#hq rintaro

[clawsdevour]

undressed

wc: 0.2k content warning: had a thought where suna enjoys watching u get changed.., suggestive, suna x reader, not proofread

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ

Suna, your husband who always enjoys the sight of you getting changed right in front of him. His narrow eyes darting up and down at your silhouette, taking in your slight curves dilating his pupils larger the more he stares. 

His teeth slowly bitting down softly on his bottom lip in lust and desire watching you attempt to unhook your bra from within his t-shirt you wore to bed. Sliding the straps off your arms through the oversized shirt, he continues to observe through his half-lidded sleepy eyes, which awoke when he felt the weight lift off the mattress.

Dropping your bra down and onto the bedside table, you let out a small yawn of drowsiness before crossing your arms to reach the bottom hem of the shirt. Fingers holding on tightly while you slowly rose the shirt up to reveal your skin to the cold crisp air. Suna’s fighting back on his lack of sleep to continue feasting at the sensual sight. 

The moment it’s off your bare shoulders, your back facing him, you can hear him shuffling in bed to inching to get closer. Looking behind you, his toned half-nude body makes its way toward you with his low, and needy grumbles. 

The moment his cold hands slithered their way onto your waist, you were immediately pulled back into his warm embrace. His hands tightening around you.

masterlist

[fushiguruuzzzz]

wc ~800. req by @chlosology for 700 event. not proofread.

nights in with suna were, to put it simply, the highlight of your week.

it was nothing special, really. the two of you would nestle up in your dorm — never his, it reeked of testosterone and atsumu’s unwashed socks — with a ridiculously packed bag from the convenience store and your pyjamas that were probably his. it may not have been the picture of extravagance, but it was a moment of simmering calm in the midst of bleeding ink and late nights, and that was far more than you would ever even ask for. a night in with your friend was enough, enough to keep your neurotic mind sane for the time being.

legs thrown over his lap, the heat of his palm pressed firmly into your calf as the flash from the television casted colourful glows over his face. he looked good, face soft and relaxed in the moment but features sharp all the same. his narrowed eyes flicked away from the screen before him momentarily, only allowing himself to catch a brief glimpse of your gaze before pulling himself back together.

your hangouts were friendly. always friendly, always casual and chill and quiet. but the truth? it was making rintaro fall apart at the seams. by no means was he an easily flustered man, but somehow every shift of your body against his, no matter how subtle, had his throat drying and instead being invaded by a thick, affection shaped lump. he hated it, to be frank. who were you, to step into his life with annoyingly kind eyes and gentle hands, to break down his laidback exterior without even trying? he was mildly convinced that you’d bewitched him. nothing else explained it. nothing. not that it was love or anything, that was crazy. the world would turn to ash before rintaro suna was head over heels, crumble beneath his fingertips, and he was bound to fade away knowing he kept his dignity until the very end. but he didn’t; you were beside him and you were beautiful, and he wanted to leap out of his skin.

“I don’t like that guy,” you cut in, followed by a crunch as you popped a chip in your mouth. he stared for a second too long, stuck on how casual you were about all of it. when had the roles reversed, when had he become the mess? what exactly was the point that he became the puddle at your feet, and you the heat the caused him to meet the ground?

he responded with a halfhearted hum, head turning to you sluggishly as if it had not been that way for half of the movie already. “why not?”

you gave a shrug, chewing away at your salty snack for a beat longer. you figured the answer would not matter much even if you did have one, seeing as suna was only half paying attention anyway. “I jus’ don’t, I dunno.”

he sniggered softly, lips pulling up into a barely perceptible smirk. “don’t talk with your mouth full. what are you, four?”

your brows furrowed in an exaggerated sort of irritation, but he did not miss the way your face pulled up in embarrassment. “forgive me for answering your question, jeez.”

“I could’ve easily waited. i’m a patient man, you know.”

the scoff that tumbled from your lips said enough, but he was sure you would add a snarky remark, too. suna was calm, every move commenced with a sluggish precision that was nearly disturbing. he did not care for academics, but always tried just enough to get a passing grade. he talked just enough to maintain stable relationships with his friends (though you were an exception, but that’s not related at the moment), spent just enough money to stay comfortable with his savings. he was lazy, but he had an ability to keep balance in this prejudiced world, and that was an admirable trait in itself. he did just enough.

and he loved you just enough. he loved you from the corner of the room, from the foot of the bed as he gazed at you with keen eyes and wondered if maybe, just maybe, there was something he deemed worth the effort. he wondered that if he gave you the chance, you would spend your days curled up watching half-boring sitcoms and horror movies, letting him be lazy for everything but you. like the moon, ever avoidant, but reflecting the light of the sun in every waking moment. that sort of dedication was foreign to rintaro, but as you tossed another snack into your mouth and met his gaze with a amused fondness that made his chest clench, he figured everything found something to be devoted to at some point.

“thinking you’re too cool to push for answers doesn’t mean patience, rin.”

nevermind.

a/n: this event is making me write for more people waowwww!!! sorry i’ve been so slow with them, im getting to it!! <3

[moechies]

“wai—wait, no tongue rinnie, i dunno—“

“relax,” suna mumbles against your lips, pressing a soft kiss against your bottom lip. “i’ll teach you, don’t worry.” you whine, embarrassed that he may find your inexperience to be a turn off. “just follow through with m’tongue okay?”

