sunaily

[sunaily]

my favorite suna smut has been deleted 😭 I cri 💔

[sunaily]

—𝗛𝗔𝗧𝗘 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗔 𝗥𝗜𝗡𝗔𝗧𝗢𝗥𝗨

paring - Suna Rinatoru x black!reader warnings - indecent language, suggestive innuendos, fluff, enemies to lovers (?), not proofread

You hate Suna Rinatoru.

Hate his cute fucking smile, hate his guts, hate his sexy ass physique, his voice, his face—You hate Suna Rinatoru. And you openly showed that and reminded him that you despised him everyday.

It was the norm. He always had to find someway and somehow to piss you off, grinning like a cheshire cat when you would cuss him out about how much off a pain in the ass he was. And everyday it was the same thing,

everyday, he would wait at the front gate just to make snarky remarks on your appereance

everyday he would sit behind you in history toying with you hair with a grin and whispering annoying shit in your ears

everyday he would sit at your lunch table stealing the food from your bento box, and drink from your water

everyday he would purposely miss out on his sets just to flirt with you, knowing how fucking annoying it was to you.

Everyday this cycle would repeat, except today.

Today he stood by the gate with a girl not even blinking at you, which made you a bit confused but you quickly rejoiced over the fact. Today he sat behind you in history but didn't fuck with your hair or say annoying things in your ear, instead he doodled in his book. Today he didn't sit with you at lunch or steal your food, instead he s𝖺𝗍 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗌,

it was fine.

You couldn't care less, in fact you were so overjoyed with the fact that he wasn't bothering you anymore and that sinking feeling in your stomach was just hungriness, yeah that's right-

a sudden slam against your table breaked you out of your thoughts, startling you. With wide eyes you looked up at the culprit—well culprits a deep sigh leaving your lips at the sight of the two familiar twins.

"Miya's—"

Atsumu cut you off with a scoff, rolling his eyes dramatically whilst his brother nodded at you in greeting, "Oh don't 'Miya' us—ow samu?!"

Scowling down at his twin, the sliver haired boy sucked his teeth, "Ya bein too, loud idiot." Atsumu huffed at his brothers reasoning rubbing the spot where he got hit while you watched half amused.

Sighing while shaking your head you looked between the two, "You two need something, im in the middle of eating her—" you started, gesturing to your food before cutting off as they began to seat thereselves around your table. Biting your glossed lips you blinked rapidly, opening your mouth to speak only to get cut off by atsumu "What's goin on between you and Sunarin? You two aint been at eachothers throat and ts' freaking me out."

You paused staring blankly at the faux blonde before scoffing, "There isn't anything going on, i guess he just decided to mature for once."

The two twins shared a look before simultaneously looking at you, deciding to go with your unconvincing words.

"If ya say so."

-

Suna Rinatoru has been acting weird. He hasn't messed with for a week now, and anyone could tell that he wasn't putting much effort in his sets like he usually did.

Not that you care but it was your job as a manager to make sure the players were in a good state, it was for sure (?)

so you decided that when everyone leaving you would see what the issue was.

"Suna." The green eyed boy rose his head to look at you, his gaze running up and down your figure as you stood infront of him, a water bottle in his mouth so he didn't reply immediately.

"Y/n?" you ignored the way the hairs on your neck at the way your named rolled off his tongue, biting your lip as you held his gaze before clearing your throat and looking at the spot next to him, "I..."

he hummed at you, waiting or you to continue what you were going to say, licking your lips you stood up straighter, meeting Suna's gaze again. "I just wanted to say, that...that I noticed you haven't been focusing in practise amd you haven't been acting like your normal self so i wanted to see--"

Suna slowly grinned at yours words, standing up causing you to cut off your words, swallowing as he towered over you heat riaing to your cheeks as the seconds passed by. your breath hitched as he leaned down to you getting all up in your face.

licking your lips nervously you tried to keep a nonchalant facade as you felt his cool breath against your lips, avoding his eyes while biting the inside of your cheek. "Aww, does the princess care about lil ole me?" your plump lips turned down into a flustered snarl as you inhaled deeply, shaking your head while clenching your fists at your side.

"I...i don't have time for this, get your shit 𝗌𝗈𝗋𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗎𝗍." you mumbled, moving to walk away from him only to yelp as you felt him grab you wrist pulling you into him. you exhaled shakily as you felt him hold your cheek, hoping he couldn't feel hot it was from you being flustered.

His lips pulling into a smirk as he pulled you closer forcing you to meet his eyes, "I've been feeling a little down lately, how bout you make me feel better by putting these pretty lips i love so much to use, yeah?"

God did you hate suna rinatoru.

𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐞ᵗᵐ

[sunaily]

SO CUTE WTH

[my first task!] ft. miya atsumu

synopsis: inspired by the series, Old Enough? basically, in Japan, it's common practice to entrust a toddler an errand to perform all by themselves, such as fetching something from the store. sometimes, in a small village or closely knit neighborhood, all the shopkeepers and neighborhood residents are aware of when the toddler will be out and all work together to watch over them and guide them.

wc: 2.6k

“Are ya sure she has to do this today?”

“‘Tsumu, we’ve already done all the preparation. Let’s just let her try, hm?” 

He grumbles, but moves to his assigned location at the dining table, where your daughter is already sitting, swinging her legs in anticipation of her favorite Omurice lunch. 

You bring the plates of food over to the table and set one down at each of your seats. You give Atsumu a pointed look which he ignores. You clear your throat and give him a hard nudge. 

“Ow,” he complains. He gives you one last pleading look which you leave unanswered. 

He sighs and recites his scripted lines. “Oh honey, what about the ketchup drawings?” he asks you in monotone. 

You tap a finger at your chin, looking up at the ceiling to feign deep thought. “Oh no! I think we ran out of ketchup!” You bring a palm up to cover your mouth, gaping open in dismay. 

“No ketchup drawing? How can I possibly eat Omurice without the ketchup drawing?” 

“Oh no,” you turn to your daughter. “We can’t have Omurice without ketchup can we?” 

“No, we can’t!” your daughter exclaims. 

“Well baby, do you think you can go to the store and get some ketchup for us? Just like how you do it when you go with Mommy.” 

Her eyes sparkle with excitement at the prospect of going out. “Me?” 

“Yep, Daddy and I are so busy, we can’t go. Can we rely on you?” 

“Sure!” she chirps. 

So a few short moments later, you and Atsumu have strapped her little purse on her torso, containing just enough coins to purchase a bottle of ketchup and a card with your phone number on it, just in case. Atsumu laces her shoes up and gives her a kiss on the cheek. You think you see his eyes misting over. 

You speak up. “Just to the store we always go to, okay? Mommy’s counting on you!” This was supposed to have been Atsumu’s line, but you can tell that the dam is about to burst so you help him out.

“You’ll do great,” he chokes out. “I’ll see you when you come home with ketchup so Daddy can have his Omurice. Okay?” 

She nods, enthusiastic and completely unaware of Atsumu’s turmoil. With that, she’s out the door and Atsumu barely waits one minute before he’s following, sticking to his own plan to trail her on her first errand. 

~

The route has been prepped ahead of time. All the neighbors and the local store owners have been informed of your daughter’s first errand to ensure her success. In addition, all of Atsumu’s teammates, old and new, showed up to guide her along. 

So as Atsumu trails behind her toddling figure, hiding comically behind fences and walls, there’s really no need for him to intervene. 

She first passess the local cafe, where Bokuto, Hinata, and Sakusa sit at a table strategically located by the open window facing the sidewalk. As she walks by, she recognizes them instantly, straying from her path to the store. Bokuto sits her on his lap while Hinata listens to her babble and Sakusa buys her an apple juice. After a couple minutes of chatting, Sakusa gently pats her and asks, “so why are you out here by yourself?” 

“Oh!” she clammors out of Bokuto’s arms, suddenly remembering that she was supposed to be out on a mission. “I’m going to the store to buy ketchup for Mommy and Daddy. They’re counting on me.” 

Hinata nods profusely. “You better be off then!”

“You should finish your juice first, though. Adults don’t waste food,” Sakusa tells her. 

She nods, happy to sip the remaining juice from the cup, then sets on her way afoot. 

The trio at the cafe watch her go, shaking their heads when they notice their setter conspicuously following close behind. 

~

Next is Onigiri Miya. 

Well, technically, next was supposed to be the florist on the main street, but the little Miya had seen the street that Onigiri Miya is on and took the turn out of habit. But no matter – you and Atsumu had foreseen this, so a team is at the ready there too. 

Suna sits at the counter seat closest to the door to keep watch. When he sees her rounding the corner, he signals Osamu who comes out from behind the counter to greet her at the door. 

“Heya, baby,” picking up her easily when she runs into her Uncle’s arms. 

“Hi Uncle ‘Samu! Hi Rin-chan!” She greets Suna over Osamu’s shoulder. 

Suna grins, “hey stink.” 

“‘M not stinky!” 

Osamu carries her into the restaurant and deposits her on the counter seat next to Suna’s. He rounds back into the kitchen where he begins shaping a miniature version of her favorite onigiri. She kicks her feet, completely at ease in the restaurant and blissfully forgetful of her task at hand. When the plate is deposited in front of her, she chirps out a quick thank you before digging in. 

After chatting Suna up for a bit, Osamu finally cuts in. 

“So, what are ya doing out here all by yourself?” 

“Dunno!” she giggles. 

Suna coughs a bit, giving Osamu a look which Osamu returns pointedly. 

“Soooo… you decided to have lunch here without your dad and mom?” 

She ponders this for a bit, before lighting up. “Oh yeah! Mommy made Omurice but Daddy forgot to buy the ketchup so I’m here to get it.” 

Osamu’s eyes widen comically. “All by yourself?” 

She nods sagely. “‘M a big girl now. Mommy is countin’ on me.” 

“Well, ya better get going then. Yer silly dad will be waitin’ for ya.” 

She agrees, hopping her to her feet. The two follow her to the door to see her off, holding the door open for her walk through. She gets halfway back the way she came when she turns around and grins toothily at the two. 

“Thanks for the onigiri, uncle! Love ya!” 

Osamu smiles and waves her off. Behind him, Suna holds out his phone, pointing the camera at the little girl’s retreating back, making sure to focus on the suspicious figure donning sunglasses, a mask, and MSBY jackals baseball cap tailing her. He sends it to the group chat warning the next team to watch out for a stalker. 

~ 

Your daughter finds her way back to the intersection on the main road. She needs to take a left to continue her route to the supermarket. As she stands at the crossroads, she frowns, not quite remembering where she needs to go. She takes a right. 

