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hxltic · 10 months

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i had no idea this was sent in so this could be super late but hi ofc!! Also tysm i love you <33 also i’m sorry i didn’t know how rough you wanted it👩🏾‍🦯👩🏾‍🦯

𝐎𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐊𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐒. 𝑺𝑼𝑵𝑨 𝑹𝑰𝑵𝑻𝑨𝑹Ō

part one | part two

Genre: smut

Warning: heavy degradation, handjob, blowjob, facefuck, public bathroom sex, spit kink, brother’s best friend

He’s one of your brother’s dumb friends (the actual dumbest—in your opinion), and no matter how much you locked yourself in your room to be excluded from whatever activities prolonged out there, the inevitable feeling of hunger is sadly inescapable.

Following a creak from your door, right before another from the stairs, you cascaded down into the living room. Openly, the kitchen stood nice and bright, accompanied by snacks aligned on the island that held several filled lanyards with attached keys.

Arriving down the stairs in your red pajama set was the same thing as yelling and notifying everyone you were there. Heads turned. You didn’t take the time to count, frankly because it felt like crawling into the lion’s den and now needing an escape. You should’ve known there were people coming by the way everything was taken out of the pantry and neatly placed anyway. Your hair was frazzled from rolling around trying to get comfortable; your reddened face was visual proof of the relentless makeup you scrubbed off; the several necklaces you wore and forgot to remove were now entangled in each other—it would be just your luck for a bunch of boys to be over. Not ones you were trying to impress, persay, but the last ones that needed to see you in your tired hobo fit.

“Whatever you’re about to say—don’t. don’t be a dickhead,” you call out. You were getting this snack and going back upstairs, negating anything that could be said to you from here and then with your course voice.

“You think so horribly of me, what’d I do?”

Suna’s sly tone carried across the room to bring you to a stop. It was obvious was him; when was it ever not him? The only other people were Kita and the twins, but they were preoccupied.

“Exist, essentially,” you rebut, and after selecting a bag of skittles and a cosmic brownie, you reach over and grab the keys farthest to the left before your leave; staring him dead in the low, mustard, dumb eyes.

The keys were his. You recall because a few years back, you plucked off a single tag or attachment every time he came over. It took a bit for him to notice how weightless it had become and demand for all of them back, so you made him beg after assigning him as your personal chef for the day.

Which you weren’t a horrible person, so you kept them tucked away in a box on your dresser.

He examined the action to be reminded of this, but let you go nonetheless. He’d be damned if he let you see his smugness falter.

“Your hair looks great,” he taunted, with his long arms spread across the couch lazily. Your brother giggled from afar. To the back of your head, slim eyes scanned you in a judgmental manner—the same one you usually glanced at him with. The steps you took became bouncy and joyous.

Then you remembered how your hair actually looked, so you trudged up the stairs and grumbled, “jump off a cliff.”

You hadn’t completely decided what you’d do with the keys, but you’d most likely hold them hostage in your room somewhere. The plan was just to be a minor inconvenience.

And this was effective for the moment being—rattling Suna with the flashbacks—but sleep weighed your eyelids and, obviously, the door was locked.

. .

3:48 A.M.

A continuous knock drives you out of your slumber. Grumbling, your sleeping feet swing over the side of the bed and you rip the comforter from your body. The pitter-patter of steps notify the dark-haired man of his disturbances, guiding one side of his lip to lift and his toned arms to cross as he patiently awaits you.

Your tongue swipes at your dehydrated lips and your fingers correct your messy braided hair before opening the door. Suna languidly leans on the parallel hallway wall, sending you a look that it is too damn early in the morning to acknowledge. With the little strength in your freshly awaken arm, you throw the door closed to turn your back and close your eyes for the journey back to bed.

Suna’s sneaker sat where the door should’ve connected to the wall. He already knew the best of your unkind tendencies. The corner of the door swept into his large hand following its ricochet and he pulled you by the forearm, twisting your body to him. Your face slammed into his chest due to your lack of stabilization. You got a whiff of his faint cologne.

He didn’t even apologize. Fuckface.

“Jesus. No need to be so rough,” you croaked.

“It can get a lot worse than that,” a genuine smiley grin spread onto his features as he tilted his head and inspected down the hall for anyone that could hear him. Of course you hadn’t caught this in your state, not even processing the implied indecencies. “Maybe you shouldn’t close the door on me.”

He pressed the pad of his finger to your forehead and presses you back off him.

“Why are you here? Like for real.” Nothing was funny and you need to go to sleep. You have work in the morning. If you were awake enough, you would’ve taken the forehead poke as disrespect.

He treads the hand not on the door through his dark hair (which somehow returned to the exact same position it held before) and shrugged, “I can’t get home.”

“So?”

“You have my keys.”

Oh shit. You did bring this upon yourself though.

You sigh and rub the side of your face drowsily, “I’ll get them in the morning. I literally don’t even remember where I put them to be honest.”

As bad as he wants to be irritated, he can’t. The silhouette of your figure in front of him was something else. This was the day that he learned you don’t wear bottoms to sleep, but wear them just to keep some dignity whenever you show your face downstairs. In other words, you only put them on to eventually come back into your natural habitat and kick them off.

Your half naked body stood swaying in the doorway, reflecting into Suna’s yellowish eyes. Had he forgotten to respond? His gaze flickers before focusing strictly on yours. “Let me come look.”

“No, I’ll get them in the morning.”

“I’m coming in.”

Not very carefully, he shuffles past you, then your bed, unaffected by your futile efforts to groan and push him away. He had a sleeper build, unfortunately. As he rummaged through your drawers, he comments, “This would be a lot easier on the both of us if you just told me where they were.”

“Never. Get out! I just cleaned up!” You whisper yell into the morning. It seemed to be a sight you could only watch with the weight difference, but you had to try. Your fingertips connect around his small waist so you could push backwards off your heels. Whatever you could muster has done nothing but prove your weakness to him; he continued side-stepping drawer to drawer and smirking at your actions. That stupid expression only made your blood boil. You retreat.

Inevitably, he found your underwear drawer. Nobody wishes for that on themselves, although the way he held aside one of your thongs on a single finger as if it were a hanger, just to re-fold it before neatly placing it back where it once was; even the darkness couldn’t hide your tightening chest and darting eyes trailing everywhere but him.

The crickets were wide awake, and now so were you.

Your spread fingers modify into fists, you plant your feet. You come back full force to grab him. His head dips back in pure laughter while he attempts to be mindful of the time of night, even when his fair hands creep to yours and slowly pry you away from how you were linked around his stomach. Finger after finger.