“mhmn..” you mumble, gasping when he presses his swollen lips onto yours once again. he presses himself further into your body, your legs enveloping around his waist and tugging him in. you shiver, mouth gaping wider on instinct when you feel his silky tongue slip in between your lips, running itself over yours.

it’s so fucking wet, and so hot, you can taste his sweet spit on your tongue. it makes you ache everywhere, body sparked with excitement yet nervousness. “c’mon, try.” he groans against you, letting your tongue nervously glide against his on command. he lets out a guttural groan, grinding unconsciously into your thigh, mumbling a half coherent apology before he slips his tongue back into your mouth.

he runs the hot muscle over yours, curling over and around it with messy spit beginning to coat your lips. he doesn’t slow despite your tongue faltering and clearly weakening with every stroke of his tongue against yours. “y’r so weak baby.” he chuckles, pulling away slightly.

both of your breaths are labored, your softened eyes meet his , filled with so much love that they sparkle under the dim light. his pupils seem to dialate over and over, and you can’t help but giggle at the sight.

you can still feel the heat of his breath against your lips, one of his hands with a tight hold against your waist, and one sprawled across your shoulder — holding you still. it’s all so intimate, and all so new.

“can we d—do it again? wanna try again..” you quip, cheeks flushing at the dumb, dumb question.

as if he would say no.

[fatherbrat]

ONE LAST TIME, R. SUNA

sum. two months into your relationship with your current boyfriend, your ex-fwb finally sends you a voicenote to let you know exactly how he feels about it.

feat. rintaro suna

cw. ex-fwb!suna, cheating, mutual masturbation (kinda lol), jealousy, dirty talk, anal mention, pillow humping, possessiveness, degradation

wc. 1.2k

When you posted your first official pictures of you and your new boyfriend, you had expected Suna to react…negatively. You basically braced for impact the moment you hit post, but all you got from him was an Instagram notification and two texts.

sunarin liked your post.

rin ;)

lmk if you want me to delete our pics.  and hmu when you two break up :p

You never bothered replying, initially not sure how to reply, and then forgetting about the texts entirely. The two of you barely have any contact for a few weeks after that, but he's obviously keeping up with your socials; liking every post and viewing every story. It doesn't bother you, but it's weird going cold turkey on your relationship like that. You had expected him to reach out for some sort of closure. You wanted him to. 

Halloween swings by in no time, and (much to you boyfriend’s dismay) you dress up as a sexy nurse. You don’t remember much of the night, but you do know that you posted a picture of you and your friends all dressed up on your story before getting blackout drunk. 

Your phone dies early on in the night. Your friends take good care of you up until it’s time to bring you back home, and you don’t wake up until the afternoon. You don’t check your phone until a couple hours after that—long after it's been turned on and charged to 100%. 

When you finally check it, two particular notifications catch your attention. 

sunarin liked your story. 

rin ;)

Voice Message

The voice message is 12 minutes long. 

You exit your texts immediately, opting to distract yourself by tending to your other notifications. It doesn’t help much. Your mind races, wondering what he was talking about for so long and if it was really so important that he reached out after almost four months of near-silence. 

You toss your phone onto your bed, shaking your head. You try to ignore it, cleaning the bathroom and folding the laundry and vacuuming the living room all in an effort to forget about the lengthy recording sitting in your phone. 

But it doesn’t take long for the curiosity gnawing at you to win. 

You practically run back to your bedroom, grabbing your phone and sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed. Your fingers move quickly across the screen, hitting play without hesitation. 

The first 8 seconds are nearly silent, and you start to wonder if it’s possible that he sent such a long message by mistake.

But then you hear a heavy sigh.

“I like your costume.” His tone is hushed, like he’s telling you a secret. “You look hot.”

There’s another moment of silence, like he’s giving you a chance to change your mind and stop listening. 

But then Suna moans and your eyes nearly bulge out of your head. 

“You never answered my text, y’know. When I asked if you wanted me to delete our pictures. So, uh, I kept ‘em.”

Oh. 

Oh fuck.

“I’m looking at one right now. It’s from last Halloween. When you-“ His breath hitches. “When you went as a Playboy Bunny.”

You remember. Suna dressed as Hugh Hefner and the two of you went to a party together. Then he took you back to his apartment and fucked you while you were still wearing the bunny ears and bowtie. 

You’re pretty positive you’re not wearing the bodysuit in the picture he’s looking at. 

“I don’t know how much of this night you actually remember, but I can describe the picture for you.”

You tense, anticipation sending goosebumps up your arms. 

“You’re kneeling on the ground, looking up at the camera, and you’ve still got those bunny ears on your head.”

This voice message is going in the last direction you thought it would.  Is he—?

“You’ve got cum all over your face, baby.” He laughs to himself before continuing. “And you’re sticking your tongue out like a fucking whore.”

Suna takes a ragged breath, a sound you're all too familiar with. It confirms your suspicions—he’s definitely jerking off. 

“That was a good night. We had a lot of good nights.” He sounds miffed all of a sudden. “I seriously doubt the boyfriend is fucking you as good as I did.”

You suppress a shiver. A pang of guilt heats your chest at the mention of your boyfriend. You should stop listening. Delete the message. Tell him to delete the pictures and then probably block him. 

Or you could let the message keep playing. 

Suna inhales sharply, followed by a shaky moan. You swear you can hear the sound of his fist stroking his dick. 

“I hope you’re not letting him put it in your ass like you let me. That’s our thing, okay?”

Under different circumstances you would have laughed. 

“Fuck,” he hisses. “And I hope you’re not letting him spit in your fucking mouth. Or–shit–doing that thing where you’d suck me off with your head hanging upside down off the bed.” He falters at the end of the sentence, groaning into the phone.

“I���m not gonna–” he interrupts himself, sighing deeply. “I’m not gonna pretend I’ve been happy for you. I miss you.”