There, she bumps into the legs of Kageyama and Hoshiumi who are stationed at the intersection. 

“Sorry,” she starts, craning her neck to get a better look at her obstacles. 

“No worries,” Kageyama says, taking a step back. 

Hoshiumi then strikes up a conversation with Kageyama, reading out the practiced lines. 

“Hey, we need to go to the supermarket right?”

Your daughter’s ears perk up at that.

“Yeah. It’s that – ” Kageyama points dramatically “– way.” 

“Ohhhh, I see,” Hoshiumi puts a hand up to theatrically mimic covering his eyes from the sun and squints the way Kageyama is pointing. 

Your daughter nods to herself at that and turns around to walk in the correct direction this time. 

When she gets far enough away, Hoshiumi shows Kageyama the text in the group chat. 

“Stalker?” Kageyama reads, scrunching his face. “Should we –”

“Nah,” Hoshiumi cuts him off and points at the stalker in question, going the same way the little girl just went.

“Ah.” Tobio understands, noticing the peek of dyed blond hair from under the baseball cap. 

~

At last, she arrives at the grocery store. This is familiar ground, so she wanders into the store and meanders the aisles, getting distracted by the array of colors in the snack section. She’s running her hands along all the biscuit options, contemplating how she can fit all the items she wants in her two hands when she hears someone clear their throat from above her. 

This time, it’s Aran who waves a gentle hello to her. 

“Aran-kun!” she exclaims, forgetting about the snacks and running up to hug his legs. 

He chuckles and pats her head. 

“Hi there. Are ya looking for something in particular?” 

Once again, she thinks. She’s sure there must be a reason she’s in the store but can’t quite remember. 

“I think so?” 

“Hm, okay. Wanna go shopping with me until you remember what yer looking for?” 

“M’kay!”

She grabs Aran’s hand and swings them as he guides her to the aisle with the condiments. There, she inspects the colorful array of sauces, eyes sparkling. Aran pretends to look for his own items, hovering a hand over the ketchup bottles and waving his fingers in the general area until she remembers. Her eyes hone in on the red bottle and she remembers her poor father, still unable to eat his lunch without ketchup. 

“Aran-kun! I’m here for ketchup!” 

“‘That so? Well, here ya go, then.” He picks up the bottle of the brand he knows you use and plops it right into her hands. 

“Not this one,” she shakes her head. “Mommy wants that one.” 

She points at the bottle next to the one Aran grabbed. They’re identical. 

Unbothered, Aran switches out the bottle in her hands with the one she wants. “Sorry ‘bout that. All good now?” 

“Yep!” 

“Ready to go check out, then?” 

She nods. He continues to walk her to the registers. Once the lines are in sight, she lets go of his fingers and darts over to the nearest line. But not before bowing a polite thank you to Aran. 

At the register, she greets the attendant watching him scan the bottle and showing her the total amount owed. 

“That’ll be 200 yen.” 

She reaches into her purse and pours out all the coins onto the counter, not entirely sure what she needs to offer. The cashier picks out a few coins and deposits the rest back into her coin purse, allowing her to tuck the coin purse back into her bag and zip the purse securely before asking if she wants a bag. 

“Yes, please!” 

With a plastic baggie in hand, she makes her way to the exit. Aran catches her before and tucks a small box of pocky into her bag, pushing a finger to his lips and winking at her. “Keep it a secret from yer mom. Get home safe!” 

She mimics his gesture and nods. With one last bear hug to Aran’s legs, she’s off. 

~

Outside the store, Kita waits for her. She spots his white hair easily. Of all her uncles (excluding Osamu, of course), Kita is her favorite. She runs over to him, bag swinging carelessly behind her. Kita catches her and gives her a little spin before setting her back on the ground. 

“Hiya, Uncle Shin!” 

“Hey there. What’cha got in there?” he asks, pointing at the bag. 

“Ketchup! Daddy forgot to buy more and he can’t eat Omurice without it, so Mommy’s countin’ on me to get it.” 

Kita rests a hand on her head. “That’s real impressive of ya, to come to the store to get it all by yourself.” 

She glows in his praise, rare but genuine. 

“Going home now, Uncle Shin.” 

“Alright,” he responds. “I need something from that way, so I’ll walk ya part ways.” 

She beams and follows Kita in the direction of your home. 

“Uncle Shin?”

“Yeah, bug?” 

“Can I eat my pocky? Aran-kun bought it for me.” 

He crouches down to her eye level. “Can I have some?” he asks seriously. 

“Yeah!” 

“Then, alright. But let’s go sit down at that bench over there, okay? It’s rude to eat and walk.” 

“Okay!” 

So the two take a detour, sitting at the bench to watch the birds hobble by while sharing the box of strawberry pocky. A certain stalker watches in envy from behind the trees. 

Once the box is depleted, Kita wipes her fingers down with some wet wipes he keeps in his pocket and tosses out the trash. They continue on their way, Kita sticking with her until they pass the confusing intersection (where Kageyama and Hoshiumi bow slightly at the sight of Kita) and the cafe (where the MSBY trio nod in acknowledgement). 

When the house is only a couple more feet away, Kita once again crouches down. “Alright, I gotta go my own way from here. Do ya think ya can make it home all by yourself?” 

“Yep, thanks Uncle Shin!”

“Sure. I’m proud of ya, bug.” 

She squirms a bit, overwhelmed by the praise she gets from her favorite uncle. The ketchup bounces in its bag by her side as she skips all the way back home. 

~

After fishing out her own key and unlocking the front door, Atsumu is there to greet her at the genkan, scoping her up and squeezing her tight, the ketchup bag forgotten on the floor.

“There’s my girl!” 

“Daddy!” she laughs. 

“Welcome home,” you greet, tummy warming at the sight of your two Miyas. 

“Mommy!” she squirms in Atsumu’s arms signaling for him to let her down. He obliges and she picks up the plastic bag to wave in your face. “I got the ketchup! Now daddy can eat his lunch!” 

“Wow, great job! And all by yourself!” 

You usher her over to the table as she babbles about her day. 

“I saw Shoyo-chan, Bokkun, Omi-chan, Uncle ‘Samu, Rin-chan, Aran-kun, and Uncle Shin too!”

“Wow, sounds like you had a great day. Did you have fun?” 

“Yep!” 

Atsumu, who has since changed out of his stalker gear, slumps into his seat at the table, back to grumbling about his cold omurice and how it would’ve still been hot if he had quickly gone with his daughter to get it. 

You throw him a bone by asking your daughter, “Did you miss Daddy on your trip?”

“What do you mean?”

You almost choke out a laugh; kids are ruthless sometimes.

“Why would I miss Daddy? He was there the whole time.” 

Atsumu sputters. “What do ya mean? I was at home waiting for ya the whole time.” 

“Daddy’s a liar,” she whispers in your ear. “I saw him, but he was wearin’ some weird clothes. Like covering his face.” 

You break into a fit of giggles. “Your daddy’s really silly, isn’t he?”

Atsumu can hear everything. “Hey!”

“Daddy was following you because he was just a bit worried about you going by yourself. But he’s really proud of you. Right?” 

Atsumu rounds the table to crouch besides your daughter’s seat. “Yeah. But you did so well. I’m so proud of ya.” 

Her eyes light up at the praise. She throws her arms around his neck and wiggles in her seat a bit. 

“Well, great job and since you got the ketchup for us, all your favorite uncles can now join us for lunch too.” 

At that, each of today’s helpers emerge from the kitchen holding their own plates of Omurice, all undecorated. You figure it might be a good time to introduce her to Kageyama and Hoshiumi too, but she’s distracted by Kita and Osamu offering their omelets to her to decorate with the ketchup.

As she goes around the table and draws ketchup hearts and stars on each omelet, you wander over to Atsumu’s side whose eyes are getting watery again, watching her brag to each of them that the ketchup they’re about to eat is her ketchup. 

“What’s wrong, ‘Tsumu?” 

“Nothin,” he hastily swipes at his eyes. “‘M not crying.”

“I never said you were,” you say gently. You wind your arm around his waist and lean into him, rubbing circles into his back. His body closes around you instinctively. 

“She’s just growing up so fast, ya know.” 

“I know.” 

“Soon, she won’t need me – us – anymore.” 

“Aww, ‘Tsumu. Yeah, she’ll grow up but…” 

He looks at you when you trail off. 

You reach up to whisper in his ears. “We could always just make another one.”

[sunaily]

enemies to lovers ! #

☆ featuring. suna x manager!reader

part one ? maybe i’ll make a diff version but with tsukishima

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

SUNA RINTAROU -

suna loved teasing you. loved getting on your nerves. loved seeing the way you tried to keep your cool whenever you’d argue. he didn’t know why though- why those little reactions were so cute to him or why he felt butterflies in his stomach when you’d tape his fingers, or pass him a water-bottle or even just looking at his direction. he never understood why he felt like this if he hated you so much. well at least he swore he did.

when it was your first day at inarizaki, you’d already bumped into suna two times, the first time he didn’t mind but the second time, he could’ve sworn you were doing it on purpose. third time- he’s had enough. he confronted you about it but you couldn’t help but stick up for yourself- which only caused a verbal argument to occur.

that was just the first incident.. on your second week at inarizaki, you were told by your school guidance counselor that it was crucial for you to sign up for a club or extracurricular activity since it would look good for your college application. in agreement she listed many clubs, you chose the easiest- well what seemed to be the easiest- managing the boys volleyball club. that’s when you noticed the jackass you fought with a couple weeks ago.

throughout that whole practice you avoided him- and he avoided you, though he couldn’t stop but avert his eyes to you every now and then.

you seemed to be doing something right as their manager cause they accepted you right away. you should’ve seen it at the start how difficult it was to control these boys.

after months of being their manager- you’ve gotten pretty close to them, all of them. except one of course. suna rintarou. you couldn’t tell what you hated more, his stupid pussy bangs, his cocky grin, his big ego, or his stupid cute stupid face. 

you two constantly bickered and argued over such little things, him of course always trying to bring in flirting into it. you’d thought that maybe that was just his personality- he probably talks to every girl this way.

“maybe if you weren’t so lazy you wouldn’t be so tired right now and complaining about how you want to sleep!”

“well maybe if you weren’t such a controlling manager than i’d be able to rest!”

“well maybe if you shut up i could actually think right now instead of arguing with you!”

“maybe if you shut up than you could think better, i don’t know if you could actually think though especially with that peanut brain.!”

“fine i’ll shut up!”

“will you? or do you need help with that, cause i’ll gladly help shut you up.” he said smirking.