The carpet floor, however, was not on your side, and your heels suddenly slide under you, between his feet. It also didn’t help that with Suna’s build there wasn’t much to grab onto: his torso is smooth, slim, but hard. Anytime you reached for grip, you just felt the curve of his muscles under the dark blue cotton t-shirt.

The last finger came undone, and you hadn’t realized why he’d swiftly attached himself to your wrists until you immediately saw yourself tumbling backwards, landing with a hard thump loud enough to wake up everybody in the house. The tightness of his grip confuzzled you.

It was one of protection and instinct rather than anything else. He didn’t seem concerned (as foretold by the small hints of laughter emitting from somewhere upwards), so you wondered why he still held your wrists with his arms backwards and you flat on your ass. He gathers himself, lets go, and turns to face you.

Trying to soothe the pounding muscles, you roll on your right and rub the area cautiously. It was most likely redder than your cheeks.

“You know, to be holding me so tight, you didn’t really lessen the fall,” you scowl.

“No, but you also didn’t crack your head open,” he retorts. You just glance at him and that villainous expression once more, one that was plastered on his tilting head in fake pity. You grunt and roll your eyes.

After declining help from your literal downfall, you push off your right hand to get up. Your nose meets a structure. Wood.

It was the wooden footing of your bed, so close that had your head tilted back any further with the force of the fall—it would be a concussion, no doubt.

You pause and return your focus to him. He smirks down at you.

. .

The next dull morning, you groan obnoxiously as you walk in so the shirtless man currently in your kitchen would take the hint and leave. His keys landed with a mix of a thump and a clink on the soft couch from your toss. He curls the island corner holding a bowl of cereal, sweats hanging loose on his hips; however, he just leans and eats, watching your moves silently.

Your uniform was definitely one to strike a customer: leather shorts and short sleeve top perfect for showing off cleavage. You slipped a jacket on and headed out the door. Before you left, it was necessary to shout “When I get back, you better be gone!”

He just rolled his eyes. You weren’t there to watch it, but you knew.

. .

“Of course, I’ll get that right out for you,” you shoot the fakest smile to the middle-aged man leaning probably too close just to be giving an order. Your sneakers spin on the hardwood floors of the food bar and your hand slips the ticket order into the side pocket of your waitress pouch. Audiences of whatever sport on the tvs and bellowing men ring through your ears until you get called by a coworker of yours. The day had been long, and quite frankly, you were just tired and couldn’t give a damn what she had to say.

“Hey, can you take over that table for me?” Dammit.

She curves her soft hands over one of yours she harshly tugged from your side. With pleading eyes so heavy it looked as if she would cry, she continues, “But I also would like you to give this to one of them. The one with the dark hair.”

She retrieves a small, crumpled paper from her unbuckled pouch lying folded on the waitress stand. You peek at it as she forces it into your hand. You glance at her again.

“A lot of people have dark hair, which is it?”

Her head shakes frantically in reassurance, “You’ll just know. Table 17, corner booth. Just please slip it in the check or something like that.”

An unintentional sigh hinting at your annoyance hangs in the air, but it isn’t like you can stop her from leaving, whether you were just about to clock out or not. Apology is displayed on her face nonetheless, so you grant a soft smile and make your way there after her continuous stream of thank you’s.

You wish you hadn’t.

You walk up to the booth occupied by faces that couldn’t get any more familiar, one being the someone you couldn’t stand, the other that was even more intolerable, and Aran. You liked Aran. He was cool.

Suna has nothing but innocent deceit on his face. After looking around for any employees, or rather managers, you drop next to him on the left side.

“What are you doing here!?” You mainly scolded him, but you looked around at the other two as well. Once again, not really Aran; he was never informed of your workplace and it was most likely your brother’s idea.

“We just came to eat. Yknow, like regular customers.” Your head snapped to your own blood, feeding into the torment of what you were experiencing right now. Was this what bullying felt like?

“Now you can eat with us though, it’s the end of your shift anyway.” Suna adds. That wasn’t the case due to circumstances. As long as you have this uniform on and as long as they were a table in the restaurant with no waitress, you weren’t off duty.

“That’s not how that works.”

“Sit here for a bit. Customer’s request.” The ravenette mouths. You doubt that would work either because interaction with customers were limited. Honestly, with how you were dressed, you loved the rule. Suna’s back lifts when his arms reach out around you, creating as much space as possible to remove his jacket. The man lays it out over your lap, covering the pouch and any signification you were on duty with the exception of the shirt, but you leave and walk in with it on so it didn’t matter.

All things aside, you give in, everything goes well. Catching up with Aran was a joy. Ascertaining that Suna took a shower in your home, just to put on another pair of sweats your brother leant him and the same t-shirt he’d just washed overnight, he did not listen to you and did not leave. You wonder if he ran through your room again just for fun.

You ignored the other two most of the time. Having to see your brother every day; there was no reason to converse with him, but the other took this personally. Extremely personal.

He kept doing things to get your attention. When the person taking your shift came as waiter, he ordered for you just as the words began to spill from your mouth. Only having four people in a wall booth, he had more than enough room to manspread—so he left you nothing but a sliver of space. You tried to scoot him over manually, but of course, it didn’t work. You place both hands on his thigh in an attempt once more.

Having not learned your lesson previously, you’re going to try again. Your fingernails dig into his skin so it would hurt (but he didn’t flinch); you push with all your might and he continued casual conversation. Shoving again, you watch as his eyes flicker in shock, frantically glance to you, and revert as if nothing happened, even though a stern hand held the top of your left still. He fake laughs it off to the rest of the table. So fake, you hadn’t realized it was.

A large, pale hand squeezes yours in its spot, prohibiting movement. Was he ticklish? You force your hand back and forth against his thigh, your hands being unable to lift but having no choice but to move with his flesh, and he squeezes even harder. This hand was closest to his torso, located on the inside of the very top thigh area. So high it was basically his hip.

You hadn’t realized your nails curled right into his groin. Unaware of what was actually happening, you continued for the sole reason it was bothering him in some type of way, resulting in warning looks being shot to you with his tired eyes. Ones you ignored. It hurt because of the coffin shape, Suna had to admit, but it didn’t deflect the blood rushing there.

Finally, his leg closed, but he took a tight hold of your guilty hand and pulled you roughly. He mumbles sternly with his mouth to your ear, “Sit still, you don’t know what you’re doing.”

You just laughed in his face and put both hands to your chin, elbows stationed on the rectangular table. You’d do it again when he wasn’t looking.

He’d caught you less than halfway there the second time, but third is the charm. His guard was let down.

The air was thin and light with loose conversation. Aran’s sister was fine and your brother was thinking of applying for another scholarship. When everything seemed to have died down, french tips clanked against the counter impatiently and your left hand dove under the table once more.

