#suna x reader

[orquideaamor]

Earrings by Malcolm Todd with situationship 2nd-3rd yr Sunarin and u guys never tell each other how u really feel until u meet again in 3rd/4th yr college WOOH give me a week

[miripopopo]

guys where is the suna fandom i need yall to come back im Hungry af🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀 fatherbrat ur fwb suna fic will be missed holyyy fuck

[vodka-bunny]

Suna x Reader ☆ He Doesn’t Know It’s You Yet

Summary : You leave him things. He keeps every one of them, never once asking who, and you’re starting to realize you don’t want him to.

There was a boy who once crouched in the rain for two kittens who would never remember him, and a girl who never quite stopped thinking about it afterward. By now, that thinking had a shape. It had habits. It had a name it hadn't yet admitted to using.

You told yourself the coffee didn't count.

It was such a small thing: a can of the brand you'd watched him buy a dozen times from the corner store near his house, set neatly on the empty desk beside his in sports psychology. You'd arrived early, the way you always arrived early now for anything involving him, because early meant you could arrange a scene before anyone existed to witness you arranging it.

You watched, three rows back and one seat over, angled just enough to see without being seen. You had gotten frighteningly good at that particular geometry.

He sat down and noticed the can almost immediately, picking it up, turning it over once like he was checking for a note. He found none. He glanced around the room, unhurried, not alarmed so much as mildly curious, the way anyone might check who'd left something unexplained on their desk.

He didn't find you. Of course he didn't. You'd made certain of that.

He pocketed it. He drank it after class, unbothered, as though it hadn't occurred to him not to.

You didn't examine too closely why that felt like winning something.

The Chuupet came the next class. You told yourself that one didn't count either, mostly because you'd run out of ways to make the sentence sound true and had stopped bothering to fully believe it. It required knowing something no one should reasonably know about a stranger's snack preferences, something you'd learned weeks ago by accident, catching sight of the wrapper poking out of his gym bag and filing the detail away the same unthinking way you filed away everything else about him now. Automatically. Hungrily. Like your mind had simply decided this was what it did.

You left it in the same spot as the coffee. He picked it up between two fingers this time, studying it like it might be a joke at his expense, and looked around the room again, slower now, the way a person looks when they've started to suspect a pattern rather than an accident.

He still didn't find you.

He ate it twenty minutes later anyway.

The vending machine alcove outside the gym was empty when you arrived, which was the part you'd been counting on. Practice would end soon, and you needed a reason to be standing there when it did, something with the shape of coincidence rather than intent. You were scanning the selections, already reaching for the right change, when footsteps rounded the corner and stopped with the confident energy of someone who hadn't considered the space might already be occupied.

"Oh," said the arrival, recalibrating quickly. "Hey."

You glanced over. Tall, blond, the kind of person who filled a room through volume rather than effort. You recognized him vaguely, one of the two brothers who occasionally wandered into your sports psychology lecture and spent the hour needling each other instead of taking notes.

"Miya Atsumu," he said, as though the name alone might accomplish something.

"Okay," you said.

He blinked, visibly recalculating. "That's it? No, like, recognition?"

"You go to my psych lecture. Sometimes." You pressed the button for a bottle of strawberry lemonade.

"Right, but I'm also—" He gestured vaguely at himself, the gesture of a man used to the gesture doing most of the explaining. "Volleyball. National level. You've never noticed?"

"I've noticed you talk a lot during lectures."

"That's fair, actually." He said it with real satisfaction, like a compliment had been smuggled in somewhere. He leaned against the machine, undeterred. "So what, you here for practice? You a fangirl? Here to see the Miya twins? Best setter in the prefecture, for the record. Well. One of us, anyway."

You looked at him, then back at the machine, and pressed the button for your own drink. "That's nice," you said.

"That's, nice?"

"Mm."

"You're supposed to be at least a little starstruck. That's usually how this goes."

"I don't follow volleyball," you said, which was so thoroughly untrue you nearly laughed at the ease of it, though the beauty of a lie like that was precisely how completely it closed a conversation.

"No way. Seriously? Not even a little?" He studied you with the particular interest of someone whose usual approach had just failed for the first time in recent memory. "So what are you into, then?"

