, but cum races from your cunt in thick white rivulets.

“i’m trying,” he huffs, sensitive when he glances up and notices how intently you’re watching the mirror. his cheeks flush lightly when you both notice that most of his cum ends up dripping down his balls and out of you.

“don’t worry, princess. i’ll cum however many times it takes, sound good?”

— SUNA RINTAROU

“you want a few brats? oh, i just felt your pussy squeeze up. ‘s what you want, huh?” rintarou bites, harshness of his thrusts drawing whimper after whimper from your kiss-swollen lips.

“i want it, rin,” you feel one of his palms smoothing over the plushness of your lower stomach, just above your pelvis. “w-what’re you doing?”

he laughs at your stutter, keeps your legs steady over his shoulders. rintarou draws his hips back, leaving just his tip inside your quivering pussy. then, he presses down on your lower stomach and slides in, adding more pressure with each inch.

“rintarou!” you wheeze, jerking your hips to the side in a pathetic attempt to run away from the overwhelming pleasure he gives you with every movement, big or small.

“nuh uh, pretty girl,” his free hand grabs ahold of you tightly, tugs you towards him and then settles to rest on your neck. rintarou’s fingers are loose on each side of your throat, hand placed there in a demonstration of control. but what’s the point of that, when he’s already made it clear by hoisting your legs over his shoulders and folding you in half?

“you’ll take it, all of it.”

“but ‘m sensitive, i’ve cum too many times,” you can’t even recall a number or remember how long he’s been fucking you like this.

you’re both sticky with sweat, your thighs stained white with dried cum from previous rounds and marked with love bites he’d given you in his excitement to get a taste of your pussy.

it’s so fucking messy because rintarou’s the one who can’t stop asking to eat you out and push the cum back inside; you always say yes, then cum until you’re dizzy and can’t see straight.

you taste yourself from earlier on the corners of his lips when he bends forward and gives you a chaste kiss. “l-last time, okay? i’ll give you your brats, pretty girl.”

the sweet pout on your lips that’s quickly replaced with something else and wail of his name that leaves you when he starts jackhammering your pussy turns him on to the max.

incoherent babbling of what he’ll give you and how good you feel blend together, and before you can fully register it, rintarou’s folding forward with a deep groan. “shit, i’m gonna cum so fucking hard, i—”

he shuts up and gives you a few more thrusts before he’s pushing deep and cumming — he’s not done when he pulls out and covers your pussy in cum.

“r-rin, keep it inside,” you whine sadly, watching as he collects it on his tip and then plunges it back inside.

“jus’ needed some extra lube,” he says coolly, but he really just wants to cum all over you. “how’s it feel inside, pretty baby?”

“like i need some more.”

rintarou laughs at the way you turn away, cheeks hot in embarrassment because you were the one who wanted a break. “we are going out later, hm?”

your nod makes him smile, green eyes crinkling at the corners. “how about i cum in your panties and you walk around with ‘em?”

[heich0e]

"so... how's work?"

you accidentally click the edge of your wine glass against your teeth as you tip it back, jarred by the strange question from the man standing at your side. you swallow the tiny mouthful of wine you manage to sip, turning to look at suna in bewilderment.

"work?" you ask him incredulously. "why are you asking me about work?"

suna rintarou doesn't care about what you do for work. truthfully speaking, you're not sure he even knows what you do for work—you certainly don't remember ever telling him, and the memory would stand out quite starkly considering all you ever seem to do when you run into him is bicker with him uselessly.

suna is a friend of a friend. or a friend of some friend's ex. or something. all you know is that every so often the two of you end up at the same social event, and there's something about the guy's face that just... makes you want to pick a fight.

and he has yet to turn down your instigation.

your friends all think it's funny—like you're some kind of comedy duo, and this is your special bit—but you don't see the charm in the slightest. you suspect they've started inviting you both to events just to have some entertainment.

"what?" rintarou asks, fiddling with his cellphone in his hand—pinching it between his thumb and his ring finger while he twirls it with his index. "i'm not allowed to ask about work? isn't that normal small talk for a christmas party?"

you're a little taken aback by his words. first of all, because he's right (which you hate). second of all, because he seems strangely defensive about it.

"normal for other people, maybe," you mutter, more to yourself than anything, before taking another tiny sip of wine. you swallow it, but somehow it doesn't help the dry feeling in your mouth. you're not sure you like this particular wine, you think, as bitterness clings to your tongue. "work is... fine."

suna perks up beside you at that, and you feel his eyes on your profile like he's waiting for you to go on.

"things get, uh... things get slow this time of year, so I'm mostly just answering stupid emails and ordering gifts online while i sit at my desk." you swirl the glass of wine in your hand, watching the way that the light catches in the deep red surface. "my section chief has kids and loves the holidays, so she's been pretty checked-out lately, herself. makes it easy to get away with slacking off."

you risk a glance over at him, and are somewhat dismayed to find him listening intently.

"must be nice to get a little break," he offers.

"yeah, i guess," you reply. your words are in agreement with him, but still your brow furrows.

what the fuck is going on?

you look around the room, as though checking for a hidden camera, or some other sign that might give away what the hell this guy's motives are. but around you is simply a room of friends enjoying each other's company—sipping drinks; eating finger foods the hosts had been carefully set out to graze on; chatting amongst each other about their lives, their holiday sweaters, their work.

everything seems totally normal, other than what's transpiring in the quiet corner where you and suna rintarou find yourselves standing side by side.

"how is... your... work?" you manage to ask, though it sounds as though the question is pulled from you with considerable effort. stiff and strained in every way a question so innocuous doesn't have any right to be.

suna laughs a little under his breath, masks it with a clearly fake cough, and then rests his hand over his mouth. he's smirking. you know he is. he's revelling in every second of your discomfort like the twisted little freak he is.

you're about to tell him as much, but he cuts you off.

"it's good," he replies to your pained question with an unexpected sincerity. "we're coming up to the half-way point in the season, so training is still pretty intense. we do get a day off for the holiday though."

right, he's a volleyball player. you'd learned that upon your first meeting, before your opinion of him was quite so hostile. you remember thinking at the time that he looked like a volleyball player—tall, lean, with big hands that made the beer can he'd been holding look almost laughably small in comparison.

you glance down at those hands again, still idly fidgeting with his cellphone. he's not drinking a beer tonight, and you wonder if maybe it's because he's in the middle of his season.

you think about asking him.

but you don't.

suna seems to be waiting for you to say more, but when you don't, he continues on the conversation himself. "i thought about taking the train to hyogo for the day, but it wouldn't really make sense just to go visit for a few hours."

you take another sip of your wine. you decide that you do not in fact enjoy it.

you hum a bit, ditching your mostly full glass on the edge of a table that rests within reach. "tough to just make a day trip, especially since the weather's so..." you trail off, gesturing vaguely with your now empty hand in a way that's supposed to indicate the unreliability of the winter climate.

suna laughs.

you look at him in confusion.

"the weather?" he asks you, rubbing at his mouth again like he trying to hide the expression underneath his fingertips. it might work if his eyes didn't crinkle at the corner when he smiles. "we're talking about the weather now?"

your lips part indignantly at his jibe. he's the one who'd initiated this hellscape of small talk, and now he had the nerve to chide you for it?

"oh, i'm sorry," you guffaw, feigning remorse, "is there some pressing matter you'd rather discuss?"

rintarou dips closer to you from his greater height, and the fact that he's so much taller than you are only irritates you more.

"there is actually," he says with a nod.

"oh, yeah?" you roll your eyes, gearing up for a fight. you turn to face him properly, tilting your chin up to meet him eye to eye without wavering. "and what's that?"

"are you aware that we've been standing under mistletoe for the entirety of this conversation?"

you slowly look overhead.

like something out of a horror film, you find that for once in his life (or at least the few months you've known him) suna's chosen to say something factual. overhead, a little bundle of mistletoe has been affixed to the ceiling with a piece of tape that seems to barely be hanging on—the decoration at risk of falling at any moment.

you feel sick.

"so what?" you ask him, swallowing down that feeling of dread and maintaining (what you hope is) an air of indifference.

"so that means we're supposed to kiss," he tells you matter-of-factly, almost a bit pointedly, like he can't believe you didn't know.

"i'm aware of that," you hiss. "i don't, however, bend to the whims of plants, as a general rule."

"weird rule," he remarks, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

you feel a throb of irritation behind your eyes.

"you're the one who came over here to bother me," you point out. "if you knew there was mistletoe hanging up there, that means this is your fault."

suna shrugs a bit.

you keep going, your pulse thrumming beneath your tongue and fanning the flames of irritation churning in the pit of your stomach.

"if anything, that makes you the weird one for coming up with some scheme to trick me. we're not children. if you wanted to kiss me so bad you could have just aske—"

"can i kiss you?"

what?

"i asked if i can kiss you," rintarou says, and you're not sure if that means you voiced your thought aloud or it was just plainly written across your face. he inches closer to you, and though you would usually shift away to accommodate for the intrusion, the table where you'd discarded your glass of wine keeps you mostly trapped in place. pinned. cornered. "you said that if i wanted to kiss you, i should ask. so, i'm asking if i can kiss you."

why?

suna sighs after a moment of contemplating the look of abject shock on your features, slumping forward and resting his forehead on the wall beside your head, caging you against the wall with his lanky frame. you can't breathe with him this close—too startled by the proximity and the warmth radiating from him to even think about drawing air into your lungs. too confused by this entire situation to meet your basic human needs.

"you really don't get it, do you?" he asks quietly. he's so near that you feel his words more than you hear them—especially since they were spoken so quietly just next to your ear.

"get what?" your own voice sounds distant—sounds strange—to you when you finally manage to speak.

suna pulls back just far enough to meet your gaze, and you're shocked to see just how pink his face is. he looks mortified—and desperate—as his eyes find yours. he tilts his face towards you, and when he speaks again you feel the warmth of his breath break against your lips.

"you're the only person in this room who i'd enjoy listening to talk about the weather."

and it's not until much later, when the lingering bitterness from the wine has been replaced by something much sweeter (though entirely unexpected) on your tongue, that you realize rintarou was the only person in the room tall enough to reach the ceiling.

a/n: for nana, who forced me to write this entirely against my will but whom i love dearly in spite of it

[cosmic-evening]

ᯓ★ 3:30 am

suna rintarou x gn!reader

(loosely) based on while you were sleeping by laufey

a/n: i've been absolutely drowning in work this month AND i have writers' block but here's a blurb

hq m.list | gen m.list

SUNA RINTAROU never slept well, and you both knew it.

it had become part of your nightly routine to lay in bed with him — your head on his chest, tracing patterns on his arm, lazily talking about your day.

you always try to stay awake with him to talk, you really do; but most nights, you end up falling asleep mid-sentence, leaving rin to tuck in the blankets around you.

the silence after that is peaceful, with the faint sounds of nightlife seeping in from the windows, and your deep breaths filling the room.

it's nothing new — rin was used to mindlessly scrolling on his phone while you rested. but some nights, when the silence gets a bit too overwhelming, and time seems to be running away from him, he's filled with an immense sense of gratitude for you.

what had you done? the fluttering feeling in his stomach, foreign but welcome — it's so surreal.

and it's those nights, when the alarm clock on the table reads 3:30, where something turns in his heart.

it's when he realises, with devastating certainty, that he's in love with you.

[noorpersona]

Jealousy: Suna (NSFW)

The night had no plans. And that was the plan.

Warm lamplight painted the apartment in soft amber hues, flickering gently across a half-finished bottle of wine, socks abandoned near the doorway, and the lazy sprawl of two bodies tangled beneath a fleece blanket on the couch. Outside, the city murmured in the distance—traffic, wind, someone’s music a few blocks away. But here, the only sounds were the low thrum of a playlist you both forgot to turn off and the occasional clink of glass as you sipped.

Suna Rintarou sat at the opposite end of the couch, half-lidded eyes drifting toward the TV screen though he hadn’t looked at it in twenty minutes. One knee bent, the other foot on the floor, hoodie loose around his shoulders, collarbone peeking out where the fabric hung unevenly. His phone rested facedown on the coffee table—abandoned, for once.

You lay curled into the armrest, sipping your wine, cheek pressed into the pillow, watching him with the slow, foggy fondness of someone three glasses deep and completely content.

He looked relaxed. Comfortable. Maybe a little too smug.

"You ever get bored of being effortlessly cool?" you asked, voice low and amused.

Suna didn't even glance at you. “You ever get bored of talking out your ass?”

You smirked into your glass. “Mm. Nope.”

The silence between you was warm. Familiar. Filled with shared breath and the lazy weight of the night.

After a moment, you tapped the side of your glass with your fingernail and looked over at him, eyes half-lidded. “Wanna play something?”

Suna raised an eyebrow without moving. “Like what?”

You shrugged, smiling. “Truth or dare.”

He blinked slowly. “…What is this, a middle schooler’s basement?”

You laughed and kicked him in the thigh with your socked foot, not even hard. Just enough to say shut up.

Suna grunted on impact, shooting you a narrowed glance as his hand caught your ankle under the blanket.

“You’re ridiculous,” he said.

“You love me,” you shot back easily.

He didn’t answer—just let your leg go and leaned forward to set his glass down on the table with a soft clink.

“Fine,” he said, finally. “You first.”

The couch creaked quietly beneath you as you shifted upright, adjusting the blanket to pool at your waist. Your glass was nearly empty now, fingers curling loosely around the stem while your legs curled underneath you. Suna stayed reclined, eyes on you now with that low-burn stare—quiet, unreadable, like he was already trying to guess what you’d ask.

You toyed with the rim of your glass, lips twitching. “Okay. Truth or dare?”

His answer came without hesitation. “Truth.”

Of course. It was always truth with him. He’d rather be caught dead than do something performative, especially under your watchful, goading eye. Suna Rintarou didn’t dance for anyone—but he’d let you look inside, if only a little.

You hummed, pretending to think, even though you’d already decided. “What was your first impression of me?”

He scoffed softly, dropping his head back against the cushion and staring at the ceiling for a beat before turning his gaze lazily toward you again. “Honestly?”

“Obviously.”

“You were annoying.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Wow.”

“In a cute way,” he added with a lazy grin.

You lifted your leg and nudged his thigh again. “You’re cruising for another kick.”

“Worth it,” he muttered, taking a sip of his drink.

He set the glass aside again, arm draping along the back of the couch behind you, fingers brushing the fabric near your shoulder.

“My turn,” he said.

You met his gaze, chin raised. “Hit me.”

“Truth or dare?”

You grinned. “Truth.”

Suna’s eyes lingered on your face for a beat too long. Then: “Top three best times you’ve ever had in bed.”

You blinked. Hard.

A short laugh escaped you. “Are you—seriously?”

He shrugged one shoulder. “You asked.”

Your cheeks warmed—not from embarrassment, but from the audacity. He was leaning into the cushion now, head tilted slightly, eyes hooded, watching your reaction like he was tracking the slow spread of heat across your skin.

“Okay,” you said finally, placing your glass on the coffee table. “Fine.”

You sat back and raised three fingers.

“Number one…” you began, grinning. “That night you came home after being gone for four days? Didn’t even make it to the bedroom. You dropped your bag and practically tackled me into the wall.”

Suna made a small, satisfied sound in his throat, but didn’t interrupt.

“Number two: the kitchen. I don’t even remember what started the fight, but you shut me up pretty effectively.”

His lips twitched, the barest hint of smugness there now.

You raised your third finger—and then paused. Let the silence stretch.

“And number three,” you said, tone suddenly breezy, “was probably this one time with my ex.”

Suna didn’t react at first.

Didn’t flinch. Didn’t even blink.

You waited.

Then he turned his head slightly, slow and measured, like processing a minor glitch in a system. His eyes dragged across your face. He looked calm. Relaxed. His arm still hung behind your shoulders.

“You’re putting someone else on that list?” he asked quietly.

You smiled, feigning innocence. “Didn’t think you’d be the jealous type.”

“I’m not,” he replied.

Then he shifted.

His legs uncrossed, knees spreading slightly as he leaned forward, forearms braced on his thighs, eyes still locked on yours.

“I’m competitive.”

You opened your mouth to respond—something flirty, maybe a little smug—but before you could speak, he was already moving.

One hand slid behind your neck, the other gripping the back of your thigh, and he pulled you forward in one fluid motion. Your knees hit either side of his hips as he dragged you into his lap, not rough, but not exactly gentle either. It was purposeful. Controlled.

You gasped softly, wine-blushed hands flying to his shoulders for balance. The heat of his body met yours in a slow burn as his mouth grazed your jaw, barely touching, the edge of a smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

“Third place,” he murmured. “You serious?”

You opened your mouth to tease him—but he cut you off with a kiss.

It wasn’t soft.

It was deep and slow and toeing the line between affection and punishment, his tongue sliding into your mouth like it belonged there, like he was reclaiming territory he thought he already owned. One of his hands found your lower back, pressing you flush against him, your hips cradled perfectly against the slow, rising hardness beneath his sweats.

He pulled back just enough to murmur, “You said top three, right?”

Your breath hitched.

He tilted his head slightly. “Let’s make it a clean sweep.”

You never made it to the bedroom.

You didn’t even make it to your feet.

Suna laid you back against the couch with a quiet, measured ease, like he was tucking you into something soft instead of preparing to ruin you. The throw pillows shifted behind your shoulders as he moved over you, the heavy drag of his hands along your thighs lighting every nerve with anticipation.

Your shirt was still on. Your panties, around your knees. Everything else was tossed aside: the rules, the game, the ex you’d mentioned like it wouldn’t cost you everything.

His fingers gripped the backs of your knees, pushing your legs apart until you were open—displayed—for him and only him. You felt the chill of the air hit your slick skin, and then the warm press of his palms smoothing up your inner thighs like he was marking them.

You were already wet. Ridiculously so. The kind of wet that made your skin sticky and your mind hazy. He hadn’t even touched you properly and you were half gone.

Suna didn’t speak. Didn’t ask. Just lowered himself between your legs and settled in like this was his seat.

The first press of his tongue was slow. A long, deliberate drag from your entrance up to your clit, tasting you like he already knew exactly what he was about to do.