In your peripheral the male visibly stuttered, hips lifting for adjustment and eyes darting to you nervously. This time they hadn’t left and it took everything in you not to acknowledge the mustard gaze. To make it worse, the squeeze of your hand allowed an audible grunt to fall from his lips. His eyes fell as well so your friends noticed, questioned it, but the false voice you’ve fabricated over years of customer service was just too believable.

You squeeze again, the muscle unknowingly growing under your hand. He became fidgety and his breath slightly irregular. Turning your head to glance at him, he locates your eyes immediately—the eyes usually low and apathetic—were yelling to stop. A mischievous giggle worsens the situation, causing his eyes to slim down angrily. He’d prove to you why.

He takes a hold of your wrist and stretches your fingers using his own, sliding them between. He adjusts in his seat again before flattening your hand around his print, using his other hand to cover his mouth casually as he leaned forward on the table. His digits wrap around yours, causing you to wrap around him.

He gave you a preview. With no underwear to hide any inch of it under the fabric, you (he) basically caressed from the base all the way to the tip, the outline becoming more prominent and his body shifting under your touch. You look at him in disbelief at: what he did, what you unconsciously did, or in all his, what—a solid 8 inches at least? If you had to guess?

The idea was to scare you off, but it did quite the opposite. Whenever your hand was released, much to his surprise, it just returned with the same motion tenfold. Luckily, nobody else could hear the sudden deep groan over the laughing people, and the way his back landed with a puff on the soft booth seat only looked somewhat out of the norm. His face was flooding cherry red no matter how bad he didn’t want it to. Both his hands came up to run over his eyes, forehead, and cheeks. Now he braces himself on the seat, gazing down at the sight of your pretty fingers and nails dragging up and down the entirety of him through his pants. The friction was indescribable.

He held watch as you dipped past them.

You knew you’d do anything to get under his skin, but not like this. Of course people found Suna attractive, light athletic build with killer thighs and small eyes, only to be complimented by his dark brown locks and good style (when he cared). So when Nali passed the note to you to give to someone, you could assume it was her number. It’s somewhere lost on the table now. Primarily because if something did happen, coming downstairs to more than two people you can’t stand would send you over the edge and he doesn’t need anyone boosting his ego more than it already is.

But now as you’re stroking him slowly, only the movement of cloth from your hand’s action could describe what was going on. Apart from the man’s darkening gaze too. He was beaming fire into your neck, just as you were chatting away.

“Are you okay?” Your brother is worried for his friend who was flashing a sickly face hinted with anger. The plump of your lip met white teeth, a reddened spot building up as you tried your best to prevent any unwanted facial expression or laughter. Aran became intrigued as well.

Sunarin comes forward to statue both elbows on the table, but without saying a word. Consequently, the question hung low in the air, creating palpable tension at the silence and his direct, unmoving eyes. You ignore it.

Instead, you ring two fingers and ride over the heightened band right where the tip begins. You tighten your hand. Your fingers close around it and meet at the peak, collecting pre-cum and the last of Suna’s patience. The job is done and your hand retreats.

“Yeah.” Breathlessly but barely noticeable, he continues, “Your sister’s just a pain in the ass.”

You dramatically gasp and keep the façade going, just to eventually let him out as per his request for the bathroom. The two boys laugh over their food as Aran receives almost every bad deed you’ve done to his former teammate, just giving him an idea on how you two operate, though you announce your leave to completely end shift and take the pouch off. Once you reach the back and remove any resemblance of your relationship to the restaurant, you reach the one person bathroom. It was a fairly good size.

“Hello? Sunarin?”

©️hxltic

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kairismess · 3 months

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spreading the it’s suna rintaro’s bday today so we should celebrate!!! 🖤🎉

maybe how his reaction would be when surprised in his birthday?

a pleasant surprise. (rintaro suna 2024 birthday fic !!)

his narrow pale green eyes widened just a fraction, and his mouth hung a tad bit open as you surprised him with his favorite flavors of fruit sticks and a home baked cake you made and decorated especially for him.

"happy birthday to my love rin!" read the icing on the cake, with a little doodle of him in a chibi artstyle with two sticks forming a v-shape as his little smile.

rintaro thought that you'd forget about his birthday with how busy you've been these past few days, he honestly would've accepted a kiss or a hug from you when he got home as his birthday gift already, but to have you surprise him and put all this effort in all for him?

well, now you're making him love you even more.

he chuckled a little under his breath, his mouth curving into a sweet, soft smile. "babe... you didn't have to," he whispers shyly, trying to downplay just how much he truly appreciated all the effort you put into this for him.

when you insisted you did, because you wanted him to know just how special he was to you, he chuckled once more and wrapped you around his arms.

"ah, stop it with this sweetness... you'll make me wanna kiss you." he protests in a lazy murmur, bringing you closer to his lips as he sits you down on his lap.

he fed you some of the cake with his fork after taking bites of his own, he always loved to baby you when he's not teasing you to bits. "this might just be the one birthday i'll never pass off as just okay."

he tells you as he runs his hand though your hair, and brushes his finger over your cheek, grinning at you with so much gratitude and love in his pale green eyes–enough to last a lifetime between you two.

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satantica · 1 year

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telling them you can’t sleep - with haikyu boys

characters: kuroo tetsurou, suna rintarou, sugawara koushi

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plooto · 6 months

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stoner!suna with his sweet lalala gf who promised to never smoke was now shotgunning his blunts with him without a second thought.

the moment she hears the rolling tray being placed at his gaming desk, she’s already in his lap. seated so pretty n waiting to see her bf so high out of his mind - cause that’s when he’s the prettiest

waiting patiently because he always taps her thigh with his two soft pats when he’s ready to blow it out.

she sits up just a little bit straighter as she waits for him to cup her chin and rest his thumb on her bottom lip.

she giggles after she blows out the secondhand smoke, squishing a high rin’s cheeks between her dainty fingers as she presses a deep kiss to his lips.

he’s tempted to put the blunt down and bend her over his keyboard , but..he’ll wait until she’s begging to.

insp by @tojipie ‘s post

#suna x reader #suna rintaro haikyuu #rintarou x reader #suna rintaro x reader #. character // rintarou suna #hq suna #rae’s tiny thoughts 💭 // drabbles

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idlerin · 1 year

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YOU'VE GOT A HOLD OF ME

guitarist!suna rintarou x assistant!f!reader

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | extra

the ikarus incident (band au)

+ word count: 1.3k

being the personal assistant of the lead guitarist of one of the biggest bands in the country was no joke.