You collected your drink, slid it into your bag without ceremony, and straightened. "Leaving," you said, pleasantly, and did exactly that, leaving him standing in the alcove mid-sentence, one hand still raised like he'd been about to make a point that would have changed everything.

"Hey, wait, I didn't even get your—"

You didn't look back to see how long it took him to give up. You already knew Suna would be out within the next ten minutes, and you intended to be positioned for it.

The note was different. You understood that even as you wrote it, folding the small piece of paper with more care than the words probably warranted, tucking it into the gap at the top of his gym bag where you'd watched him keep a spare towel often enough to know exactly where it would sit.

You shouldn't dry your hair so roughly. It's not good for you.

You wrote it in your neatest hand, the kind reserved for things that mattered, and told yourself once more that this was simply an observation. You'd seen it through the gap in his blinds one evening weeks ago, towel around his shoulders, scrubbing at his hair with more force than it needed, the kind of careless motion that would thin it early if he kept it up for years. You hadn't been able to stop thinking about it since. A small thing. A caring thing, if you didn't look too closely.

It wasn't until you were walking away from the locker room, pulse loud in your own ears, that the full shape of what you'd done arrived all at once, with nowhere left to hide from it.

You hadn't seen that from a street, a bus stop, a park bench, any of the places you'd quietly convinced yourself counted as public, as accidental, as almost coincidence.

You'd seen it from outside his window. Close enough to see through blinds that were never meant to be seen through.

You stopped on the sidewalk outside the gym and let the word sit in your head, finally, without immediately arguing yourself out of it.

Stalking.

You didn't cry. You didn't feel the relief people always described, the release of finally naming something you'd been circling for weeks. What you felt instead was colder than that. Steadier. As though naming it hadn't changed anything at all, except that now you understood, with total clarity, that you were going to keep doing it anyway.

Suna found the note before practice, reaching for his towel with the same unthinking motion he used every day, and went still when his fingers closed around paper instead of terrycloth.

He read it twice before allowing himself to react to it at all.

You shouldn't dry your hair so roughly. It's not good for you.

The handwriting was neat, deliberate, almost soft-looking, though there was nothing soft about the fact that it existed. He didn't dry his hair roughly in public. He didn't dry his hair anywhere but his own bathroom, alone, door shut. Blinds he was fairly sure he never bothered closing all the way, because his apartment faced an alley, and who would be looking.

He didn't panic. Panic wasn't really in his range; he'd been called unbothered by enough people, often enough, that he'd started to believe it himself. What he did instead was think, methodically, the same unhurried way he processed a blocker's footwork or a setter's tell, running the note back through everything he knew and coming up short.

He looked around the locker room out of habit more than expectation. Osamu three lockers down, mid-complaint about a professor. Atsumu loud about something on the far side of the room. Nothing out of place. That, if anything, was the part that stayed with him.

He folded the note twice and put it in his bag rather than his pocket, as if distance from his own body might make it easier to examine later.

He didn't feel watched here, in a room full of familiar noise. Whatever this was, it hadn't come from inside these walls. Which meant, if he followed the thought all the way through, and he did, the same patient way he followed everything, that whoever had written it had been watching him somewhere he'd never once thought to check.

He said nothing to anyone. He got dressed. He went to practice, served, blocked, let Atsumu's noise wash past him as usual, and if his eyes drifted toward the gym windows more than the drill required, no one seemed to notice.

He noticed, though. He noticed everything. That was the problem, and he intended to keep noticing until it stopped being one.

prev

a/n : thanks for reading — 🐇 ♡

your likes, reblogs and comments really motivate me.

fun fact the handwriting in the image of the note is mine lol. also had to add atsumu cameo in this chapter bc i lowk wanna write him a separate story.

[9chiha]

𝐀𝐍𝐘𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐄𝐋𝐒𝐄 | 𝖲. 𝖱𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗎

𝖢𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋 23 | 𝖣𝗂𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗒 | 𝖯𝗋𝖾𝗏𝗂𝗈𝗎𝗌 | 𝖭𝖾𝗑𝗍

A little while had passed, and winter break had finally arrived. You were relieved, to say the least. After weeks of assignments, exams, and unnecessary drama from your peers, you desperately needed a break from school. No waking up early, no sitting through painfully long classes, and hopefully, no more ridiculous rumors about you and Suna sleeping together.

At least for a little while.

