#suna rintaro headcanons

[forusomimiya]

Virgin!Suna is a horny mess. Whenever he sees you he gets a hard-on and has to run to the bathroom to jerk off and imagine that you are there between his legs, sucking his balls and cumming later on your face. Virgin!Suna fantasizes about you in every possible way. You're always on his mind, whether it's on his face or on his cock. He often wonders what your cum would taste like, and the mere thought of it makes him get hard again and go get some toilet paper to jerk off again. Virgin!Suna will come up behind you at the party and rub his cock against your ass like a fucking dog in heat. He'll whisper in your ear the wonderful things he could do to you if you were at home. Meanwhile, you'd be slumped over his shoulder, struggling with the heat and the shiver his dirty words send down your spine.

"I bet if you let me taste that little pussy, you'd end up on your knees in front of me begging for more, don´t you? What do you think about it?"

Virgin!Suna would despair and take it out on you for not fucking him that night in the cruelest way. A picture of his red cock, with cum all over his belly would ignite your desire and leave you horny for hours. "Look at what you've done to me…. So miserable and proud that you won't help a poor virgin to milk his cock…. I hope it's a lesson for you next time, I don't let just anyone play with me".

[iwas-princess]

if there is one thing that suna doesn’t do lazily, it’s eating your pussy.

his tongue reaches every crevice of your folds, running up and down the sensitive organ until your begging him with shaking hands in his hair, to tongue-fuck your clit.

and so he does.

plush lips wrapped gently around the bundle of nerves as he suckled on it, his tongue rapidly flicking as it’s cradled in his hot, wet mouth. his half-lidden eyes would stay glued to yours the whole entire time, watching as you tried your best to keep the eye contact going, remembering the words he always told you beforehand:

look away, and i’ll stop.

but, he doesn’t really ever want to stop, because the look on his sweet, pretty girl’s face when he makes her cum is plenty enough to make up for your shitty listening skills. the way your thighs shake around his head, trying desperately not to close in fear of hurting him— not that he ever minds. your mouth open and letting out small gasps and loud whines as his lips begin to kiss something wetter; it’s all like a high to him, a rush of adrenaline composed out of love and the need to make his princess feel good.

your usual boyfriend resorts back to his lazy ways the moment after he gives your clit a small peck and whispers out a ‘thank you’ to the nerves— a ritual he’s done ever since you started sleeping together.

so yeah, contrary to popular belief, suna rintaro is not a lazy pussy eater.

[prodkatsu]

youtuber ⨾ suna

youtuber!suna who roasts people on his channel, reacts to various things, gives his review on many topics and sometimes shows the mundane things in his life.

youtuber!suna who is a well known content creator and has almost 2 million subscribers.

youtuber!suna has a big fanbase because boys admire him for his attitude and think he's cool while girls love him because he's pretty and well spoken.

fans of youtuber!suna go batshit when they get to know their favourite youtuber is in a relationship. they calm down when they see how happy suna is in his relationship and how nice you are.

youtuber!suna likes to keep his private life aside but he loves it when you support him from behind the camera or accidentally appear on the video.

youtuber!suna keeps the shots of you mindless coming into the room he's recording and asking him about dinner.

youtuber!suna never publicly talks about you but during livestreams on instagram if people ask him about you he'll reply to them.

youtuber!suna makes you sit by the camera where people can't see anything except your shoulder or your legs that are draped over suna's lap while he caresses them.

youtuber!suna who is sharing his views on a topic and he would ask you about your opinion and would listen to them intently.

people know what you look like because of your various accidental and sometimes intentional appearances on youtuber!suna videos.

youtuber!suna would make you watch certain videos with him so you two can react together and cringe and laugh at them.

after gaining a lot of fans youtuber!suna gets more comfortable in showing his relationship and asks you to do more frequent appearances if you're comfortable.

youtuber!suna now lets you take over his youtube channel for a day. you vlog your daily life with him and how you roast the man who loves to roast people.

fans of youtuber!suna makes cute edits of the interactions between you, how he treats you with utmost respect and love, how your eyes light up whenever you're talking to him, the heated gazes and soft kisses before you leave him alone to do the rest of the video. everyone loves you two because you two are just the prettiest and perfect couple out there.

youtuber!suna now talks more freely about his relationship with you and tells everyone how you have been with him since highschool. he shares your memories with his fans and tell them how you've always been his number one fan.

years into the gig youtuber!suna posts a video of him proposing to you. you saying yes to him and him crying while hugging you.

youtuber!suna becoming a household name around the world and everyone is happy for how he has grown. now a father to a twin with a lovely wife who loves him a lot and he loves her too with the same passion as day one.