You gasped—back arching, fingers twitching against the cushions as his mouth closed around your clit, lips plush and wet, tongue circling until your thighs trembled.

He moaned, low and hungry, like you were a meal he’d waited all day for. And then he began to eat.

It wasn’t messy. It was precise. Calculated. He licked in slow, repeating patterns, pressure building perfectly with every stroke. The couch dipped under his weight as he adjusted, one hand splayed across your stomach to keep you pinned, the other trailing over your thigh with soft, absentminded affection.

Your hips tried to move—tried to chase the friction—but he held you there.

“You taste better when you beg,” he murmured into you, voice deep and quiet like it wasn’t meant to be heard. His lips never left your skin.

You whimpered, hands flying to his hair, gripping the strands like you were trying to ground yourself. You couldn’t.

Your first orgasm crept up before you could stop it—warm and relentless, your stomach tightening as he flicked the tip of his tongue over your clit in tight, practiced circles. You shook beneath him, thighs clamping instinctively, voice cracking as you gasped—

“Rin—oh my god—Rin—”

“That’s one,” he murmured.

He didn’t stop.

He pushed two fingers inside you, slow and deep, curling them up until you let out a sharp, broken moan. You were already pulsing, already drenched, and he was fucking into you with just his fingers and tongue like he had all night to unravel you.

The second orgasm hit harder.

You choked on it, the pleasure sweeping through your body in sharp, dragging waves, so intense your fingers went numb and your vision blurred. You tried to close your legs again. He held them apart, fingertips digging into your thighs like they belonged there.

“I’m not done,” he said simply.

You were crying now—soft, helpless tears slipping down your cheeks, your breath coming in ragged gasps. You didn’t know if you were begging for more or begging him to stop. Your body didn’t care. It wanted everything.

“Rin,” you whimpered. “I can’t—”

“You can.” His tongue flattened against your clit, firm and unrelenting. “I know you can.”

Your third orgasm snapped like a thread pulled taut too long. Your body shook, hips jerking off the couch, mouth open in a soundless cry. Your hands were everywhere—gripping the cushions, his hair, your own thighs—anything.

He finally pulled away, lips and chin slick with you, and looked up through his lashes like he was barely winded. His hand was still working inside you, fingers slow and deep, pressing against that soft spot that had your toes curling.

“Still thinking about him?” he asked softly.

You couldn’t speak.

Suna kissed the inside of your thigh. “Didn’t think so.”

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and stood, shoving his sweatpants halfway down before sinking back onto the couch—grabbing your hips and hauling you down the cushions like you weighed nothing.

Your back hit the armrest, legs dangling off the edge, and he was lining himself up in seconds.

You felt the press of him at your entrance—thick, hot, already leaking—and then he pushed in.

You moaned—loudly, mouth falling open as he filled you inch by inch. He didn’t stop until he was buried to the hilt, the stretch so deep it made your whole body arch.

He stilled, breathing hard through his nose, eyes on your face.

“So tight,” he muttered. “So fucking wet. You’re shaking.”

He pulled out halfway���slammed back in.

You cried out, nails dragging down the armrest as he fucked into you, hard and deep, every thrust sending shockwaves up your spine. The couch rocked. Your body bounced. And all you could do was take it.

He found your clit again—this time with his thumb—and rubbed tight, fast circles that had your fourth orgasm snapping violently through you, your cunt clenching so hard around him he cursed under his breath.

“You gonna come again?” he murmured, hips still snapping into yours. “You gonna give me five?”

You sobbed. “Rin—yes—yes, I can’t—”

“Yeah, you can,” he whispered. “You will.”

The final orgasm came like nothing you’d ever felt.

You screamed—loud, raw, pleasure flooding every part of you. Your entire body went stiff before it collapsed, twitching, legs trembling as you came so hard your ears rang.

Suna groaned deep in his chest, fucking you through it until he came too—hips jerking, cock pulsing inside you as he filled you up with every last drop.

When he stilled, you were ruined.

Sweaty, twitching, wrecked.

He leaned over you, pressing kisses to your temple, your jaw, your cheek, as your chest rose and fell in ragged breaths.

The air smelled like sex and sweat and your perfume still clinging to his hoodie.

You didn’t move.

You couldn’t.

He kissed your shoulder once more, nuzzling into the space just below your ear, then whispered—

“So…”

A pause.

“Did I make the leaderboard?”

Your brain was mush. Your limbs were jelly. Your body was still throbbing.

And all you could do… was nod.

Suna smiled.

“Good.”

[starshoyo]

FAKE BOYFRIEND ★

⭐︎ PAIRING Suna Rintarou x fem! reader

⭐︎ WARNINGS None

⭐︎ TAGS Suna Rinatou is a delinquent, time skip AU, your ex is an ass

IN WHICH Suna Rintarou, a stranger, agrees to be your fake boyfriend to protect you from your ex

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐓𝐖𝐎 -> | 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒/𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

YOU FOUND YOURSELF borderline panicking as you stared at the notification on your phone. Your ex, who you had just broken up with weeks ago, had been blowing up your phone, begging to get back together. Forgetting he had your location, you had kept him unblocked, just until you got the things you had left at his house.

But now, there was a text saying that he was on his way right now, and he wanted to talk about getting back together. You cursed under your breath.

Your ex, Takeshi, was pushy. There were instances when he couldn’t control his emotions, and put his hands on you. Even after you had broken up with him, you found him waiting outside of your front door for hours, just to talk to you.

You… You didn’t want to talk to him. At least, not alone. You were tired of him harassing you, but you were scared what he might do if the two of you were alone.

You looked around, scanning your surroundings. It was busy, considering you were standing outside of a busy mall on a weekend. You were just shopping for some makeup products you had run out of, when you had gotten the text that he had your location, that he was nearby, and that he was on his way.

Your eyes wandered to find someone, anyone who could help you. You had come up with a little lie, deciding to tell him that you had a new boyfriend, and you had absolutely zero interest getting back with Takeshi.

Your sights landed on two men who were your age, laughing and gently pushing each other around, leaning against the fences surrounding the trees outside.

You took a deep breath in, biting your bottom lip before gathering your courage and pushing your pride down. You walked towards them with your phone clutched to your chest. “Excuse me?” You interrupted, voice unstable and weak. They both turn to you, and you immediately felt anxious.

“I’m really sorry about bothering you, but I need some help.” You frowned, hoping they can sense the desperation leaking off of you. Despite looking slightly confused, they nodded, signaling you to continue. Immediately, some of the weight was lifted from your shoulders. “What’s wrong?” The shorter man asked.

Now that you saw them up close, you couldn’t help but see how they looked like delinquents. Both of them had sleeves of tattoos, the taller one having even more coming from under his collar and up to his neck, and both of them had piercings littering their ears and some on their faces. The shorter male had dyed blond hair, and a sly smile, while the other looked neutral, eyes slim and observant.

“Well, my ex is going to be here any minute, and you would be a lifesaver if one of you can just act like… like you’re my boyfriend, just for a minute. You don’t have to say anything.” You spoke quickly, cheeks burning in humiliation. Thankfully, both of them didn’t look uncomfortable at the question.

The blond pushed the taller’s arm. “You should do it! You’re the single one.” He said, crossing his arms. Thankfully, he shrugged his shoulders, an unsure smile finding its way on his face. “Oh, sure. I’ll do it.” You let out a small sigh of relief, bowing deeply. “Thank you so much.”

He shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. I’m Suna Rintarou, by the way.” He told you, making sure you at least knew his name before you started your roles as a couple. You nodded. “I’m (Name) (Last Name).” Your eyes glanced to the side. “Let’s wait in the shade.”

The blond’s phone rang in his pocket, and he turned to the two of you, a sheepish smile on his face. “It’s my girlfriend. I’ll be right back.” He told you, before walking away. You pursed your lips, feeling awkward with the stranger. You rocked back and forth in your heels.

“You mind if I smoke?” He asked, already pulling out a cigarette. You shook your head, and watched as he lit his cigarette and took a puff, making sure to breathe away from you.

You wondered if Takeshi would even believe you. You weren’t a saint, but you also weren’t the type of person to date or even meet someone like Suna. You could tell your styles were different, as well. You wore a simple sundress, hair down and wearing heeled sandals, perfect for the summer heat.

He, on the other hand, wore dark, baggy denim jeans with a black tank top that accentuated his toned muscles and showed off the art on his arms. Silver jewelry decorated his wrists and neck, matching the piercings on his ears and face.

Yup, polar opposites.

“That’s him.” You whispered, staring down the familiar man who walked towards you. Suna watched him with judging eyes, feeling some strange pride swell in his chest at the fact that he was taller than Takeshi. He held his cigarette between his index and middle finger, raising a brow as your ex approached.

It wasn’t a surprise that the first thing Takeshi did was scoff, eyeing the man behind you. “Who’s this?” He asked, looking at Suna up and down. You gathered every bit of courage you had, crossing your arms.

“Takeshi, listen. I’ve moved on, okay? You should, too.” You said, voice getting softer as you spoke. He cocked his head like he was offended, before a laugh left his mouth. “Wait, you’re not serious, right? You actually expect me to believe that you’re dating a junkie?”

Your eyes widened at his choice of words, mouth immediately opening to defend Suna, but he beat you to it. “Hey, watch your mouth, ex-boyfriend.” He enunciated, pointing his cigarette towards the shorter male, who just rolled his eyes.

“Don’t call him a junkie. And yes, I’m dating him. Believe it.” You spat, hands on your hips. As always, your ex was difficult to talk to, never getting things through his thick head. “Oh, yeah, sure.” He nodded sarcastically, but nonetheless annoyed.

“I’m not sure why you’re surprised. Women usually go for someone better after they break up. Someone different, someone out of their bubble, someone…” Suna paused, scanning Takeshi up and down, “taller.” He puffed out another breath of nicotine, placing his arm around your shoulder.

Takeshi grit his teeth. “Shut up, I’m not here for you.” He snapped, before looking back at you. “I’m here for you. You do understand that you’re being unfair, right? You never gave us a chance to talk about our relationship.” He started his rant, and you found yourself rolling your eyes in his face.

He balked his fists. “You ended it out of no where!” He followed through. This time, it was your turn to scoff. “You cheated on me, Takeshi. There’s nothing to talk about!” You laughed in disbelief, shaking your head.

He huffed out a frustrated breath. “That’s all a misunderstanding! I was just-”

“I walked in on you eating some bitch out!” You yelled in frustration, eyes wide in fury. People walking by murmured at your outburst, staring at Takeshi with judging eyes. He shifted uncomfortably under their gaze.

He let out a sigh. “Come on, let’s talk about this somewhere else.” He mumbled, reaching out to take your arm. The hand was pushed away by Suna’s own, whose arm wrapped around you tighter. “Back up, man.” He warned, pushing Takeshi back.

He scowled at the taller man, but immediately looked back to you, a breath of defeat leaving his lips. “Fine. We’ll talk tomorrow. I know where you live.” He reminded, the words like venom.

“That sounds a lot like a threat.” Suna’s tone was much more serious, his warm, protective arm leaving you as he stepped forward, menacingly staring down at Takeshi. The shorter male stumbled back, gaping up at him and looking furious. Still, he knew he was no match for Suna.

So, instead, he look past him and made eye contact with you. “Just- Just call me.” He stated firmly, before turning away and escaping from Suna’s menacing glare.

With Takeshi finally out of sight, you let out the breath you hadn’t realized you had been holding. “I’m so sorry, thank you.” Your voice was shaky, feeling bad for involving a stranger into your problems. He shook his head. “Don’t apologize. God, he sounds like an ass. How dare he threaten you?” His words still had an angry edge to them.

Suna’s friend came trotting back, phone in hand. “What took you so long, ‘Tsumu?” Suna huffed, snuffing out his cigarette. “Oh, give me a break. I was recording, just in case he did something.” Atsumu sighed, waving his phone.

You genuinely smiled, thankful. Suna extended his hand towards you, a business card with his name, number, and a tattoo parlor. “I’ll give you my number. If he shows up to your house or bothers you again, don’t hesitate to give me a call.” He told you. You hoped he didn’t notice the way your cheeks reddened.

“Thank you.” You hummed, placing it in your purse. “Alright, we’ll be on our way. Get home safe.” Atsumu said, pushing Suna away from you, who had been staring at you with soft eyes. “I will. Thank you, again!” You said, waving at them.

[honeekyuu]

talk too much. [suna rintarou x reader]

twelve. lipstick

previous || masterlist || next

a/n. you ever just miss a man so much you pick up a hobby again?

warnings: suna rintarou

✗ !!! minors do not interact !!! ✗

✗ !!! ignore timestamps !!! ✗

“We’re still on for Saturday, right?”

You swallow down the bite of dinner, smiling nervously into the camera. Suna’s got two fries in his mouth, and he’s not looking at you. His gaze focused very carefully on his drawing pad, stylus gripped loosely between his fingers and following the path his wrist sets with care.

It’s just after seven o’clock, but you’d been on the phone since two. He’d clocked quite a few extra hours in the studio this week due to some project deadlines, and you’d dutifully sat on the other end of a facetime call every night. Your own work remains undone, the problem set haunting you from the corner of your desk. You have a draft of a chapter for your writing class up on your monitor, your messy notes open on your laptop. 

You’d been doing that more recently, too. Blatantly ignoring the responsibilities of your major to actually invest in your electives, this one in particular. You’d always been interested in writing, but it’d been more of a passing hobby than anything else. This class – and the encouraging feedback from your professor – had made it scarily real for you in the last few weeks, with a terrible, lingering hope filling you. A terrible hope that this might be what you’ve wanted to do this whole time. A terrible, nagging thought that the unopened problem set on your desk might be indicative of something bigger that you’ve been trying not to acknowledge.

You’re more than happy to set that issue aside to engage Suna’s conversation.

“Saturday?” you say, spooning more of your rice bowl into your mouth while you give him your attention. He only glances at you, eyes dropping to your mouth before flitting toward his own dinner shyly. He shoves nearly half of his burger in his mouth, only snorting when you watch in horror, before nodding.

“‘aturday,” he mumbles plainly, and you have to pull up your calendar because you know that’s all you’re getting.

PUMPKIN PATCH – DON’T FREAK.

Well, that’s not helpful.

Your chest swarms with nerves, and you do your best to appear as though a brick of fear hasn’t just come down over your head.

“Oh, yeah. Yeah, that sounds good.”

He sees right through it, swallowing while he cuts you a disbelieving glance. “You’re so nonchalant and cool.”

You laugh, hiding behind a hand. “Sorry, I’m freaking out.”

“Me, too.”

His honesty is disarming as always. 

“Yeah?”

“Incredibly. But I still wanna do it.”

You purse your lips, warming. “Me, too.”

A beat passes, and then a voice full of fond amusement. “Yeah? You sure?” 

A roll of your eyes, the draw of his laugh when he sees it.

“Yes, Rinnie. I’m sure.”

A sigh of frustration masked as a laugh. “You’re so cruel for that.”

It’s hard to focus on your draft that night.

–

You take a deep breath and exhale slow. Slow. 

Breathe in, turn to look at yourself in the mirror, this way and that. 

Breathe out slow. Slow. 

“It’s okay,” you say to yourself, breathing in slow and then breathing out slower. “It’s okay, it’s Suna.”

It’s Suna, the same boy you’ve been talking to for weeks – months, really. The same boy who’s proven again and again that he’s not like any boy you’ve ever met before. The same boy who’d asked to pick you up this morning, who’d asked to walk entirely out of his way to pick you up for a date. A date that he’d been pushing for since before either of you could consider it one.

“It’s Suna,” you breathe again, forcing yourself to be okay with how your hair looks. “Just a first date. With Suna.” 

There are three quiet knocks on the front door, echoing around your apartment and into your bedroom.

Just a first date with Suna.

You start to sweat almost immediately.

“Okay,” you breathe, fanning your face with nervous hands and walking on shaky legs to your bedroom door. “Okay, I can do this.” You look around the living room as you cross it, making sure the space is tidy and lacking anything potentially embarrassing. You’d already checked five times, but one more couldn’t hurt.

By the time your hand is on the doorknob, your face is burning and your hands are clammy.

The man on the other side of the door doesn’t look much better.

It’s weird, meeting someone you’ve known for months.

The first thing you notice is that he’s tall. You’d known. You’d known he’d be tall, but fuck, he’s tall.

The second thing you notice is that he’s got dark features but light eyes. Green eyes, but black hair, black eyebrows. Green eyes, but inky black eyelashes that flutter over them. You’d known that too, from the photos and the calls, but his eyes are greener and his hair is darker in person. His clothes are just as dark, grey shirt tucked into black jeans and dark plaid flannel thrown over the top.

You notice the piercings and tattoos, too. The lip ring he tugs nervously between his teeth, the uneven number of piercings on his left ear and right ear, glinting in the light of your apartment hallway. The black ink peeking out from under the sleeves of his flannel, dark ink and pale, ringed fingers.

Pale, ringed fingers that are shaking just slightly, wrapped tight around a bouquet of flowers.

He looks exactly the same as he does in his photos – the familiarity is nearly overwhelming – but everything is new, intense. The reality of Suna Rintarou is stronger than it had been before.

“Hi,” you whisper, staring up at him with wide eyes. He stares back, looking just as stunned.

“Hi-” he breathes, cutting short and swallowing hard. You watch his Adam’s apple bob, ink on his throat moving with it. “-pretty girl.”

You’re not sure you’ll survive this day.

You shiver, breaking eye contact nervously and trying not to let the chills that his voice induces run rampant on your skin. “Do…” You glance over your shoulder and then back at him. “D’you wanna come in? For coffee or something?”

You watch his face redden in real time, watch his ears turn pink as he looks away from you. 

He’s as nervous as you are.

“Sure,” he says quietly. “That sounds nice.” He follows you inside, stepping carefully into your foyer and looking around curiously while he takes his shoes off. “I like your place.”

You warm, padding into the kitchen to start making coffee. You’re distracted beyond belief, distracted by the overwhelming sense of Suna’s presence. It only worsens when you glance back to thank him and realize that he’d followed you down the hall. “Oh. Hi.”

His eyes scan your face – your wide eyes and surprised blush – and then he bites down on his lip ring, a teasing smile tugging at his lips. “Hi. Am I making you nervous?”