SUNA RINTAROU being the lead guitarist of one of the biggest bands in the country was no joke, speaking as said lead guitarist's personal assistant. You’re the one who gets dumped all his fan mails, regular mail, and gets bombarded with endless phone calls. You also manage his social media accounts and make sure he doesn't ruin his reputation, at least not too much (you urge him to get a social media manager, he waves off your idea, saying, “Do I need to? You’re managing it well enough”, some days you just want to strangle him).

As of now, you were residing in a hotel– in one of the big fancy rooms reserved for the acts at the band's next performance at this music festival, recounting to him his schedule for the evening, "Right after this we have a meeting with the manager,” you read off of your planner and glance at Suna whose face turned sour, directing his glare on you, “Don’t look at me like that, it's a meeting with the whole band."

Suna Rintarou did not rest the glare.

You glance at your watch to check the time, "You still have over an hour till you're going to the site. During this time, I suggest messaging your sister and asking her how she’s doing. She's been reaching out to me saying you won’t answer her calls and that she is worried about your well being.”

Suna scoffs, “And you believe her?” his sister wasn’t really one of his favorite people since… ever, nor was she yours, from the three times you’ve interacted with her.

“Of course not, but I’d rather she stop bothering me,” you shrug, flipping your notebook to check Suna’s schedule for the following week.

Which included an advertisement shoot and a recording session with the band for their upcoming album. It wasn’t as packed as the other days, which meant you could go home early (you were excited, it’s criminal how you’re excited). Maybe go grocery shopping, you were running low on food in your apartment, which reminded you to check Suna’s refrigerator, it was most probably also empty. You don’t get paid enough for this.

"It still wows me how efficient you are, [name], more importantly, it amazes me how you’ve dealt with Suna’s awful personality for over a year now! No assistant has ever lasted him even 8 months, where the hell did he find you?" Miya Atsumu, the drummer, chitchats as he leaned back on the couch while someone was putting on his makeup.

“Says the one whose last assistant left the country,” Suna retorts, not even looking at Atsumu, just scrolling through his phone.

“That was years ago! And I let Yumi go abroad because she had better opportunities there. I am assistantless of my own free will! So, where did you meet [name]? You guys never told us,” Atsumu counters.

Both you and Suna ignore him as you go over your personal checklist and Suna just couldn’t find it in him to care enough to reply.

“It’s such a great conversation we’re having,” Atsumu says sarcastically, “Can you believe them? They’re both so rude,” He says to the person touching up his make-up.

“What’s happening?” Akaashi Keiji, the lead vocalist, who was talking with the other staff just a few moments earlier, joined in on the conversation, “And where’s Sakusa?” pertaining to the bassist, Sakusa Kiyoomi.

“He’s running late, says he got caught up in a family emergency, but he’ll be here in 10 minutes. Rika texted me just now,” you answer, Sakusa Rika was Sakusa’s PA and cousin.

“I’m really reconsidering getting a new PA, what do you guys think?” Atsumu interrupts once again. “How do you guys even recommend finding one, like seriously, I just found Yumi because my brother recommended her to me but I want to take a different approach this time.”

You get a flashback to the first time you met Suna, you were running late to a meet up with your parents, just got out of your shift at a local coffee shop, a coffee in hand and clutching a bunch of papers to your chest. Wasn’t really one of the brightest things you’ve ever done. The next thing you knew, you were crashing into a body and spilling your hot coffee on a total stranger. Then instead of getting furious the stranger says, “Hm, I have a job offer for you.”

Like a total nutjob!

“Huh?” you were dumbfounded (for clearly obvious reasons), you just spilled coffee on a stranger and he was talking about jobs. All sorts of crazy in the streets these days.

“I need a personal assistant. My name’s Suna Rintarou,” then he gives you a card and he walks away with a single wave goodbye. It took one look at the name on his card and one google search to find out you ran into one of the most famous figures in the country. Said celebrity was walking in the streets? Alone? You didn’t actually think the cap and sunglasses disguise worked in real life.

“I spotted [name] on the streets, I guess I got lucky,” Suna finally answers, standing from his seat to test his guitar out– like he wasn’t just playing hiring-the-first-person-he-sees back then. You need to tighten his security.

You shake your head as you close your notebook and clutch it to your chest. He did somehow get lucky that he bumped into you out of all the people out there in the world, you were great at your job after all. You don’t know why you didn’t immediately put him in the weirdo category the first time you met him and just threw away his business card. You’re a little glad your curiosity got the best of you. It helps that he pays really well.

"That easy? Can you give her to me then? manage my life instead, [name]," Atsumu jokes and winks at you as your lips quirked up to an almost smile.

"Fuck off and find your own PA," Suna gives him the middle finger, "[name] tell him to fuck off."

"Don’t be childish,” you scold, “Also, it depends, how much are you willing to pay me?” you play in on the joke. Suna Rintarou was not amused.

“How much does Suna pay you?” Atsumu smirks, you guess he found it amusing to play around instead of preparing for the show.

You shrug in replace of a proper answer. In all honesty, being Suna’s PA wasn’t that bad. The salary was good. You’ve already established a comfortable dynamic with Suna. You actually liked working for him, even if he is so much more work than the job description said, and it took you months to learn his habits and likes and dislikes. He frustrates you a lot too. Despite this, as much as you’d hate to admit it, you have a soft spot for him.

“Sorry for being late,” Sakusa walks in and straight to a seat where people immediately assist him.

“It’s fine, we still have an hour,” Akaashi calmly says while working on his lyric book.

You take a glance at Suna who is now silently tuning his guitar, you walk towards him and stand beside the couch he’s sitting on. Watching his slender fingers slide on one of his beautiful guitars (that’s probably worth millions).

“What are you doing here? You should go to your new employer,” Suna nudged his head to Atsumu’s direction who forgot about the earlier conversation and was now flirting with one of the newly hired staff. These poor girls, you need to figure out a way to warn them next time.

You roll your eyes at Suna, “I know you’re not actually upset.”

He stops fiddling around with the guitar and looks up at you, “Yeah, cause I know you’d never replace me with someone as unbearable as ‘tsumu.”

“Like you’re not as equally unbearable?” you raise a brow at him.

“The difference is, you like me too much, [name]” you feel as if a vein popped on your forehead, here comes the frustrating part, he was so cocky!

“And you’re so sure of that Rin, how?” you scowl at him.

“Well, for one, you’ve stuck with me for almost 2 years now and you haven’t completely lost your mind yet,” he gave you a little smile and at that moment he was almost cute. Just almost. He still has that cocky look in his eyes that made him unbelievably irritating.

“I’m glad you’re self aware,” you also smile a little at him. You caught his eyes and let yourself get lost in them a little bit.

Then you snap out of it.