You feel hot all over, a heady combination of annoyance and arousal and embarrassment. There’s a dull throbbing between your legs and in the back of your mind you wonder if this is what Suna wanted when he sent the message. 

“Just–just let me fuck you one more time. Okay princess? I’ll make it sooo good for you,” he whines. You can hear his hand picking up speed.

“It’s still early. Two months is nothing, it won’t even count as cheating.” You can hear the smirk in his voice. “God, just one last time. Please?”

Without thinking, you grab a pillow and position yourself over it in a straddle. You won’t let him fuck you, but that doesn’t mean he can’t make you come one last time.

“I promise I’ll do that thing you like with my tongue. And you can pick all the positions if you want to.” There’s a tremble in his voice. “Or just lay there. I’ll do all the work.”

You grind into the pillow beneath you, picturing the expression you know he’d be wearing if he were in front of you–batting those dark eyelashes with raised eyebrows, just barely able to control the smug curve of his lips.

Heat pools in your gut and a whimper falls from your lips. Suna keeps talking.

“I know you miss me. You have to. You’re probably touching yourself to this right now.” 

You gasp softly and rock your hips faster.

“Such a fucking slut.” You hear the telltale quiver in his voice that tells you he’s getting close. “My fucking slut.”

You moan, his words giving you flashbacks.

“Oh fuck. Fuck, I’m coming,” he rasps, before letting off a series of moans and whimpers that almost make you concede. You grind harder into the pillow beneath you, imagining Suna in his room, chest heaving, talking into the phone and making himself come to pictures of you. 

That does it. A tsunami of pleasure washes over you, forcing your body to tense before you go limp, collapsing onto your bed with a shudder.

You and Suna breathe in tandem, both of you catching your breath. 

You hear another laugh through the phone. “Damn, that was a lot.” There’s the sound of sheets rustling. “Kinda made a mess, princess.”

He’s silent for another few beats before clearing his throat. “Text me, okay?” he says quietly. “Please.”

The voice message ends.

part two

[alpali]

texts with a down bad suna:3

bonus: all four of you are really close but the miyas know about sunas crush on you. so they like making him jealous since he SWEARS he’s nonchalant

© alplai

[a-pastel-edgelord]

Rintaro Suna believes there are absolutes in life. For example, he'll never score higher than a 75 in social studies, or that chuupets taste best on a hot day... Oh, or that you are totally and completely unavailable.

You call Kita, Shin. You always have ever since he met you. He calls you by your first name as well. He always has ever since Suna knew of your existence.

It's impossible to miss—Kita lives in such a methodical way. Like clockwork you show up in the gym just as practice ends. You help clean up. You make small talk with the team. You wait until Kita is done. Then you walk home together.

Suna didn't think much of you at first, just another person in his orbit. But then, during practice on a particularly hot day you showed up with popsicles and watermelon for the team. Kita scolded you for it, talking about how you spoil them. You shrugged it off, saying you have the right. The rest of the guys rushed to get their treats, Suna gave it a second, too sluggish in the heat. Something cold pressed against his temple. It was you, poking him with a pack of chuupets. You'd gone out of your way to refrigerate them. "You like these right? I saw them on sale so I got you some."

That day, something in his brain stuttered. But not that it mattered because you were taken by the captain of the volleyball team. Even if Kita is a bit of a weird hardass robot kind of guy, Suna likes him. Respects him too much to even entertain the notion of flirting with you.

"Maaaan!" Atsumu whines in the locker room. "I wanna show off my service ace." He's been complaining about you not coming to watch a practice.

Akagi rolls him eyes. "Some people actually study, y'know. Apparently Kita-san is eyein' some fancy university in Tokyo."

"Yeah, Tsumu." Osamu drawls. "Kita-senpai doesn't have volleyball brain like you. So studyin' ain't a lost cause."

Suna pauses halfway through putting on his jacket. "Kita-senpai?" The words are foreign in his tongue.

"Huh?" Gin looks at him. "Yeah. You know. Kita-senpai. They're cousins. We call 'em Kita-senpai so we don't get confused with the captain."

Suna appreciates another absolute as he throws on his shoes and sprints down the stairs to where he knows you're waiting for your cousin. The fact that he is an absolute idiot.

[haikyu-mp4]

At least once a week, Suna brought his children out in the yard to play some volleyball.

His son was practising to be a setter (Atsumu’s influence, it’s a sensitive topic for Suna), while his daughter spiked his sets.

That’s perfect because Suna got an insane confidence boost from blocking for them.

Sometimes, when they were really trying, he let them earn some points so that he can watch them practice their celebrations. It always brought a smile to his face.

“If you make the next one, we’ll go to Super Nintendo World next week.”

They screamed in excitement, making you peek into the yard and find a seat to watch them.

Your son focused hard as your daughter threw up the ball before doing the run-up, grinning excitedly as she watched the perfect set he put up for her.

Copying her dad’s technique, she leaned sideways in an attempt to avoid his block.

Suna watched with pride, almost regretting his plot.

As the ball crossed over the net, his hand was already there to stop it, making it fall to the ground on the kids’ side. “That’s the harsh reality of life, kiddos. I want you to get familiar with this feeling: It’s called disappointment.”

They screamed again, this time angrily, before storming under the net and jumping him, hauling him to the ground when he didn’t fight back.

You laughed from the porch, holding your stomach. That’s definitely the father of your children.

masterlist

/inspired by a reel on Insta

[xlettex]

Suna Rintarou has ignored you for seven hours, twenty-three minutes, and forty-five seconds. Not that you’re counting. He hadn’t looked at you when you waved good morning. Didn’t reply when you texted him during lunch. And now, during practice, he’s pretending you don’t exist—unless it’s to rotate away the second you step near him. Which is why you’ve had it.