Laughter bubbles out of you, and that wave of familiarity returns, washing away some of your anxiety about meeting him. You already know him.

“Maybe,” you tease, nodding back at the bouquet hanging limply in his hand. “But not any more nervous than I’m making you.”

Suna glances down, realizing that his hand is gripped so tight around it that petals are starting to shed off of the flowers onto your floor. “Oh-” He holds out the bouquet, grimacing when more petals float down between you. “This is for you.”

You smile, feeling a swell of giddiness rise in your chest – the one that you’ve always gotten with him, from the moment you started to fall for him. “I have some vases in that cabinet over the fridge,” you say, still grinning stupidly at him. His eyes twinkle, and you know he’s caught the tinge of domesticity in the way you talk to him. “Help me out, 6’3”?”

He sets the bouquet on the counter, never taking his eyes off of you. “Whatever you say, pretty girl.”

Oh, good lord.

You press a clammy hand to your heated face, watching him cross the kitchen toward you. You lean into the corner of the counter when he stops close enough to you that his scent washes over you, warm and comforting and so Suna and new that you have to fight not to gravitate toward him. 

Suna reaches up with ease, pulling the cabinet open and plucking a small vase from inside. He smirks to himself while he does. “Why d’you keep these up here if you can’t reach?”

“So I can get pretty boys like you to do it for me,” you joke, basking in the nervous flutter of those inky black lashes and the sharp cut of those green eyes down to yours.

“Got a lot of pretty boys on your roster?” His voice drips in annoyance, but his face is a lovely pink color and he can’t seem to keep eye contact with you.

“Just one,” you say, your confidence leaving you when he hands over the vase. Your fingers brush against his, and your heart flies to your throat, the nerves unbearable. You turn away, filling the vase with water from the tap and putting far too much care into arranging the bouquet. You feel him behind you, feel his eyes burning through your skin as he takes you in.

“I like your jeans,” is all he says. 

You glance down, taking in the light denim jeans and burnt orange cardigan you’d spent way too much time picking out last night. You’re not the biggest fan of how the jeans fit you, mainly because they’re much more form-fitting than you’re used to, but you’d really wanted to try something new for him. To show him how far you’ve come.

“Thanks,” you whisper nervously. “I’m still getting used to them.” He doesn’t say anything, but there’s a large part of you knows that he doesn’t need to. You can feel his pride from here, washing over you in waves of heat.

You turn back to him, leaning all your weight on the counter so you don’t collapse. “I like your outfit, too.”

His grin is torture, you’re sure of it.

“Thanks,” he mumbles. “I tried really hard today.” When you just beam up at him playfully, he sighs in defeat and looks away. He scans over all the things on your fridge, lingering on the polaroids of you with your friends while he speaks. “‘s probably better if we skip the coffee and just go.”

Your face drops, and you blink in confusion. “Why?”

He just smiles in a way that feels self-deprecating, eyes locked on a photo of Alisa and Suga kissing each of your cheeks while you laugh. He swallows, staring down at it with something warm in his gaze. “If we stay here much longer, I’m not gonna wanna leave.”

He has no idea how okay with that you just might be.

Still, he’d promised you a pumpkin patch.

You step toward him, closing the distance and watching as his gaze flits to yours nervously. You press your chest to his while you reach past him for the fridge, pretending you don’t feel his breath stutter or the fingers that brush against your waist.

There’s another photo, just under the one he’d fixated on – it had been taken the same night, just last week in fact. A weeknight when the three of you had decided that bellinis and Breakfast Club could be the only cure to your end-of-semester stress. When Alisa had whipped out a cheap polaroid camera and demanded a photoshoot, when Suga had only been so glad to order delivery for more alcohol and raid your closet for stupid photoshoot outfits. When the three of you had gotten drunk and giddy enough for your newfound confidence – still shy and small and in no small way nurtured by the very man in front of you now – to make an appearance, encouraged in the whoops and hollers of your friends when they’d seen the new you come out.

When you’d climbed drunkenly into Alisa’s lap and let her take a sexy – incredibly blurry, but still sexy – snapshot of you, the memory of Suga cheering in the background while shaking his ass to the end track of Breakfast Club embedded in the glossy film of your smeared lipstick. 

You’d kept the photo, too in love with the memories that had come with it. But you think maybe it would belong better elsewhere.

“Here,” you say, pressing the front of the photo to his chest while you back away, watching with warm ears when he takes it but keeps his eyes on yours. “You can keep that one in your wallet, if you want.”

His eyebrows lift in surprise, but you turn away and move back down the hall before you can watch him look at it. 

Still, the hushed ‘holy shit’ echoes all the way to the foyer while you put your shoes on, and you bite down a laugh.

“Ready to go?” you call, tying up your sneakers and hearing Suna rush unsteadily out of the kitchen. 

“Y-Yeah, sorry,” he calls back distractedly. Glancing up through your lashes, heart pounding in your ears at your own courage, you catch as he tucks the photo away in his wallet, just behind his ID. He folds his wallet carefully and slips it in his front pocket, inked fingers still trembling slightly. 

You walk out after him, locking the door and following him down to the nearest bus stop. He can’t seem to decide if he should stand a friendly distance from you while you wait or if he should press his side against yours, so you linger closer to him to let him know it’s okay. He flushes but steps right up to you, facing you and using his frame to block the wind when he sees how you tense against it. 

You stand in a silence that’s somehow both comforting and unnerving, meeting his eyes and then looking away nervously. He just watches you, lips pulling into a fond smile every few moments before he remembers to smother it. He reaches out to you after a while, running cold fingers over your ears and tapping the tips of his fingers against your done-up hair, grinning when you give him an empty glare.

“I like these,” he mumbles, toying with your dangly pumpkin earrings. His thumb brushes over your jaw and then your cheek, and then he finally drags it lightly against your bottom lip, your lipstick coming off a little on his skin. “Pretty.”

You inhale sharply, head swimming with the feel of his fingers and the smell of him – of his clothes and his cologne. So gentle and warm, yet so goddamn overwhelming.

You look up at him through your lashes, parting your lips just slightly, and his eyes grow wide as he stares down at you. He blinks in surprise, and you’re not totally sure what’s just happened. But his thumb leaves your lip, and you find yourself turning toward it, chasing the feeling for just a moment longer. Chasing him for just a moment longer.

The sound of the bus turning the corner breaks the spell Suna Rintarou’s put you under.

You blink rapidly, taking a small step back and watching Suna swallow hard. His face is redder than you think the wind can be blamed for, but he just turns and holds a hand out to help you onto the bus. Your skin burns where it touches his, and you shyly show the driver your student ID before leading Suna down the aisle, his fingers interlacing with yours the moment you start to pull away.

He’s grinning to himself when you finally choose a seat. You roll your eyes but let him rest your hands in his lap. 

After a moment where he’s checking how many stops are left, he pulls out a pair of corded headphones, holding one out to you.

“Want me to show you my sick music taste?”

You laugh, thankful you’d chosen a seat in the back, because the way you’re looking up at him is nothing short of pathetic.

He unlocks his phone, but it opens immediately to a paused YouTube video of a famous Pokemon gamer streaming a playthrough. You lift your brows, staring up at Suna with knowing eyes. He flushes and hurries to close it out.

“Sorry,” he mutters. “I was watching it on my walk over to calm my nerves.”

You giggle and point down to his screen. “Put it on, then.”

He scoffs. “Yeah, okay.”

“No, really,” you insist. “Put it on. I wanna watch it.”

He turns to you with wide eyes. “There’s no way in hell you want to watch this.”

You roll your eyes and take his phone, rewinding the video a bit and pressing play. You try to catch up with all the new information while Suna just stares down at you. You hum after a second.

“So, it’s a Nuzlocke?” 

He doesn’t answer you, only blurting out, “You’re the girl of my dreams”. You laugh, glancing around the crowded bus before shaking your head and returning to the video.

“Yeah, you mighta mentioned that once or twice.”

–

The wind is sharp out in the middle of the pumpkin patch, but you can’t tell if your cheeks are red and stinging from that or from the sheer force of smiling so much.

Suna makes you laugh like it’s his job. He whispers quick one-liners in your ear or into your hair, smiling against the crown of your head when you hide your grin behind your hand.

He treats you like a princess, holding your hand so you don’t trip on the vines and uneven ground while you pick out a pumpkin to take home. He carries everything for you, despite your complaints, and makes a point of still holding your hand. 

And when you finally manage to find a large tote bag to shove all your souvenirs into – designated home pumpkin, popcorn, apple cider donuts, and a variety of knick knacks – he all but fights you for possession of it in the middle of the gift shop. You let him win, and as a reward, he keeps his chest pressed against your back while you wait in line for a short hay ride, one hand – fingers cold and rings colder – pressed to your waist under your cardigan, your skin pebbling under his touch.

He leans down to listen to you talk about nothing in particular, and you wonder, as the line trudges slowly along, if he realizes that his other arm is wrapped tight around you, his thumb hooked through one of your belt loops. You wonder if he realizes that the quiet push and pull of mutual nerves that had kept its hold on you all day is finally falling away, his comfort shown in the way he grabs and holds you like you’re his.

You wouldn’t mind that so much.

You finally reach the front, and he helps you up onto the hay ride, the two of you finding a little spot in the corner. Suna sets your bag between his knees but lets it sit right on his feet, the cloth tote never touching the floor of the wagon. You hum, watching him do it.

“Do you have sisters?”

He blinks, glancing at you in surprise. “A younger one, yeah.”

“Are you close with her?”

He smiles, still confused. “Sometimes…?”

You just laugh, looking away and taking in the view outside the ride. “I can tell. You don’t let bags touch the floor.”

He glances down at his feet. “I-” He laughs. “She told me it was bad luck. Smacked me over the head with her purse once.”

You grin fully, your cheeks hurting again, and shake your head. “Not tryna risk any bad luck today, Rinnie?”

He barks out a laugh, hiding his face in your hair when a couple glances back in amusement.

“I’m still not sure how I got you to like me,” he whispers against you. “I’m not risking shit.”

The ride stops outside of a large corn maze, and other people file off of the wagon slowly. You wait until it’s nearly empty to stand, taking him with you, but you stop him from leaving, pulling him back quickly and rising onto your tiptoes to whisper in his ear.

“You can afford to risk a little bit more.” 

And then you plant your lips on the corner of his mouth in a kiss so chaste that he barely has time to inhale before you’re gone. You hop off the ride on your own, taking off toward the maze. He calls after you loudly, laughing when you just disappear into a wall of corn.

You race through a whirlwind of corn stalks and trip over the uneven ground, hearing as Suna crashes into the maze behind you. Your heart jumps to your throat, and you lead him deeper into the middle of nowhere, accidentally scaring no fewer than three other groups of people and apologizing quietly while your name echoes behind you. 

You stop after a few minutes in a clearing, instantly regretting the decision to run and doing your best not to pass out right there. You barely hear him behind you, slowing to a stop and watching as you bend over to catch your breath.

“You lost, pretty girl?”

You jump, whirling on one foot, only to find Suna’s already crossed over to you. There’s a smudge of lipstick on the corner of his mouth.

“Okay, listen,” you start, laughing wildly as you back away. “Just listen for a sec-”

He grabs your outstretched hand and yanks you toward him, keeping you there with one arm wrapped around your waist.

“Did you mean that?” he asks, smiling as you try to wriggle free. “That I should risk more?”

“Okay, listen-” you laugh, pushing your hands against his chest. “I was just playing around-”

Suna’s mouth on yours tells you that he’s not.

The chills start in the crown of your head and wash down over you in an instant. Your heart stops in your chest, and when it starts again, it’s everywhere, all at once. His lip ring is cold on your mouth, but his lips are so unbelievably warm. And when he pulls away just enough to whisper to you, his breath triggers every nerve ending in your body.

“Fuck,” he whispers, breath unsteady in his chest. Your head swims at the feeling of his heartbeat under your fingers. “Was that okay?”

You can only nod, your vision hazy and your mind completely blank. He shuffles against you harshly, and you realize belatedly that your bag had slipped off his shoulder and he’d fumbled to catch it.

“Sorry,” he breathes. “Didn’t want to let it touch the ground.”

You stare up at him, wondering how you could have possibly gotten so lucky with Suna Rintarou.

You take his face in your hands, pushing your lips against his and swallowing the quiet whine he breathes into your mouth. 

He pulls you tight against him, and you push onto your tiptoes anytime he starts to lift too high, and he nearly drops you when you tug his lip ring between your teeth, your tongue passing nervously against it when he makes a sound that makes your toes curl. 

You only realize that maybe this isn’t totally appropriate for a family-friendly venue when you hear a family in the distance, trying to figure out the way out of the maze. You push against Suna’s chest, watching as he takes a moment longer to process what’s going on. When he does, all he can do is blink down at you dumbly. 

“Huh?” he breathes, face gradually burning a beautiful, rosy red that makes you want to do terrible things to this man.

You swallow your nerves.

“I think I’m ready to go,” you whisper, watching as confusion and then concern passes over his face. “If you’re ready to go.”

It clicks in an instant, and your heart skips when his eyes flick between yours before dropping to your lips, swollen and warm and completely his.

“Your place or mine?”

[itoshiierae]

⋆ ˚｡ 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 . ݁₊ ✶ ˖

──★ ˙🧷 ̟ !!

ᡣ𐭩 ft: suna rintarou x f!reader

ᡣ𐭩 summary: you’ve been tangled up in a situationship with suna rintarou for the past six months — late-night texts, secret dorm visits, and sex that feels a little too intimate for something that’s “not serious.” he never calls you his, but he touches you like he owns you.

ᡣ𐭩 cw: minors dni, situationship!suna, cliché trope ngl, college-setting, explicit sex, oral (f! & m! receiving), toxic!suna, fingering, overstimulation, dirty talk, slight lingerie kink, creampie, nipple play, aftercare, emotional tension, slight angst (wc: 2.6k words)

ᡣ𐭩 notes: my very first hq post on this blog and of course it had to be suna <33 writing this lowkey felt like time-traveling back to 2020/2021 — back when i’d stay up way too late reading suna fics on ao3 😩 anywayyy this one’s extremely filthy 🥵😵‍💫 (not proofread bc i’m just lazy like that)

it always starts with a late-night text from him, and then you’re off sneaking out of your dorm room. your roommate doesn’t even bother stopping you anymore. she knows exactly what you’ve been up to, but at this point??? she’s too tired to keep repeating advice you’ll never take, especially when it comes to him.

you’ve been “seeing” suna rintarou for the past six months now — or more accurately, tangled up in a situationship with him. how it started? kind of unexpected. but somehow, it unraveled into secret rendezvous and quiet nights in his bed. he was one of those effortlessly popular boys on campus; reserved but well-known. he’s not as loud or “chaotic” as compared to his friends, but he still stood out without even trying. you, on the other hand, were more lowkey — kept to yourself, quiet, and definitely not the kind of girl anyone would expect to get tangled up with someone like him.

but despite that, girls like you are exactly his type: the soft-spoken ones, the ones who seem innocent until they’re not. it’s the contrast that gets him every single time. you’re quiet, reserved even, but the second he gets you alone??? now that’s a whole different story.

so tonight when you walked in wearing that little red set: a sheer crimson slip with lace teasing over your skin, and a matching robe slipping off one shoulder with delicate bows untied just enough to make him twitch beneath his boxers??? yeah… safe to say he was gone the moment he saw you. he’s barely said a word since, too busy drinking you in the way the fabric clings to your body and the way you look.

“…shittt, baby you look good..”

he doesn’t give you time to respond. the words barely leave his lips before his hands are on your waist, mouth hot against your neck, dragging you into his room like he’s starved. your robe slips off with ease and then it’s just his touch all over you.

the way he’s touching you right now; it almost feels like he owns you. but not once has he ever officially called you his.

your back hits the mattress with a quiet thud. the sheets are cool, but his body is burning. he kisses you like he’s trying to memorize your taste; slow at first, then rougher when you kiss him back harder. his hands roam without hesitation, slipping beneath the fabric of your lace top, fingertips skating across your familiar skin like he’s claiming it all over again.

he pulls back just long enough to strip off his boxers, cock already straining and flushed — the second he hooks his fingers under the band of your lace panties, he yanks them aside with zero patience and then he’s inside you in one deep, ruthless thrust.

“fuckkk— you’re so warm… it’s only been a week, did you miss me that badly baby??”

he doesn’t let you answer — just buries himself deeper, hips rolling with slow, punishing thrusts that make your whole body arch.

“you wear that slutty little robe,” he breathes, voice low and ragged, “lookin’ all innocent… and then act surprised when i lose it??”

then his hand smacks your thigh, the sound echoes through the room. your moan’s barely muffled by the sheets and the way he’s grinding into you like he’s trying to ruin you from the inside out.

“fuck,” he mutters against your neck. “why do you always do this to me...”

you want to ask him what he means, but you already know. it’s the same reason you keep showing up at his door in the middle of the night; because even if it’s temporary, even if it hurts, this is the closest you’ve ever felt to being wanted. especially by someone like him.

“ahhh rin—s’too good, i can’t handle it—”

you were barely keeping it together, body arching beneath him, moans spilling out like second nature the rougher he got.

“oh?? that’s the spot, isn’t it? look at you...” he groans, already slowly falling apart from the sensation.

“… you gonna be a good girl and cum for me?? or should i keep playing with you until you cry??” he murmurs, lips brushing your ear as two fingers circle your clit in slow, taunting circles.

“you’re too deep, rinn, i can’t—” you gasp, trying to steady your breathing, but it’s useless. he’s got one hand pinning your thigh wide open, and the other??? still circling your clit, taunting and precise, like he wants you to fall apart faster.

he groans, low and guttural, leaning down to kiss your jaw. “then take it,” he growls.

his pace falters — not out of mercy, but to lean in close and whisper, “you feel that? that’s mine.” and just when you think he’s about to break you completely, he pulls out with a slow drag of his cock, watching the way you whimper at the loss. before you can whine, his hand grabs your jaw, forcing your eyes back to him.

his thumb swipes across your bottom lip.