For now, you, Remi, the twins, and Suna were all hanging out at Suna’s house, crowded together in his bedroom with absolutely nothing productive planned. The boys had been playing cards on the floor for the past half hour while you and Remi sat nearby talking about random things. Every now and then, you glanced over whenever Atsumu started yelling about something, which had happened more times than you could count.

“Okay, I’m done. This is bullshit.”

Atsumu suddenly threw his cards onto the floor.

Osamu and Suna looked at him before putting their own cards down, clearly realizing the game was over whether they liked it or not. Osamu gathered the cards neatly, fixing the ones Atsumu had thrown before placing them back into their box.

“You’re just saying that because you were losing,” Osamu said.

“It’s dumb!” Atsumu cried. “The rules and everything!”

“You understood the rules just fine when you were winning earlier,” you pointed out.

Atsumu looked at you with betrayal. “Whose side are you on?”

“Whoever’s against you.”

Remi laughed beside you while Atsumu dramatically clutched his chest.

“Unbelievable.”

Suna sighed and stood from the floor before dropping onto his bed.

“Yeah, yeah, stop complaining. It’s okay to suck at every game you play.”

He snorted at his own comment, earning a small laugh from both you and Remi. Atsumu narrowed his eyes at him. “Okay, whatever! New topic!”

He looked around the room.

“What are we doing for break?”

“Dunno,” Remi said with a shrug. “Probably nothing. I don’t really have any plans.”

“Same,” you agreed. “I was planning on sleeping until school starts again.”

“That’s depressing,” Suna commented from his bed.

You looked at him. “You’re one to talk. You look half asleep every day.”

“I’m naturally tired.”

“You’re naturally lazy.”

“Same thing.”

You rolled your eyes.

Osamu’s phone suddenly vibrated, catching his attention. He pulled it from his pocket and quickly read the message before typing a response.

“Tsumu, let’s go,” he said. “Ma wants us home before it gets too late.”

Atsumu immediately sighed. “We just got here.”

“We’ve been here for hours.”

“Exactly. Basically just got here.”

Osamu ignored him and stood up. “Come on.”

Atsumu groaned but eventually got to his feet too, gathering his things.

“Okay, see you guys. Let us know if you come up with anything!”

“Bye,” you called.

The twins said their goodbyes before leaving the room, though Atsumu could still be heard talking loudly as they made their way downstairs.

A few minutes later, Remi checked her phone and immediately widened her eyes.

“Oh.”

You looked at her.

“What?”

“My parents have been texting me for the past hour.”

You laughed. “Maybe you should answer them?”

“Probably.”

Remi stood up and gathered her things. “I should go before they report me missing.”

“Oh, okay. Bye, Remi. See you! Love you!”

She smiled. “Love you too. See you guys!”

“Bye,” Suna said lazily.

Remi left the room, and within seconds, the door closed behind her.

Silence.

You looked around.

Then at Suna.

Once again, somehow, the two of you had ended up alone together. It was becoming weirdly common.

You turned toward him. “So, what should we do over break?”

Suna thought for a moment. “Actually, my parents have a small house out near the mountains.”

Your eyebrows raised slightly.

“Rich.”

“Shut up.”

You smiled.

Suna continued, “We could go there. Snowboarding, skiing, whatever. There’s a lot of stuff nearby.”

You nodded slowly as you thought about it. “Yeah, actually, that sounds fun.”

“Surprised you’re capable of having fun.”

“Never mind. I’m not going.”

Suna laughed. “Too late.”

You rolled your eyes, but the idea genuinely sounded good. Getting away for a few days with everyone sounded like exactly what you needed. You were already imagining the chaos that would inevitably come with putting Atsumu in the same place as snow and giving him access to a snowboard.

“I think everyone would be down for that,” you said. “Especially Atsumu.”

“That’s exactly why I’m reconsidering.”

You laughed softly before checking the time on your phone. “But anyway, I should probably get going.”

Something in Suna’s expression changed briefly.

“Ah.” He let out a small sigh. “Okay. I’ll walk you out.”

The two of you got up and headed downstairs together. You were nearly at the front door when a familiar, warm voice came from behind you.

“Leaving already, hun?”

You turned around. Suna’s mother stood nearby, looking between the two of you.

“It’s pouring outside!” she continued. “It should only last another hour, though. Stay for dinner! I’m preparing food right now.”