© prodkatsu — do not plagiarise, translate or repost my work on any other sites. the characters that i write about are not mine (sadly), they belong to their respective creators.

[epilary]

orange peel theory w/ suna rintarō | headcanon

masterlist | requests are open

  "hey babe? could you peel an orange for me?"

  "sure- wait what?" 

  he leans into the living room, one hand holding a pan while the other is stirring something in it. his eyebrows are furrowed, gaze only softening when they set on you. you set down your phone and look up at him, an innocent smile gracing your face. 

  “peel an orange… could you peel one for me?” 

  rin looks back at the fridge, probably wondering why you’d want one all of sudden. especially as he’s making his famous curry rice. “i mean, i can. uh, do you think you could man the curry then? just until i get it peeled and chopped.”

  you nod, hiding back a mischievous smile upon realizing that you probably don’t have any oranges. maybe a couple apples or a pear, but the last time you bought oranges was ages ago. “yeah babe, i’m coming,” you quickly follow him to the kitchen, stuffing your phone into your back pocket.

  just as you get to the stove, rin opens the fridge and looks back at you, pursing his lips. “so we have no oranges right now…” he shuts the door, walking over to you, “now, i could go and get you some, or i could finish making this, maybe giving you some love.”

  “i think you may just be better than an orange,” you wrap your arms around his neck, kissing him gentle as his hands rest on your hips.

[renardiererin]

rintarou suna is the type of boy who does not give a fuck about who sees you holding hands in the hallways. he'll kiss you in the middle of the cafeteria, hold your hand and swing your arms when you walk through the halls, pass you love notes in class, anything. he doesn't care who sees or who judges you cause as long as you're his girl, there's nothing he'd rather flaunt.

[heathsuii]

| valentines special bcs i missed writing :')

you sighed as you sat beside exseatmate!suna during break, before proceeding to lay your head against his back.

suna hummed, an acknowledgement to your deflated mood.

you sighed again, only this time louder.

"something bothering you?" he says plainly.

"well..." you plucked off flowers from the ground.

"it's just that... valentines is tomorrow."

"and?" he replied confused, stopped whatever he was doing, ears perked up.

"i never get anything..." you sadly explain, making a ring from the flowers you plucked off earlier.

"so..?"

"that's easy for you to say," taking his hand.

"you get them easily, be it valentines day or not."

"guess so," making the teenager shrug.

suna didn't mind it one bit when you placed the flower ring you made on his finger.

the next day, you walked into class and saw a huge pile of gifts on atsumu's desk.

while you were about to take a few sweets, knowing the faux blonde wouldn't mind, you noticed another desk with just as the same amount of gifts to your faux blonde friend.

glancing between suna and the gifts.

pursing your lips, seeing suna unfazed from the valentine gifts infront of him.

putting back the chocolates you took from your sestmate's desk, and returning to your desk.

only then, did you noticed something on yours.

one ferrero rocher surrounded by a pompompurin bracelet.

a tiny paper rose bouquet that had a message written on it.

a baby blue and lilac paper flower.

a small penguin plushie.

and a flower ring, identical to what you gave suna yesterday.

+bonus

while you were glancing between suna and the piles of gifts infront of him,

you failed to notice him covering his mouth with one hand,

suppressing his laughter with his hand,

the hand which was wearing the flower ring you absent-mindedly made yesterday.

i hope you're all doing well~ take care of yourselves! :D

[3lyvshiro]

𐙚 ⋆₊˚ 2:53 ..ᐟ

Suna Rintaro affectionately and unironically calls his grumpy, cold (,and apparently bitchy) girlfriend "sunshine". Even when she's the most standoffish, difficult person you'd ever interact with. he wholeheartedly believes that she is a little bundle of joy, and talks about her like shes an absolute angel to whoever asks.

for instance.

"Theres my girl. shes a little ball of sunshine, isnt she?" rin would say, talking about his girlfriend to a friend of his, with a finger pointed to her by the distance. said girl looking like a feral cat trying to keep a civilized conversation with one of his fangirls.

"morning, sunshine." rin would mutter, approaching his girlfriends desk as the scowl that was etched on her face immediately faded into a soft smile, only ever directed at rin. as she comes up to him and tightly hugs his torso, she nuzzled her face on his neck and catches a smell of his uniforms collar. freshly sprayed cologne. it was that masculine smelling brand that he knew was her favorite on him. she got on her tip toes to kiss her boyfriend on the cheek as he smiled down at her, a big hand on her waist as he patted her head gently.