“mouth now, baby,” he mutters, voice wrecked. “be good and let me fuck your throat too.”

your lips part instinctively, breath hitching as he presses his thumb down on your tongue, just enough to make you look up at him through your lashes. “that’s it,” he breathes, thumb still resting on your tongue as he strokes himself slowly with the other hand. “look at you… already so obedient.” after he removed his thumb, you don’t even wait for a cue before you lean forward, tongue sliding along the underside of his cock as you take him inside your mouth — inch by inch, until your lips are flush against his base. his breath stutters.

“shittt—” he hisses, hand tangling in your hair. “you missed this, huh?” you hum around him, and the vibration makes him curse under his breath. his hips jerk forward once, then again — and that’s when he starts thrusting, slow at first, but steadily deeper.

“yeah… now that’s my good girl,” he groans. “so fucking good with your mouth… look at the mess you’re making.” your eyes water, as he rocks into your throat with more force now, hips snapping forward. the stretch, the weight, the sound of his breath unraveling—it’s all dizzying.

“… hands on the mattress,” he mutters, voice low and dangerous. “i wanna see you take it without touching me. just your mouth... nothing else.”

your fingers curl into the sheets, knuckles tightening as you brace yourself, breathing hard through your nose. he watches with that unblinking gaze as you lower your mouth onto him again like you know exactly what he wants.

“… there you go,” he breathes, voice fraying. “look at you… fuck, you’re perfect like this.”

his hips roll forward, testing your gag reflex. you choke slightly, and he grins before muttering, “… breathe through it, baby.”

he starts training your mouth with sharp, precise thrusts — using your throat like it’s his personal project, groaning every time you gag around him. spit starts to drip down your chin, pooling at the corners of your lips, but he doesn’t stop. “eyes on me,” he growls, dragging your head back just enough so he can see your face. “wanna watch how good you look when you’re falling apart.”

you blink up at him, tears streaking, mouth stuffed full, and his voice drops even lower. “ahhh— that’s it... yesss take it like a good girl. fuck— i could come just from seeing you like this.”

his abs flex with every thrust, muscles rippling from years of volleyball training — spikes, drills, sets — and now every ounce of that strength is wrecking your throat. your jaw burns. spit still dripping down your chin. but you take it, just like he told you to. “now… look at you,” he pants, hips snapping forward again. “not even touching me, and still being such a good little toy.” he groans when your throat tightens. “bet you’ve dream about this, don’t you??? being used like this.”

when he pulls out, panting, a thin string of spit still connecting him to your swollen lips. he lets out a low chuckle, eyes dark with satisfaction as he takes in the mess he made of you.

but then your voice breaks the silence — breathy, almost needy. “ …. rin,” you whine, cheeks flushed.

he raises a brow, cock twitching again at the sound of your voice.

“oh??? now you’re making requests?”

you nod, eyes wide and glistening. “please...”

he leans in, thumb brushing over your lips to smear the spit there, before slipping it into your mouth again; watching you suck on it, obedient and desperate. “… you taste me so well,” he murmurs, pulling it out with a wet pop. “but you want me to taste you now, huh??”

your thighs press together instinctively, a reflex you barely register but he does — already lowering himself between your legs; eyes low-lidded, soaked in lust — locked onto your every twitch. “spread them,” he says, voice low. you hesitate just for a second, and he’s already swatting your inner thigh. not hard, but just enough to make you gasp.

“now.”

and you do; slowly, shyly, like your body knows better than to disobey him. the second your legs fall open, he immediately sees how soaked you are.

“fuckkk… baby you’re dripping already.”

he doesn’t tease you for long. his mouth is on your cunt in seconds. he eats you out like a mad-man, almost as if this is how he plans to make you pay for making him lose control; tongue dragging slow, teasing strokes before sucking your clit just to hear you cry out. and when your fingers tug on his hair, hips rolling up against his mouth? he growls against you. “keep those legs open for me, baby. i’m not stopping till you scream.”

you’re already close — thighs trembling, breath hitching every time his tongue flicks over your clit.

he knows it, too. knows the exact way your hips twitch when you’re on the edge, how your fingers tangle tighter in his hair, how your moans start falling apart like they’re not even words anymore.

so of course he pulls back.

you whine — broken, needy. “r-rin… why’d you stop??”

he smirks, lips glistening, voice low and wrecked. “you thought i’d let you come that easy??” his fingers slide through your folds, spreading the wetness just to watch you twitch. “nah, baby… not yet.”

he leans in again, pressing a kiss to the inside of your thigh instead.

“rin, please… i’m soo close—”

his fingers circle your clit again, barely brushing. just enough to frustrate you. “… you’ll come when i say you can,” he mutters. “not when you think you’ve earned it.”

your eyes flutter shut. your breath stutters. you’re dripping, aching; already so desperate that it’s borderline pathetic.

and then he goes all in — tongue dragging over your clit like he’s starving, as his fingers pump slow and deep inside you, curling juuust right. your hips jerk, your back arches, and your moans spill out unfiltered, raw, like a prayer he’s pulling straight from your lungs.

“… that’s it,” he mutters against you. “look at you… so fuckin’ pretty like this.”

you’re shaking, already close to your limit but he doesn’t stop. not even when you scream because now that he’s made you fall apart, he wants to see you do it again and again.

you barely have time to catch your breath.

you’re still aching from your last orgasm, thighs slick and trembling, when he crawls back over you — pupils blown, jaw clenched, cock flushed and still so fucking hard it makes your mouth water. his hands trail up your torso, until they reach the flimsy lace of what’s left of your lingerie top.

he grabs the lace between his fingers then immediately rips it off without warning.

you gasp. “… wait rin—?! that was new—”

he just shrugs, cocky and unbothered, eyes dragging down your now-exposed chest like a feast. “oops,” he mutters with a smirk, not sounding sorry at all. “guess i’ll just buy you a new one.” he tosses the shredded fabric off the bed like it’s trash, mouth already lowering to your chest.

“maybe something even sluttier this time,” he murmurs against your skin. “… something easier to take off.”

you moan when his tongue flicks over your nipple, one hand gripping your waist as the other strokes between your thighs again — fingers slipping back inside like your body was made for him. “… damn, you’re still soo wet after all that we did??”

“rin—”

“you like when i ruin things, huh??” he grins, voice dark. “your clothes... your body… this pretty little pussy.”

when he thrusts into you again, it’s with the full force of a man who plans to ruin a lot more tonight. your legs are already jelly, body wrecked from everything he’s done to you, but rintarou still isn’t finished. not until he’s buried so deep inside you as your walls clench around him like they’re begging him to stay. his hand snakes behind your back, and with one rough pull, he lifts you up — pushes you against the headboard with your knees straddling his thighs.

“…hold on, don’t let go,” he grits, grabbing your wrists and pinning them above your head, fingers curling around the bars of the headboard.

“fuck—!”

he groans low in your ear, hips slamming up into you, relentless and so deep your eyes roll back. “you’re still gripping me so tight, baby… you gonna let me finish inside??”

you can barely speak. all you can do is whimper, nod — as your hips instinctively rolling to meet his.

his pace falters for a moment — then sharpens.

“say it.”

“yes, rin… fuck—inside,” you gasp. “finish inside me.”

he kisses you sloppy and desperate, hips drawing back just enough before slamming into you one last time — deeper than before, as his release hits; thick and warm, spilling deep inside you. you cling to the headboard like it’s your only anchor, moaning through the aftershocks as he groans your name into your shoulder. and when he finally pulls out, slow and spent, his cum gushes out in sticky waves, dripping down your thighs and staining the sheets below.

“shit…” he breathes. “you okay, baby??”

you nod, breathless before managing a soft little “barely.”

“good… you did well,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple as his fingers trace slow, gentle circles over your hips — right where he held you too tight just moments ago, almost as if he’s trying to soothe the ache he left behind.

“… you always do,” he adds — softer this time, almost like a quiet confession meant more for himself than for you.

and the way he says it??? low, vulnerable, and just a little too tender; it makes you ache in a way that has nothing to do with lust. because even the quietest part of you still yearns for the chance that whatever this is between you two… could one day turn into something real.

© itoshiierae 2025 𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅ please do not modify or repost my content onto any other platforms.

✶ p.s: found this fanart on pinterest — credits goes to the original artist! // ‘warning’ divider credits to @/cafekitsune ✶

[sweetlyvibe]

» 𝗪𝗛𝗔𝗧 𝗪𝗔𝗦, 𝗪𝗛𝗔𝗧 𝗜𝗦, 𝗪𝗛𝗔𝗧 𝗖𝗢𝗨𝗟𝗗 𝗕𝗘 «

PAIRING : Atsumu Miya / Suna Rintarou x Fem!Reader

GENRE : hurt / comfort

WORD COUNT : 4.8k

SUMMARY : Unspoken feelings break the bond between you and Atsumu. As you try to heal, Rintarou steps into your life in ways you never expected. But with lingering regrets and new emotions, what happens when the past tries to catch up?

CONTENT / WARNINGS : Angst, emotional hurt/comfort, unrequited feelings, heartbreak, romantic tension, use of [Y/N], mentions of past relationships, slow burn, and light references to jealousy.

You and Atsumu Miya had been inseparable for years. From the very first day you met, something clicked between you two. You knew each other’s quirks, your favorite foods, the stupid inside jokes that no one else would ever understand. Everyone around you always teased you both, constantly dropping hints that it was obvious to anyone that you liked each other. But you two? You pretended to ignore it.

Atsumu never said anything, and neither did you. There were moments, small gestures, like the way his eyes softened when you laughed, or the way you could tell he was thinking of you just from a quick glance. But every time the tension became too palpable, one of you would retreat. It was always safer to stay in the realm of friendship. But everyone could see it. And deep down, you could feel it too.

Then, everything changed. It wasn’t sudden—more like a gradual shift that you couldn’t quite pinpoint. It started when Atsumu began pulling away from you, and at first, you chalked it up to him just being busy with volleyball. But days turned into weeks, and the distance between you two grew too noticeable to ignore. He was still the same Atsumu—playful, loud, and always there for the people he cared about. But he wasn’t there for you. Not like before.

You’d come to expect him to show up at your favorite café, or to make his usual sarcastic remarks when you were hanging out with friends, but he stopped. You’d leave him text messages, but the replies were shorter, less frequent. He’d cancel plans, and when you saw him at school or during volleyball practice, there was a clear gap between you two—an invisible wall that you could never quite break.

It hurt.

You couldn’t understand why he was distancing himself. Every time you saw him, you fought the urge to confront him, to demand answers. But you knew him too well. Atsumu wasn’t the type to share his feelings easily, especially when it came to something like this.

It was a quiet afternoon when it all hit you. You had been sitting in the back corner of the café, sketching aimlessly in your notebook, trying not to notice how the seat across from you was empty.

Then Atsumu walked in. For a moment, your heart skipped a beat. His usual grin was nowhere to be seen. He didn’t even glance in your direction as he walked past you and sat with someone else—another teammate, someone you didn’t even know.

Your stomach twisted into knots, but you kept your cool. You told yourself it was nothing. But the longer he stayed, the more you felt the weight of the situation. He was avoiding you.

You were left with only your thoughts. Had you done something wrong? Did he find someone else? Was it possible that Atsumu had grown tired of your friendship?

—

A few days later, you found yourself standing in front of his house, your heart pounding against your chest. You hadn’t seen him in days, and you couldn’t take the silence any longer. You had to know why.

You knocked on the door, and when Atsumu answered, you were met with his usual teasing smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Well, well, look who decided to show up. What’s up?”

His voice was too casual, too distant. Something in his expression made you feel like a stranger, like he was seeing you through a veil.

“I need to talk to you,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “Why have you been avoiding me?”

He blinked at you, clearly caught off guard by the question, but the smile stayed. “Avoiding you? C’mon, you’re overthinking it.”

But you weren’t. You could feel it. The distance, the silence, the coldness. It wasn’t like before.

“Atsumu, stop.” You stepped forward, your voice trembling. “You’ve been pulling away for weeks now, and I need to know why. What happened?”

For a moment, it seemed like he might actually say something. You saw the conflict flash in his eyes, but just as quickly as it came, it disappeared. He took a deep breath and sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“It’s nothing, alright?” His tone was defensive, but there was something in his voice that made you pause. “I just need some space, okay? You… you won’t understand.”

You felt your heart drop into your stomach. You had no idea what was happening, but the feeling of rejection stung deeper than you’d ever imagined. You could tell this wasn’t a simple issue. But instead of pressing him further, you took a step back, feeling like the words you wanted to say were stuck in your throat.

“I’ll give you your space then,” you whispered. “But I don’t understand why you can’t just tell me what’s going on.”

Atsumu didn’t respond. He just watched you walk away, the door clicking shut behind you.

Days turned into weeks, and you fought every urge to reach out to him again. You tried, really tried, to keep yourself busy. You spent more time with friends, buried yourself in schoolwork, but everything reminded you of him. The silence between you two was unbearable.

—

It had been weeks since you last saw Atsumu properly—really saw him, like how it used to be. You were tired of the confusion, tired of overthinking, and most of all, tired of missing someone who was right there but felt a thousand miles away.

So when you caught him alone after practice one evening, you didn’t hesitate. He was leaning against the wall of the gym, scrolling on his phone, and when he noticed you approaching, his expression froze.

“We need to talk,” you said, your voice firm but not angry. You weren’t sure what you were feeling anymore—too many emotions swirling in your chest.

Atsumu sighed, shoving his phone into his pocket. “Alright. Let’s talk.”

You searched his face, looking for the boy you used to know, the one who made you laugh so hard your stomach hurt. But all you saw now was a mask of discomfort, like he was bracing himself for a storm.

“Why?” you asked simply. “Why have you been avoiding me? What did I do wrong?”

He ran a hand through his hair, looking away from you. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Then why?” Your voice cracked, but you pressed on. “Why did you push me away? Why did you leave me out of your life like this?”

He hesitated, his jaw tightening. For a moment, it seemed like he wasn’t going to answer. Then he took a deep breath. “I’ve been seeing someone.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. You felt the air leave your lungs, your heart dropping into your stomach. “You… what?”

“I’m dating someone,” he said again, his tone quieter this time. “That’s why I’ve been distant.”

You stared at him, trying to process the words. It wasn’t just that he had moved on—it was that he had chosen to leave you behind without a word, as if you were disposable.

“So that’s it?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “You’re leaving me—your best friend—for someone you’ve known for what, a few weeks?”

“It’s not like that,” he said quickly, but you could hear the guilt in his voice. “She’s… She’s uncomfortable with me having a girl best friend, okay? I didn’t have a choice.”

Your heart cracked further at the excuse, the way he tried to justify abandoning you. “You didn’t have a choice?” you repeated, bitterness creeping into your tone. “So instead of talking to me, you just decided to disappear? To act like I don’t matter anymore?”

“It wasn’t like that,” he insisted, though his voice wavered. “I just— I thought it’d be easier for both of us.”

“For both of us? Or just for you?”

Atsumu looked at you then, really looked at you, and for the first time, you saw the truth in his eyes. It wasn’t about the girl he was dating. It was about something deeper, something he wasn’t saying.

But you were too tired to push any further.

“Fine,” you said, swallowing the lump in your throat. “If that’s what you want. If you really think it’s easier to just… cut me out of your life, then fine. I’ll do the same.”

“(Y/N)—”

“No, Atsumu,” you interrupted, your voice trembling. “You don’t get to leave and then act like you’re the one hurting. You made your choice. I hope it’s worth it.”

His face fell, but he didn’t stop you as you turned and walked away. You didn’t look back, even as your vision blurred with tears.

And Atsumu, standing alone outside the gym, let you go. Because even though every part of him wanted to stop you, he convinced himself that this was for the best.

Rintarou Suna wasn’t usually one to get involved in other people’s business. He observed things from a distance, took mental notes, and let the world unfold without interfering too much. But watching you these past few weeks made something in him stir.

You were a shadow of yourself—walking through the halls like you carried the weight of the world on your shoulders. The bright, cheerful person who used to light up every room was gone, replaced by someone quieter, someone hurting.

It was impossible not to notice.

And as much as he tried to convince himself it wasn’t his place to step in, he couldn’t ignore the pang in his chest every time he saw you. He knew what had happened with Atsumu. It was impossible not to know. Atsumu might’ve been his closest friend, but even he couldn’t understand why the setter had let you go like that.

So, one evening, Suna found himself staring at your name in his messages. He didn’t overthink it—just sent a simple text.

True to his word, Rintarou showed up at six the next evening. You weren’t sure what to expect—it wasn’t like the two of you had ever hung out one-on-one before. You were always part of a group, usually with the Miya twins.

He took you to a casual ramen shop, the kind of place you wouldn’t have picked yourself but immediately loved. It was quiet, tucked away from the busier streets, and the food was amazing.

You were nervous at first, unsure of how to act around him. But Rintarou had a way of making things feel easy. He wasn’t overly chatty, but he had this calm, steady presence that put you at ease.

After eating, the two of you wandered to a nearby park. The sun was just beginning to set, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink.

“I didn’t know you liked ramen so much,” you said as you both sat on a bench overlooking a small pond.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” Rintarou replied, smirking slightly.

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, yeah? Like what?”

“Like the fact that I’m ridiculously good at claw machines.”

You laughed, the sound surprising even yourself. It was the first time you’d genuinely laughed in weeks, and Rintarou noticed.

“See? Told you I was good for something,” he said, leaning back against the bench.

The conversation flowed easily after that. You talked about everything and nothing—your favorite shows, the places you wanted to travel, the things that made you happy. For the first time in weeks, you felt like yourself again.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, you glanced at Rintarou and realized how much you appreciated his company. He wasn’t trying to fix you or force you to talk about what happened with Atsumu. He was just… there. And that was enough.

—

A month passed, and your hangouts with Rintarou became more frequent. What started as casual conversations turned into late-night texts, impromptu coffee runs, and long walks through the park. You hadn’t felt this close to someone in a long time, and it scared you a little.

One evening, you were sitting on the swings at the same park, the stars shining brightly overhead. Rintarou had been quieter than usual, and you could tell something was on his mind.

“What’s up?” you asked, nudging him with your foot.

He looked at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“I like you,” he said, the words blunt but sincere.