You march across the gym floor with fire in your veins, stopping right in front of him during a water break. The rest of the team goes quiet, curious eyes flicking between you and the tall, unbothered middle blocker who’s carefully unwrapping sports tape like it's the most fascinating thing in the world.

“Rin, what the hell is your problem?”

Suna doesn’t even look at you. “I don’t have a problem.”

“Bullshit. You’ve been ignoring me all day.”

He scoffs. “Why don’t you just go hang out with your boyfriend?”

You blink. “I’m sorry— my what now?”

Now he looks at you. Flat expression. Bored tone. “The guy you hugged this morning.”

You stare at him. Then you laugh—one short, incredulous breath. “You mean my little cousin?” 

Suna freezes. A beat. Another beat. A visible oh, shit creeps across his face as the team collectively chokes behind you.

“Oh,” he mutters. “Well. He was… tall.”

You slap his arm. “He’s, like, an inch taller than me. And he was just thanking me for lunch money.”

“Well, it didn’t look innocent,” he grumbles, ears now bright pink.

“Are you serious right now?! You’ve been sulking all day over my cousin?”

He shrugs and drops his gaze. “Didn’t know he was your cousin.”

You narrow your eyes. “And what if he wasn’t?”

Silence. The team holds its breath.

Suna exhales, then mutters, “Then I wouldn’t like it.”

Your heart stutters.

His eyes meet yours again—and this time, he really looks at you. His voice is no longer bored. It’s quiet. Honest. “Seeing you with someone else, I mean.”

You tilt your head, a smile curling on your lips—sharp and smug. "Then do something about it.”

Behind you, Atsumu lets out a low, delighted cackle. “Ohhh, shiiit—she got you.”

You don’t wait for a response. Just turn on your heel, walking out of the gym with your head held high. But not before glancing back once—

And catching Suna frozen in place, face red, as the entire team starts swarming him with grins, whistles, and way too much noise. You smile to yourself.

Let him squirm.

[ezariumi]

onigiri miya pop-up store 〖 illustrated for omakase - twitter: @/miyaosamuzine in 2022 〗

[clawsdevour]

𓈒*~ suna husband hcs

wc: 0.6k content warning: post-time skip, fluff, #needthat, not proofread

 େ  ۫  ۪

-Suna, the type of husband to absolutely just love pleasing you. He does it for yours and his satisfaction. If you ask him to do little small tasks, he'd for sure grunt in laziness but still get up to do it because it's rewarding to him when he gets to see your smile.

-Suna, the type of husband to send you silly texts throughout the day whenever he's free. You're always on his mind and he's simply curious what you could be up to. It could range from texts like 'have you eaten yet?' and you'd have to send him a photo of your meal because he's just invested in you, not just because he's your husband but because he knows he's yours.

-Suna, the type of husband to secretly love whenever he wakes up earlier before you to find you clinging onto him under the covers as if begging for him to stay in bed with you. It's these cute little moments where Suna would sacrifice a bit of his morning to melt in your warm embrace just a tad bit longer.. or when he does wake up earlier than you, he'd put the blanket over your face to shut out the light for when he gets dressed. Pulling it back off to give you a kiss on your cheek or forehead before he heads out for work.

-Suna, the type of husband to find himself nestled in between your thighs whenever you're binge-watching a new show on the couch. He loves these moments alone where you're both on the same page at home just together, his face on your lap. He also loves to cuddle you on the couch as well, securing your every movement with his arms.

-Suna, the type of husband to stop by the convenience store on the way home to get some snacks. He remembers your favorite things to snack on and is constantly thinking about you. He'd bring home a bag full of your favorite drinks and chips to eat together for later in the day.

-Suna, the type of husband to take some really hot and warm showers where it's completely humid and drenched with beads of water when he leaves the bathroom. With the super fogged-up mirrors, he'd write or draw cute things for whenever you walk in or shower to see.

-Suna, the type of husband to love sitting on the kitchen chair or kitchen counter while watching you cook meals for both of you. It's like watching a YouTube cooking tutorial in real life except he gets to interact with you which he loves the most. Suna enjoys the little sweet talking and laughter that comes with it.

-Suna, the type of husband to go out of his way to get you chocolate, and give you warm water when you announce that you're on your period. He ensures you're stocked up on pads and tampons and his affection. When you get cramps he'd pull you onto his lap and rub your stomach with his warm hands while telling you that you're gonna be okay.

-Suna, the type of husband to thrive off the drama you tell him. He's all ears when you say "Can I rant real quick," followed by a "This just happened at work..." he is INVESTED. His commentary is super funny and blunt, adding in his own personal opinions on what went on and creating solutions to your problems.

-Suna, the type of husband to probably give your ass a slap the moment you bend down to pick something up. The moment you turn around, his back is towards you with him eying you from the side in deviousness.

masterlist here

[semiloml]

cw: cowgirl, size kink, overstimulation, slight overstimulation

“There you go, pretty girl.”

Suna’s voice was slow, drawling, thick with amusement as he watched you struggle to sink down on his cock, your thighs trembling, fingers digging into his toned chest.

He looked so fucking relaxed—sprawled out against the pillows, hands gripping your hips, half-lidded golden eyes drinking in the way you whined, how your body shuddered every time you took another inch.

“S’too big,” you panted, nails pressing into his skin.

“You can take it,” he murmured, his fingers tightening around your hips. “You always do.”

You whined, legs shaking as you finally, finally sat down fully, his cock stretching you open, pushing so fucking deep you felt like you were going to break.

Suna groaned, his head tipping back against the pillows, his jaw slack. “Shit, baby, look at you.”