You clear your throat, “I-I’ll go talk to your manager,” you turn around and quickly walk to the door to get out.

You remind yourself to build up more boundaries.

notes — no this is not connected to rings that dont fit sakusa rlly just had a fam issue.. and yes the band members r kinda random but i think they’d fit well together ehe hope you guys would enjoy this im making it three parts! (and i said it would be a quick fic 🤡)

also, i keep alternating between making the paragraphs start with a capital letter and a small letter (purely for aesthetic purposes) right now ive settled w capital letter first for fics and small letters for stuff like scenarios but it looks so inconsistent! what do u guys think

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satoruzlove · 1 year

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hello! i recently found your account and i love every bits of stories you write! can i request something like atsumu, sakusa, and suna having an underground garage with over 12 cars or more? and their s/o jokingly claims that they love them only because of their money and cars? lol idk, you can decide about the other details. i would just love to read something like this. i hope you understand my messy and clumsy imagination :' )

i hope you have a good day/night! merry christmas also! 🥰❤️‍🔥

-🫧

I LITERALLY SAW THIS AND DIIIIEEED ANON CUS I RLY LIKE THIS IDEA, and THANK U MWAAAH IM SO GLAD U LIKE MY WRITING <333 HUGS & SUGAR COOKIES 4 U. i’m sorry about how fawking late this is & i rly hope u do like this- it took me a whole while to rly grasp what i wanted to do with this glorious prompt, i wrote a lot these past few days BUT WHATEVER HERE U ARE MY WONDERFUL BUBBLE ANON ( cute af choice btw)

LET ME RIDE ?

[k. sakusa , r. suna , a. miya ]

- suggestive at some parts , boys with cars, praising and touchiness ( kiyoomi ) , alcohol and FLIRTINGGG ( atsumu’s ), friends to lovers & lots of tension ( rintarou ) , also kiyoomi is called a sugar daddyLMAO but he isn’t i swear -

KIYOOMI SAKUSA ::

your boyfriend is meticulous in every aspect of his life. his looks, his health, his belongings- everything. from the way he keeps his clothing folded to how he cares for his multiple expensive , beautiful race cars. as a pro athlete it’s expected of him to have such things , but you’d never expect to see how he handles them with such care - almost as if they were people. he gets them serviced and checked every other month, and polishes the luxurious leather of the seats frequently. when you two were dating, he often picked you up from work in different cars each time - claiming to want to make you look like you were some kind of vip. although, whenever you requested to drive one of them, he’d give you a look. it’s not that he didn’t trust you, he just knew that you couldn’t drive for shit and there’s no way he letting you do trial and error on his multi million dollar mobile.

that’s how you got here ; standing beside him as he folds away some of his summer clothes and practically begging him to let you drive one of his babies. “i’ll even let you tell me how to drive, kiyo, you can be my instructor,” you whine softly. he muttered a ‘nope’ popping the ‘p’ to emphasise his adamancy on the topic. you tugged his shirt sleeve, nearly forcing his dark eyes onto you- before he even knew it, he was convinced. the thick lashes surrounding the swimming, sparkly pool of your irises bored up at him only interrupted momentarily by you blinking.kiyoomi’s eyebrows crunched , mimicking the way his heart squeezed in his chest, despite knowing you just wanted to use his car. he let out a loud, dramatic sigh before running a hand over his face. “fine, you can use one. i will be there, i will tell you what to do and i definitely will stop you if you screw up,okay?” your boyfriend bossed. you smiled up at him, “nono! you can just teach me yourself, i’ll pretend i don’t even have my license,” and when you saw the bored look on his face you added to your statement,” to y’know, ease your mind.”

kiyoomi poked his cheek with his tongue , only to stop a smile from forming on his face. “go get dressed into like,” he paused for a second, his tone questioning when he continued, “..driving clothes..?” and you laughed at that. happily you got dressed and headed to the lowest level of your two story house- the underground.as the sleek metal doors opened, multiple shiny, elegant cars came into view but kiyoomi made a beeline for one in particular. she was black, a two seater that had neon green highlights on her gorgeous sides. “ porshe 2022 911 gt3,” he muttered, slender fingers lightly brushing over the glossy hood. you gawk for a second, “ i have no idea what that is, but holy shit,” you mutter. he huffs a laugh before unlocking the machine.

you hop into the drivers seat, and kiyoomi stares you down. you nearly choke under his gaze , “ don’t tell me you changed your mind,” you challenge him. he laughs- heartily almost- until a smirk overcomes his pretty face. “ you said i could teach you, didn’t you? get up. you’re gonna be on my lap.” his tone is smooth, weight panging in your tummy as you process what he said. your hands hesitantly slide off the steering wheel, allowing him to get in. he adjusts his weight with his hips, hands resting on his upper thighs until he pats them. “ come,” he says, “ sit , we don’t have all day.”

you oblige, your own thighs caged by his as his hands find home on yours. he’s guiding them to the wheel, you observe. “ i’ll worry about clutch, acceleration and breaks. you just steer and change gears for me , okay?” you notice his tone is soft, gentle because of how close he is to your ear. his breath hovers right over the shell of your ear. you nod, and he turns the key in the ignition. little lights and buttons exert an array of colour- almost tempting you to press them. he revs the engine - a low, prolonged echo ringing throughout the underground garage and vibrating your intertwined forms. you close your eyes and soon you come to understand just why your boyfriend loves his cars.

“you know,” you mutter, head dropping onto his shoulder, “‘might steal this thing and flee the fuckin’ country. it feels so-,”,” freeing, huh?” he practically steals the words from your mouth. you nod, smiling breathlessly, “ exactly,” before continuing ,” maybe you being away so much isn’t that bad , considering how my friends think you’re my sugar daddy,” and your boyfriend scoffs. a thick, black brow raised,” atsumu was right, you really do want me for my money.” kiyoomi chuckles, earning another giggle from you. dreamily , you sigh, “ absolutely, you’re my lovely little sugar daddy,” kiyoomi’s body shakes with laughter and his dimples cave in- you swear you get butterflies every time they do.the warm up light on the car goes off and from that point , the drive was smooth sailing.

you didn’t go far , seeing as your house was quite far from anything else , you had a lot of room. you drove mainly around your area. you two had come to a park, very secluded and probably privately owned, and you parallel parked. kiyoomi’s lowered his head , muttering a ,” you’re really good at this, dunno why i was so worried. even i struggle to parallel park sometimes,” he admits shyly. you smile, but you don’t miss the way he gazes at you as your eyes train on the park just outside the window. as soon as your head turns, you’re met with kiyoomi. his lips on yours. your lover’s hand is on the back of your head- guiding you like he was as you drove- and his latter hand on your waist. for a moment he broke away, nose smushing against yours. “did so good for me today,” he muttered against you. you had no time to reply or even be surprised at his remark, as he dove in for another kiss. this one was hungrier, more passionate and less shy than before. of course, you followed the pace happily.

his lips left yours with a deep exhale , “ move to the passenger seat,” he instructed, “‘ wanna get us home real fast, gonna continue this in a more comfortable setting, yeah?” and as you moved, tumbling over the gear stick and quickly plopping yourself onto said seat, “gonna take my time with you, yn.” you heard from kiyoomi as he revved the car once more. you were definitely in for a ride.