You blinked, caught completely off guard. “What?”

“I like you,” he repeated, his voice steady despite the vulnerability in his eyes. “And I know you’re still trying to move on from… everything. I’m not trying to rush you or make things harder for you. I just wanted you to know.”

You stared at him, your heart pounding. You didn’t know what to say, and he seemed to notice your hesitation.

“I’ll wait,” he added quickly. “As long as it takes. I just… I think you deserve to be with someone who actually sees you. Someone who doesn’t walk away when things get hard.”

His words hit you harder than you expected. You thought about all the times he’d been there for you over the past month, the way he made you feel seen and understood.

You didn’t know if you were ready for something new, but one thing was clear: Rintarou wasn’t like anyone else.

“Rin,” you started, your voice soft. “I don’t know if I can—”

“I know,” he interrupted gently. “And that’s okay. I’m not asking you for anything right now. Just… think about it, alright?”

You nodded, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. For the first time in a long time, you felt a spark of hope.

The relationship with the girl Atsumu had chosen over you didn’t last long. At first, it felt like a distraction—a way to silence the feelings he was too scared to confront. But the more time he spent with her, the clearer it became: she wasn’t you.

Every laugh, every conversation, every small moment felt hollow. He’d catch himself comparing her to you—the way she didn’t understand his jokes the way you did, or how her presence didn’t bring him the same comfort.

By the time the relationship ended, Atsumu was left with an emptiness he couldn’t ignore. He had thought pushing you away would make things easier, but all it had done was make him realize how much he needed you.

And now, as he sat alone in his room, scrolling through old photos on his phone, the ache in his chest felt unbearable. One picture caught his attention—it was from last year, the two of you grinning at the camera with Osamu and Rintarou behind you, all mid-laugh.

He stared at the image for a long time before closing his eyes, his fists clenching. He couldn’t keep running from his feelings. He needed to tell you.

It had taken Atsumu days to work up the courage to confess. He had rehearsed what he would say over and over in his head, imagining every possible scenario. Would you forgive him? Would you hate him? Did you still care at all?

But before he could act, something stopped him in his tracks.

It was a Friday night, and he was scrolling aimlessly through Instagram when he saw it: your story.

The first slide was a picture of food—burgers and fries from one of the places Atsumu knew you loved. He almost swiped past it, but the next slide made his heart drop.

It was you, sitting across from someone at a dimly lit table. The photo was candid, your smile so wide and genuine it almost hurt to look at.

Then came the next slide: Rintarou, leaning back in his chair with a small smirk, his eyes focused on you like there was no one else in the world.

Atsumu’s chest tightened, his breathing shallow.

No.

His thumb hovered over the screen, his mind racing. He stared at the story until it looped back to the beginning, unable to process what he was seeing.

It couldn’t be.

But it was.

He put his phone down, his hands trembling. All the confidence he’d built up, all the plans he’d made to confess—it shattered in an instant.

Because it was too late.

He spent the rest of the night lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling. His thoughts were a whirlwind, alternating between disbelief, regret, and a sharp, unrelenting pain.

Rintarou. Of all people, it had to be Rintarou.

They had been friends for years, practically brothers. Atsumu couldn’t even be angry at him—he knew Rintarou wasn’t the type to swoop in unless he was serious.

But knowing that didn’t make it any easier.

The memories flooded back: the way you used to laugh at his dumb jokes, the way you’d tease him when he got too full of himself, the way you always seemed to know when he needed someone to lean on.

He had taken it all for granted.

And now, someone else had stepped in to fill the void he had left.

The next time Atsumu saw Rintarou at practice, he couldn’t meet his eyes. The usual banter between them was gone, replaced by an awkward tension that neither of them addressed.

He wanted to say something, to confront him, to ask if it was true—but what right did he have? He had been the one to push you away. He had been the one to hurt you.

Later, when Osamu asked him what was wrong, Atsumu just shook his head. “Nothin’,” he mumbled, forcing a smile.

But Osamu wasn’t fooled.

“Yer terrible at hidin’ things, y’know,” Osamu said, crossing his arms. “This about her?”

Atsumu froze, his eyes widening. “What?”

Osamu sighed. “(Y/N). I ain’t stupid, Tsumu. I know how ya feel about her. And I know ya messed up.”

Atsumu looked away, shame creeping up his neck. “It doesn’t matter anymore,” he muttered. “She’s with Rin now.”

Osamu raised an eyebrow. “And yer just gonna give up?”

“What else can I do?” Atsumu snapped, his voice cracking. “I already lost her.”

Osamu didn’t say anything for a long moment, just staring at his twin. Then he clapped him on the shoulder, his grip firm.

“Then don’t screw up yer next chance.”

Atsumu didn’t respond, but Osamu’s words lingered long after he walked away.

Atsumu hadn’t planned to do this. He wasn’t sure why he thought talking to you would help, but the knot in his chest had grown unbearable. It wasn’t fair—not to you, not to Rintarou, and certainly not to himself. He needed to say something, to let it out, even if it meant facing the harsh reality that you were no longer his to have.

The opportunity came one quiet evening after practice. He saw you sitting on the bleachers, scrolling through your phone while waiting for Rintarou to finish up. You looked peaceful, content even, and it made his chest tighten.

“Hey,” he called out, his voice hesitant.

You looked up, surprised. “Atsumu? What’s up?”

He hesitated for a moment before sitting down beside you, leaving a noticeable gap between you. The silence stretched as he searched for the right words.

“Can we… talk?” he finally asked, his tone softer than you were used to.

You frowned slightly, concerned by his unusually serious demeanor. “Sure. What’s on your mind?”

Atsumu exhaled shakily, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ve been thinkin’ a lot lately… about us.”

Your eyes widened slightly, but you stayed quiet, giving him space to continue.

“I know I screwed up,” he admitted, his gaze fixed on the floor. “Pushin’ ya away, makin’ ya think I didn’t care… That was on me. I thought it’d be easier, y’know? If I just… buried how I felt.”

Your heart sank as his words sank in. “Atsumu…”

He finally looked up, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “But it wasn’t easier. It just made everythin’ worse. And now… now I’m here, watchin’ ya with Rin, and I can’t stop thinkin’ about how it could’ve been me.”

You bit your lip, your chest tightening. “Why are you telling me this now?”

“Because I need ya to know,” he said, his voice trembling. “I need ya to know that I loved ya—still do. But I know it’s too late. I can see it in how ya look at him. And I don’t wanna mess that up for ya.”

The weight of his confession hung heavily between you, and for a moment, you didn’t know what to say.

“Atsumu,” you began carefully, your voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions inside you. “I’m not going to lie. When you pushed me away, it hurt. I didn’t understand why, and I hated that you wouldn’t tell me. I spent so long trying to figure out what I did wrong.”

He flinched at your words, guilt washing over him.

“But now I get it,” you continued, your tone softening. “And I appreciate you telling me this. I really do. But… things are different now.”

Atsumu nodded slowly, his throat tightening. “Ya really care about him, don’t ya?”

You smiled faintly, a warmth spreading across your face at the thought of Rintarou. “I do. He’s been there for me in ways I didn’t expect. And I don’t want to hurt him, Atsumu. He deserves better than that.”

He swallowed hard, forcing a small, bittersweet smile. “Yeah… he does.”

The two of you sat in silence for a while, the weight of unspoken feelings finally settling. It wasn’t the ending either of you had envisioned, but it was the one you both needed.

“I guess this is it, huh?” Atsumu said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You turned to him, your eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and gratitude. “It doesn’t have to be. You’re still important to me, Atsumu. Maybe not in the way you want, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you.”

He gave a small nod, though the ache in his chest didn’t lessen. “I’ll always care about ya too.”

As you stood to leave, Rintarou approached, his gaze flickering between you and Atsumu. He didn’t say anything, but his presence alone made Atsumu realize it was time to step back.

“Take care of her,” Atsumu said quietly, meeting Rintarou’s eyes.

Rintarou nodded, understanding the weight behind the words. “I will.”

That night, Atsumu walked home alone, the cool breeze biting against his skin. For the first time in months, the knot in his chest felt looser, the weight on his shoulders lighter.

He knew the pain wouldn’t go away overnight, but he also knew that holding onto something that was no longer his would only hurt him more.

You were happy, and that was all that mattered.

As he lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, a single tear slipped down his cheek. He let it fall, letting himself feel the loss one last time before closing his eyes.

Tomorrow would be a new day, and Atsumu Miya would find a way to move forward.

Rintarou had never been one to act impulsively, but watching you over the past few months had tested his patience. He had seen you laugh, cry, and slowly stitch yourself back together after Atsumu broke your heart. He’d been there for the late-night texts, the casual hangouts that became something more, and the quiet moments when you thought no one noticed how much you were still hurting.

He noticed everything.

From the beginning, his feelings had been something he shoved to the side. You were Atsumu’s best friend, practically untouchable in his eyes. But now? Now, you weren’t just someone he admired from a distance. You were the person he wanted to see happy, even if it meant waiting until you were ready.

Rintarou was deliberate about everything. If he was going to confess, it had to be perfect—not flashy or overwhelming, but something that felt like you. Something thoughtful.

He remembered a conversation you’d had weeks ago about how you missed doing creative things, like drawing and painting. The way your face lit up when you talked about it stuck with him. That’s when he got the idea.

He spent the next week preparing: buying canvases, paint, brushes, and even scouting the perfect spot in the park where you’d have privacy. The confession itself was the tricky part. How could he say everything he felt in a way that wouldn’t scare you off?

That’s when he decided to let the moment speak for itself.

—

The day of the confession was perfect. The late afternoon sunlight bathed the park in warm hues, and a gentle breeze rustled the leaves. Rintarou arrived early, setting up the picnic blanket under a tree with the canvases and paints neatly arranged to one side.

When you arrived, he felt his heart skip a beat. You looked happy, carefree even, and it made his nerves settle just a little.

“This is so sweet, Rin,” you said, sitting down beside him. “I didn’t know you liked picnics.”

“I don’t,” he teased, smirking. “But you do, so here we are.”

You laughed, nudging him lightly. “You’re not as lazy as you pretend to be, huh?”

He shrugged, pulling out the canvases. “I thought we could try somethin’ different. You said you missed drawing, so…”

Your eyes widened, a soft smile spreading across your face. “You remembered?”

“‘Course I did,” he said, avoiding your gaze as his ears turned pink.

The two of you spent the next hour painting and chatting, the conversation flowing effortlessly. You decided to draw each other, and while you tried your best to capture Rintarou’s sharp features, he seemed oddly focused on his own canvas.

“Are you even trying?” you teased, leaning over to peek at his work.

He quickly pulled the canvas away, his smirk widening. “Patience, (Y/N). You’ll see when it’s done.”

You rolled your eyes but went back to your own work, tongue poking out in concentration as you added the finishing touches. When you were finally done, you turned your canvas to him.

“Okay, don’t laugh,” you warned.

Rintarou’s eyes softened as he took in your painting. It wasn’t perfect, but it was undeniably him—the way you saw him, not just as a friend but as someone important.

“It’s great,” he said sincerely, his voice quieter than usual.

You blushed under his gaze. “Thanks. Now let me see yours.”

He hesitated for a moment, then handed you his canvas without a word.

Your breath caught as you looked at his painting—or rather, what wasn’t a painting at all. Instead of a portrait, Rintarou had written words in bold, neat letters across the blank canvas:

Will you be my girlfriend?

You stared at the canvas, your heart pounding in your chest. Slowly, you looked up to meet his gaze.

“Rin…”

He scratched the back of his neck, looking uncharacteristically nervous. “I know this might be bad timing, and I know you’re still—well, I just… I like ya, (Y/N). I’ve liked ya for a long time. And I get it if you’re not ready, but I just wanted ya to know how I feel.”

The sincerity in his voice made your chest tighten. You thought back to all the little moments with Rintarou—the way he had been there for you when you felt at your lowest, the quiet understanding he offered without expecting anything in return, the subtle warmth that had started to grow between you.

Tears pricked your eyes as you smiled. “You’re not bad at this romantic stuff, huh?”

He let out a breathy laugh, relief washing over him. “So… is that a yes?”

You nodded, setting the canvas down and leaning forward to wrap your arms around him. “It’s a yes.”

Rintarou froze for a moment before hugging you back, his usual smirk replaced with a genuine, almost shy smile.

“Good,” he murmured, his voice soft. “‘Cause I wasn’t gonna give up that easy.”

—

As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink, the two of you stayed close, the world around you fading into the background.

Rintarou couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, waiting had been worth it after all.

The next time Atsumu saw you, it was at school. You were sitting with Rintarou, your heads bent close together as you shared a laugh. He watched from a distance, his chest tight with emotions he couldn’t quite name.

It hurt, but it also gave him clarity. You were happy, and Rintarou was the reason why.

For once, Atsumu didn’t interrupt, didn’t try to make a joke to ease the tension or fight for your attention. He turned and walked away, knowing that this was the choice he had to make—not for you, but for himself.

He’d hold onto the memories of you, of what you’d been to him, but it was time to let go.

And maybe, just maybe, that was the first step toward his own new beginning.

[megapteraurelia]

TWO-WAY STREET. — part 1.

🫧 SUMMARY; — how is suna rintarou ever going to get over you? or: having a hard time not thinking of begging you on his knees to give him a second chance.

🫧 WARNINGS; — a little bit of angst? a little bit of…spice; pathetic!suna and fem!reader; mentions of weed and alcohol; second chances

🫧 WORD COUNT; — 1286.

🫧 AUTHOR'S NOTE; — trying to find a balance between nonchalant and very chalant suna rintarou. part two in the works!!

please let me know what you think! -` ♡ ´-

pt. 1 | pt. 2

“ya jus’ missed her,” atsumu’s tipsy voice was barely louder than the music, its bass thrumming through the thin walls. it smelt like sweat, like alcohol, like overpriced perfumes and desperation.

suna rintarou’s grip around the cheap red plastic cup tightened, filled to the brim with alcohol of the same cheap kind, and he considered leaving, even though he had just arrived.

atsumu knew him long enough to recognise the tell-tale sign of suna losing interest: the disinterested sigh, the pointed turn of his shoes towards the door.

immediately, he jumped up from his spot on the couch, hand already slinging itself around suna’s arm to pull him deeper into the midst of the party, “hell nah, yer not gon’ leave so early. ya jus’ arrived, too.”

“can’t be arsed,” suna mumbled, but didn’t move away from his friend.

well, if you could truly call their mutually beneficial relationship a friendship: suna provided atsumu with weed, atsumu provided suna with money and…well, nothing more.

it used to be girls he linked suna up with — until the taste of you refused to leave his mouth, until your sounds kept reverberating in his head, until his mind’s eye couldn’t stop conjuring up the image of you writhing under him, nails digging deep into his skin as he rutted into you like a virgin getting his fix for the first time.

now, atsumu sent hook ups his way and they moaned all wrong, the inside of their thighs grating him in ways it never used to, their mouth chasing his but fuck, he didn’t want to kiss them. not when the last kiss he’d had was stolen from your lips, tasting of salt and hate, need and the faded flavour of the ramen you had eaten just before.

“stop bein’ so borin’, fuck’s sake,” he rolled his eyes at suna’s reply, clinking his half-drunk cup with the full one in his hands, and it splashed over the rim, coating rintarou’s fingers with the slightly sticky beer, piss-coloured and cloudy, “who cares if she’s fucked off? jus’ give her some time and she’ll come back to ya.”

some time.

how much time had to pass to qualify as some time?

were the ten weeks spent apart enough? were the countless glances he shot you when seeing you on campus with your friends hint enough? the interceptions he planned to catch you to talk? the one last kiss he had begged you for behind the dormitories, knees scraped from digging into gravel, hands desperately fisting your skirt, fingers hooked into your waistband before you left him sitting in dust?

what the fuck did it mean to give you time?

“dude,” suna’s eyes narrowed, refusing atsumu’s tug on his arm and he stood still, a sweaty elbow of a random girl’s catching his waist sharply, pointy, “watch your mouth.”

atsumu laughed, his breath as drunk as the glazed look in his eyes, “aw, come on, man. it’s not like there ain’t any other fish in the pond. loosen up a little, will ya?”

suna thought it was hard not to loosen his knuckles into the fake blonde’s face, but he just mumbled, “whatever,” drank his rancid beer in two long gulps and headed out.

sunarin was jealous.

there you were, talking to some random fuck-knows-who, twirling your hair around your pointer delicately, tugging it as you blinked up at the guy.

hot, ugly dislike unfurled in his stomach, and the blunt end of his pencil dug into his skin when he fisted his hands. he detested seeing the sly look your friends sent his way, knowing that you were flirting with somebody else right in front of him, and he hated much more how it bothered him that you didn’t dignify him with a single glance.

yet the way your teeth found your lower lip and the alluring look you sent that other guy with half-lidded eyes had his cock straining against the confines of his pants, hard and angry, begging for release.

and he had no right.

fuck, he hadn’t a single right but he found himself next to you anyway, one arm of his draped over your shoulders. his other hand was stuffed in his pocket, the space too tight after his body betrayed him by sending his blood elsewhere, too used to responding to the sultriness of yours automatically after having bathed in it for nights on end.

it didn’t escape him how your body melted against his instinctively, how the curve of your hips fit perfectly pressed up against his groin, the way your shoulder bumped his chest. your head, if you had titled it back, would’ve molded against the crook of his neck beautifully.

but in tune with you as suna was, the second you stiffened had a zap of feelings shoot through his ribcage in hurt and through his lower stomach in excitement.

he didn’t get it.

he really didn’t, but he still leveled an unimpressed look at the guy as he tilted his head slightly to direct his words toward you, “really, babe? that’s the best you can do?”

your shoulder muscles underneath his arm tensed up, and he wanted to sink his teeth in them, fuck you until you couldn’t remember what the guy in front of you looked like anymore, keep you in his bed and for him only.

“sure better than that ugly blonde clinging to you last week,” condescension dripped from your voice, “or do you think you’re so much better?”

you twisted out of his half-embrace, the front side of his body leaving him cool and missing your touch, and his eyes wandered from the irrelevant idiot in the back to the glint in your eyes, the wrinkle of your nose, your mouth pulled into a disgusted grimace and fuck, you were the prettiest thing he had ever seen.