You clenched around him, earning a sharp hiss from between his teeth.

“Don’t fuckin’ tease,” he muttered, his eyes flickering up to yours, a lazy smirk tugging at his lips. “Move.”

Your breath hitched, and you tried—you really did—but your legs were still shaking, body already too fucked-out from how deep he was inside you.

Suna clicked his tongue. “Tch. Cute.”

Then his hands moved—gripping your waist tight, rolling his hips up as he forced you to move.

A strangled moan ripped from your throat as he guided you, dragging you up his length before slamming you back down. The obscene slap of skin filled the room, your moans mixing with his deep groans as he bounced you on his cock, fucking you onto him like a damn toy.

“Fuck, feel so good,” Suna gritted out, watching the way your tits bounced, the way your eyes were going hazy, your mouth dropping open with every sharp thrust.

“Too much,” you slurred, nails scraping down his chest.

“Too bad,” he muttered, voice thick with pleasure. “You wanted to ride, yeah? So ride.”

He helped you—lifting you up, slamming you down, dragging out every broken moan, every desperate sob. Your thighs were burning, overstimulation creeping up your spine, but fuck, he felt so good, so deep, hitting that spot that made you see white.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—‘Rin—!”

His smirk deepened. “Gonna cum?” His fingers pressed into your clit, rubbing slow, lazy circles, a cruel contrast to the brutal pace of his hips. “Go on, then. Cum for me, baby.”

You sobbed, body locking up, pleasure crashing over you so hard it stole the breath from your lungs.

Suna groaned, gripping your hips tight, his thrusts turning sloppy as he fucked up into you, his jaw clenched, his eyes dark.

“Shit—fuck—” He shuddered, his head tilting back as he spilled inside you, his grip bruising, his cock twitching as he filled you.

For a moment, the only sound in the room was heavy breathing, your body still trembling from the aftershocks.

Then Suna’s hands smoothed up your thighs, slow and lazy, his golden eyes flickering up to yours, hooded and amused.

“Told you you could take it.”

AUTHOR‘S NOTE: I might double post today😛

[aerifim]

your boyfriend isn’t necessarily the type to say the words “i love you” up front to your face or even say that he is in love with you around his friends, and although that seems like a red flag to most—you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

it may seem as though that your boyfriend doesn’t love you simply because of his laid back presence majority of the time in school. a lot of your classmates assume that he isn’t a good boyfriend, and often tells you that someone like him doesn’t deserve someone like you. 

“your personalities clash too much!” your classmates would often say. and, while it was true that your personalities were the complete opposite—you wouldn’t say it clashed in the way they thought it did. your personalities actually fit perfectly together, as if they were the two missing pieces in a puzzle. 

and it’s not like your boyfriend is a complete tsundere, either. you believe that he is the sweetest person you’ve ever met in this lifetime, and just because he refuses to show much of his sweet side publicly shouldn’t mean anything. 

your classmates don’t have to know what happens after school-when you leave your last block of the day and go to the school gym to simply watch him practice, waiting for him to finish so the two of you could walk home together. 

your peers don’t have to know that everytime you enter the gym—whether you enter quietly or one of his teammates points your presence out—he starts to get flustered and his whole “tough” demeanour changes.

you often hear his friends teasing him for how whipped he was for you, and while he was in denial, everyone in the room knew that he really was in love. you knew that he was no matter what he said—you saw it in the way his gaze would soften, the way he would stop whatever he was doing just to chat with you, the way he would be so gentle with you compared to the way he would hit the volleyball with such strength and power. 

your boyfriend’s love spoke more through his actions, and it contrasts from his constant teasing remarks. he would offer you his jacket on chilly days without a word or a hint of hesitation, always made sure you had a seat right next to him on the bus, and never failing to remember your favorite snacks or daily cravings. he remembered the biggest and smallest details about you. 

so, at the end of the day, you don’t need to hear a constant “i love you” from him—because you know he loves you through his observant gestures. afterall, actions speak louder than words.

♡  akaashi keiji, tsukishima kei, rintarō suna, kageyama tobio, hajime iwaizumi, miya osamu + your favs 

[dearru]

the only exception ! | ft. hq boys

-> pairing: miya atsumu, suna rintarou, hinata shoyo x gn!reader | sfw | cw: quick blurbs! | mlist 

-> synopsis: you’re the only one who can get your boyfriend to do certain things. 

₊˚ෆ MIYA ATSUMU dislikes people cheering while he serves. His infamous topspins and floaters are renowned in the volleyball world– for good reason. To stake his control over the court, he refuses any distractions, and he silences the crowd with one flick of his wrist. He’s been known to give death glares to anybody, even his own fans, who disobey his command for quiet. 

So when you, his newly minted significant other, shatter the careful still Atsumu has crafted by bellowing out his name in an otherwise silent stadium, gasps ripple through the stands. 

Atsumu’s teammates freeze, interest piqued at how he’d react. Sure, you’re dating now, but Atsumu’s a very harsh guy. Nobody would put it past him to scold you on the spot. The ball bounces against the court once, twice, and then three times, like a ticking bomb. The crowd shifts uncomfortably, waiting for his anger to explode.

It never comes. 

Instead, he serves the ball as normal. It’s an ace. And when it’s over, he looks at you with a knowing grin of appreciation instead of his usual glare. 

Atsumu hates the shrill sound of cheers when he’s about to serve, but he’s come to find that if it’s yours– he doesn’t quite mind. 

₊˚ෆ SUNA RINTAROU is a generally expressionless guy. It’s gotten him into trouble more times than he can count.