"hey sunshine" rin would greet, leaning his weight on his girlfriends locker beside his while kissing her head and slipping his hand on her waist, despite her crossed arms and the massive scowl on her features prior to when he approached. he could only assume that something or someone pissed her off...again. upon seeing the look on her face and her obvious frustration, he'd cradle her cheeks with his two big hands to guide her to look at him. and, with the softest voice ever, only for her, he'd coo, "bad day, sweetheart?" while kissing away the heavy scrunch on her brow and caressing her cheek. he could tell from the way she would visibly soften, that she's turned to putty on his hands, once again. he was the only person who could have such an effect on her. at her lack of resistance when it came to him, rin couldn't control the upper quirk of his lips as he smiled softly at her. but before he could bask in the joy of a happy girlfriend once more(happy girlfriend =happy life), said girlfriend furrowed her brows once again. with a red face, she pulled away from rin only to pull on his bicep to keep him close to her as she walked them onto the other side of the hallway, to the cafeteria. She would never admit it, but rin always knew how to calm her down and make her go all soft for him. Yeah, she could be a grump sometimes, but he liked that about her, despite his friends teasing him for his dynamic with his grumpy girlfriend, always commenting about the contrast in how she treats everyone else compared to how she treats him.

something about how he gets special treatment from 'the ice queen' just because he's her boyfriend. in fact, whenever rins friends would catch a girl confessing to him. they always barge in and invite themselves in the conversation only to comment how "you have ta be as cold as y/n to even catch sunarins interest".

later in practice, rin finds himself bringing up how "n/n isnt cold." with the most serious face ever. and with almost everyone strongly disagreeing, he would add, "she can be a grump sometimes, but she isnt an ice queen." i mean, he knew she wasnt exactly the nicest person alive, or the easiest to get along with, but saying she was an ice queen was a bit of a stretch. atleast to him. thats why when atsumu shudders and weakly shares his own encounters and past interactions with the girl, of how difficult it was to get along with her, rin could only scoff in disbelief. "how is she difficult to approach? that must be a you problem because she's literally a ray of sunshine." rin would defend, not catching the sudden dull and stiff tension in the air that enveloped the club room. glancing at his teammates, who all suddenly looked gravely pale, he turned to osamu, who only let out a low whistle as he turned his head to the side. "if y/n's a ray of sunshine, kitas the laziest person in this room." atsumu would speak for everyone, since no one had the guts to say a word, too afraid it would reach sunarins icy girlfriends ears. his statement followed up through by a series of "yup"s, "yeah"s, and overall agreements. rin raises a brow, genuinely confused.

[rinsoap]

bf! suna who loves to hear you talk. he is an incredible listener, you could talk about anything and he will retain a surprising amount of detail on it. most of your facetimes end with you talking until you fall asleep, suna remembering to buy that bag you were talking about before wishing you a late goodnight and adding a soft "i love you".

"ah sorry i know i'm rambling again" "that's okay pretty, you know how much i love your voice"

bf! suna who lets you take all his things. his shirts and hoodies always coming back months later, the smell of his cologne replaced by the smell of your shampoo and he wonders how long it'll take until he starts smelling like it. his rings that slide down your fingers easily from how big they are - although one he'll never let you steal is the one cheesily placed on his ring finger, paired cheesily with your name engraved in his very own cheesy handwriting. his heart that beats a little too fast whenever he hears your sweet laugh escape your perfect lips ... but he'd never tell you that.

"are you sure you don't want it back? it's your favourite shirt" "nah i don't need it, i was planning on donating it or something but since you like it so much... it looks better on you anyways"

bf! suna who is always taking pictures of you. if you're sleeping, be prepared to wake up to twelve pictures he sent, all him posing obnoxiously next to you snoring. anytime you two go out, he must add to his highlight on instagram dedicated to you, making every song one he thinks you embody. he needs to capture every single moment, maybe because he's scared of it slipping away, losing his grip on this feeling he has with you, or maybe its for the simple fact that he thinks you are beautiful.

"babe over here!" "oh wow its like you're my personal paparazzi" "well you know i'm your biggest fan" "eeeew rin thats so cornyyy. and a gaga reference i'm pretty sure" "shut up"

bf! suna who is pretty, point blank. there's nothing more perfect than the blush that appears on his cheeks when you tell him so. he rolls his eyes because he can't seem to look you in yours. maybe you'll see how his typical calm composure completely doubles over just by a mere compliment. but you can see right through him - you always could. when you poke his cheeks and point out his clear flushed face, he distracts you the best way he knows how. and then his lips are on yours, his hand is on the back of your head and you make a mental note to call him pretty more often.