“god wipe that smirk off your face”.

he couldn’t help but smile. you were clearly flustered and didn’t know what to say so he just lightly chuckled and ran back to court.

now suna never realized he likes you. it took this poor boy months to realize he loves you. he first noticed it when you started popping up in his dreams, when you crossed his mind every night. when he started looking at the moon, and couldn’t stop thinking of you. that’s when he’s had enough.

it was late at night when you received a text, well not just one text, your entire phone was blowing up with messages, all from the same person.

“y/n wake up” is what spammed you inbox. when you opened the messages app to see who the 69 messages came from it was suna rintarou. you called him, “ughh what do you want” you said, groaning into the speaker. it was at least 3 am, what was he doing calling you this late? “open your window pretty.” was all he said.

so you did what he asked you. you rolled out of bed, looking in the mirror before doing anything, then you reached to your window, opening it. “suna?”, you asked, still yawning.

what was he doing climbing your window at 3 in the fucking morning?

“hey.” he looks tired, like he hasn’t slept at all this night.

“what.. are you doing here ?” you ask.

“y/n i like you. a lot. and i know it may not seem like it but i just can’t get you out of my head no matter what i do, and it’s just annoying. god you’re annoying, this is annoying. it’s annoying how much i like you, it’s annoying how many times you cross my mind, and it’s annoying how many times i’ve wished for this moment to happen, so here goes nothing. i like you.” suddenly it felt like the world stopped, like every living thing just held out its breath, and with a deep sigh he finally took a breath in.

you aren’t sure whether he’s joking or not, but hell you aren’t joking, “i like you too. a lot.” in a swift movement you tug on his shirt pulling in for a kiss. he pulls back, “i don’t think you know how long i’ve been waiting for this” he whispers. “shut up and kiss me, you loser.” was all you said.

[sunaily]

“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.

[sunaily]

It had to be done. The idea was planted in your brain, and it would not let go.

Despite the fact that in the many years you’ve know Rintaro, he’s taken plenty of naps, you took a vow to bother him at every prime opportunity, and how he hasn't learned that lesson is beyond you.

This, of course, would be no different.

Grabbing your phone, you prop it on the coffee table, you still it against a book before making your way to your boyfriend and admiring him briefly.

The hood connected to his sweatshirt hides his hair and forehead, eyelashes resting on his cheeks with pinky lips parted to let out the most subtle of snores out.

He looks so peaceful. So precious.

You sigh softly before quickly flicking your leg up and over his waist, straddling him before immediately hitting his chest- softly enough to not hurt in anyway, but plenty hard to wake him up. “Get up!” You command. “Now! God!” He sputters awake, brows pinched in the middle as he tries to cope with the sudden tackle of weight and the loud noise.

“Baby-! Please! What’s-“

“God, you’re so lazy!” You whine, using your thighs to bounce you up and down to further disturb him. “All you do is sleep! My husband is sooo lazy!”

“That’s not-“ he stops mid sentence before he looks at you, eyes wide before he gently grabs your waist to still you. He lets out a shaky breath, “what did you call me?”

“Nothing?” You scoff. “Why?”

“You…” he swallows thickly and blinks his eyes up at you, wide in adoration and shining with complete excitement. "Did you... just call me your husband...?"

You scoff, "like yeah, but don't change the subject!"

A massive grin spreads over his face, "baby... I'm gonna be your husband?"

"Yeah, but you kind of decide when that happens-" to make your point, you gesture to your bare finger. "So if you want the title, you'd better make some magic happen."

"I will," he beams, sinking his teeth into his lip, "like hearing you say it too much to wait."

You smile back down at him and lean down to be nose to nose with him, and he subtly puckers his lips out for a kiss. "Caught you in 4K, dickhead."

"Huh?" He asks. You sit up and point to the camera, where he rolls his eyes and groans in agony. “You’re such a turd,” he snickers, immediately squeezing your waist and sides. You scream and bat his hands away, to no avail. “No damn peace around here, always gotta deal with your shit."

"Rinnie!" You squeal, falling forward against his chest to try and squirm out of his grip. You pin his hands to your sides, and over your squeals you hear him scoff.

"Don't prank your boyfriend's like this; this is the punishment," he warns, relishing in your screams and writhing against him.

He decides then and there that it's time to go ring shopping. Because the idea of doing this with you for eternity is something he can't wait to make a reality.

[sunaily]

yall this is so fun

Miya Atsumu, Miya Osamu, and Suna Rintarou. From shared lunches and casual teasing to late-night heart-to-hearts, this is a slow-blooming story about friendship, growing pains, and the thin line between platonic and something more. Choose-Your-Own-Adventure!

📖 Episode 1 of 3 🎮 interactive fanfic "I Guess I Like You or Whatever" by Angelicx 🔗 link to play: https://glimmerfics.com/stories/d01aca5f-i-guess-i-like-you-or-whatever

[sunaily]

‎‎‎‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎‎‎ how the haikyuu boys like to receive affection

PHYSICAL TOUCH ノ love cannot be known unless it is tangible. the melding of two bodies like twining galaxies, kisses dusted like stars, a hunger for fusion, for something substantial, for presence. existing together, effortless, like an exhalation. the sinking of a mattress beside them, the solidity of an embrace, the soft prodding of a nose pressed into their back. “we belong to each other.” fingers intertwined, arms full and content, tracing loose circles into soft skin; bodies moulded to every dip and curve; holding on and never letting go. brushing a lock of hair out of their eyes, limbs heavy and tossed across them, fingers curled into shirts with laughter. “i know the shape of your joy under my hands.” love like palms cupping a face, framing a negative space to fill out who one is; love like safety; love like the intimate familiarity of home — the art of belonging.

SUGAWARA KOUSHI, suna rintaro, bokuto koutaro, KUROO TETSURO, nishinoya yu, matsukawa issei, atsumu miya, iwaizumi hajime 

ACTS OF SERVICE ノ the love of quiet observation — tangible in the plates of sliced fruit, bursts of colour arranged like silken petals blossoming in answer to the melody of dawning spring. do you see me? truly? warm folds of freshly scented laundry resting at the foot of their bed, or clothes ironed and hung and smoothed down with a soft touch. steam curling from a mug placed gently on the desk beside them. the weight of tender hands kneading love into their shoulders when the tension of their muscles elicits a grimace of pain at too sudden a movement. “i'll take care of you.” “it's rotten work.” “not to me; not if it's you.” a gift, slipped in conversation mindlessly many suns ago, now quietly offered. love in the subtle tailoring of a routine; love to lift the burden; love to fill in the gaps; love like a soothing balm smeared onto dry lips; love to make space for them to breathe — the selfless art of noticing, and doing.

yaku morisuke, SAKUSA KIYOOMI, daichi sawamura, kita shinsuke, kentaro kyotani (mad dog)

GIFT GIVING ノ palpable proofs; evidence of thought. to see you in beauty crafted by man or god — layers of interspersed colour slipping across a shell the colour of their eyes, the crackling of an autumn leaf drifting on a sigh to the embrace of the earth. “i thought of you.” flowers, buttons, tickets; mementos; memorabilia. to pay heed; to learn the contours of their soul. the jangle of a keychain, the creased pages of an album, a camera’s shutter. the feeling of being desired, the smile of being known, perhaps better than they know themselves. “i want to give you the world.” all expensive, for the cost is thought and care settled into the stitches of every second, a tapestry of sentiment, the pursuit of meaning. a passing mention pressed into their hands. a collection of rocks soaking in sunlight. the certainty of existing outside from themselves. “i see you in every sunrise.” love to take up space; love to be understood; love like footsteps on the shore — the art of being remembered.

shirabu kenjiro, KENMA KOZUME, semi eita, terushima yuji, LEV HAIBA, kunimi akira, suguru daisho

QUALITY TIME ノ moments in between. a knowing gaze, a soft exchange, the knowledge of presence. to have someone by their side. carving patterns into the flow of time to say, we were here (and so we will continue to be). “of course, if it's with you.” the dusting of flour on a kitchen counter, bread rising, legs swinging. a breath passing between two bodies. silence as an embrace rather than a chasm. gazes meeting and settling. hands intertwined, linking like puzzle pieces, fitting: the city, the beach, the house. “i want you around.” to be enough, as they are, where they are; to be longed for, however they are. a candlelit dinner, the draping folds of a white tablecloth; a parking lot and a crumpled napkin. the melody of woven laughter: late in the morning; early into the night. to have a space for themselves. love like a homecooked meal: natural, easy, rich; belonging. to be needed; to be wanted; to be missed — the art of being treasured.

tanaka ryunosuke, TSUKISHIMA KEI, aone takanobu, hinata shoyo, USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI, hanamaki takahiro

WORDS OF AFFIRMATION ノ the love of cadence — softer tones, adamant melodies. words like brushstrokes, a tender portrait: bursts of colour, the edges defined. “you mean so much to me.” a mellowed reassurance into the disquieted air, a soothing rhythm like tossed rose petals, alighting, adorning. a hand on their waist and a murmured compliment into their hair. foreheads resting against each other, gaze unbearably soft. “you're beautiful.” words weighted with meaning, contemplative: appraised and selected and arranged — a bouquet, scents rich and petals plump — yet the beauty of undecorated genuineness remains unparalleled. “you've done enough; you can rest, now.” the rhythm of their name like a promise. the assurance of the spaces they bloom within. to hear it, to know it's real, to be unburdened in the constant necessity of having to read between the lines. to spell it out. to be seen and appreciated — no, more; love reigning unafraid. to be secure in fragility; to give voice to the plain, clear, raw — the art of vulnerability.

yamaguchi tadashi, OIKAWA TOORU, komori motoya, azumane asahi, akaashi keiji, KAGEYAMA TOBIO, osamu miya

eid mubarak kul 3am wa antum bi khayr ! !

guess which love language i like to receive based on the way i wrote it...

these are my character interpretations but some belong to multiple & were very hard to place + thank you to alina, chloe, sahri && especially diya for your input

★ want to be added to a taglist? — @lizbix @ayatakanosstuff @alcyneus @stars4you777 @1-800reki @riniaras @s9mmer @livteracts @vorfreudevortex

[sunaily]

Summary : when Karasuno and Inarizaki hospitals are forced to merge, Karasuno’s fifth year residents are the least happy for it to happen. If it was only the merger though, you thought.