When he sprained his ankle in middle school, he barely winced. When his little sister was born, he yawned. When he landed his first spike as a professional athlete, he hummed.

No matter the scenario, a disinterested look is permanently etched into his features. (The only exception is the upturn of his lips when he sees his friends doing something particularly idiotic.) 

It’s not that he doesn’t care– it’s just how he is. This is a truth that all those close to Rintarou have come to understand. 

This truth is why, when he introduces you to his loved ones for the first time, they’re stunned. They’re shocked when they see the bright red his face burns after you give him a kiss on the cheek. They’re floored by the smile that possesses his lips as he steals glances at you from across the room. They’re surprised by the look of absolute adoration in his eyes whenever you do really anything. 

Rintarou’s always been difficult to read, but for you, he’s feelings are entirely transparent.  

₊˚ෆ HINATA SHOYO always stays late to practice. Being the dedicated player that he is, he will train until his legs shake and his breath gives out. His teammates know never to approach him when he’s in his groove; otherwise, he’ll find a way to coax them into another round of drills. He’s an immovable force, immune to persuasion, and entirely impossible to convince to slow down.

“Leaving early” is not in his vocabulary. 

So when, one day, his teammates see him trek into the locker room before the sun has even set, they worry he’s gone ill. 

But when Shoyo reassures them, with a bright smile, that he’s just leaving early to meet with you, the new person he’s been seeing, for dinner– his teammates think he’s lost his mind. Their expressions of concern morph into ones of complete disbelief. 

What curse have you placed on the rigid player to compel him to act in such an uncharacteristic way? Have you threatened his family? Are you blackmailing him? 

The answer is none of the above. 

Shoyo doesn’t stay late to practice out of obligation. He does it because he adores what he does. There’s nowhere else he’d rather be than on the court.

But recently, he’s come to discover that there’s one place he loves being just a smidge more. 

With you. 

–a/n: just smth quick i wrote to procrastinate studying! LMAO

shoyo tag: @cherrysurf

[fatherbrat]

TELL ME AGAIN, R. SUNA

sum. sequel to one last time. you visit suna after listening to the voicenote he sent you, just to talk, and end up doing a little more than that.

feat. rintaro suna

cw. cheating/infidelity, suna really got on my nerves while i was writing this and he'll probably get on yours too, arguing, choking (m. receiving), edging, cunnilingus, a little manhandling kinda, missionary, multiple instances of "i miss/ed you"

wc. 2k

Suna tries his best to keep the shit-eating grin off his face when you text him to ask if he’s home. 

He knew that voice message would get you. There was a tiny voice in his head that told him it would be a monumental embarrassment if you didn’t, but it was drowned out by all the other voices in his head telling him to send, send, send, send.

His stomach turns with anticipation. He doesn’t even answer your question, just orders an Uber and sends you the car make and model and how long it will take to get to your apartment. 6 minutes. And then 12 minutes from yours to his. 

He fishes out the fancy santal candle he knows you like from beneath the bathroom sink and lights it in his bedroom. Then he brushes his teeth and puts some music on and waits.

He jumps when the doorbell rings.

There’s a moment of silence when he opens the door, the two of you just looking at each other. It hits Suna that this is the first time he’s seen you in person in months. He used to see you everyday. There's a part of his chest that seems to ache at the realization. He ignores it.

“Hi,” you breathe.

He blinks once. Twice. “Hey.” He opens the door a little wider and shifts to the side so you can come in.

You take one step closer and then stop, eyeing him with unjust suspicion. “I didn’t come over here to fuck you.”

Suna takes one look at your outfit—shorts that are definitely too short to be comfortable in this chilly fall weather and a sweatshirt he’s pretty sure is his—and knows you’re lying. He doesn’t call you out, just grins and shrugs and ushers you inside anyway. 

You lean against the kitchen counter to survey the living room, pleased to see that it looks exactly the same as the last time you were here. Suna’s still standing by the door when you look at him again, arms crossed.

“So why’d you come over?” he asks.

It’s your turn to shrug. “You said you missed me.”

“Did I?”

You give him a sideways look. “You did.” You drag out the two words, nodding slowly and widening your eyes as if you’re speaking to a child.

Suna tilts his head to the side, smiling a little. “What else did I say?”

Oh lord. You should’ve known he’d be annoying about it. You shift your gaze up to the ceiling, pretending to struggle to remember even though you listened to his message several times, including once on the car ride over. 

“You said you weren’t happy for me…which is pretty fucked up.”

Suna just rolls his eyes. “What else?”

Eyes on the ceiling again. “You said you liked my Halloween costume. And that if I had sex with you it wouldn’t count as cheating because I haven’t been with him that long.” You put air quotes around his claim, sliding your eyes back down to meet his.

He’s standing closer to you now than he was a minute ago, looking like he’s holding back a laugh. “Now that part’s fucked up. Where is the boyfriend, by the way?”

You make a face and look at the time on the microwave. “Probably home. Probably asleep.”

“Yeah? How’s he doing?” He closes what’s left of the gap between you and tugs on the drawstring of your (his) sweatshirt to even out both ends.

“Fine…” you whisper, breath hitching when his hand brushes your ear on the way to your hoodie.

He hums after fixing the string and walks towards his bedroom, tapping your bare thigh as he passes you as a silent cue to follow.

You realize that he doesn’t believe your intentions for coming over are pure, which is true, but you don’t like that he didn’t even pretend to believe you. 

You follow his lead anyway, resting your head against the doorframe and watching him fish his phone out of his pocket and dump it on his desk. He sits on the edge of the bed and looks over at you with his eyebrows raised.

“I told you I just came over here to talk,” you snap.