You glanced toward the window. Sure enough, rain was pouring heavily against the glass.

“Oh, wow. I didn’t even notice it was raining.” You looked at Suna’s mother and then at Suna. “I guess everyone else made it out before it started.”

“Looks like you’re stuck here,” Suna said.

You narrowed your eyes. “Don’t sound too excited.”

“I don’t mind.” His answer came easily enough that you paused for half a second. Suna didn’t seem to have noticed. Or maybe he did and simply chose not to acknowledge it.

His mother smiled brightly. “Come on! Let’s head to the kitchen.” She turned and walked away before you could properly answer.

You looked at Suna. “I don’t want to impose.”

“You aren’t.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “I don’t mind you staying, by the way. You seemed hesitant.”

You looked at him.

He shrugged. “I don’t mind the company. Plus, we can ask my mom about using the house.”

For some reason, the simple words made something shift faintly in your chest.

You ignored it.

“Well, okay,” you said. “If it’s fine with you.”

“It is.”

“And yeah, let’s ask her.”

You somehow ended up helping Suna’s mother prepare dinner.

She had tried to refuse your help multiple times, insisting that you were a guest and should relax, but you wouldn’t take no for an answer. She had always been welcoming toward you, especially the last time you’d stayed for dinner, so helping chop a few vegetables felt like the least you could do.

Meanwhile, Suna had gone upstairs to change into something more comfortable.

“You know,” his mother suddenly said.

You glanced over. “Hm?”

She smiled while stirring something on the stove.“You seem like a really good influence on my boy.”

Your hand paused briefly over the cutting board.

That caught you off guard.

“Yeah?”

You genuinely wondered what had given her that impression. Half of your interactions with Suna involved arguing, insulting each other, or threatening to never speak again.

She chuckled.

“Yes. That boy is always talking about how he’s doing better in classes he used to struggle with.”

Your eyebrows lifted. “He talks about that?”

“Oh, yes.” She smiled. “And apparently, it’s because of you. Gosh, I hope he’s been thanking you properly.”

Something strange fluttered in your chest. You quickly looked back down at the vegetables. So Suna talked about you to his mother.

Interesting.

You would definitely be using that against him later.

“Yeah,” you said with a small smile. “He has.”

“Good.”

She poured a few ingredients into the pot before looking around the kitchen.

“Wow, this gives me déjà vu! You stayed for dinner last time too.”

You suddenly remembered that night. The history project. Playing games on Suna’s computer. Familiar feelings.

“Oh, yeah, I did,” you said. “Thanks again for that.”

“Of course! Don’t mention it.”

She started preparing the plates.

“Man, where is my baby—”

“Mom.”

You immediately looked toward the kitchen entrance. Suna stood there in a loose shirt and sweatpants, looking completely unimpressed.

His mother smiled innocently. “Ah! There you are.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“You are my baby.”

“I’m seventeen.”

“And?”

You bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from laughing.

Suna looked at you. “Don’t.”

You immediately smiled. “Wasn’t gonna say anything, baby.”

His eyes narrowed. “You’re leaving.”

His mother laughed. “No, she isn’t. It’s raining.”

“I’ll give her an umbrella.”

“Rude,” you said.

Suna rolled his eyes, but you could see the faintest hint of amusement on his face.

“Come, come,” his mother said, waving him over. “Make the plates. I’m going to change out of these dirty clothes.”

She rinsed her hands before leaving the kitchen, disappearing upstairs. Suna moved toward the counter and started finishing the plates.

“What was she going on about?” he asked.

You leaned against the opposite counter. “Oh, nothing.”

Suna glanced at you suspiciously.

You smiled. “Just how I’m such a good influence on you and how I help you so much with your studies.”

His expression immediately fell. “Great.”

“And apparently, you talk about me.”

“I do not.”

“Your mother wouldn’t lie to me.”

“She absolutely would.”

You laughed. “Sure, baby.”

Suna stopped what he was doing. “Please stop.”

You smiled innocently. “Stop what?”

“Calling me that.”

“But it’s cute.”

“Is it?”

“Very.”

Suna stared at you for a moment.

Then, without warning, he smiled.

“Whatever you say, gorgeous.”

You froze.

Only for a second.

But Suna noticed.