“no,” suna swallowed and he had half a mind to beg you to come back, but the whispers of your friends cut through the air sharply, aimed right between his ribs at the black hole in his chest, “i don’t think. i know.”

for a second, you looked like you might have wanted to kiss him.

maybe he was imagining shit, god knows it wouldn’t have been the first time, but for a second, suna rintarou could swear that the bobbing of your throat meant you remembered, too.

that the movement of your shoes on the ground meant that you were curling up your toes at the memory of when he had his face buried between your legs, head hidden beneath the material of your skirt as his tongue lapped at you, nose buried in your folds, rubbing the little sensitive nub.

of when he had driven you to orgasm over and over again, dragging you through the overstimulation of him suckling your cunt even after you begged for a reprieve, until you were forced to cry out that after him, there could be no other.

his cock was throbbing, and he knew you knew. just as you knew that he knew that your panties were damp, clinging to you like a second skin.

your name was on his tongue, ready to fall from his lips to say something, to say anything, to say nothing but you cut him off, looking down at his pants and the bulge that he didn’t care to hide.

a sneer graced your face, “enjoy fucking your hand, loser.”

he could have come right then and there with you sending that degrading look down your nose at him, the whirl of your hair when you turned to walk away and your retreating back; his pulse strong and yearning.

“fuck,” he mumbled, one hand rubbing his face before going back to his dorm room to do exactly what you suggested.

TAGLIST | @takes1

[ravenslvt]

why does your best friend's older brother have to be so hot?? :(((

☆ suna rintarou x fem!reader (pt.1) ☆

cw: smuut! p in v, v fingering, fluffy, lowk sweet, implied virgin reader, unprotected sex.

pt. 2 pt.3 pt.4

you sigh at the empty water bottle on the nightstand. you look over at your best friend, ami. she was fast asleep. you smiled, glad you were able to visit her on your break from university. you were grateful her parents let you stay over while they were out of the country for some sort of work meeting.

back to the important matter, your thirst. you slowly get up, trying not to wake your dark haired bestfriend. grabbing the tin water bottle and tiptoeing downstairs, making sure to close the door to her bedroom quietly on the way out.

you walk through the familiar halls of the house you’ve known since you were young. all the lights were off except the kitchen light.

walking in, you notice your bestfriend’s hot ass older brother, rintarou, leaning against the kitchen island on his phone. he was wearing his usual loose sweatpants, and a tight fitting t-shirt from your old highschool. it used to be loose on him, it was clear he’s been working out more and gained more muscle. his head perks up, he pauses whatever he was watching and speaks.

“hey, didn’t think anyone was still awake.” his voice is low and a little hushed.

you don’t notice the way his eyes go to your attire, small little sleep shorts and a tank top.

you notice he’s heating something up in the microwave as you reach the fridge, unscrewing the cap to your water bottle to refill it. you watch as the bottle slowly fills, talking to him.

“ami fell asleep and i was thirsty. she always passes out so fast” you softly chuckle. she was always the first to fall asleep at sleepovers, even in your childhood. girl was a deep sleeper.

“mmm” he simply hums, returning back to looking at his phone.

you turn back to face him, taking a refreshing sip of water.

“whatcha watchin?” you lean on your elbows against the counter, peering over at him.

your relationship with suna rintarou was…. friendly to say the least. he was only a year older than you and ami, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t have a (fat) crush on him since middle school.

you remembered the exact moment your crush on him had started. you and ami were twelve and rintarou was thirteen. you were at the suna’s family beach house for summer break.

you and ami relaxed in the sun, reading your assigned reading books together and laughing over how dumb you guys thought the plot was.

“seriously, this guy is so lame. he just mopes around and smokes cigarettes all day. dude’s gonna have lung problems” ami rolled her eyes at a certain line of the book.

you giggled and opened your mouth to say something to agree. until a volleyball came flying at you full speed. your eyes widened and you just froze. you two were aware rintarou and some of his friends were playing a game of beach volleyball a few feet away.

you flinched and put your arms up quickly in defense, but never felt impact. you look up to see a teenage rintarou who dived to grab the ball before it hit you.

“you good?” he called your name to get your attention. you just nodded, hiding the flushed state of you face with your book. he made a comment on how he read it in english class last year and if you needed any help on the work, he had your back.

“go away, rin. she doesn’t need your c- average help” his sister retorted as he walked back to his friends. he turned his head to give a small chuckle. you never forgot his smile since then.

back in the present, he takes his eyes off his video for a moment to look back at you.

“my game replays. hey, come watch this and tell me if you think furuhashi fucked us over with this serve” he did a ‘come here’ motion. you were at his side within a moment.

you peered at the phone screen over his shoulder. his phone looked so small compared to his large hands. he replayed the video for you to watch. you focused on the teamate he pointed to and it looked like he did a purposefully bad set, aiming right at the opponents head.

“ouch. seemed like he had personal beef with number eight….” your face scrunched in the way the opponent immediently fell to the floor from such a powerful blow.

“yeah, dude let his emotions get the best of him and got the rest of us in trouble with the ref for it” he shuts his phone off, sighing.

“you have another game next week, right? ami wanted me to go check you guys out.” you grab your bottle from the counter.

taking another sip of water, a small droplet spills past your mouth, down your neck, and disapears into the curve of your breasts. you notice the way his eyes follow the bead of water.

his eyes meet yours. and before he can open his mouth, the microwave beeps loudly. he quickly gets up to take the food out with a quick curse, hoping the obnoxious beeping didn’t wake anyone up.

he takes the steaming plate out of the appliance. you notice he heated up some cold pizza you guys ordered earlier in the night.

your eyes go back to his broad shoulders and arms, down to his large veiny hands. he’d matured a lot more since you’d seen him last.

you caught yourself staring, starting to feel a little awkward. you suddenly start to get a little hot, despite what little clothes you wore. you step away to leave the kitchen. your thoughts ran rampet of his hands. you pictured them touching your hair, your arms, your-

“where are you going?” his eyes are only on you now, his arms leaning against the counter to look at you.

“i- um should probably get back to ami” you gulp.

“why? isn’t she asleep? come hangout with your real favorite suna” he smirks, taking a peice of the hot pizza into his mouth.

you roll your eyes and fake scoff.

“don’t let your sister hear you say that, she might believe it” you cross your arms, eyeing him.

he swallowed, wiping his mouth with a napkin and smiling.

“i mean, it’s the truth. isn’t it?” god he was so cocky today. but you loved it.

“and what makes you think that, rin?” you played along. you step a little closer, this time you lean your elbows on the counter facing him. accidentally giving him a front row view of your cleavage through your thin top.

you see the way his eyes drop to your tits. oh you had him.

“cause, you think i’m cuter” his eyes flicker back to your own. he shrugs casually, a smug smirk on his face. his food now forgotten in his mind. only thing he wanted now was you.

“sure, whatever you want to think.” you sarcastically remark back.

he laughs, circling the kitchen island so now you had nothing between you except about a foot of space.

“oh i don’t have to think it, pretty. i know it” shit, he was getting closer and your heart was only beating faster.

“you’re delusional, rintarou.” you aren’t laughing anymore, smile fading to a more serious demeanor. you were nervous and he could tell.

he smiles, running a calloused finger down your arm. it left a trail of fire down your skin and your breath hitched.

“is that why you’re always staring at me. you think i don’t notice?” his voice is lower now, quieter.

fuck. he knew.

“as if you don’t oogle at me whenever i’m in a swimsuit.” you refuse to look away from his gaze.

he lets out a small chuckle. it was hypnotizing.

“i ‘oogle’ you no matter what you wear” he admits, almost proudly.

you eyes widen for a moment. you try your best to hold it together. his hand played with the ends of your hair. you two had never stood this close before.

you felt the flimsy fabric of your panties start to dampen.

“what’s got you all quiet?” his hand moves from your soft locks to hold your chin, forcing you to look right at him.

“screw you, rin” you retort, flustered. he snorts.

“you’d love that, wouldn’t you?” his face only got closer to yours.

you guys were so close, you had forgotten you weren’t the only two in the house.

“in your dreams-“ you start.

“knock that shit off. admit you want this as bad as i do” he says your name. your faces were now inches apart. his eyebrows furrowed and he just looked so attractive. he was studying your expressions, his eyes never leaving your face.

“rin i-“ you start again. this time his lips hover over yours, ghosting over your own.

“tell me to stop and i’ll go back up to my room and we will never speak of this again.” his hand moves to cup your cheek, his forhead resting on your, giving you a chance to pull away.

but you didn’t want to pull away and he didn’t either.

finally, after what seemed like years of tension, you snapped. going up on your tipy toes to crash your lips on his.

his hands immediately draw to your waist, holding you as close as possible while your hands wrap in his soft dark brown locks.

years of unresolved feelings and tension all poured into one heated kiss.

his hands gripping your waist moves down to your hips, he turns you so your rear is against the counter. how convinient his hips are the perfect height for the kitchen island.

you let out a soft gasp as he bites your bottom lip, he smirks and gently prods his tounge into your mouth, seeking permission first. you lean your head back to let him kiss you deeper.

he was fully addicted to your lips.

he pats your hip and you take it as a sign to hop on the marble counter, he helps you jump up. he slots himself inbetween your thighs, your lips never pulling apart.

“fuck. i can’t believe i haven’t tasted you sooner” he says in between kisses. you giggle at the way he refuses to pull apart from you.

he just grips your waist tighter, his cold hands slipping under the fabric of your tank top. you gasp as he reaches for your bare tits, lifting the fabric to rest above your breasts. you never wore a bra around him. and of course he always noticed.

he gave your perky tits a firm squeeze, you mewl into his mouth as he gently pinches your hardened nipples. his cold fingers adding an extra chill.

rintarou’s hips press gently into yours. you could feel his erection through his pants. you grip his hair tighter at the feeling of his clothed member rubbing against your clothed clit.

you unlatch a hand from his hair and bring it straight to his hardness. he hisses as you rub him through the pants. he could feel a small wet patch forming in his boxers.

“shit, take these off” he hooks his thumbs in the waistband of your sleep shorts, you lift you hips for him to shimmy them down your legs, you didn’t even notice where he put them. you didn’t really care.

you were left in your little lace panties. he gave a lopsided smile at how prepared you were. it was like you knew he was gonna fuck you tonight. or maybe you wore these all the time around him, just waiting.

“this wet already?” he sucks in a breath, running a finger over the growing wet patch on your panties. you just nod and focus your gaze on his long fingers. you wanted them so bad.

“rin, please” you grab at his hand that was teasingly brushing over your clothed clit.

“stop teasing” you pout at him. he looks up at you and gives you another kiss.

“you’re too cute not to tease.” he pulls away and pulls your underwear to the side, spreading your legs more. he curses at the sight of your glistening pussy, knowing it was all for him.

he runs a long finger down your folds, causing your grip on his wrist to tighten.

“so worked up, aren’t you? no one ever touch you like this before?” he asks, continuing his motions up and down.

“n-no rin, just you.” you breathily admit, a bit emberassed. it was the truth though, he was the only one you really wanted over the years.

he lets out another curse at the thought of being the first guy to touch you in this way. he was straining against his boxers, his loose sweatpants suddenly feeling so tight on his hips.

“tell me if it hurts and i’ll stop, okay?” he looks you in the eye, serious. you just nod.

“wanna hear you say it, baby” he pulls his hand away from your cunt.

“yes rin, i swear” you assure, shimmying to the edge of the counter to be closer to him.

he smiles, giving you a peck on the forehead before prodding his middle finger into your tight hole, spreading your wetness to make sure you were ready.

he slowly enters you and you grip onto his shoulders for dear life. he gives a few slow experimental pumps of his finger before you were asking for more.

“this ok?” he whispers in you ear, kissing your neck.

“god yes. more please” you plead in a quiet tone, trying your best to keep silent.

he chuckles and adds his ring finger. just two was enough to stretch you out. it was a delicious pain of his large digits splitting you open. you couldn’t even imagine how good his cock would feel.

you bite your knuckles to muffle the sounds of pleasure you were making. but nothing could cover the wet noises coming from him finger fucking your pussy.

his wrist started to ache, but it was worth it to see the way you were taking it so well. he curled his fingers, doing a ‘come here’ motion inside of you. you let out a muffled curse as your legs started to shake.

he kept pumping and curling his fingers over and over. his long thick fingers reached places your little hands just couldn’t.

“i think i’m-“ you cut yourself off with a soft moan, still trying to be quiet.

he just kisses you through your orgasm, groaning into your own mouth. your pussy squeezes around his fingers and he swallows up all your noises. he imagines how you’d feel squeezing his cock like this, while his other hand groping your tit, pinching your nipple. you arch into him and pull away from his lips to breathe.

you pant and look at him, face completley flushed, he slowly removes his fingers. his hand was coated in your cum. he gives your chest a few small kisses, accidentally leaving faint marks on the skin. not an accident at all.

he was panting too. you looked at him, curiously. your eyes go down to his pants. there was an obvious wet stain in the front.

“did you….” your eyes go wide as he flushes with emberassment.

“m’sorry you were just so fucking hot i couldn’t-“ he starts, but you cut him off with your lips. you were immediately aroused again, but this time the only thing that could satisfy you was his cock.

you paw at his sweats, shaky fingers clumsily trying to untie the drawstring. he grips the back of your neck with one hand while the other helps take off his pants. he starts to stroke himself until he’s hard again, still recovering from blowing his load in his pants.

you swat his hand and give his cock long strokes. you finally get a good view of it. he wasn’t small by any means, but not obnoxiously large. it was a delicious size that made your mouth go dry. there was a certain blue vein that ran down from his tip, your finger running over it, making him hiss.

he noticed you staring and encourages you to continue, his thumbs rubbing your thighs in comfort.

you swipe your thumb over his slit making him shiver like a small dog. his tip was so sensitive. you move to try and hop off the counter to get on your knees, but he stopped you, gripping your hips.

“if you do that i won’t be able to last.” he pets your hip sensually. you pout.

“don’t give me that look. next time, i promise” he pecks your lips and your heart flutters. so there will be a next time.

his head rests on your shoulder as you continue to stroke up, switching from pumping it to teasing his tip. he stopped you once his hips started to sputter. he was like putty in your hands at this point.

“p-please” he says your name, panting.

“i need to be inside you. i need to feel you so bad, baby please” he begs, kissing your neck, leaving darker marks in his wake.

you whine at his words, using your legs to wrap around his hips, his cock sitting right above your needy cunt.

“fuck me already, rin” you give his cock a few more pumps before lining him up with your wanting hole.

he does as yous say, slowly pushing in, his mouth gaping wide and his head falls back once he’s fully inside of you.

now your head rests on his chest as you encourage him to move. he slowly pulls out then back in with a powerful thrust. you bite his shoulder to keep from screaming out. surley leaving a mark.

“ohmygod rin” you can’t help but chant out his name as his thrusts quicken. you were praying ami was still asleep or she would totally hear the sounds of his hips slapping into yours.

“shh. gotta be quiet, kay? don’t want your friend to hear you getting fucked by her big brother do you?” he clasped a hand over your mouth, you unconsciously squeezed him tighter. your eyes screwed shut tight.

“fuck. you’d probably like that wouldn’t you? want everyone to see how badly you want my dick?” he groans in a hushed tone, his thrusts getting deeper and deeper. he was loosing control.

he gripped onto your hips to stabilize his pace. you guys never broke eye contact as your mouth hung open silently, trying so hard to keep quiet. he smiles at how fucked out you already looked.

“rinnn” you whine.

“m’right here, pretty” he kisses you once again. one of your hands takes purchase in his (now) messy hair, the other one gripping onto his strong arm. you were sure you were clawing into him with your nails, but he didn’t seem to mind.

you were getting close already. he moaned into your mouth as you tightened around his cock. he fed you simple praises from his pretty mouth, encouraging you to cum.

your thighs tightened around his hips, wanting him to be even closer, if that was even possible.

“i got you, baby. let go” he whispers inbetween kisses.

he bites your lip as you cum on his cock, squeezing him in every possible way. you whine into his mouth, the kiss now turned so messy a bit of drool fell from your mouth.

he fucked you through your orgasm as you shake in his hold, he was holding back his own until you were satisfied. you started to mewl from the overstimulation of his veiny cock pounding into you.

he pulls out, pumping himself until he finishes on your thigh, letting out a hushed moan of your name from his lips, making you squeeze around nothing. both of you breathing heavily.

after you both cool down from your highs, he looks at you, full of admiration.

“you did amazing” he kisses your cheek.

once your mind fog clears, the realization hits you. you just fucked your childhood crush, your bestfriends brother. a part of you feels a little guilty, but the other part of you wants nothing more than to do it again.

he notices your hesitation, placing a gentle hand on your hair so soothe it down.

“hey, you okay?” he asks. you didn’t even notice when he had pulled his pants back up, or when he put your top back in place over your tits.

you give him a soft smile.

“i’m okay” you assure him.

“good” he smiles back, he grabs a nearby kitchen cloth and wipes off his spend from your thigh.

“gross, rin. people use that towel” you scold.

he just shrugs “i’ll throw it in the wash”

you both knew in your heads you couldn’t tell anyone about this.

it was your little secret.

suddenly, rintarou’s phone lights up from across the counter. he puts your panties back in place, grabbing your sleep shorts and putting your legs through them so you could put them back on. he snatches his phone for you both to see.

‘WEATHER WARNING: all schools in the area shut down for another two weeks’ the notification read.

your eyes widen. looks like you’d be staying at the suna’s house for a lot longer than you thought.

the next morning

“ouch, looks like your girl maimed you” ami laughs over her waffles. you sit next to her, pouring the syrup over your own. rin almost chokes on his food and your head snaps up.

“what?” he says with a mouthful of bacon. ami points to the scratches on his arm and the literal bite mark on his shoulder. your eyes go wide. you made sure to wear a hoodie to cover your own marks.

“aww rin hooked up with a wolf!” you add, trying not to raise suspicion. he squints his eyes at you, swallowing his food.

at least he had the decency to wipe down the counter before we ate.