Suna’s response is automatic. “No, you said you didn’t come over here to fuck.”

“Rin.”

He puts his hands up in mock surrender. “Sorry.” He leans forward, setting his elbows on his knees and his hands beneath his chin. “Alright. Talk.”

“You’re so fucking annoying,” you mutter. “I shouldn’t have come.” You twist your foot to turn around and immediately hear the bed creak with relief. Suna wraps his hand around your wrist before you can fully turn your back.

“Wait, I’m sorry,” he says. “Stay. Please?”

He sounds like he’s begging. He looks like he’s begging, with his slumped shoulders and pleading eyes and desperation written all over his pretty face. 

It’s not enough. 

“My boyfriend doesn’t taunt me like this, you know,” you tell him, indignant.

Suna’s grip on your arms loosens as his face falls a bit.

You continue. “He’s actually nice to me. And he’s romantic. Treats me like royalty.”

You watch Suna’s jaw tick. His hand returns to his side. “He’s boring.”

“He’s steady.”

Suna’s tone grows terse. “Dull. Stale. Bland. Vanilla.”

“Stable and secure and safe.”

Suna snorts. “Safe,” he repeats, sarcastic. “I seriously don’t get how you can date him.” 

“Because he’s my boyfriend who I love and not just some guy I used to fuck when I was lonely.”

It’s a low blow. You and Suna were friends long before the benefits came along. Good friends. Close friends.

If he’s offended he doesn’t show it, just latches on to the first part of your sentence. “You don’t love him.”

He’s right. “You’re wrong.”

“Really? Why are you here then?” He narrows his eyes. “And don’t say it’s because I said I missed you.”

You’re not sure when you started taking steps forward, or when Suna started moving backwards, but his calves hit the edge of the bed and suddenly he’s sitting again, looking up at you with that infuriating self-righteousness that makes your eye twitch.

And then your hand is squeezing his throat and your lips are on his and you’re straddling him and moaning into his mouth.

You feel him start to smile against you before he pulls away. 

He opens his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it. “Don’t fucking say anything,” you tell him, before tugging his face towards you neck. 

You can tell Suna’s still smiling, but he obeys, sucking the tender spot right above your collarbone without another word. His hands find the bottom of your sweatshirt and he pulls it up. 

His lips leave your skin and your hand leaves his neck so you can take your arms out of the sleeves and he can yank it over your head and drop it on the floor. Then he rests his hands on your hips and just looks at you. 

Goosebumps dance across your shoulders and arms. Suna wants to comment on how you're not wearing a bra but he doesn’t, just continues to stare. 

“What?” you ask.

He takes in the sight of you on top of him, the rise and fall of your chest—quicker than normal, a side effect of him riling you up. He revels in the weight of you on his legs and tries to recall the last time you had him beneath you like this. Your birthday? His birthday? Or maybe it was that time he tried to cheer you up after you got laid off. Either way, it’s been a long time and he hates to think about how you’ve probably been doing this with your boyfriend instead of him.

He can’t help himself. “You straddle the boyfriend like this?”

You huff and press your palm to his chest, shoving him onto his back. Your face hovers over his. “What are you gonna do if I say yes?”

Suna studies your face and puts his hands around your waist and beams. It’s the only signal you get before he flips you, putting your head on a pillow and taking his own shirt off before he drops it on the ground somewhere near your hoodie.

You prop yourself up on your elbows, glancing at the hard outline growing in his sweats as you trail your fingertips up his thigh. He leans into you and rests his forehead against yours. 

“I missed you,” he says softly. 

Your heart beats at a concerning speed. “I know.”

He gets up from the bed and snaps the waistband of your shorts before telling you to take them off and removing the rest of his own clothes. When he crouches over you again, you place the sole of your foot flat against him and tut. 

“You also said you’d do that thing I like with your tongue.”

Again, Suna chooses not to comment. He wonders how many times you listened to the message, because it’s sounding like more than once, more than a couple. He grabs your ankles and drags you down the bed, forcing a giggle out of your throat before he plants his head between your legs. 

He circles your clit, avoiding making contact with it directly and making teasing strokes with his fingers until you’re panting and quivering and making shaky demands for him to let you come on his tongue. When he does, you scream his name. 

“Music to my fucking ears,” he says under his breath, licking your slick off his lips. “You scream this loud for him too?”

You can't believe you forgot how aggravating he is. “Shut up and fuck me.”

He looks so smug. You start to think that the desperation from before was too short-lived, until he’s inside you and you’re filled with him and that familiar need that makes you wrap your legs around him and claw at his back.

All you can think about is how you miss him and you missed this, and you’re telling him to fuck you harder, and then his mouth is right below your ear and his hair is tickling your cheek and a stream of yes’s and Rin’s are tumbling out of your mouth like dominoes and youre trying to pull him impossibly closer and youre so surrounded by him that its dizzying and youre whispering i miss you in his ear and hoping it doesnt sound like i love you and hes saying i miss you too and youre wondering if he really means i love you too and then youre biting into his shoulder and—  

You lose count of how many times you come. Both of you do. The two of you are coated in sweat, laying on damp sheets in a room that now smells like sex and sandalwood. Neither of you speak, busy catching your breath and being lost in thought. You don’t want to say anything, afraid you’ll break the spell.

You didn’t have to worry about that, though, because you hear your phone ping loudly and realize it’s on the floor, still tucked away in the front pocket of your sweatshirt. Suna turns his head towards you.

“You should break up with him.”

You raise an eyebrow at the seriousness in his voice and sigh. “I know.”

“Today.”

A pause. “Okay.”

There’s another moment where none of you speak. And then–

“You should date me instead.”