SUNA RINTAROU ::

suna rintarou is your best friend. you’ve known eachother since child hood and have gone through absolute hell together. puberty, your first crushes, the trauma’s of young adulthood, dealing with the miya twins. you started liking him in middle school, only ever telling aran about it and swearing him to secrecy. you couldn’t tell if suna liked you, you knew that if he did feel the same he’d never tell you, because that’s how he was. any person he’s ever entertained had the same complaint , that he didn’t know how to express his feelings properly and they couldn’t take how badly he blows at communicating.

you don’t understand, and you could never ; because he knows how to communicate with you. you two have an inexplainable bond- and he doesn’t feel the suffocating, degrading feeling in his chest when he talks to you about how he feels. he trusts you with everything. he always has, he has no trouble telling you.

he trusts you with everything, except his cars. all 11 of them.

which is why you slapped his arm when he showed you his underground garage , claiming to ‘ wanna show you something really, really cool ’ he wasn’t lying. his black t shirt seemed to look godly under the stage lights of his garage, as he strolled next to you- taking in his collection and carefully watching your pupils blow in awe. “ you’re such a dick, rin,” you laugh, “ i can’t believe you kept this from me, knowing damn well i’d give my left tit to drive one of these” he snorts, head throwing back and eyes scrunching at your choice of words. he comes to a halt infront of a shimmery, matt- finished car. you eyes drag over the hood, the cat- like head lights and your eyes scrunch up in delight at the ‘ mommy’s boy’ sticker barely in sight. “ it’s a-“,” mclaren, 765lt right ?”

his moss green eyes betray the stoic look on his face. they widen, sparkling in amusement. “ i always forget that you have no friends and read all day,” he feigns a sugary sweet tone. you shove him by the hip, toddling over to the passenger seat. “stop being an ass and take me for a drive.” you sigh. rin tries to ignore how right it feels to have you in his passenger seat , the way his mind quickly flicks images of you two going out at odd hours for icecream, his hand in a wedding ring- your wedding ring- on the gear stick. “ rintarou, come back to earth!” you bark laughter, now infront of him. his eyes screw shut and widen, he hadn’t even realised that he zoned out. he’s looking down at you, eyebrows raised as he attempts to ease out of his daze.

“stop being so bossy, you little tree stump,” he mumbles, making his way to the driver’s side door. it slides open smoothly, and he practically jumps inside. as you do the same, a smell- his smell- envelopes you. old spice and a tinge of something sweet. you both reach for the radio at the same time, and as his hand makes contact with yours he nearly jumps away as if your hands were a burning hot coal. he clears his throat, starting the car and ignoring the furious flutter i the pit of his stomach. you connect your phone, skipping through your playlist. you finally choose a song, and rintarou swears he could fall over and giggle like a little girl at your choice.

“love you like a brother, treat you like a friend,

respect you like a lover, oh,oh,oh”

your best friend’s eyes flit over to yours, only for him to spot you lip syncing the words of the song. as he pulls out the drive way he imagines you- calling him your lover, holding him, kissing him, being his. he smiles softly when you turn to him, lip syncing the words with conviction. “ if you be the cash, i’ll be the rubber band,” you mumble along with the song, hands coming out to poke him to punctuate your words. he mirrors you, eyebrows lifting as he sings.”painter baby you could be the muse, im the reporter baby-,” you two look at eachother in unison, your hands finding his cheeks,” you could be the news,” and for a moment, he doesn’t realise that you’re holding him so sweetly.

when the chorus comes, you two sit in silence as he pulls over to a mcdonald’s drive through. it’s quiet,lights of the glowing sign washing you with hues of colour and making you look of another world. you turn to him, boredly saying, “ you’re not so bad if we get to do this ,” and he rolls his eyes. he clicks his tongue , “ you’re literally like inlove with me, shut up,” he jests. your eyes don’t move for a moment, neither does your body, until you mutter a ‘true’ and turn away like it’s nothing.

rintarou waits for you to make a joke- but you don’t.

his face is pink, your tone was so genuinely that he could believe what you said. that he could think you’re being serious. he sips his sprite, “ good.” he replies to you. whether you were kidding or not, it’s a safe response. you sit there in silence for hours, and for once, rintarou isn’t properly communicating with you ; because he values you too much. too much to lose you, too much to love you, because he doesn’t know how. he’ll take you for drives as much as you want- forever even- if it means he gets to keep you.

ATSUMU MIYA ::

you and your lover stumbled into his mansion, a heap of giggles and whiskey flavoured kisses. atsumu’s grip on your hips is hard, loving , equal parts stable as he ushers you down to his garage. the blond smiles at you, lovesick, “thank you for coming back with me, sweet cheeks,” he mumbles. you giggle, eyes shiny and doe like- not a single thought behind them- “ thank you for inviting me, tsumu,” you mewl in response. he grows tired of stumbling and picks you up, earning a girly giggle, and practically running down the stairs with you. “ tsumu!” you laugh heartily, tears in your eyes as he nearly falls but somehow manages to keep you off the ground. he gets up sloppily, converse squeaking against marble floors right before he enters the garage. the man puts you down, planting a disgustingly wet kiss on your cheek and rubbing it with his large, calloused thumb.

he spreads his beefy arms, “ welcome to my pride and joy,” he stumbles a bit, “ apart from you, and my dog, my babies of course” he smiles. your lips part in awe looking at them all, and he smirks with pride. you feel playful - “ glad i gave you a chance, babes, this is really impressive. might just marry you for all this,” you say. he raises his eyebrows, a smile on his face and the apples of his cheeks rising, closing the gap between you he gets so close that you smell your favorite champaigne on his breath. “well baby, if it’s the money you want i’ll give it you. cant say ‘no’ to the prettiest baby in the world, can i?” his eyes are glazed under the influence, but his tone sounds so kind. so tender with you. you knew that atsumu would put the ocean in the sky for you, but something about him saying made you fall for him again. your blond lover melts at the blush on your cheeks, and backs away again.