“something like that” you eye eachother before turning back to your breakfast.

this was gonna be a long stay.

masterlist

a/n: i kinda wanna make this a mini series lollll lmk of you’d like a pt.2 (this is highkey ooc but idc!!! its fanfiction!!!! i love my fake man fr)

[tsumuus]

OMG HIIIIII HONESTLY IM IN LOVE WITH UR STORIES

suna rintarou will be me valentine and my gift will be a teddy bear 🧸

honestly i see him as a best friend/ secret crush. so imagine how i would overthink and break when i receive the teddy bear from him.

Valentine’s Day was a nightmare disguised in pink and red.

You sat at your desk, hunched over a textbook, pretending to study as your classmates exchanged chocolates, notes, and giggles. Every year was the same- you watched, half-amused, half-annoyed, as couples solidified their already obvious feelings for each other, while you remained firmly in the “just a friend” category. It had never bothered you before.

Until Suna Rintaro casually handed you a teddy bear that morning, effectively short-circuiting your brain.

It wasn’t fancy- just a simple brown bear with a tiny heart stitched to its chest, but it was from him. Your best friend. The same best friend you’d harbored a not-so-small, not-so-innocent crush on for years.

He had handed it to you like it was nothing. No teasing smirk, no grand gestures, just a lazy, “Here. Happy Valentine’s,” before shoving his hands back into his pockets and walking off, leaving you clutching the bear like it was a live grenade.

Your heart had been pounding so loudly you barely heard the rest of what he said.

Now, hours later, the bear sat on your desk, staring at you as if it held all the answers you were desperately trying to find. What did it mean? Was it just a friendly gesture? Was it a joke? Did he give one to anyone else? Should you have thanked him more enthusiastically? Should you have asked?

Your mind had spiraled so violently out of control that by the time night fell, you were completely drained. Every possible scenario had played out in your head: Suna was mocking you. Suna was pitying you. Suna liked you but didn’t know how to say it.

By morning, you had nothing left to give. The exhaustion had settled deep in your bones, leaving you sluggish and indifferent. You couldn’t afford to keep breaking your brain over this. Whatever it was, you’d convinced yourself it wasn’t worth the mental breakdown.

But Suna wasn’t about to let it go.

“Did you like the gift?” he asked lazily, slumping into the seat beside you. His tone was light, but there was something expectant in his gaze as he tapped his fingers against the desk.

You blinked at him, completely worn out. “Sure. Yeah.”

His expression flattened. “That’s it?”

Your brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

Suna sighed, tipping his head back against his chair. “Gosh, you really are dense.” He ran a hand through his hair before fixing you with a look that sent another wave of confusion through your already fried brain. “Don’t make me say it.”

Your throat tightened. “Say what?”

“That’s what the bear was for.”

Your heart nearly stopped. Your body went still, fingers frozen against the desk as the words settled heavily between you.

You just stared at him, trying to process, trying to put two and two together but failing miserably because your brain had completely crashed. Your mouth opened slightly, but no sound came out.

Suna, however, was completely unfazed. He studied your face, waiting for a reaction, but before you could even think of one, the teacher walked in, calling the class to order.

“Talk after school,” Suna murmured under his breath, standing up and making his way to his seat across the room, leaving you sitting there- stunned, speechless, and utterly incapable of functioning.

The rest of the class was a blur. You heard nothing, saw nothing, could barely breathe. Suna had essentially just confessed, and you had given him nothing in return. No reaction, no words, just complete silence like an idiot.

By the time the final bell rang, you still weren’t sure how you managed to move your feet, but somehow you found yourself outside, standing near the gates, heart slamming against your ribs.

And then there he was. Hands in his pockets, expression unreadable as he stopped in front of you.

“So,” he said, tilting his head slightly, eyes flickering over your face. “Are you gonna keep looking at me like I just dropped a bomb on you, or are you gonna say something?”

You opened your mouth, then closed it, then opened it again. “You- you really-?”

Suna exhaled, shaking his head with a small smirk. “Yes, dumbass. I like you.”

Your breath hitched. The words, so simple yet so impossible, sent another wave of disbelief through you. “But-”

“No buts,” he interrupted. “I’ve liked you for a while. I just figured, I don’t know, a Valentine’s Day teddy bear would be a good enough hint, but apparently, I forgot who I was dealing with.”

You swallowed hard, hands gripping the straps of your bag. “I- I don’t know what to say.”

He studied you for a moment, then sighed, stepping closer. “Look, if you don’t feel the same, just say so. But if you do…” His voice softened. “You don’t have to overthink it. It’s just me.”

That- that was the problem. It was him. It had always been him.

You took a shaky breath, looking up at him, really looking, and suddenly, the weight of all your endless thoughts, all your unnecessary anxiety, melted away. Because there he was, standing in front of you, waiting, patient and certain in a way you had never been.

And finally, finally, you let yourself believe it.

“I do,” you admitted softly. “I like you.”

A slow grin spread across Suna’s face. “Good.”

And then, in a move so casual it nearly undid you, he reached out, ruffled your hair like he always did- but this time, his fingers lingered, threading through the strands before settling at the back of your head. “Took you long enough.”

You let out a breathless laugh, heart still hammering, still catching up, but warm, undeniably warm.

Maybe Valentine’s Day wasn’t so bad after all.

valentines event | masterlists

a/n i LOVE YOUUUU this request was so cute i love suna sm

[kawoala]

AND THEY WERE ROOMMATES . . . !? suna rintarou ; 3, part one.

╰ ⨳ word count ; .4k ( 452 )

╰ ⨳ content warning ; party scene 、 drinking 、 anxious! reader 、 blacking out 、 mention of vomit.

previous ; masterlist ; next.

you hate parties.

despite how many parties you went to during high school, or your freshman year of uni, despite the fact that you don’t hate drinking, despite the fact that you accepted the invitation to the party in the first place.

even as you were following rintarou into the house, stopping every so often so he could dap somebody up - he’s a popular guy, he says - you felt a deep sense of regret deep in your stomach, festering like a broken appliance; still functioning but in need of fixing.

you feel like your arms are permanently wrapped around your own body as you follow rintarou into the kitchen. it’s dimly lit, kind of dirty, but cozy. there are two men leaning on the corner, chatting away. rintarou introduces them as tatsuki and komori - the party hosts and his friends - and then immediately tells you to ignore all of komori’s attempts at flirting.

as you’re talking to the three boys about something random - komori had brought up his sports science class, which led rintarou to get on his ass about talking about school at a party, which somehow led to tatsuki bringing up their last party - a pair of arms wraps around your shoulders and squeezes.

you don’t have to turn around to know who it is. you turn around and return the grin that runa is giving you. “i thought you were supposed to be here before me?” you narrow your eyes playfully.

“ugh!” she lets out a dramatic groan, rolling her eyes. “i don’t even want to talk about it. hana takes seven years to get herself together.”

you laugh, and runa greets the three boys with a hug. you can see komori’s eyes light up as he hugs runa, then watch them go dull when she hugs tatsuki. you suspect this is why you should ignore all of his attempts. you glance over at rintarou, who raises his brows, making you giggle.

you don’t remember much after that. komori had pushed a red solo cup into your hand and, after confirming with runa that it was safe, you had downed it. you did the same with the next one he handed you. and the next one . . . and the next one.

you remember small things; sitting on the kitchen counter with the four of them, sitting on the living room floor - maybe playing spin the bottle, being rushed into a car and onto someone’s lap, subsequently throwing up in said car.

the last thing you remember is the yellow light of the bathroom at your new apartment. the smell of pine - cologne or shampoo, you’re not sure. soft hands ghosting across your skin. the taste of vomit in your mouth.

╰ ⨳ taglist ; @miiyas , @heartmaddie , @cherrysurf , @pookalicious-hq , @grassbutneo

@akaashislovee , @cvddlebug , @pardoffel, @smiithys @sweetlyvibe

@iluv-ace , @aozui , @anqelkoz , @dndjxkskcn .

[bagel-bombs23]

a drunk cigarette with suna

aka i was supposed to write a fic months ago but got 3/4ths through, got fired, and lost all motivation to live and exist. enjoy this though 🙏 also its 3:48 am so no proofreading LOL sorry

suna rintarou is a menace. a drop dead gorgeous one, but a threat to all of the general public nonetheless.

going to the bar with him is an absolute nightmare, and yet you cave every time. your best friend (and probably also the love of your life), was an undeniable chick magnet. striking green eyes, perfectly styled hair, fitted black button down hugging his arms deplorably, he was 6 foot 3 inches of sex appeal. it would be absolutely delirious behavior to not drink and dance your ass off with him. he is also unfortunately the life of the party, so as he dances with you like nobody is watching, conveniently everybody is watching.

and it might have even been fun, easy to romanticize if everyone was looking at you. but youre not delusional, standing in front of you is objectively the most beautiful man on earth, and you cant pry your eyes off of him either.

the sound system inside the club is at maximum volume, the bass pounding so hard you feel the floor beneath you vibrate. you’ve had a few drinks, just enough for your head to feel light and the ache from dancing for so long to be dulled. the buzz was nice about thirty minutes ago, but now every time the trashy music they play in this shithole hits a chorus, you feel like your brain gets jostled around in your head, smacking into the side of your skull. the smell of sweat and the occasional spilled drink is utterly putrid in the air, heavy like smog. and your stupid, perfect best friend, is being stared at by probably the hottest girl you’ve ever seen.

shes got long wavy dark red hair, like a cherry coke color, voluminous in that obviously natural way. her makeup is so hot you remember you’re pretty sure your eyeliner got smudged like an hour ago, and your lipstick is gone in the center of your lips. her outfit is gorgeous and grungy, short black denim shorts that show off her perfect hips, and an undeniably cute bullet belt. her little black croptop has a red 7 billiards ball, the length of it short enough to show her tattoos above her hips. she was gorgeous, and cool, and making acid rise quickly in your throat.

you needed to take a step outside before your barfed all over the dance floor. suna had his eyes closed, dancing in the most adorably drunk way, so you assumed he wouldn’t even notice when you slipped away. you should probably know him better by now, though.

by the time youve reached the door, suna is right behind you, tossing a thick, solid arm over your shoulder. hes laughing and shouting to you above the music,

“you read my fucking mind, i NEED a drunk cigarette”.

he pushes through the door from behind you, and the feeling of the cool night air immediately dulls the ache behind your eyes.

“you always love cigarettes rin, you are fooling nobody”, you chuckle at his exuberance. nobody loved a cigarette as much as rintarou suna, probably in the entire world. he bursts into that gorgeous, deep laugh at your jab.

“nuh-uh! i am a successful college athlete!” he says between laughs. “i am OFFENDED that you would assume such low thoughts of your dearest!” he almost yells, putting his hand over his head like hes about to dramatically faint.

the smile that pulls at your lips is instinctive, and you giggle affectionately at his jest.

“you talk more about drunk cigarettes than you do your mom,” as all you can get out before he collapsed against you in drunk laughter.

his arms drape over your shoulders as you feel his giant frame bounce with his deep belly laughs. hes so warm and he smells absolutely abysmal, like buckets of sweat and hair product, but your body reacts instinctively to his touch. heat crawls up the back of your chest and your stomach flutters at his affection. you think you may die if he notices your raised heart rate.

when he looks up at you with those devastating green eyes? smile splitting his face, plush pink lips bordering his sharp canines, you start to salivate. he looks so fucking hot you consider just sticking your tongue down his throat then and there.

when you spend a second just drinking him in, his smile shrinks and his pupils blow up even wider, lidded eyes cutting into you like a challenge. his tongue darts out to lick his lips quickly, and he swallows thickly, like suddenly he’s incredibly hot. the tension in the air is thick, and his eyes drop down your mouth for a moment, only to lock eyes with you once more, and smirk like hes going to devour you where you stand.

his breath smells like vodka redbull, and his wet, pink lips are almost taunting you. everything about him is magnetizing, pulling you toward his gaze. you try desperately to swallow away the weight on your tongue, and muster enough strength to move away. all you can find is the desire, always pulling you towards him.

“rin, you’re all over me” you try to joke, but the words come out like a breathy plea. his eyes twinkle, his smile widens a little, and he doesn’t move an inch.

“i know.” he laughs silently, and his breath fans against your mouth, has he moved closer? youre really not that drunk, but his overwhelming presence has you completely hypnotized.

he quickly pulls back, leaving nothing but a vague warmth where he used to be. you still feel suffocated by it. he props one leg against the wall behind him, and crosses his arms over his chest, still staring at you with that agonizing smirk. “i just like to see you squirm.”

before you can recover from that statement, you hear the bar door open about ten feet from you guys, and of fucking course, out walks the girl from earlier, striding straight towards suna.

the acid appears rapidly in your throat again. shes got this look on her face like she knows shes the hottest girl on the planet, and she saunters straight up to suna, stopping less than a foot away from him. “heard you wanted a cigarette, and i love sharing.” she says in what is obviously a flirtatious manner, before presenting to suna a cigarette with her number penciled on.

you swallow down the bile shamefully, and your face burns in shame. why would you ever imagine a man like him would go for anyone less than the woman actively throwing herself at him. most of the time girls just gawked, occasionally making drunken small talk with him, but she had this obvious confidence about her that made her practically glow. she stood out, even in the crowded bar full of people. she was everything you wished you were. all you could do was brace yourself for the nausea inducing flirting suna would probably muster up, being the most effortlessly charming man you’ve ever met, but to your utter surprise his face has entirely changed from your private moment. he looks how he typically does, utterly bored.

“thanks.” is all he says before unceremoniously plucking the cigarette from her hand. her eyebrows raise for a second at his blunt rudeness, and you feel your heart warm slightly. when suna pulls a lighter out of his pocket (fiend) and starts to actually SMOKE her number without a second glance, her eyebrows must touch her hairline as her mouth drops open in shock.

suna smoke that cig so fast you start to worry he may feel sick, her number burning to ash in three quick, deep puffs. you cant help but bite back a smile and giggle when he tosses the brown filter to the floor and smooshes it with his foot, brutally turning down this girls offer without so much as a smirk. her mouth stays open in shock for a few seconds, perfect dark red lipstick shining in the light from the bar sign.

“what, you want a tip?” suna says in his deep, monotone voice. all the girl manages to do is scoff incredulously and storm back into the bar, heels clacking angrily against the concrete.

once shes inside the doors you burst out into laughter, hands flying to your knees to steady you from falling over. that may have been the meanest thing youve ever seen rin do, and you are absolutely overjoyed by it. you dont even consider feeling bad for her, you just feel so amazing that he wasn’t startstruck at her beauty.

“that was the most beautiful girl ive ever seen rin, and now she is PISSED!” you laugh out at him, seeing a strange twinkle in his eye at your laughter. he stares at you intently, smile tugging at the corner of his lips. all he does for a moment is smile that wolfish grin at you, green eyes locked with yours.

“nah, ive seen much better”

oh yeah, flirty little moments just like this are why you keep clubbing with your devastatingly sexy best friend

[fayelero]

— JUST CONFESS ! suna rintaro

➥ syn : when you’re in love with the same person for several years maybe you need to confess one day?

➥ wc : 2.2k

➥ tw : oneshot, confession, fluff

Suna Rintarou had been harboring deep feelings for you for as long as he could remember. From the moment he first saw you in class, with your radiant smile and kind eyes, he knew his heart had been irreversibly captured. As the years passed, his affection only grew stronger, becoming an integral part of his daily life.

Every morning, Suna would wake up with thoughts of you flooding his mind. He'd spend extra time getting ready, hoping to catch your attention at school. The walk to class was filled with anticipation, his heart racing at the prospect of seeing you. When you'd greet him with a friendly wave or a casual "Good morning," he'd feel a warmth spread through his chest, savoring the brief interaction.

During lessons, Suna found himself constantly distracted by your presence. He'd steal glances at you, admiring the way you tucked your hair behind your ear when concentrating, or how your eyes lit up when you understood a difficult concept. He'd imagine scenarios where he'd finally gather the courage to confess his feelings, daydreaming about holding your hand or taking you on a date.

Lunchtime was both a blessing and a curse for Suna. He cherished the moments when you'd join him and his friends, relishing the sound of your laughter and the way you'd animatedly share stories. But it also pained him to see how easily you interacted with others, fearing that someone else might capture your heart before he had the chance to reveal his own feelings.

After school, Suna would often linger, hoping for an opportunity to walk home with you. On the days when fate aligned and you'd accompany him, he'd treasure every second, committing to memory the cadence of your voice and the way the setting sun cast a golden glow on your features. These moments were bittersweet, filled with both joy and the ache of unspoken emotions.

At home, thoughts of you permeated every aspect of Suna's life. He'd find himself smiling at inside jokes you'd shared, or texting you under the pretense of asking about homework, just to have an excuse to talk to you. He'd lie awake at night, imagining a future where he'd finally have the courage to tell you how he felt, wondering if you might reciprocate his feelings.

Suna's friends had long since noticed his infatuation. They'd tease him good-naturedly, encouraging him to make a move. But fear of rejection and the potential loss of your friendship always held him back. He convinced himself that being close to you as a friend was better than risking losing you entirely.

As time went on, Suna's love for you only deepened. He found himself falling for the little things – the way you'd scrunch your nose when you laughed, your unwavering kindness to others, and your determination when faced with challenges. He admired your strengths and wanted to support you through your weaknesses. In his eyes, you were perfect, flaws and all.

The intensity of his feelings sometimes overwhelmed Suna. There were days when the longing was almost unbearable, when he'd have to excuse himself from your presence just to catch his breath and compose himself. Other times, just being near you filled him with a sense of contentment and belonging he'd never experienced before.

Suna tried to show his affection in subtle ways. He'd always volunteer to be your partner for group projects, offer to help you study for difficult exams, and remember small details about your likes and dislikes. He hoped that somehow, through these gestures, you might begin to see him as more than just a friend.

As the school year progressed, Suna's feelings continued to grow. He found himself imagining a future with you – attending university together, building a life side by side. These daydreams both comforted and tormented him, representing everything he yearned for but was too afraid to reach for.

Then came the day that shook Suna's world. As he rounded the corner in the school hallway, he saw you engaged in animated conversation with a male classmate. The two of you were standing close, heads bent together over a notebook, talking and laughing. The sight sent a jolt of pain through Suna's heart.