His smile widened slightly.

You recovered quickly. “Gross.”

“Thought it was cute.”

“Not when you say it.”

“Liar.”

You narrowed your eyes at him.

Before you could come up with a response, footsteps sounded from upstairs.

Saved by his mother.

You looked away quickly, and Suna returned to making the plates with the smallest, most irritating smile still on his face.

Dinner passed comfortably.

The three of you talked about school, winter break, volleyball, and eventually, the idea of using the Suna family’s mountain house. His mother seemed surprisingly enthusiastic about the plan, especially once you explained that the whole group would be going.

She asked a few questions, gave a few rules, and eventually agreed.

Dinner was officially a success.

And so was the plan.

Before you left that night, you and Suna sent a message to the group chat telling everyone the news. Atsumu responded almost immediately with approximately ten messages in a row, most of them in all caps.

By the time the rain finally stopped, you gathered your things and headed toward the door.

Suna walked you out again.

“See you,” you said.

“Yeah. Text me when you get home.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“So I know you didn’t get kidnapped.”

“Aw. You care.”

“No. I just don’t want to explain to the police that you were last seen at my house.”

You rolled your eyes. “There it is.”

Suna laughed quietly. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, baby.”

He immediately started closing the door in your face.

You burst out laughing. “Bye!”

“Go home.”

Still laughing, you finally turned around and started walking away.

And once again, you didn’t see the small smile that stayed on Suna’s face long after you were gone.

© 𝖠𝗅𝗅 𝖢𝗋𝖾𝖽𝗂𝗍𝗌: 9𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗁𝖺

@bunny4kaiser @camelliablossomss @ramyrunn @irdkwts8p @exclusiverinaa @nari10 @sp1ng @malfishsposts @loveuforevers @ca11i0p3 @midnightcasual @gottalovelaa @iamobsessedwithanime @maybankive @seishiroluvr @cigarettesafterwrecks

[daydreams-of-youu]

making suna watch p&p 2005 with you, but he keeps scrolling on his phone and you give up on chiding him (through sarcastic comments) and let out a disappointed sigh and just focus on the film... suna realises he doesn't like you not chiding him (read: giving up on him) so he nudges you with his foot from across the sofa. you keep igoring him. he keeps doing it.

after a couple of minutes of this silent battle, when you have just about decided to turn off the telly and go home, you realise you can't really see the screen anymore... because the phone obsessed idiot in question somehow teleported himself right in front of your face without you noticing.

"you're blocking my view of mr darcy, move."

he doesn't even blink.

"ugh fine, i'm gonna go then.. you know, you could've just told me you didn't want to watch it cause i hate when people are on their phone when the film is on an-"

your protests are interrupted by the sudden pain in your cheeks.

is he seriously poking his fingers in your round cheeks like you're a baby...??

"suna" your threatening tone comes across as ridiculously whiny rather than menacing.

he grins. "you were ignoring me."

after a few moments of his continous poking and streching, you finally manage to bat his fingers away from your cheeks. "no, i was ignoring your stupid foot."

he shrugs. "same thing."

your brows furrow in annoyance as you try and get up from the couch. he doesn't budge.

"suna..."

"i was on my phone because i was trying to let you watch your favourite movie in peace."

"what do you mea-?"

he looks away from you, letting out a low groan. was that... was he blushing?

he keeps muttering something about stupid puppy lords and the lack of self-control but it's mostly jibberish to your ears. you catch the last bit though. "...all i wanted to do was fuck those giggles away."

you are trying so hard not to laugh as you cradle his blushing face in your hands. the annoyance and frustration at his phone obsession was gone like it was never there. "your supression of jelaous-horniness is kinda sweet."

his keeps one arm firmly around your waist as he blindly reaches for the remote with the other. you let go of his face, finally letting out the laugh you've been keeping in. it's not long before it's turned into moans...

[it seems it's time for intermission]

[realcube]

18+ nsfw | best friend! suna takes pictures for your new OF

"i don't know.." you'e kneeling on the hardwood of suna's living room, clad in only a pair of thigh-high stockings and a black thong. you're completely topless, hence your arms instinctively fold over chest and wrap around yourself, protecting what little modesty you have left while also shielding your nipples from the cold draft in the room. "i'm not so sure this is the most effective way to make quick money. can't we just doordash like normal people?"