Pairing : Suna Rintarō x Miya fem!reader

Genre / tags : absolute mess, hospital AU, but more Grey’s Anatomy AU, because there is no medical accuracy in this, sexual themes, 18+ jokes, anything hospital related that might make you uncomfortable (blood, needles, you know the drill), attempt at humour

Status : completed

MEDICAL STAFF

whatever’s left of us | my fellow hooligans | +

SCRUB IN

protocol

▹ 01 : 119 MERGER

▹ 02 : ah shit, here we go again

▹ 03 : Miya, as in… ?

▹ 04 : charity work

▹ 05 : suck it up

▹ 06 : nice save

▹ 07 : my resident

▹ 08 : speaking of which

▹ 09 : little Miya

▹ 10 : quick and dirty

▹ 11 : adrenaline

▹ 12 : pump the breaks

▹ 13 : y/n’s crush case

▹ 14 : the beauty and mystery of the brain

▹ 15 : no questions asked

▹ 16 : go take care of your butts

▹ 17 : the don’ts of interning with Iwaizumi

▹ 18 : funny story

▹ 19 : I believe in you

▹ 20 : ya never cared

▹ 21 : five years later

▹ 22 : SERIOUSLY? SERIOUSLY??

▹ 23 : one minute hug

▹ 24 : kindly shut the fuck up

▹ 25 : FUCKING PANICKED

▹ 26 : sooner than expected

▹ 27 : you’re gonna be AMAZING

▹ 28 : catching up

▹ 29 : then, a burst of relief

▹ 30 : we have to save lives

END

TAGLIST CLOSED ‼️

© BOKUTOYAOYA 2021. do not repost, copy, modify or translate any of my works. do not claim any of my works as your own.

[sunaily]

orange peels. fluff. fem!reader. | not proofread.

where he peels you an orange and feeds you a slice.

♡ For all your favorite (emotionally-constipated) pro athletes.

more reads!

જ⁀🏐ᯓ⚽⋆⭒˚.⋆

You didn’t usually stop for videos like these.

Most of the time, you scrolled past them: overexposed couples doing challenges, sweet voiceovers layered over romantic theories that felt too curated, too perfect. 

But this one had caught you. Maybe it was the quiet tone, the simplicity. 

Or maybe it was just that the couch was warm, the apartment smelled faintly like his shampoo, and your heart was a little softer than usual.

So you didn’t scroll away.

The video was simple: “If he peels an orange for you without complaining, he loves you.”

You watched quietly as a girl explained that if someone peels an orange for you—unprompted, or even when asked—it means they love you because peeling oranges is annoying, messy, sticky. And people only do it for someone they really care about.

You watched it twice. The first time, thoughtful. The second time, your chest ached in a warm, slow way. 

Then you peeked over the top of your screen, eyes drifting toward the kitchen where he stood, fresh from a workout, hair damp at the nape of his neck, lazily sipping water like he hadn’t just run ten kilometers. 

The bowl of oranges on the counter caught your eye.

You hesitantly padded over and softly called out his name. 

He looked over with a quiet grunt—his usual hm, baby—that meant you had his attention.

You held up one of the oranges, almost sheepishly. “Can you… peel this for me?”

He blinked. “You can’t peel it yourself?”

You immediately regretted asking. “N-No—I mean, I can, I just… I saw this thing, and…”

You trailed off, your voice getting smaller, ashamed. 

But he didn’t press. He never did with you.

He set his water down without a word and walked over, gently plucking the orange from your hands. You watched him with wide eyes as he dug his thumb in and started peeling, long fingers curling around the fruit—slow, methodical, and entirely effortless. The peel comes off in one clean strip, juice clinging to his fingertips.

You bit your lip, trying to hide your flustered smile.

When he finished, he broke it into perfect wedges and pushed them toward you on a folded paper towel, eyes flicking up to yours.

“There.”

You stared at the fruit, then at him, heart fluttering.

“T-Thank you,” you whispered.

He stared at you for a second too long before picking up a slice, eyes still locked on yours.

“Open,” he said simply.

You blinked, lips parting in surprise. He didn’t usually do things like this, but something in his voice, gentle but firm, made you obey before you could even think to hesitate.

Your mouth opened just slightly, and he brought the slice to your lips with an ease that made your breath catch. He was close now, closer than before, the citrus slice bright between his fingers.

His free hand lingered at your jaw, fingers brushing against your cheek so softly it was barely a touch. He cupped your face, warm and steady, and used his thumb to press the orange gently past your lips.

You bit down, tasting the sweet burst of the fruit, then felt the pad of his thumb, featherlight, brushing the juice that had slipped at the corner of your mouth.

He didn’t pull away.

His fingers shifted, tracing the edge of your bottom lip like he was committing the shape of you to memory. His touch was careful, unhurried, like touching you was something he wanted to savor. 

You blinked up at him, mouth still full, lips sticky with sweetness. Your heart was pounding so hard it felt like he might hear it.

His voice dropped, low and quiet.

“You’ve got something here,” he said, thumb ghosting over the spot again.

You swallowed the fruit, your breath shaky. “You did that on purpose.”

His mouth quirked up, barely. “Maybe.”

His hand fell slowly, fingers deliberately brushing down your jaw like he didn’t want to let go just yet. “You’re too easy to fluster.”

“And you’re too—too…”

He kissed your forehead, a lingering press of the lips that utterly ruined your train of thought.

“Mm. Too what, pretty?”

You couldn’t even answer. Your whole face was burning.

He smirked, just a little. But there was a softness in his eyes, a kind of quiet affection that made you want to melt into him like he wasn’t just looking at you, but through you—past your shyness, your messy thoughts, and straight to the softest parts of you that only he seemed to touch without hurting.

This was different.

This was more.

You think there should be a new theory: “If he peels an orange for you without complaining… and feeds you the slice himself, his fingers brushing your lips like it’s the most natural thing in the world… he’s already yours… because there’s no doubt he'd peel you oranges for the rest of his life.”

This quiet, blunt, infuriatingly gentle boy who never said much, but always did the most—

He’s all in, completely and wholly.

[sunaily]

a/n; dedicated to all your girl dad boys, thank you for reading!

the princess, the prince, and their queen. fluff. fem!reader. | not proofread.

when babysitting your niece leads to a riveting conversation about princes... who adore their queens.

♡ For all your ("I tolerate kids... actually, never mind, I love them") favorites.

more reads!

જ⁀🏐ᯓ⚽⋆⭒˚.⋆🌌

The sink gurgles with the last suds of your cleanup, and the smell of vanilla still lingers from the cookie-baking chaos that just took over the kitchen—frosting everywhere, a trail of rainbow sprinkles from the counter to the fridge, and one very proud four-year-old who swore the purple pastel cookie was her “masterpiece.”

You peek around the corner into the living room to check on your niece, fully expecting to see her climbing all over the couch cushions or passed out in a sugar crash. 

Instead—

You stop dead in your tracks.

She’s nestled on his lap, her puffy tulle skirt sprawled out over his sweatpants, glitter clinging to the fabric like stardust. Her little arms are looped around his neck, cheek squished affectionately against his collarbone, and he’s got one steady arm curved around her back, fingers splayed protectively. 

She wriggles every few seconds—too many cookies, too much energy, too many thoughts tumbling out of her all at once. Her legs kick aimlessly against the side of the couch, occasionally knock into him with a soft thud, but he doesn’t flinch, doesn’t shift away. If anything, he leans in a little more, anchoring her with that quiet, steady presence of his.

“You’ve got sticky fingers,” he mutters under his breath, just loud enough for her to hear.

She only giggles, loud and delighted, and snuggles further into him. He doesn’t say much—he never really does—but his attention doesn’t waver for a second. He listens as she launches into an enthusiastic monologue about unicorn cakes and why dolls need their own WiFi.

Her hands flap dramatically mid-story, one bow drooping halfway off her head with the momentum. You step forward instinctively, but he’s already moving, effortlessly sliding her higher in his arms and reaching up to fix it. He smooths it with precise fingers, then pats it once for good measure. 

His hand doesn’t move after. Instead, it lingers softly as he brushes his knuckles along the side of her head. His fingers find the ends of one of her curls, one of those baby-soft spirals framing her cheek, and he absently twirls it around while she keeps talking, completely unfazed.

Your heart clenches, soft and sweet and too full all at once.

She’s mid-sentence about how 'mama promised me a pony named Sparkles’ when she suddenly stops. Her little hands grip the collar of his shirt, eyes wide with a new and very important idea.

“Are you a prince?” she asks, tilting her head. Her voice is as serious as a four-year-old can manage. “You look like a prince.”

He raises an eyebrow but doesn’t pull away from the curl still gently coiled around his finger.

“Nah, I don’t have a castle.”

“But you do have the hair,” she says, squinting at him, like she’s piecing together some very complicated fantasy lore. “And your face is always serious. Princes always look serious before they fall in love.”

You snort, covering your mouth with your hand. 

“You’ve been watching too many cartoons,” he says, deadpan.

She gasps. “So you are a prince!”

He stares at her for a long second. “Fine. I’ll be a prince.”

“Yay!” she squeals, bouncing a little in his arms.

“But only if you’re my princess,” he adds smoothly.

She gives him the brightest smile. “I am! I already am!”

“And my princess,” he murmurs, peering down at her frosting-smudged cheek, “should wipe her face before her royal duties, yeah?”

His thumb gently wipes the smear of frosting from her cheek, the pad of it slow and careful against her skin. She leans into his touch without a second thought, still grinning up at him like he also promised her a pony named Sparkles.

And he’s not even bothered, just glances at the smudge on his thumb and casually wipes the residue on the hem of his shirt because that’s just part of holding a sugar-sticky four-year-old in a poofy dress.

“What kind of prince are you?” she asks next. “Do you fight dragons or have a white horse or do magic or—”

“I sulk in castles and never smile. Very popular in certain kingdoms.”

Your niece giggles again, and he lets out the smallest huff of air, almost a laugh. 

“You’d be the sleepy kind of prince,” she declares, clearly deciding for him. “Like the ones who need kisses to wake up… like the prince version of Sleeping Beauty.”

He raises a brow with the faintest curl at the corner of his mouth. “Huh. Might be true.”

Then, casually, like he’s testing her, he asks, “You gonna give me a kiss to wake me up, then?”

She gasps like he just handed her the most important royal mission in the world.

Without hesitation, she plants her hands on his cheeks—smearing the faintest layer of toddler-stickiness in the process, all juice and mystery goo and who-knows-what—and leans in with all her might. She presses the sweetest, sloppiest kiss to his cheek, the sound dramatic and wet and adorably loud. 

She leans her forehead against his, their noses bumping gently. It’s a little clumsy but so incredibly tender you swear your heart skips a beat.

“There. Now you’re awake.”