Jealousy and fear coursed through him as he watched the interaction. His mind raced with possibilities – was this just a friendly chat, or was there something more? Had he waited too long, only to lose you to someone else? The thought of you being with another person made his chest tighten painfully.

Unable to bear watching any longer, Suna turned and quickly walked away, his emotions in turmoil. Suna burst into the classroom, his usual composure completely shattered. Atsumu and Osamu looked up from their lunch, startled by their friend's sudden entrance.

"Oi, Sunarin, what's got your boxers in a twist?" Atsumu called out, mouth full of rice.

Suna paced back and forth, running his hands through his hair. "I just saw Y/N talking to Tanaka from Class 3. They were laughing and standing so close, heads together over some stupid notebook. It looked... it looked..."

"Like they were plotting world domination?" Osamu offered dryly.

"No! Like they were... intimate," Suna finished, glaring at Osamu.

Atsumu perked up. "Oho? Sounds like someone's jealous~"

"I'm not jealous!" Suna snapped, then immediately deflated. "Okay, maybe I am. A little."

The twins exchanged a glance, Osamu rolling his eyes at his brother's grin.

"You know, Sunarin," Atsumu began, leaning forward, "there's an easy solution to this. Just confess already!"

Osamu snorted. "Right, because you're such an expert on confessions, Mr. 'I-once-confessed-to-a-vending-machine-thinking-it-was-Kita-senpai.'"

Atsumu's face turned bright red. "That was one time! And it was dark!"

Suna looked between the bickering twins, feeling more lost than ever. "Guys, focus! What am I supposed to do about Y/N?"

Osamu turned his attention back to Suna. "Well, first things first. Did ya actually hear what they were talkin' about?"

"No," Suna admitted reluctantly. "I couldn't bear to get any closer."

"So for all you know, they could've been discussin' the matin' habits of sea slugs," Osamu pointed out.

Atsumu made a face. "Gross, 'Samu. Why would anyone talk about that?"

"It was an example, ya nitwit," Osamu retorted, flicking a grain of rice at his twin.

Suna groaned, slumping into a nearby chair. "This isn't helping, guys."

The twins sobered up, seeing their friend's genuine distress.

"Look, Sunarin," Atsumu began, trying to sound serious, "you've been crushin' on Y/N forever. Don't ya think it's time to do somethin' about it?"

Osamu nodded in agreement. "Yeah, for once, this idiot's right. You should confess."

"But what if Y/N doesn't feel the same way?" Suna asked, vulnerability clear in his voice.

"Then at least you'll know," Osamu said gently.

"And you can move on to someone better!" Atsumu chimed in cheerfully, earning a smack from his brother.

"Don't listen to him," Osamu sighed. "Look, Suna, you're a catch. Any idiot can see that. Well, except this idiot," he added, jerking a thumb at Atsumu.

"Hey!" Atsumu protested, then paused. "Wait, was that a compliment or an insult?"

Ignoring his brother, Osamu continued, "The point is, you've got a real shot with Y/N. But you'll never know if you don't take the risk."

Suna looked between his friends, feeling a mix of hope and trepidation. "You really think I should confess?"

"Absolutely!" Atsumu exclaimed. "Go for it! Sweep Y/N off their feet!"

"Maybe don't literally sweep them off their feet," Osamu cautioned. "Remember what happened when you tried that with Kita-senpai?"

Atsumu's face fell. "I said we'd never speak of that again."

Despite his nerves, Suna found himself chuckling at his friends' antics. Their contradictory advice and playful bickering were oddly comforting, reminding him that no matter what happened, he'd have their support.

"Alright," Suna said, taking a deep breath. "I'll do it. After school, I'm going to find Y/N and confess."

The twins beamed at him, momentarily united in their excitement for their friend.

"That's the spirit, Sunarin!" Atsumu cheered.

"Just be yourself," Osamu advised. "And maybe don't mention the whole jealousy thing right off the bat."

As the final class of the day drew to a close, Suna's heart raced in his chest. His palms were sweaty as he clutched the small, folded piece of paper he'd hastily scribbled on earlier. When the bell rang, he quickly gathered his things and made his way to your desk, trying his best to appear casual.

"H-hey, Y/N," he stammered, internally cursing his nervousness. "This is for you." He thrust the paper towards you, avoiding eye contact.

You looked at him curiously, accepting the note. "Thanks, Rin. What's this about?"

Suna's cheeks flushed at the nickname. "Just... just read it, okay?" And with that, he hurried out of the classroom, leaving you slightly puzzled.

As you unfolded the paper and read its contents, Suna was already making his way to the designated meeting spot near the gym. He paced back and forth, running his hands through his hair and muttering to himself, trying to calm his nerves.

Time seemed to crawl by as he waited. Each passing minute felt like an eternity, and doubts began to creep into his mind. What if you didn't come? What if you'd figured out what he wanted to say and were avoiding him?

Just as he was considering giving up and going home, he heard footsteps approaching. He turned to see you walking towards him, a mix of concern and curiosity on your face.

"Hey Rin," you said with a smile. "What's up? Your note seemed pretty urgent."

Suna opened his mouth, but no words came out. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Y/N, I... uh... I wanted to talk to you about... um..."

You noticed his nervousness and your expression softened. "Rin, are you okay? You seem really stressed. Take a deep breath, it's just me."

Suna nodded, following your advice and taking a few deep breaths. "Sorry, I'm just... this is hard for me."

"It's alright," you reassured him. "There's no rush. Just take your time."

Suna nodded gratefully. "Okay, so... the thing is... I've been wanting to tell you something for a while now. It's about... about how I feel..."

He trailed off again, looking down at his feet. You gently placed a hand on his arm. "Hey, it's okay. Whatever it is, you can tell me. We're friends, right?"

Suna looked up at you, finding comfort in your kind eyes. "Yeah, we are. But that's... that's kind of the problem. Because I... I don't want to be just friends anymore."

Your eyes widened slightly, but you remained silent, letting him continue.

"What I'm trying to say is... I like you, Y/N. As more than a friend. I have for a long time now. And today, when I saw you talking to Tanaka, I just..."

"Wait," you interrupted, a small smirk forming on your face. "Is that what this is about? You saw me talking to Tanaka?"

Suna's face flushed red. "Well, yeah. You two looked pretty close and I thought..."

You couldn't help but laugh, which made Suna look even more flustered. "Oh, Rin. Tanaka and I were just discussing the history project. Nothing more."

"Oh," Suna said, looking embarrassed. "I guess I jumped to conclusions."

You grinned teasingly. "So, the cool and composed Suna Rintarou gets jealous, huh? That's pretty cute."

"Shut up," he mumbled, but there was no real annoyance in his voice.

Your expression softened again. "But Rin, about what you said... about liking me..."

Suna tensed up, preparing himself for rejection. But instead, you stepped closer to him.

"I like you too," you said softly. "I have for a while now. I just never thought you'd feel the same way."

Suna's eyes widened in disbelief. "You... you do?"

You nodded, a warm smile on your face. "Yeah, I do. You're amazing, Rin. Smart, funny, caring... How could I not fall for you?"

A rare, genuine smile spread across Suna's face. "I can't believe this. I was so nervous about telling you, and all this time..."

"All this time we were both too scared to say anything," you finished for him. "But I'm glad you finally did."

Suna reached out hesitantly, taking your hand in his. "So... does this mean you'd want to go out with me sometime?"

You intertwined your fingers with his, your heart fluttering at the contact. "I'd love to, Rin. I'd really love to."

As you both stood there, hands clasped and hearts full of newfound joy, Suna couldn't help but think that all the nervousness and fear had been worth it for this moment. And as for your teasing about his jealousy? Well, he figured he could live with that if it meant he got to be with you.

Ⓒ kiesbrainjuice all rights reserved. please to not plagiarize, repost, or translate !

tag : @haechansbbg

[fluffyf0x]

HIII omg im so excited, can i have Spanish latte and make it with laughs and giggles 🫶🏻🫶🏻 i’ll have it in post time skip with my name as suna rintarou 🩰🩰

ORDER UP!! One spanish latte for Suna rintaro!

Spanish Latte: Falling in love

Event Masterlist

Trophy

Now playing: OMG by Newjeans

Oh my, oh my god, ~~ I was really hoping that he will come through

●○●○●○●○

Suna Rintaro knew he was falling in love. However, he tried his best to be subtle about it.

You on the other hand, knew about it. Because Suna Rintaro is the last man to be subtle about his feelings. He can't do it, even if his life depended on it.

Rintaro was the type of man to be tripping on stones every time he sees you. His ears red and his heart beating as he would listen to your voice. Squeal and kick his feet whenever you messaged. He would stutter and and mess up his words. Whenever he'd try to impress you, he fail miserably

He was embarrassing himself so much in front of you. It was almost...cute.

The best example was when Rintaro was at a game.

"I'll win this match for you" Rintaro said to you. You choked at his words. The popcorn you just ate stuck at your throat. Rintaro panicked and handed you a bottle.

"You okay?" You nodded in response. Taking the bottle from him and drinking from it. You smiled awkwardly at him.

"You're gonna win the match- for me?" You asked. He smiled and nodded.

"Yup, all for you. You're going home in a trophy that I won for you"

Suna Rintaro lost that match.

The two of you sat by the stairs. The man was sulking. He groaned, burying his face in his hands. You patted his back in an attempt to comfort him. You weren't sure what to say to him. You knew he really wanted to win that match. Talking about it nonstop. Day until night. You didn't hear the end of it.

"I'm a failure and embrassment to society"

"No you're not" You say quickly. You refuse to let Rintaro feel that way. He lifted his head to look at you as he pouted. You smiled, resisting the urge to not laugh at how adorable he looked right now.

"You think so? Because I- I literally said I would win the match and now I- Oh god this is so embarassing" He groaned and hid his face again. His ears turning bright red. You smiled and sighed. What were you gonna do with him?

"Are you upset because you said you wanted to win this for me?" You asked. He nodded.

"You know I'd still love you either way right? Its not like winning or losing defines you as a person"

Rintaro has never whipped his head up faster than when you uttered those words.

You paused. Not noticing that you literally confessed to him. So, you went with another plan. Acting innocent and pretending you literally did no just say anything.

"What did you just say?" He asked, grabbing your shoulder. You knew he wanted confirmation on what he just heard.

"Winning and losing doesnt define you as a person?"

"No before that"

"You aren't an embarassment to society?"

"No after that"

"I asked if you were upset because you wanted to win the match for me"

"No AFTER THAT"

"Winning and losing doesnt define you as a person!"

"Y/N YOU KNOW WHAT IM TALKING ABOUT"

You gave in and laughed. His face scrunched into a look of both disgust and dumbfoundedness.

"You confessed right? I didnt hear it wrong?" Rintaro asked once again, he looked serious. Upon taking a deep breath, smiled awkwardly and nodded.

"Oddly enough, I guess I did"

Rintaro beamed like the sun. It was the first time you saw him this happy. Genuine, happiness.

"I guess I'm not going home with that trophy, but Im still winning in life"

Tysm anon for participating in this event!! I enjoy writing Suna sm. He's a fun character to write. His personality really fits the theme too, hehe.

[starshoyo]

Hi! I think I talk on behalf of all the fandom when I say that I need a second part of that suna!fake boyfriend scenario/fic, just saying

Lots of love uwu

FAKE BOYFRIEND II ★

PAIRING Suna Rintarou x fem! reader

WARNINGS aggressive behavior (from ex)

TAGS suna’s protective asf, your ex is still an ass

IN WHICH your ex waits for you outside of your home, and Suna just happened to be there at the right time

A/N Thank you for the support! Hope you enjoy <3

<- 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄 | 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

EVER SINCE THAT day, you had a small war within yourself, pondering whether to ask Suna out or not. Well, you were planning to disguise it by telling him you wanted to treat him dinner as thanks. It took you a week before you finally sent him a message.

To your surprise, he replied almost instantly, and you had ended up texting throughout the night. On your first “date”, you were so nervous that it would be awkward between the two of you, especially because you were practically polar opposites.

You found out that Suna was full of surprises, because he had the same interests as you. He liked the same movies you did, and listened to the music you listened to. You found yourselves having deep conversations, and slipping into small talk in repetition just as easily.

Not to mention how much of a gentleman he was. The movements were automatic and subconscious, but they still made your heart pound. He would open doors for you, pull out your chair, and held your purse. When you went to the bathroom, you came back to the bill already paid.

Chivalry wasn’t something you were used to, and it definitely wasn’t something Takeshi cared about.

You learned that Suna was a tattoo artist, who also helped out at Atsumu’s garage once in a while, fixing street race cars. He was the complete opposite as you, who was in college, working part time at a cafe. Still, you clicked instantly.

You lived in a two story apartment complex, and after your nth date with Suna, he walked you home. Takeshi still texted you time to time, so you finally blocked him weeks ago. You hadn’t seen him since, and you definitely didn’t expect to see him today.

Suna grinned down at you as you gave him back his jacket that he lent you. It was now fall, about a month since you’ve first met Suna. The sun had long set under the horizon, and the two of you stood under the star filled skies.

“Thanks for today.” He hummed, a gentle finger placing a strand of hair behind your ear. You found yourself leaning into his warm touch, craving more. “I want to see you again, soon.” You said so softly that you weren’t sure if he even heard.

But he indeed heard it, resisting the urge to lean down and press a firm kiss into your soft hair. So instead, he brushed his thumb against your cheek affectionately. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” He smiled, fingers sliding away from your reddening cheek.

“Bye.” You whispered. He watched you as you turned, climbing the steps to your apartment on the second floor. You felt his gaze burning holes into your back, your heart pounding in your ears. When you were finally out of his sight, he turned on his heel, a slight bounce in his step as he walked away.

Your eyes were on the floor as you walked towards your door, biting your lips and trying to contain the silly smile on your face. You giggled at a memory, tips of your ears impossibly redder.

You had only finally noticed that someone was standing in front of your door when their feet came into your sights, and you looked up, surprised.

Surprise quickly turned into fear when you saw the familiar face of Takeshi, who was leaning against the wall next to your door. He raised a brow, kicking off the wall. “Well, finally. I’ve been waiting for an hour, now.” He mumbled, as if he had told you he would be here.

His presence was like cold water being splashed onto the warm embers of your date, snuffing out any giddiness you felt. The smile was wiped off your lips, and when you took a step back, he wasted no time maneuvering his body so he caged you between your door and him.

Your legs shook in fear, but you scowled as you glared up at him. “What are you doing here, Takeshi?” You spat through grit teeth, pressing yourself against your door and trying to get more space between the two of you.

His hands were planted on the sides of your head, expression filled with irritation. “You know what I’m doing here. You blocked me, didn’t you?” He huffed, voice deep and eyes a little crazy.

Your heart was pounding in your ears for a different reason now, balling your hands into fists to stop them from trembling. “I had every right to block you. We’re not dating anymore, Takeshi. Get that through your thick skull.”

You flinched as he punched the space next to your head. Your eyes widened at his outburst, all confidence gone. “No, you listen to me. We are not done until I say we’re done. You didn’t give me time to explain shit, and then went off to open your legs to another man. How dare you?”

There were a thousand things you wanted to say against his berating words, but they were all stuck in your throat, and all you could do was look up at him with eyes that were starting to water. He was being aggressive, and a hint of alcohol was mixed with every breath that fanned your face.

Suna was three minutes into walking home, when he dug his hands into his jacket pockets for warmth and realized you had left your favorite lipstick in one of them. He smiled gently at the cosmetic, a memory of you talking about how much you loved it floating somewhere in the back of his mind.

He turned around, heading back. Maybe it was an excuse to see you one more time before the end of the day.

He walked up the steps, turning the corner to walk down the hall that lead to your door. He stopped in his tracks when he saw another man there.

It was a familiar man, a frame he had seen before. Short, lanky, and most definitely Takeshi. Suna was frozen for a second, registering what was happening in his head. But when he realized that you were crying, and Takeshi was practically barking in your face, his body moved before he could come to a decision.

Suna fisted a hand into Takeshi’s shirt, a violent smack echoing through the night as his fist connected with the latter’s jaw. You gasped, body still pressed against the door, chest heaving.

“I swear, if you ever talk to her like that,” Suna huffed, a growl underlying each breath. He was furious, that was for sure. You weren’t sure if you were terrified of the fact that he had just smacked the shit out of Takeshi, or the fact that there was a small part of you that loved his protectiveness.

“If I ever even see you again, I’ll fucking kill you.” He finished, before taking the keys in your hand. He unlocked the door, hand on your waist and leading you inside. You couldn’t even see if Takeshi got up or not before Suna’s slammed the door behind him, locking it.

It was then that he finally took a breath, facing the door with his back turned to you. There was silence for a couple heart beats, both of you not sure what to say next. What… what just happened?

Suna was the first to speak up. “I’m sorry.”

His words were soft, all the anger inside him flushing out and instead filling with guilt. Your head reeled back in confusion. “You’re sorry?”

He turned around, and it pained you at how disappointed he looked, scrunching his brows. “I didn’t- I shouldn’t have-” He stuttered, the words dying at the tip of his tongue every attempt. You frowned, immediately wrapping your arms around his neck, bringing him down into a tight hug.

He was taken off guard at first, standing as stiff as a board, before finally melting into your touch and returning the embrace. “Thank you for saving me. Again.” You whispered into his skin, sending a chill down his spine.

His strong arms wrapped around your middle, holding you like you were fragile, despite the fact that he had displayed his strength just seconds ago. Unsaid words were exchanged during that hug, heart to heart.

He pulled away, and you almost held him tighter, trying to get him back in your space, when he pressed his lips against yours. It was soft and warm, but sent sparks like fireworks throughout your entire frame.

His hands held the sides of your face now, lips moving in perfect sync. All words that were afraid to be said had been communicated in that short moment, and when you pulled apart, he looked into your eyes with such adoration that you thought you would melt into a puddle in that spot.

“Let me protect you, (Name). Let me be yours.” He said in a hushed tone, thumbs brushing your cheeks gently. You held the hands on your face, nodding furiously, like he had just gifted you the stars. “Be mine, Rin.”