You turn to face him and the earnestness in his expression catches you so off guard you have to look away again. It’s not that you never expected him to bring it up, you just hadn't expected him to sound so sincere when he did.

You had toyed with the idea before, a handful of times even, but everything between you two was so easy—why would you mess it up with a what are we? conversation? Although, you suppose you messed it up anyway by getting a boyfriend and ditching Suna without warning.

It takes you a long time to respond, long enough that Suna starts to game plan an exit strategy, but then you meet his gaze again.

“Okay.”

[bowtiepasta]

it’s not that suna wants to fight this guy in the middle of a grocery store. It’s just that he has no choice.

what reasonable excuse could he possibly have for following you around and plucking things off of high shelves before you can even ask? for wordlessly reaching past you to grab the exact brand of cereal you always get, as if he already knows?

even though suna was perfectly fine grabbing those for you himself, thank you very much. even though he was already standing right there, entirely capable, with half a mind to sock him right in the nose.

and yet, there he is again: reaching for the pasta, handing you a carton of oat milk, hovering just close enough that suna can hear his stupid little chuckle every time you murmur a soft “thanks.”

even though suna is the one who drove you here. even though he’s the one who actually knows what you like and doesn’t need to kiss ass about it. even though he has spent this entire trip strategically standing behind you to make sure no one else gets the chance to.

and fine. maybe he wouldn’t be this pissed if you weren’t entertaining it. if you weren’t just letting this guy play grocery store knight in shining armor like you actually needed his help.

and it doesn’t matter that the guy has a stupid little badge with the store logo and employee of the month printed right beneath his name, suna still wants to knock him straight out in aisle seven.

but either way, suna keeps himself in check. especially since he’s wearing the stupid little t-shirt you bought him, boyfriend of the year printed in big white letters.

[noorpersona]

Favourite Positions: Suna

Suna Rintaro was patient. Too patient.

He liked to take his time, to watch, learn, memorize—every reaction, every sharp inhale, every way your body responded to his touch. He was never in a rush. Never let his ego get ahead of him. But this?

This was new.

You were pinned beneath him, legs hooked around his waist, your body shaking as he pushed into you—deep, slow, relentless. His hands were firm against your thighs, keeping you open, keeping you exactly where he wanted. The feeling of your warmth wrapped so tight around him sent a slow, burning pleasure through his spine, but what really had him losing his mind was you.

The way your breath stuttered every time he rolled his hips. The way your nails scraped at his arms, your legs twitching as he stretched you out. The way you gasped his name like it was the only word you knew.

And then it happened.

The moment he angled his hips just right, just deep enough to press against that sweet spot—

Your breath hitched—

Your entire body tensed—

And then, you came.

Fast. Hard. Too hard.

Suna felt it, the way your walls squeezed him tight, the way your legs locked up, a choked cry breaking past your lips. The way your hands clawed at his back, searching for anything to hold onto as you shattered underneath him.

He stilled—just for a second—his sharp eyes flicking up to watch you completely fall apart beneath him.

Oh.

Oh, yeah. This was it.

A slow, wicked smirk stretched across his lips. He liked that.

"Didn’t even last a minute," he murmured, voice low, teasing, smug.

You barely registered his words, your body limp, your mind foggy with the aftershocks. But Suna wasn’t done.

He let you catch your breath for a second, his hands rubbing slow, lazy circles over your thighs. But then—

He pressed his weight into you, rolling his hips again—deeper, slower this time, dragging out the pleasure until you gasped, your body twitching from oversensitivity. And he felt it. The way you clenched involuntarily, still on edge, still sensitive.

"Oh?" His grip on your thighs tightened, his smirk deepening as his voice dipped into something darker, lower. “Still sensitive?”

A deep chuckle rumbled in his chest as you whimpered, your nails digging into his arms. He was going to have fun with this.

One of his hands left your thigh, sliding up the length of your body—slow, teasing, purposeful—before wrapping around your throat, his thumb brushing over your pulse. His mouth hovered just above yours, his breath warm, teasing, his words coated in amusement.

"That was too fast, baby," he murmured, tilting his head slightly, watching your dazed expression with something like satisfaction. "Guess that means this is my new favorite."

His thumb pressed against your jaw, tilting your face up toward him. His dark, lidded gaze roamed over your features, soaking in the flush on your cheeks, the parted lips, the way your chest heaved. You were wrecked. And that made something primal twist in his stomach. He wanted to see it again.

So he moved.

Slow. Deep. Unrelenting.

The pace was different this time—no teasing, no holding back. He wanted to feel you come apart again. Wanted to feel your walls flutter around him, to watch you drown in the sensation. He wanted to chase that reaction again and again until it was burned into him.

"Too much?" he mused, his voice dripping with false innocence as his thrusts got sharper, pushing you right back toward that edge.

Your response was lost between a gasp and a moan, and Suna grinned.

"Nah, I think you can take it," he murmured. "You were made for this, weren't you?"

You barely had time to process his words before he angled his hips just right again— and that coil in your stomach snapped.

Your head tilted back, a cry tearing from your lips as pleasure flooded through you, crashing over you even harder than the first time.

Suna groaned, feeling your body clamp down around him, squeezing him so tight that his rhythm stuttered for half a second. His grip on your throat loosened, his hand sliding down to grasp at your waist instead, holding you steady as you shook beneath him.

"Fuck," he muttered, watching the way your body trembled, the way your fingers scrambled at the sheets. He let his hips slow, dragging out your high, letting you feel every second of it.

And when you finally collapsed, boneless and wrecked beyond belief, Suna pressed a kiss to your jaw, his smirk returning as he murmured—

"Yeah... definitely my favourite."