He blinks once, dramatically slow, then suddenly goes limp in her arms, tilting his head back with an exaggerated sigh like he’s just been revived by royal magic.

Your niece cheers. “You did wake up!”

His hand comes up to steady the back of her head. “Guess it worked then.”

You’re not breathing again.

Because this is unreal—your niece cradled so sweetly in his arms, her face pressed close to his, both of them glowing in the soft afternoon light. 

With his head still tilted, forehead resting against your niece’s, his eyes find yours—like he knew you were there the whole time, like he’s been waiting for you to look.

There’s a flicker in his eyes. Something warm, sharp, intentional.

“Think I’ll need another kiss tomorrow,” he says, voice even but pointed. “Might have to ask someone else, though.”

Your heart slams into your ribs.

Your niece gasps again, scandalized. “Auntie has to do it!”

He hums, eyes never leaving yours. “That so?”

Your niece nods, emphatic. “She’s your true love.”

You step out from hiding, open your mouth to say something—anything—to break the tension threatening to melt you into the floor, but she suddenly goes quiet. Her brows furrow, tiny face scrunching in deep thought. You watch the gears turn behind her eyes as she processes something big.

And then, like it’s just occurred to her, she gasps again, softer this time. "Then Auntie’s the queen.”

Your breath catches. He shifts slightly, adjusting her in his arms, and you swear he goes just a little still too.

She looks up at him, wide-eyed with a new understanding. “If Auntie’s the queen… then that makes you the king, right?”

It’s such a simple question. So innocent.

But there’s something heavy in the silence that follows, something weighty that hovers in the air between the three of you.

His gaze lingers on you for a moment. He tilts his head, eyes narrowing, choosing his words with exact precision.

Then, with that flat, matter-of-fact tone only he can make sound reverent, he replies. 

“…No, baby. I still wanna be your prince.”

Your niece blinks. “Why?”

He rests his chin lightly against the top of her head, looking straight at you as he says, “Because that way… I can worship my queen.”

You’re still not sure if any of this is real—or if you just fell into some fever dream of storybooks with princesses and princes who know exactly how to undo you without even trying.

But the way his hand curls around your niece like she’s precious, the way he speaks with that soft steadiness that never wavers?

That part’s real.

That part’s everything.

[sunaily]

BOYFRIEND TEXTS | r. suna

IN WHICH you go through texts with your extremely chalant boyfriend.

suna rintarō x fem!reader

a/n: THANK YOU GUYS FOR 600 FOLLOWERS WTFFF <3<3<3<3<3<3 i'm not really taking a break necessarily but my updates are going to be slower bc i'm having INSANE writer's block rn and have no motivation to write so hopefully it'll kick in soon </3 hence why this part of the bf texts series is shorter than the previous ones but hope you enjoy nonetheless!!

©OCHACOCA 2025 | please do not copy, translate, or repost my work onto other platforms!

[sunaily]

min ho who claims to hate you, insists that you're the most annoying, bothersome person in his life, but is also the one who knows every little thing there is to know about you.

min ho who complains that you talk too much, that he's never given a moment of peace whenever you're around because of your incessant yapping, but he's the first person to bring up the latest episode of your favorite show. the topic sends you into an unstoppable spiral, has you going on and on and on that you don't even have the time to think about how he knew there was a new episode to begin with. min ho rolls his eyes once your rambling ends, makes a quip about how he didn't know you'd talk that much, and acts as if he hadn't been listening intently to every word that came out of your mouth. like he didn't ask you questions, brought up details from past episodes that he knows would get you to talk more.

min ho who drags you through the mud for being such a picky eater, eyes the vegetables you shove to the side of your plate with disdain, but he wordlessly reaches into your plate to pick out everything you don't like before you can do it. he leaves just enough of it, though, if he knows it's not something you're allergic to. he doesn't give you the chance to whine, claiming that your not eating of those nasty veggies is the reason for your skin breaking out. but really, min ho just wants you to eat something healthy for once.

min ho who comments on your less than decent grades, borderline making fun of you, but he gives you a copy of his meticulously written notes complete with a set of practice problems. he tells you to meet him in the library after your classes, and you find him in one of the tables tucked at the very back, away from prying eyes. he's got almost every inch of the table's surface covered with notes and books and flashcards, and you spot a bag of snacks he'd smuggle in hidden beneath. you gather the courage to ask him why he's putting in so much effort for you, and he says it's because your grades are pitiful, that he can't let anyone associated to his name horrendously failing.

min ho who confesses in the quiet of the night, just before a week long break from school when he knows no one will be checking the dorms. who remembers that you like confessions that are intimate, none of those grand, over the top gestures in public but rather, something that's shared between two people. between the only people who really matter.

it works for him, too, because in all the years he's spent dating, asking girls out left and right like it's as easy as breathing, you're the only one who's brought him to such a state. an embarrassingly deep shade of red dusting his cheeks that's thankfully hidden by the darkness of his room. the hesitation in his voice that's so unfamiliar, it tastes like acid on his tongue. the way he stumbles over his words, flailing helplessly as you stare at him wide eyed.

it's maddening, what you've done to him. how you seem to have no knowledge of just how deep his feelings run for you.

but it's worth it, min ho thinks, when your stunned expression morphs into one of delight.

it's worth it, when you take his hands into yours, clutching at his fingers for dear life as you tell him that you like him too.

it's worth it, now that you're his.

[sunaily]

𝖫𝗂𝖺𝗋, 𝖫𝗂𝖺𝗋

Pairing- Yandere Rintaro Suna x Reader

Masterlist . . . Part two

"You don’t know where you’re running to. All you know is that if you stop he’ll catch you. You don’t even know who he is."

Contains- Serial Killer! Suna, slightly inspired by the movie 'Secret Obsession', reader pretends to have amnesia, stockholm syndrome(?), dubcon, mentions of masturbation (m), dry humping, unprotected sex, couch sex, riding, groping

You were just having a bad night, driving back home after a stressful family dinner only to have your car’s tire pop, leaving you in the middle of nowhere. You called the roadside assistance hotline and they told you that ‘the quickest they could get to you was in two hours.’ So you sighed, sitting in your car, mindlessly scrolling through social media to ignore that you were stranded, the woods being your only company.

Then there was a knock on your window, turning your head to see him. He was handsome, tall, with narrow golden eyes, and dark brunette middle-parted hair. But his clothes were too casual to seem like he worked for the emergency hotline.

You slowly rolled your window down, “Hello? Do you need something?” You asked.

“ No-no, I ain't like that, princess. I was driving home and saw ya parked here. I figured something must be wrong since we’re out in the middle of nowhere. I mean- unless you got some business with the woods, something must be up, right?” he responded.

“ Yeah, I just have a flat tire. Now I’m just waiting for the emergency company to send someone to replace it” you answered.

“ Ain’t that gonna take a while? Reckon they don't get many workers this late at night. Plus, we’re a long way from civilization... But I could fix it for ya instead" he suggested.

“Are you sure? I mean- I don’t want to waste your time” you responded. “C’mon now, I can’t let a sweet girl like you out here. Dangerous at night, ain’t it?” he laughed, waving off your concerns. “Alright then I'll take you up on that offer” you agreed, mostly giving in because you couldn't stand waiting any longer.

“I’m gonna need some help- so you gotta get out of that car seat and get ya hands dirty for me, princess” he added, lips curling into a smile as he tapped your locked car’s door.

“Of course- just give me a moment to get out” you uttered, watching the stranger nod his head. As the stranger in front of you went to retrieve a spare tire in his trunk, you quickly slid the pepper spray from your glovebox into your back pocket because

He was a stranger after all.

“Alright, princess let’s get this tire changed” the man called out for you, causing you to step out of the safety of your car.

He rested the replacement wheel on the side of your vehicle, “do you know how to change a tire?” he asked, squatting down to get a better look at the flat.

“I barely passed my driver's test- so not really” you commented, causing the man to snicker. “It ain’t too hard, just gotta raise the car a lil bit first- ah fuck” he cursed, looking around him. “What’s wrong?” you asked, worried by his sudden change of tone. “Just forgot to bring out the jack. It’s in my trunk, get it f’me really quick, can't lift the car without it” he sighed, pushing back his dark hair in disappointment.

“Sure, I’ll be right back” you agreed, turning around to walk to his car. You approached the trunk of his black vehicle, struggling to open it as if it was jammed or locked.

Then you hear a twig snap from behind you, instantly you turn your back, seeing the same friendly stranger, his arms raised above his head, hands gripping onto a dagger heading towards you, his pupils dilated. He didn't seem excited, scared, or sad. No, all of his friendly attitude morphed into something blank, something inhumane.

It was reflex.

You pulled out your pepper spray and misted his eyes with the eye-watering contraption. He’s on the ground, hissing in pain, fingers digging into the road. You’re running back into your car, only to realize you left your car keys inside. But you don’t have time to curse at yourself for the stupid mistake, not when he’s seconds away from recovering.

So you’re dashing into the forest, into the darkness.

Branches are scratching your face as you frantically run into the forest, heart beating out of your chest, hearing his quick footsteps and his laughter- fuck- his laughter sounds almost animalistic like a fox's cackling. Due to the rush of adrenaline, it feels like you and him are the only objects in motion, everything else just seems blurry.

You don’t know where you’re running to. All you know is that if you stop he’ll catch you. You don’t even know who he is.

It was already too late when you finally noticed the steep ditch in front of you, tripping over your own feet as you fell head in, the immediate painful impact causing your world to collapse into darkness, eyes closing as you felt the warmth of your blood drip down your forehead.

“You should really learn to watch where you step, princess.”

—

You’re surprised you woke up, knowing there was a serial killer behind you, you thought you’d be a goner.

You knew it wasn’t a simple nightmare when you noticed the bandages around your arms and how you weren't in your bedroom. You try getting up but you hit with an intense feeling of soreness that forces you to fall back into bed.

Unable to physically get up, you take the time to visually examine yourself and the unfamiliar environment around you. Judging by your fresh pair of clothing and the neatness of the bedroom, you figured you were saved by the road assistance employee who was assigned to change your tire. But it doesn’t matter who saved you; you’re just happy you’re alive.

Hearing the bedroom’s door creak open, you promised yourself you’d thank your savior who walked through the door.

But it’s not a savior- no, it’s the devil- it’s him.

This time he’s not wearing a classic grey hoodie. It's something that just screams wealth, a neat black button-down followed by khaki dress pants tied with a belt.