"bit late to back out now; i've already taken most of the pics." he mutters, knelt a few feet away from you. he's already captured a collection of photos while standing, with the camera angled down and you looking up dotingly. now he's on his knees as well, adjusting the lens as he peers at you through the viewfinder, one eye closed, "doordashing is too stressful, anyway. move your arms, need to get your tits in this shot." he says bluntly.

your cheeks heat up at his request; there's something obscene about your best friend asking you that so casually. "well, it's not up to you, dummy, since it's not photos of your ass that are going on the internet for old pervs to jerk over." you huff, actions contrasting your sharp words as you pliantly drop your arms to expose your tits to the camera, nipples pointed under the chilly air. you almost wince as the flash of his camera goes off, along with the shutter noise.

"oh, shit, your ass, i forgot about that. we should get some pics of that before i put the camera away." his eyes flickers with realisation, as he looks down and idly adjusts the settings. it's like he isn't even fully listening to what you have to say, but you've been friends with suna for long enough to know that he's purposefully trying to annoy you. hence, you narrow your eyes at him but refrain from immediately cursing him out. he probes further, "weren't you the one who was just talking about how badly she wants a new computer? eh?"

you duck your head slightly, hair falling in front of your face and you grimace, "yeah.." you whimper as there's another bright flash.

clicking through the photos he just took, a smirk tugs at his lips while he can feel erection aching in his sweats. he gulps and instructs. "cool. so do i. so get all on all fours." it comes out less commanding than he had hoped, yet you obey none the less. albeit, while grumbling and groaning about it.

"ugh.. can't believe you're pimping me out for a new keyboard." you remain on your knees but lean forward and set both of your forearms on the ground, shifting your weight onto them and leaving your ass in the air.

"yup. and you've got your tits out to buy a new pc, so who's worse?" it comes out as less of a question and more of an insult. suna stands up and looks down at you, ass up for him with a measly thong covering you up — most of your cheeks were exposed and the thin fabric molded to the shape of your damp folds, and the strip was so narrow that your lips threatened to escape with one wrong move. he licked his lips and tried to focus, snapping another picture.

"and you know," he remarks, "a custom pink build costs extra. so if you want one, you're gonna have to drop your panties too."

[flowersforyen]

18+ MDNI - Band au!Suna || Strumming the chords

In which Suna helps you test your endurance on his amp…?

cw: overstimulation, praise, oral f!recieving, improper use of amp

“Up you go.” He grinned as his rough hands gripped at your waist and hoisted you up onto the amp, your legs dangling off the edge and skirt rucking up your thighs. You watched as he plugged the amp into an outlet before sauntering over to his selection of electric guitars, his eyes tracing each one and tongue fiddling with his lip ring before he settled on a deep maroon guitar and took it off the wall hanger. Turning back towards you he noticed your eyes following his movements, a slight smirk tugging at his lips as he slowly stalked towards you. Suna placed the guitar onto the floor and connected one end of the instrument cable into the output jack. The other end got connected to the input jack of the amp, followed by it being turned on.

He shifted to slowly kneel down in front of where you sat on the amp, adjusting the volume dial and tone knobs to high. His steady hand then found purchase on the bare skin of your thigh, heavy palms slowly sliding up to where the hem of your skirt had ridden up to. He slowly raised his head, his bangs covering a part of his eyes but failed to hide the excited glint within them. “Remember, you gotta last the entirety of the song.. got it, Angel?” he practically purred out, giving your thigh a rough squeeze before you could even sputter a word out. 

He then rose, his tall frame unfolding as he loomed over you, a grin tugging at his lips. Suna stepped back, effortlessly leaning down to drag the armless stool from the drum set. Positioning himself in front of you he picked up the guitar, fingers tracing the fretboard before turning up the guitar volume and strumming a chord. You yelped, eyes widening at the sheer force of the vibration you felt under you “You could have given me a warning!” you sputtered out, fingers now gripping the edge of the amp as you braced yourself for the next chord. 

Suna’s eyes gleamed at your reaction, his lip ring rotating as he tried to suppress the smirk threatening to break through. “Oh? Sorry Angel, I thought you were ready from how hard you were staring” he snickered out, the snark evident in his tone. “Okay Sweets, you ready now then?” he murmured, eyes locked on yours. Swallowing thickly you nodded, rooted to the spot.