"pretty boy? that's so dumb" "you are literally blushing shut up!!" "fine. maybe i did like it. what are you going to do about it?"

[bontens-new-executive]

Just thinking about owning suna and suna owning you back

Sitting on his lap as he grabs your throat. Looking down on him, your words laced with possessiveness, "I own you. You're fucking mine."

Suna only smirking, voice deep as he growls back, "that's right. You fucking own me. I'm all yours, baby, just like you're mine."

[verslxt]

thinking about street racer!suna who wants you to come watch him race so that you can see him win

thinking about street racer!suna who loves to count money with you after he wins, unless he raced for pink slips

thinking about street racer!suna who taught you all the controls to one of his cars and now you two race against each other and he lets you win sometimes

thinking about street racer!suna who drives like a lil old grandma when he has you in the car because your precious cargo

thinking about street racer!suna who raced for you once and won by a long shot and kissed you hard right in front of the guy he raced

thinking about street racer!suna who's first like actual street race against you went really well, well you beat him by one meter and you two raced for pink slips and you got his most favorite cars pink slip

thinking about street racer!suna who loves working on cars with you because you can like never get one of the bolts undone and he feels so good when you give him a kiss before you continue working on the car

[junosmindpalace]

Suna isn’t the type of person to go out of his way to impress someone. To quit slacking off during practice when he senses Kita’s watchful gaze, sure, but to invest time grooming himself into other people’s likeness? No way. 

He’s secure in himself for the most part, laid back and nonchalant. It wasn’t as if he didn’t put any work into himself, it was just that he only gave effort in areas he cared about or where it was required of him, and that usually didn’t transcend outside the realms of school and volleyball.

Most of the time (when he isn’t slacking off), Suna is practicing getting down a more efficient spike and doing his best to keep up with his agonizing classes. That was the most he cared about in terms of himself…until you had started to talk up a classmate of yours.

Suna was used to getting attention as an athlete, a lot of times indifferent to it. Atsumu was the one who enjoyed that sort of attention more, but he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t a blow to his pride when he hears you gush about a guitarist friend of yours. You would seemingly drone on and on about how impressive he was. You swooned, you would say. Guitarists are so cool. Rintaro listened to all your starstricken rants with raised brows and an annoyed look on his face. He couldn’t help but scoff and look away when you once mentioned something about attending one of his gigs. 

You were enthusiastic about Suna’s volleyball games, but never had you talked about his plays with such reverence. What was so great about guitarists? You could get all the excitement from a concert at one of Suna’s games. There was no need for you to attend that guy’s show. The rush in the stands are pretty much the same you’d feel at a concert venue. 

“Athletes are obviously better. What does plucking some strings have on power and scoring points?”

Suna’s mouth curled downward into a small frown as he listened to Atsumu’s attempt at trying to pick him up during practice. Suna didn’t mean for it to start getting discussed, but Atsumu, dumbfounded by Suna’s irritable mood, got curious on what could possibly make his very nonchalant teammate so…chalant. And so he poked and prodded, making exaggerated comments about his ugly face due to the deep frown on his lips and how he could see the steam coming from his ears until Suna caved in. 

“Obviously something.” 

Rintaro, you should see him play! He’s incredible, it almost has me falling for him. You had joked, but alarm bells were going off in his head, a wave of nausea washing over him and wiping out the remainder of his ego and any sort of nonchalance he was able to feign. That was his final straw. 

It was Aran who was the first to find out about Suna’s new hobby when he visited his house one afternoon, staring in surprise at the new addition to his usually unchanging room sitting in the corner.

“When’d you get a guitar, man?”

“Last week.”

“I didn’t know you were interested in playing an instrument.”

Suna's gaze shifted to the ground as he only gave a shrug in response, because he really wasn’t. At least, not out of a passion for it. He liked listening to music, he didn’t mind listening to other people play, but he himself had never been interested in learning. Well, until he learned about your love for guitarists. 

“They’re just so….you know?”

“I don’t.”

You laughed, even though Suna had meant the words with all the sincerity in the world. And he never got a clear explanation, so now he’s taking it upon himself to figure out what makes a couple of chords so impressive. 

He’s ready to bash his head into the guitar only a couple of days in. The metal strings on his acoustic were harsh on his fingers and always slipped from their position on the fretboard. He gets down the chord shapes decently quick, which motivate him to immediately move onto barring and suddenly he’s back to square one. Transitioning between each chord was also a pain, and don’t get him started on reading sheet music. Injuring his fingers during a game set his progress back a week.