You don’t know why. But you’re first instinct is to play dumb- play dumb so that he might believe you’re no longer a threat. If he thinks you don’t remember the crime he committed, he’ll believe there’s no way you’d report him to the police

“ What happened to me?” You uttered, rubbing your bandaged forehead.

“ You don’t remember hitting your head? ” he asked, eyebrows raising in curiosity. He pulled a swivel chair out from the desk in the room, planted it in front of your bed, and then sat in it, arms crossed, awaiting your response.

“I-I don’t remember anything” you gulped, hoping he didn’t catch your bluff. “Anything? Really? Not even your name?” he hums, eyes narrowing in curiosity.

“ I don’t remember my name... I don’t know who you are either” you added, averting your eyes from his unwavering stare, anxious with how close he was to you.

He takes a moment to process what you have just said. Then his lips curl into a smile, clearly indicating that he's figured out what you were implying.

“It looks like you have a case of amnesia from hitting your head too hard. Don’t worry, darling. As your fiancé, I’ll gladly help you recover” he says, sweetly as he leans forward, placing his cold palm on top of your hand, tilting his head slightly to emphasize the caring gesture.

Did he just say, fiancé? Fuck- fuck, you're screwed.

But if you expose the truth, you’d be exposing your lie. He won’t hesitate to kill you if he knows you’re faking it.

“F-fiancé?” You stuttered in disbelief. “My name is Rinatoru Suna. Yours is Y/n L/n. But you’ll be having my last name soon enough,” he chuckles before leaning back on his chair, the wheels causing him to push away from the bed. You have to remind yourself to keep calm.

“ Where are we” you interrogated, trying to keep your tone as gentle as possible to not raise suspicion.

“ At our summer house, away from everyone and everything. It was supposed to be a nice vacation but then you went and hurt your head trying to get firewood late at night. Luckily, I found you unconscious in a ditch- figured you must have tripped over something in the darkness and hit your head” Suna stated, body language so calm that if you didn’t know any better you’d actually believe him. A serial killer and a pathological liar, that’s a deadly combination. 

“ Could I get my phone? I'd like to text my parents that I’m okay.” You asked even though you expected your request to be denied.

But to your surprise he smiled as he got up from his chair, “Of course, sweetheart ” he replied, walking over to the desk, sliding open a hidden cabinet attached to the table.

He uses two of his fingers to hold up a clear ziplock bag that carries a painfully cracked phone. “You can have it back but I doubt it’ll be any use, probably would cut your pretty fingers if you touch the screen” Suna commented.

You couldn’t hide your disappointment as you showed a frown. Suna clicked his tongue as he walked back over, lifting your chin with his fingers, “Don’t look so sad, sweetheart. Even if your phone wasn’t broken, the service in this area is horrible. But that’s why you picked it though. Since you claim I’m so ‘addicted to the damn phone” he teased, swiping his thumb on your lower lip, acting as if you were an average loving couple.

“Are you still in any pain” he mumbled, tone soft as he kept his fingers holding your chin, forcing you to look into his eyes.

“I'm still sore...thank you for taking care of me, Suna” you responded, a pit of shame growing in your stomach as you realized you ‘thanked’ a serial killer.

“ Rin. You call me Rin” he advised, tone still soft as he gazed at your features with admiration,

“ T-thank you for taking care of me, Rin” you corrected, voice too scared to talk any louder.

“Of course. What else are fiancés for?” He replied.

—

All your pent-up fear bursts the second Suna leaves the room to prepare dinner. You’re trying to be as silent as possible as you’re clenching your chest, panic attacking causing your heart to race.

Why is he doing this to you? Why hasn’t he killed you yet? 

You can’t spend your time pondering these questions; you need to leave. You get out of bed slowly so you don't instantly fall back down, limping towards the wide window before parting its white curtains, revealing acres of forest, not a single neighbor, or person in sight. You and him are alone in this modern mansion, surrounded by the woods.

But not all hope is lost; you see his car parked outside the house. All you need to do is use the vehicle to escape. You plan to leave tonight before he gets bored of playing ‘house.’ You’ll steal his car keys when he’s asleep and then drive back to civilization.

—

Suna sits you down carefully at the dining table, treating you as if you were glass. He puts out two plates of steaks with a side of mashed potatoes.

“I hope you don’t mind steak. As a professional volleyball player, I require a lot of protein to keep up the physique” Suna chuckled, taking a seat across from you, his palm holding his face as his eyes admired your appearance.

“You play professionally?” you asked.

“Of course, how else would we afford this summer house? Y’know, volleyball is the reason we met. In high school, you walked into the gymnasium in the middle of practice and got a volleyball straight to the face. The twins were too busy arguing whose fault it was that you got hit, so my captain at the time, Kita, made me walk you to the nurse’s office. The rest is history” Suna recited. The way he spoke, so casually, not a single stutter just made his words feel so real. The story sounds like a classic rom-com movie, so sickly cute that you almost wished it was real.

“Being escorted out from a volleyball to the face, how romantic” you teased, trying to make yourself sound more relaxed. “If it makes you feel any better, they still feel bad about it to this day,” Suna snickered, shaking his head in disbelief.

“You’re still friends with them?” you questioned.

“You mean we’re still friends with them. Unfortunately, yes. They’ll probably be one of my groomsmen at our wedding” Suna corrected. “C-could I meet them later?” You asked, hoping that the so-called twins could be your potential saviors.

There was a pause in Suna’s actions, he slowly switched his view off of his plate to look at you.

“Sure, I suppose that wouldn’t be an issue” he responded, a fake smile on his lips.

“Y’know, you haven’t touched your food yet. Protein is important for recovery” Suna added.

Your hand is trembling from fear as you attempt to cut the thick pan-seared steak in front of you. You want to curse at yourself for showing fear but how could you not? You’re sharing dinner with a serial killer- who knows, maybe you’re next on the menu.

“Y/n. Let me do that for you” Suna interrupted. Judging by his still-happy demeanor, he’s blaming your trembling on your body’s recovery.

You feel sick.

You feel sick because the same hands that tried to kill you are now feeding you and all you can do is gladly accept, putting on a fake smile with every bite.

The rest of the dinner was mainly peaceful, mostly him reciting fake memories of your ‘dating’ years with him. You can’t help but laugh at some of them, especially the one where he heard you scream in the middle of the night so he rushed out of bed, to the living room, expecting a robber but instead he saw you on the couch, pointing to a defenseless spider.

A shameful part of you wishes these stories were real because, besides the psychotic part of Suna, he seems like the ideal partner, wealthy, intelligent, calm, attractive. 

Once dinner is over, Suna leads you back to your bedroom, he offers to help you fit into your nightgown, claiming ‘it’s nothing I haven’t seen before.’ You make it very clear that you could do it yourself, making Suna turn his back as you change. However, as you let out a noticeable hiss caused by the unbearable ache from bending your sore arm to attempt to pull off your shirt, Suna steps in to help you.

“Don’t be embarrassed, this is normal things couples do” he commented, making you sit down on the edge of your bed, his fingers hooking under the hem of your shorts, pulling them off of your ankles. Then his fingertips are trailing up your thigh, under your shirt, lifting it above your head, leaving your bare chest naked to his eyes. The room was silent yet millions of thoughts were loud in your head. Suna clicked his tongue at the view of your naked chest, his hand came up to grope at your breast, his breath hitching at the softness.

“R-Rin, stop that” you stuttered, as you watched his hand trail off your breast to the center of your chest, palm laying flat. “I can feel your heartbeat right now. It’s running so… quickly” Suna mumbled, before replacing his palm with the side of his face, his ear pressed against your chest, closing his eyes as he concentrated on the sound of your heart beating.

You’re holding your breath, you feel paralyzed with fear of having such a dangerous man so close to your skin. Suna sighed as he pulled away, smile on his lips, his palm holding your cheek, “Sorry. I got caught away, didn’t I? You’re so just cute, I couldn't help myself” he apologized, thumb swiping on your bottom lip. “I-it’s okay” You stuttered, glad the experience was over.

After he dresses you in your nightgown, he helps you lay into bed, ensuring you’re completely comfortable. As you expect him to leave the room, he simply takes off his shirt, revealing his toned back,

“Rintarou, what are you doing” you gasp, using his full name to add more emphasis, averting your eyes, cheeks burning with embarrassment. “What? We always sleep next to each other” Suna replied. “I just don’t think I’m ready for that. I’m still trying to adjust to this life that I have no memories of” you confessed, feeling uncomfortable sleeping next to a man you barely know- especially when the man tried to kill you. Suna sighed as he walked over to you, tilting your chin up with one finger.

“You’re making me really making me regret being so careless with you that night” Suna commented, eyes narrowing in annoyance. “W-what do you mean?” you asked, thinking that he’s finally caught onto your lie.

“The night you got hurt. I really should have been the one collecting the firewood” Suna added, releasing your chin, stepping back, an innocent smile curled on his lips.

He walks towards the door, and before leaving he looks back at you, “I’ll just sleep on the couch tonight” he suggested, rubbing his nape. “Why not just sleep in the guestroom?” you offered.

“After catching Atsumu hooking up with a random chick in that guestroom- I swore off of touching that mattress” Suna responded, rolling his eyes at the fake scenario in his mind. “I’m sorry- I’m sorry you have to sleep on the couch because of me” you apologized, not really understanding why a feeling of guilt is forming in your stomach because you seriously can’t be feeling bad for a serial killer.

“Don’t be. Just sleep well tonight. Goodnight, sweetheart” Suna replied sweetly, turning off the lights in your room as he left.

A part of you wonders if the story of Atsumu was true. Or perhaps he’s sleeping on the couch because it’s close to the front door, the safest exit to escape from him.

You won’t lie; it's somewhat disheartening knowing that he’d be guarding near the exit. But as long as you don't wake him up, it shouldn’t be too hard, right?

You must have stared at the ceiling for two hours, praying, strategizing, and overthinking about your current situation. You tilted your head to look at your nightstand, the digital clock reading ‘2:00 am.’

He must be asleep by now.

You curse at yourself for stumbling out of bed, almost knocking over the clock on your nightstand. Then you limp down the hall, leaning on the wall for support, hoping you’re not making too much noise.

You slowly make your way down the stairs, a lingering creaking sound following every step causes you to cringe. There he was, sleeping peacefully on the white sofa, sleeping only in grey sweatpants, closed eyes emphasizing his envious long lashes. You tiptoe towards the key rack on, searching for his car keys.

It's not there. 

You click your tongue, wondering where they could be until you notice an imprint in his pants pocket.

Fuck- fuck.