when he drags you to a car you pull him to a halt. “ tsum,” you say, “ we can’t drive- we had alcohol,” you say. atsumu laughs , grabbing your neck gently and placing yet another sloppy kiss on your cheek, “ i wanna make out with you in my car, honeybunch, not drive,” he slurs. he gets in the back seat,hauling you onto his thick thighs and kneading at your hips. “ so gorgeous, so handsome , so perfect for me,” he says in-between kisses placed lovingly on your puffy lips. “ my good baby, my baby.” he’s babbling, mindlessly saying whatever his heart desires, “ mine, mine, mine,” he continues, like a mantra , sacred and ancient- like the only thing that he knows.

he kisses your lips hungrily and squeezes your sides, as if to keep you and this moment in his grasp forever. the leather under you is hot with passion and affection, the most innocent lust he’s ever felt because you are worth everything. whether it’s all his money or his entire soul- he’d give it all to you.

brain went wOmp for sakusa’ s i’m not sureeee how i feel. also not proofread cus my phone is dying but i rly rly like atsumu’s like woah. tbh i’m JUST NOT SURE ABOJT KIYOOOOOOMIS AAAAAAA but this was fun af !!! kiss kiss fall inlove

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rintarousgirl · 10 months

Text

i wanna be yours -- 2. pretty visitors

✦ - Y/N is a small business owner, offering her services not only as a designer but an at-home makeup artist and cosmetic producer as well. She's perfectly content with her small life when she's approached by the manager of the INARIZAKI band, asking for her to fill the position of backstage artist on short notice. Needing the money, and wanting the experience, Y/N agrees. Little does she know of the fatal attraction she will share with the band's lead, Suna Rintarou.

»»————-　★　————-««

You feel a little hesitant when you get the email from Kita. Your stomach is flipping with nerves, wondering how in the hell you got yourself into this. Would you change your decision? No. But were you allowed to worry and be curious? Absolutely.

You were a small business, you've only had about a thousand orders, and fifty actual makeup gigs. You had roughly seven thousand followers on twitter, and you rarely ever checked your website unless it was to look at commissions. It made you wonder what kind of recommendation Kita was given to actually consider you, or if he was really that desperate. Given the fame of the band, he could probably pay off some really good artist to drop whatever clients they had and dress up the band for that concert. But he didn't, he came to you.

So, you had to make sure you didn't blow it.

While waiting for the time to head out, you organize all the supplies you might need. Multiple shades of foundation and concealer/color corrector, muted and neutral eyeshadows, contour and a bit of blush, some eyeliner for those who were willing. You neatly put all your blenders and brushes into a small bag before placing it in a large makeup case.

Blowing out a sigh of relief, you looked at the clock. You still had three hours before you even had to meet them. Pulling out your phone, you sent a text to Akaashi.

༻✦༺

You sat at a small table, your bags by your feet as you sipped on your hot chocolate. It melted on your tongue, the creamy marshmallows slipping down your throat. Akaashi sat in front of you, smiling down at his phone as he held his hot chocolate in his other hand.

You checked the time, 2:43.

"Shit," you cursed, sitting up straight. You wiped the hot chocolate from your upper lip as Akaashi looked up.

"What is it?" he frowned, pocketing his phone. His hand tightened on the handle of his mug.

"I need to leave, I have my...interview in fifteen minutes," you reach across the table, holding Akaashi's wrist and giving it a firm squeeze. "I'm really sorry, Kash. I thought we'd leave before 3:30 and I'd get to leave."

He smiled faintly, rubbing his thumb over your hand. "Don't worry about it. I'll get you home."

"Thanks," you beam, picking up your bags as the two of you head out. Your apartment wasn't far away, so you should be able to drop your bags and run out the door really quick.

The drive is relatively silent, both of you having shared how you'd been when you were driving to the mall. He drops you off outside your apartment, and you mutter your thanks again as you run into the building. You pretty much open your door, drop your bags on the couch, grab your keys, and run back down to the parking garage.

Typing in the agreed address into your GPS, you pull out of the lot. From what Kita had told you, you'd be meeting at a rented work office. He said they didn't use it often, but they didn't have anywhere less personal to meet at the moment. Apparently, they usually met at one of their houses, but because you were a stranger, they decided to take the precaution, which you could understand. A well-known band meeting a stranger? You'd do the same.

The office was only ten minutes away, so you pulled in with five minutes to spare. You breathed out a sigh of relief, before slinging your purse over your shoulder and heading into the building. You were told it was office 9b.

Taking a small trip in the elevator, it opened up in hallway "b". Slowly, you walked down the hallway, eyeing the numbers above the left doors.

5...7...

You fell a bit short at 9, swallowing down your nerves. The blinds to the window were closed, but you could see the shadows of figures inside. Five of them.

You stepped in front of the door and took in a deep breath. You raised your hand to knock only for the door to swing open. You paused, surprised, and slowly lowered your hand.

A man with dyed blonde hair stood in front of you, a smile on his face as your eyes met. His face was familiar, though you couldn't place a name to it. He was muscular, built similarly to Bokuto, which led you believe he played some kind of sport at some point.

He didn't seem to be as startled as you were, and only leaned closer from where he was bracing himself on the door. Subtly, you leaned a bit back, your feet shifting to flee.

"You must be Y/N. I was 'bouta go lookin' for you."

"Uh, hello," you said, with a small bow of your head. "You are?"

He raised his brow, a bit amused as his grin grew. "You don't know me? The most famous member?"

"No," you admitted, "I'm sorry?" it was a geninue sentiment, but it came out as more of a question.

A dark hand wrapped around the man's bicep, and pulled him back. "Don't torment her, Atsumu," a grumbly voice came. There was a face you recognized.

You knew Aran briefly, so his face was a pleasant surprise. You'd worked for his little brother before, the younger of the brother's being an influential model. You'd worked on set with him, and occasionally Aran would join you guys. You'd never shared more than small-talk, but from what you remember he was a sweet guy.

"Aran," you smiled. His eyes met yours and his smile matched. You stepped forward, past a spluttering Atsumu, and gave him a quick side-hug. It was relatively informal, but you were never big on handshakes. "I didn't know you were in the band."

He shrugged. "Didn't have much else to do," he admitted, leading you in.

"Hey!" Atsumu shouted, running up next to you, "I thought we agreed I would greet her!"

"You did, and you failed," another voice drawled. You looked up, finding the other two members sitting on a couch, Kita only a few feet away. The man who had spoken was clearly Atsumu's twin, sharing pretty much the same face. His eyes though, were a softer grey, and his hair was a natural dark brown.

Your eyes shifted, and you found the second man. His eyes were a hazy green, and they were focused on you. His hand lifted to run through his hair, brown and fluffy. You felt like there was a tug on your gut, and for a second you were afraid you were about to puke. His brows furrowed, and you felt your own lips twist.