He tries focusing on learning to play your favorite music; solos, riffs and the like. But each tutorial requires another tutorial, and it becomes a vicious pattern of Suna going down a rabbit hole trying to learn one thing after another. 

He’s ready to give up on the whole thing and find some way to impress you with volleyball, but the plan to abandon his progress halts after your reaction to him casually bringing up how difficult it was to play. 

“Wow, Rin, you play? I had no idea! That’s awesome! I’m sure you’re incredible!” 

And suddenly Suna’s back to looking up various tutorials, practicing transitioning between different chords and properly starting out with the basics. He even borrows workbooks from the music rooms to practice outside of school. The patience required of him made his head spin, but it was no matter. He was an athlete with an oblivious crush- patience was his middle name.

He’s surprisingly dedicated, not staying too late after school for volleyball practice and instead opting to work out of his books in the afternoon. He’s gotten farther than he ever expected he would- he even picks up on the language naturally. He doesn’t even realize it until he’s ranting to you about some annoying technical details, not even in an attempt to make you fawn over him.

When he turns to look at you, he’s caught off guard by the impressed look on your face.

“Sounds frustrating. I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it soon.” You said slowly, tilting your head to the side. 

Suna admits that despite having a lot to learn and a lot of practice to be doing in order to improve his musicality, he’s actually found this new hobby of his decently fun. He was slowly starting to understand the appeal you talked so much about, the satisfaction of being able to play a set of chords correctly reminiscent of hitting a good spike.

But ultimately, it’s your almost shy smile and tinted cheeks as you look up at him in admiration that, despite the insane amount of frustration, make Suna glad he decided to pick up guitar. 

[fiflerovium]

Consider. . . . Ice hockey Suna . . .

[hxltic]

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

[epilary]

good luck kisses for suna | headcanon

masterlist | requests are open

  “i love you,” you whisper before pulling rin into another kiss, pulling his jersey until his body is up against yours. 

  “i love you too,” he moans into your lips, hands reaching up to your cheeks and thumbs running against your cheekbones.

  you snake your hands to his hair, pulling on the roots of them. he breaths heavily against you, chest heaving, yet you can feel his smile brush across your lips. rin always tries to pull you into trouble before his games. between quick glances and few moments alone, it was hard to find time for just the two of you. 

  he brings one hand to your back, pulling you closer to him. beads of sweat gather on his forehead as your body moves back into a locker. he follows as well, moving his hand to lay against the cold metal. “this is the best before game surprise i could ever ask for,” rin pulls back for a second, staring deep into your eyes.

  before you can agree or pull him in for more, a voice echoes behind him. “and this is the worst surprise i could ever ask for,” washio sighs, turning around to exit the locker room to finish getting ready for nationals. 

  you let out a laugh, leaning your head forward so your forehead is touching his. when you look at him, he also dons a smile, his eyes rolling. 

[renardiererin]

rintarou suna is so fucking good at sucking tits i just know it. he knows all the ways to flatten his tongue and tilt his lips to get you thrusting your hips up in a desperate attempt to get enough friction to get off. he might even just be good enough to get you off n cummin in your cute little panties he loves so much.

[heathsuii]

seatmate!suna who would spam you with tiktok videos.

"why didn't you respond?"

"to what?"

"those tiktok videos i sent you yesterday?"

"oh, i muted my notifications on tiktok."

"how could you do that to me.." suna sighed dramatically, his hand on his chest.

you rolled your eyes at him, amused at his antics.

you opened your phone and went on tiktok, only to see the weirdest and random videos in human history filling your tiktok inbox.

seatmate!suna is that one friend that hits you when they laugh.

whenever you guys laugh, both of you keep adding things that make it funnier until you can barely breathe.

seatmate!suna has you on chokehold.

suna was talking when you started to zone out mid conversation.

"i caught on camera a bird shitting on atsumu—" he stops, noticing you weren't paying attention to him the conversation.

he grabs your chin to get your attention.

you snap out of it and realize what suna was doing.

"you okay, pretty?" he chuckles and tucks your hair behind your ear after.

seatmate!suna who'd invite you to play volleyball with him whenever he's done with practice.

seatmate!suna who'd show you random things, saying it reminded him of you.

suna placed a weirdly looking pebble on your desk.

you looked at him confused.

"it reminded me of you."

"how does that remind you of me..?" you questioned, pointing at the pebble.

suna shrugs, "it just did."

special