He’s either forgotten to take them out of his pants or slept with them on purpose. But it doesn’t matter because you know you have to fish them out of his pants while not disturbing his slumber. You slowly approach him, leaning over, holding your breath as you hover above his waist. Your hand carefully moves towards his pants pockets until you feel a palm on the back of your head. You swore, your heart stopped at the feeling, fear flushing into your body. Then you’re head is pushed against his crotch, cheek coming into contact with the imprint of his bulge.

“Such a good girl” Suna murmured in his sleep.

“Such a good girl for me, Y/n” he added, drowsy hands brushing through your hair, his hips slightly lifting, pressing himself against your face.

“R-Rin” you yelped, pulling away, his hand dropping to his side. Suna’s eyes are slowly opening, “fuck- sorry baby, it’s a force of habit” Suna huffed, sitting up, eyes slowly focusing on his settings. You felt yourself slowly relax as you got out of that uncomfortable state.

“What are you doing here?” Suna questioned. “I-” you stuttered trying to form a believable lie.

Suna hummed, tilting his head as his eyes narrowed on you.

“Don’t worry, I got it. You can’t sleep with me, right?” Suna answered for you, a lazy smile on his lips.

“ Rin, I should go” you commented, trying to leave only for him to lean over and grab your wrist.

“Can I confess something to you, sweetheart, I haven’t been honest lately” Suna uttered, his hand drifting up your arm.

This is it, he’s bored of playing the fiancé role,

“ I missed you s’much during the time you were unconscious. Ya were asleep for three days but you still looked so fucking cute. I couldn’t help but get hard from looking at you. I had to jerk off right there at the sight of you. Fuck- how could I not? You were all defenseless, all cute, all mine.” Suna revealed, your cheeks boiled from the lewd comment, you could only stutter his name in response.

“ You’re not mad at me for it, right? You can't be. You’re too nice to be mad at me” Suna teased. “Y-yeah, I’m not mad at you, Rin” you answered, hoping he’d let you leave.

“Prove it then. Prove you forgive me. Prove you still love me, baby” Suna replied. “How do I do that,” you asked. You watched as Suna straightened his back against the sofa’s frame, his eyes glancing at you and then at his lap, signaling you to sit on it.

Your hands are shaking as you grab the cushions, positioning yourself above his lap, hovering over his waist, only for his hands to grip your waist, pulling you flush against his bulge.

“That’s better. That’s s’much better” he huffed.

“Rin, this is embarrassing “ you responded, tilting your head away to hide from his intimidating gaze. “Don’t be shy. This ain’t anything we haven’t done before” Suna hushed, leaning over, kissing the skin of your exposed collarbone.

“But it doesn’t matter how much we've done it- I can never have enough of you” Suna added, his teeth digging into your skin, causing you to yelp, only to be replaced by the cooling feeling of his tongue brushing against the mark.

Then he’s slowly moving your hips so you’re grinding against his clothed cock, feeling the hardness through his sweatpants.

“ Ya feel that baby? So fucking hard because do you. You know how bad I wanted to bend you over on the hood of your car?” Suna teased, smirking against your neck.

“M-my car?” You questioned his words, only for the thought to be forgotten by the buck of his hips causing a gasp to erupt from your mouth.

“ Y’know, I can feel your wet pussy soaking my sweatpants. Messy girl, staining my clothes. What should I do with you?” Suna asked, keeping your hips pressed against his, covered clit coming into contact with the hardness of his erection.

“ Rin, I-“ you whined, finding it hard to form proper words, too overwhelmed by pleasure. “ Don’t worry, sweet girl m’gonna take good care of ya” Suna hushed, hovering you over his waist so he could pull his clothes down just enough to get his cock out of his sweatpants.

He didn’t bother taking your panties off, simply pushing them to the side as the tip of his cock sunk into you. You’re embarrassed how you’re already shaking from the tip, hands holding onto his shoulders, jaw clenching.

“ I can’t- I can’t do this, Rin” you whimpered, only for his hand to grip your waist, forcing you deeper down his cock.

“Course you can. You were made for me and I was made for you” he chuckled. His hands are making you bounce on his cock, each thrust making him hit deeper inside of you, he’s biting his tongue at the feeling of your tight pussy warming his cock.

“You like that, baby? Ya like my cock stretching your cunt?” Suna grinned. As you tilt your head to release a moan, Suna leans his head over, kissing-sucking- biting the soft skin of your neck.

“Rin- slow down” you huff, hands aiming to hold his shoulders, hoping that holding something down would make it more difficult for him to bounce you on his cock.

Suna clicked his tongue, tilting his head as he looked up at you, admiring your appearance because fuck- you look divine, all flustered because of his cock, moonlight seeping through the window highlighting your physique, once-clear skin now littered with imprints of his teeth.

“You’re so cute, y’know that, right?” he teased, flipping you onto your back, hovering above you, his hand trailing down your waist.

“I think I know an old habit we used to do that might help you recover some old memories” Suna uttered.

“What are you going to do?” you asked, voice slightly trembling. Suna sat up straight giving you an innocent smile, “ can’t tell ya, you just have to trust me” he cooed.

You watched as he got up from the couch, whistling as he went to the coat rack by the front door. Then he stuffed his hands into his jacket’s pocket, his whistling stopped the second he felt for the desired object.

It was hard to see what he was holding due to the lack of light, all you knew was that it was small. You sat up against the couch, back leaning on the couch’s arm“ What’s in your hand?” you asked. “I’ll tell ya but you got to promise you won’t freak out” Suna replied, sitting down at the edge of the couch, pulling your ankle towards him, causing you to lay back down.

“I promise I won’t freak out” you responded skeptically.

Then you saw it, a switchblade, the sharp knife pointing out, metal being shined upon the moonlight,

You’re instantly getting flashbacks of him holding that dagger above your head, his vicious eyes looking down at you as if you were his prey. In some sense, you were and still are his prey.

“ Rin, I think that’s too much for me” You commented, squirming away from him only for him to push you down with his hand pressing against your stomach.

“ We used to do this all the time. I’m not actually gonna hurt you, sweetheart” Suna remarked.

“ I- I don’t think I really want to” you stuttered, eyes glued on the blade, fearing that he’d just stab you without warning, cutting you up until you were dead.

“C’mon, Y/n, this might restore some lost memories. You do want to remember our life together, don’t you?” Suna questioned. He’s putting you into a corner where you’re forced to agree because disagreeing would bring up suspicion.

Suna knows you’re too smart to say no because a woman with actual amnesia would try anything to get their memories back.

He takes your silences as an agreement, sliding the knife from the neckline of your nightgown to the hem, effectively cutting the fabric.

He finishes the job by tearing the fabric apart with his hands, a lingering ripping sound followed as the once expensive nightgown is now pieces of rag.

“Don't pout, I’ll buy you a new one, pretty girl” Suna replied, tongue rolling over his front teeth as he admired the sight of your bare breast. “T-that’s not what I’m worried about,” you remarked, voice stuttering, trying your best not to look at the blade in his hand.

“Y’know, it’s custom made, one-of-a-kind switchblade” he confessed, tracing the tip of the knife across your collarbone, the blade was pressed down lightly, not breaking the skin.

“Look at it, sweetheart. Isn’t it pretty?” Suna asked. You tilt your head enough to look at the blade's cutting edge, black leather handle, clean sharp sliver metal, and subtle rose imprint stemming from the heel to the tip.

A part of you wonders if this was the same weapon he tried to kill you with.

Another part of you wonders if this will be the weapon that he will use to finish the job.

He glides the blade down from your clavicle to your inner thigh.

“Such a pretty girl- such a pretty pussy.”

His pressure with the blade is light yet you could still feel it move against your skin, never spilling blood. You felt him spell his name on your thigh, you wondered what was holding him back from actually craving it out.

A stinging pain coursed through your inner thigh as you heard Suna curse under his breath. You looked down between your legs, the cut was minor- more like a nick really, but blood was still dripping off of it.

Suna’s tongue dipped out of his lips, licking up the spilled blood on your thigh, before kissing the skin around it as a form of a sick apology.

He doesn’t raise his head from between your thighs, instead, his tongue is pressed flat against your panties, you gasp at how the warmness of his tongue is still felt through the thin fabric.

He’s chuckling at your reaction, switchblade completely disregarded as his fingers curl under your panties, sliding them down.

“ Pretty- every fucking piece of you is so god damn pretty,” he commented, leading your leg to rest comfortably on his shoulder, cock heavy in his hand as he pressed the leaking tip onto your throbbing clit.

He pushes into you again, the overwhelming familiar stretch of his cock sinking into your tight pussy causing you to tilt your head, a moan coming from your lip.

That’s when you feel it, the cold metal of the knife pressed against your neck, not cutting or slicing the skin, just simply placed there as if it were a threat. Your eyes focus back on Suna, terrified that this is your final moment.

But it’s not.

He’s thrusting into your pussy like he’s addicted to the feeling of your warmth wrapping his cock. Suna doesn’t have the same expression he had when he was moments away from killing you.

The one he’s wearing is excited, blush across his cheek, tongue flickering over his teeth, dark pupil dilated. And he fucking is.

The sight of your body bouncing with each thrust of his hips caused the skin of your neck to press slightly deeper into the blade.

“Can’t tell if ya scared or excited because this pussy just keeps getting tighter every time your neck gets closer to cutting open” he huffed. Then he leans over, bringing your leg closer to your chest, tilting his head towards your ear, he parts his lips and utters the words

“Maybe you’re a little bit of both, princess.”

‘Princess’ he hasn’t called you that since this whole charade started, the last words you heard before you woke up to this lie. Yet the endearing name is sending you to the edge, shameless moan so loud that you’re grateful your closet neighbor is miles away. Suna hisses at the feeling of your pussy squeezing his cock as you trembled from your orgasm. He’s still thrusting into your cunt, chasing his own release, his chest heaving.

Suna has to fight back the urge to cum in your twitching hole, he praises himself for managing to pull out, spilling his cum on your stomach. Then he drops the knife on the ground, leaning over again and for the first time that night, he kisses your lips, kisses you like a husband would kiss his wife, so sweetly.

He gets up and gathers napkins in the kitchen then carefully wipes the mess he left on your stomach by this time you’re exhausted, you just let him handle you as you try to process what just occurred.

He looks down at you, his fingers grazing your cheeks, “can’t let you sleep here, sweetheart- won’t be good for your back” he mumbled to you, his voice soft. Then he’s lifting you, holding you in a bridal style, going up the stairs, making his way to your bedroom, softly placing you on the mattress.

He’s climbing into bed next to you, pulling you close towards him so your back is on his chest, his arms wrapped around your waist, chin tucked on your shoulder.