He looked away, cutting off that horrible feeling in your stomach. You took in a deep breath. Aran gestured you toward an empty seat, which you took with a grateful smile.

Kita came to your side, dragging over his own chair. He handed you a coffee, which you accepted. "Thank you," you said, holding it in front of you. You took a hesitant sip. It wasn't the coffee you liked, but it was thoughtful, so you drank.

"You know Aran?" Kita asked as the boys got settled into their own seats. The key voices you could hear was Atsumu and his twin, and a grumble here and there from Aran. You had yet to hear the voice from the stranger on the couch.

"Very little," you agreed, running a thumb over the rim of your cup, "I know his brother better. I..I did his makeup for a photo shoot one time."

Kita made a little "Ah," sound, and took a sip of his coffee. "So, you have work experience, that's good."

You sighed, "Not a lot of it. I may do...really bad at this gig."

"Everyone has nerves. I think you'll do great, Y/N," he rifles through his bag for a minute, before pulling out a folder. He hands it to you, and you take it.

"What's this?" you ask, peering into the folder. It has your name written on it in Kita's neat handwriting. He opens his mouth to explain, and you hang on intently to every word.

"I know you haven't agreed to take the job on full time yet, but that's all the needed paperwork and schedules for the next tour. We're going on this October after our newest album drops."

"Oh, tour's a big commitment." He nods. "And you want me to do it?"

"I have faith in you," he looks over to the rest of the band, "and I know eventually they'll learn to trust you too."

"I don't know their names yet," you laugh, rubbing the back of your neck. Kita chuckles, and points at each member.

"I know you know Aran, so I'll skip him. The Miya twins are Atsumu and Osamu, you've met Atsumu," you recalled the blonde who'd leaned against the doorframe when you tried to walk in. He was a loud personality, and it was clear his brother was too. Osamu appeared quiet at first, but you were pretty sure he was just putting on an act to seem better than Atsumu.

"And that, is Suna Rintarou," your eyes drifted over to the stranger, and you felt your heart leap into your throat. He was ignoring the bickering going on around him, scrolling through his phone. One arm slung over the back of the couch. "Lead singer, though he doesn't talk much."

"I see that," you comment, "He's, uh, very intense."

Kita laughs, drawing the attention of the band, who seemed to forget your presence. Atsumu sends one last scathing remark to Osamu, which has Aran pulling him down and sitting between the twins. But you don't care much for their antics, focusing on the way Suna's head slowly picks up and meets your eyes. He tilts his head ever so slightly, that you wouldn't have noticed if you weren't watching him so intently.

A small shiver racks your spine, and you quickly look away.

Kita clears his throat and claps his hands together. "I believe we have business to discuss." The band seems to straighten and put themselves together at that, the only one seeming unphased being Aran, who was no doubt used to Kita's formal way of speaking.

"This is Y/N L/N, she will be your makeup artist for the concert we have tommorow. Depending on how she enjoys the job, she will continue to be our makeup artist on tour. She will also be the one deciding costumes from here on out."

You give a small wave and offer a polite smile. "About that," you say, "Will there be options for me to choose from? Or should I go shopping?"

Kita nods, "You will be expected to shop tomorrow for the gig. I will fund you the money necessary, and don't be afraid to call me if you need more." You hum, mentally thinking of what you had planned for the next day. Going to the mall shouldn't disturb anything, maybe you could drag Kuroo along with you, he'd know what kind of things these guys wear onstage.

Atsumu purses his lips and tilts his head to the side, squinting at you. "What are your qualifications? I don't mean to be offensive, but Kita literally picked you up off the street."

You laugh, small and airy. "I understand completely. I went to school for cosmetology in hair and makeup, with a minor in business. And while I don't have anything decreeing excellence in costume designing, I do run a fairly successful business." You rummage through your purse, pulling out one of your cards. You hand it to him, and he hands it to Osamu to inspect.

"She worked on set with my brother as his makeup artist, Atsumu. Relax, she's good," Aran spoke up on your behalf, which had a bit of relief flowing through you. If you had Kita and Aran on your side, two very reasonable men, then the other three were sure to approve of you.

"Seems legit," Osamu drawls, tucking the card into his pocket. You smile, trying not to show just how nervous you truly were. "Can we go get dinner? I'm rather hungry."

"Me too," a softer, raspier voice spoke up. Your eyes slide to the side where Suna is looking at you. His eyes are piercing, but he doesn't stare at you with animosity. More so a curiosity he wouldn't dare act upon. His voice was nice to listen to, even that soft whisper of words. It was no surprise that he was lead singer.

Kita looks over to you, extending a silent invitation. You shake your head. You still had so much to prepare. "Find a place," he says, before standing up. He walks you to the door and pulls out his wallet.

"Thank you for coming," he says, counting his money. "I truly do hope tomorrow goes well."

He drops a wad of money into your palm and curls your fingers around you. You want to deny it and say it's too much, but you know it isn't for you. It's for the band. You nod, and tuck the money into your purse.

"Thank you for having me," you agree, and give him a brief handshake. "I will contact you if anything is needed."

He smiles, and you look back to the office. The twins are hovered over a phone, no doubt searching for a nice place to eat. Aran is packing up his belongings, and Suna just stands there, observing. Bu the isn't observing the rest of the band. He's observing you.

Your hands tighten on the strap of your purse before lifting to give him a small wave. Your fingers shake as they do, and you watch as his lips turn up in an almost smile before he turns away. It was probably the best you were gonna get out of him.

Then you leave, sitting in your car as your body sags with exhaustion. Who knew nerves could make a person so tired? Leaning your head against the steering wheel, you take deep breaths. Anxiety is starting to kick in, but you refuse to let it hit. There are things at home you can distract yourself with.

Like your long list of commissions. You groan, another eave of exhaustion ripping through you. You should probably put your business on hiatus if you decide to go through with the tour. But you just got to finish up these last few commissions.

You can kiss goodbye a goodnight's sleep.

༻✦༺ <- previous | next -> | masterlist

fun facts! :

★ - im trying to make y/n a calmer and more mature person. i dont mean this as hate to other writers but in most cases y/n acts very immature and high energy, and i feel like that type of y/n just wouldn't fit in this plot. so here we have my y/n!

★ - suna drinks herbal tea to keep his voice safe and regularly orders gummy vitamins for his vocal cords. he isn't very vocal regardless though, preferring to keep his thoughts to himself. that's why his social media is so busy and random, it's where he empties his mind.

★ - atsumu trusts osamu's judgement better than his own, so in most cases he relies on his twin to help him decide things

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