Your arms were sprawled out on the bed and you couldn’t help but notice your ringless finger, reminding you

that both you and Suna are liars.

[sunaily]

no anime can ever touch my soul the way haikyuu has

[sunaily]

Doing the “don’t smile and I’ll give you head” trend on haikyuu men 😼

This is for you queen / king 👉🏼 @kurroomii sorry it took so long, I just finished my finals

WARNING! Suggestive and Sexual content! all are adults in this (and you guys are married or in a relationship) and mention of dead ancestors/relatives and pets (?)

Immediately locks in once he receives the note. stone-faced, don’t even try to make him smile you will not win over his dead body! he took it so seriously you were concerned.

(pretend this is you giving him the note) 💁🏻‍♀️📝

“ what’s this hun?” *slowly reads the note* “🗿”

“if you don’t smile, I’ll give you head 😘 “

“🗿”

“okay babe you win, you can stop now…”

“🗿”

“babe?”

“🗿”

“babe I swear you will be getting that head you can smile now…”

“🗿”

“……..”

-Mattsukawa, Osamu, SUNA (even if he smiles he will still be getting that head), KUROO (he gets down, he don’t play!) IWAIZUMI, Hoshiumi, Daichi, Kai

This man can’t keep a straight face on to save a life BUT he is determined to get that gawk gawk 3000 from you 😼 so what does he do? he starts thinking about his pet that passed away years ago when he was 5 and his great great grandfather that died 3 months before he was born…

“y’know, I had a pet goldfish named Goldie the goldfish back then, he died when I was 5….I miss him very much”

“a-are you seriously thinking about your dead goldfish from 20 years ago just so you can get head? 😟 ” (pretend yall are 25)

“and my great great grandfather passed away 3 months before I was born 😢 …”

“ baby why are you acting head deprived??? I give you head everynight!”

“😮‍💨 I miss them so much!”

“you cannot be serious right now…”

- BOKUTO (I was thinking of him while writing this), Hinata (I HAVE NEVER EVER SEEN THIS MAN NOT SMILE) LEV, NISHINOYA, Hirugami, Fukunaga, TENDOU, Goshiki (and if I tell u he cried then what?)

IMMEDIATELY FAILS, He was caught off guard okay?! give him a chance 😔demands another try because he wasn’t ready 🙄 (no you only get 1 try so no head for you…better luck next time!)

“ 😌oh shit- BABE I WAS NOT READY😩!”

“NOPE YOU SMILED GAME OVER! HAHAHAHAH NO HEAD FOR YOU 😛”

“No! that’s unfair give me another chanceeee 😩😥 this time I’ll be ready I swear!”

“the point of this “game” is to be caught off guard babe…just accept defeat and better luck next time 😘”

- ATSUMU (my number 1 inspiration) NISHINOYA (who wouldn’t smile at the thought of your wife giving you head?) Tanaka, OIKAWA (he can never win in this house) HOSHIUMI, SUGAWARA, Yamamoto, futakuchi, TERUSHIMA.

Smiled at first but once he received the note best believe he turned that smile upside down (no like seriously he went from this 🙂 to this ☹️!)

“baby you can’t smile”

“do I look like i’m smiling? ☹️”

“BABY YOU LITERALLY SMILED”

“NO I DIDN’T! I ONLY SMILED BECAUSE I SAW YOU! I stopped smiling after I read the note okay?!!! ☹️☹️☹️”

“yknow what fine….”

“does this mean I can get the sloppy toppy now? ☹️”

“……”

- AKAASHI (idc what yall say my man is silly okay?! he is not a nonchalant baddie 😩) YAMAGUCHI, Asahi, Semi, Ennoshita, Hanamaki, MATSUKAWA, ARAN

Wins the trend effortlessly, my stone-faced expressionless baddies with only 1 permanent facial expression…😐 he is so used to your shenanigans at this point. He is confused but he still wants to make you happy….after all, you are his other half

“ ‘Do not smile if you want me to give you the 3 s tonight 🤭’ my love what is this??? what does 3 s stands for??”

“slurp, suck and swallow 😝”

“………I do not know what to do with you sometimes….”

- Ushijimao, Tsukishima, Kenma, SHIRABU (idk if Kita should be added but for the sake of favoritism and free will I will add him) Kita, AONE, Kageyama, Kunimi, SAKUSA

Ps Ik some of these are not accurate please forgive me lol

[sunaily]

the opposite of hate

Tags: Enemies to lovers, slow burn, unresolved tension, post-time skip AU, high school setting, mutual pining, sarcasm, emotionally repressed idiots

Word Count: ~3,700

You never really planned on hating Suna Rintarou.

It just sort of happened.

One moment you were minding your business in chemistry class, scribbling notes and adjusting your lab goggles. The next, he was leaning over, squinting at your paper with that deadpan face of his, and saying—

“You spelled ‘reaction’ wrong. Twice.”

You had not.

“No, I didn’t.”

“I mean… unless we’re in a parallel universe where vowels don’t matter, you definitely did.”

Your pencil snapped in half.

You’ve been at war ever since.

It didn’t help that he liked getting under your skin. He’d glance at you whenever he cracked a joke to see if you’d react. You always did. With eye rolls, muttered insults, and the occasional middle finger.

Suna found it hilarious. You found him intolerable.

It would’ve stayed that way if your homeroom teacher hadn’t announced a school-wide creative project and decided—through either sadism or cosmic misfortune—that you and Suna Rintarou should be paired up.

“No refunds, no swaps,” the teacher said cheerfully. “You two will be working together over the weekend. Make it good.”

You stared at Suna in horror. He smirked back.

“Can’t wait,” he said, voice flat as ever.

“Don’t talk to me.”

“Looking forward to our bonding experience.”

You briefly considered transferring schools.

The school provided a winter lodge for the project. Cozy. Isolated. A firepit in the common room. You figured you could survive it as long as Suna stayed on his side of the room.

He did not.

“You’re in my light,” you muttered as he leaned over your half-finished design board.

“I am the light,” he replied, not moving. “Also, this border is uneven.”

“It’s called asymmetry. It’s artistic.”

“It’s giving ‘failed attempt at balance.’”

“It’s giving ‘no one asked you.’”

“Aw, you do care what I think.”

You threw a glue stick at him. He ducked and laughed—actually laughed. You hated how warm it sounded.

You made it three hours before the snowstorm hit.

Thick, heavy flakes battered the windows, and the power cut out just before sundown. The Wi-Fi died with it. You stared at your dead phone. Suna stood beside the fireplace, inspecting the woodpile like he’d done this before.

“Well,” he said, dragging a blanket off the couch. “At least we’re not freezing.”

“Yet.”

“You worried?”

You gave him a look. He held your gaze.

“I’ve survived worse,” you said coolly.

“Same. I’ve worked with you, after all.”

You kicked a pillow at him.

By the firelight, everything softened. Even Suna.

He ditched his hoodie in favor of a plain t-shirt, hair sticking up in that lazy way it always did. You sat cross-legged on the floor, sketching final drafts. He sprawled next to you, one arm behind his head.

“You know,” he said eventually, “you’re not actually bad at this.”

You looked up, confused.

“The project,” he clarified. “Your design stuff. It’s cool. Even if your color choices are a hate crime.”

“Wow. A backhanded compliment. I’m touched.”

“Don’t get used to it.”

“I won’t. I’ll treasure this moment forever.”

He let out a breath, almost like a laugh. Not quite.

“Why do you hate me, anyway?” he asked suddenly, not looking at you.

You blinked.

“I don’t—”

“Yes, you do. It’s obvious. You glare at me like I kicked your dog.”

“You act like I am your dog. That’s why.”

He looked at you then, eyes half-lidded, amused.

“You think I treat you like a dog?”

“You whistle at me. You called me ‘scrappy’ in front of the whole class.”

“It was a compliment.”

“How is that a compliment?”

“You fight. You don’t let people walk over you. I respect that.”

Silence.

You swallowed. Looked away.

“You could’ve just said that.”

“You’d have bitten my head off.”

He wasn’t wrong.

The storm didn’t let up.

You both fell asleep by the fire. You on the couch, Suna on the floor, arm tucked under his head. When you woke up, he was already watching you.

“Creepy,” you muttered.

“Comforting,” he replied.

“Debatable.”

“Admit it. You missed me.”

“I dreamed you got buried in an avalanche.”

“Romantic.”

You tried not to smile. Failed.

“We should finish the project,” you said instead.

“Mm. Or we could stare at each other a little longer.”

You rolled your eyes, but your pulse jumped.

You didn’t expect to like working with him. Not just tolerate it—like it. He was smart. Subtle. He noticed things you missed and challenged your ideas in a way that felt… motivated, not mocking.

You fought, but not in the usual way. Not to win. To sharpen each other.

You built a two-part portfolio: his half minimalistic and dry, yours vibrant and chaotic. The lines connected in the middle.

Contrast. Unity.

When it was finished, you both stood back and stared.

“Huh,” Suna said. “It’s not terrible.”

“Coming from you, that’s high praise.”

“We make a good team.”

You glanced sideways. He wasn’t smirking.

“Yeah,” you admitted softly. “We kind of do.”

He didn’t say anything, but the look he gave you was… different. Less teasing. More real.

It made your heart stutter.

Back at school, people asked how it went. You shrugged. Suna said nothing.

But things changed.

He sat closer in class. Passed you notes with dry commentary. Gave you his pen when yours ran out. Nudged your shoulder in the hallway like it meant something.

And one afternoon, as you closed your locker, you found him leaning against the one beside it.

“Hey,” he said, hands in his pockets. “So.”

“So?”

“If I told you I don’t hate you,” he said, tone light but eyes serious, “would you laugh in my face?”

You stared.

“Probably,” you said.

“Good. Keeps me humble.”

You bit your lip. Smiled.

“I don’t hate you either,” you admitted. “Usually.”

“Usually?”

“Depends how annoying you are.”

He stepped closer.

“Right now?”

“Tolerable.”

Another step.

“And if I kissed you?”

You blinked.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

He raised a brow.

“You want to test that?”

Your heart stammered against your ribs. But you didn’t move.

“Go ahead,” you said, voice barely a whisper.

He did.

It was slow, soft, infuriatingly gentle. The kind of kiss that said, I’ve been waiting.

When he pulled back, his hand was still on your cheek.

“Still think I’m the worst?” he asked.

“Definitely.”

He grinned.

“Good. Keeps you humble.”

END

Let me know if you want a continuation, bonus scenes (like a jealous moment or an “accidental sleepover” situation), or a version with a spicier rating!