The moment he started playing the song your thighs clenched, the amps vibrations coursing underneath you and the heavy melody filling the empty studio. His eyes remained locked on yours, his greedy gaze studying every minute reaction you gave him as his fingers effortlessly changed chords without even looking at them. Your eyes screwed shut as you tilted your head up, your knuckles turning pale as they gripped the amp tightly. Every time he played a particular riff he noticed the way your thighs would clench just a bit more, the way your bottom lip wobbled beneath your teeth and the strangled whines that managed to escape. 

Suna earnestly drank in the sight like a man starved, he leaned forward, fingers itching to touch you. Instead his knees spread slightly, nudging your thighs open wider so the vibrations wracked your body more. Your eyes shot open, a choked gasp leaving your lips as you panted. “D-Dont do that, Rintarou.” Without looking down you could feel the smug grin he was sporting from your reaction. “Don’t do what?” he gruffly replied, his voice and movements strained as he started to falter with some chords, his whole body running hot from seeing you struggle on top of the amp. Your whole body is shaking from the heavy vibrations and stimulation between your thighs, your skirt bunching around your hips as you squirm on top of the amp. 

Your eyes fluttered closed again and you tried to control your breathing even as heat pooled in your stomach, your skirt now showing the faint peak of the dampness of your underwear, how the sodden gusset of your panties began to cling to your soaked folds. Suna caught the sight from your constant shifting, eyes becoming increasingly hooded as he failed to tear his gaze away. “Aww Sweets.. you’re doing so well, the song’s nearly over.” He mockingly cooed, knees nudging your thighs open even wider now to get a better glimpse as his fingers began strumming out the chords harsher and much more impatiently. The music continued to reverberate throughout the studio, wrapping around the both of you. Every chord jolted through you setting your nerve endings on fire, your breathing now laboured as you struggled to stop yourself from grinding down onto the amp for some relief.

The song soon ended, Suna’s fingers raw from the intensity of his playing, a light sweat having broken across his forehead causing his shaggy bangs to slightly stick. Throughout it all he had kept his gaze locked on you. He carefully placed the guitar on the floor, eyes continuously locked onto yours before he slowly unfolded. Swallowing thickly, you saw as he loomed over you once again, dark eyes peering down at you with every harsh breath he took, rough fingers then lightly brushing against your cheek in an almost reverent manner before he lifted your chin up. 

“You did so well, Angel” he whispered as he hunched slightly, lanky frame curling down allowing his rough fingers to lightly trace the gusset of your underwear. Sucking in a harsh breath your body jerked involuntarily, your overly-sensistive folds readily reacting. A low strained groan slipped past his lips as his head fell to rest on your shoulders, heavy breaths warming it. “Rin, stop teasing-!” you choked out as Suna kept running his finger lightly over your clothed pussy before tugging the gusset to the side. 

“Fuck- can’t believe how wet you’ve gotten.” He groaned as he dropped to his knees in front of you, strong hands gently massaging the soft skin of your thighs before he leaned in, nose nudging at one whilst looking up at you with hooded eyes. “Let me have a taste, please Sweets… just one.” He practically begged using all his self-restraint not to dive right in. Once given the green light, he didn’t hesitate to tug off your panties and eagerly lick a long stripe up your pussy, a low grunt leaving his mouth at your taste. His thumbs then spread at your lips allowing him to taste even deeper, causing a shuddering sob to rip through you at the sensation, your already sensitive clit throbbing harder. One taste? What a liar.

With an almost intimate kiss to your clit he then leaned back, mouth glistening with your arousal and pupils blown wide. “Such a pretty pussy, I could never get tired of her. Now let’s get this out of the way..” he murmured as his palms pushed your skirt up to bunch around your hips before his hands tugged at your thighs to pull you to the edge of the speaker. Rough hands then lifting your legs to rest on his shoulders, urging you to cross your legs and trap him there. 

“She’s drooling so much..” he teased, thumbing at your folds once more to unveil the slick already gathering. This time Suna focused on your clit more, lightly sucking at the throbbing nub before applying more pressure, the cool metal of his snakebites creating a delicious contrast against your heated clit. “Mmm that feel good?” he mocked, knowing that the sensation was overwhelming for you. Your fingers scrambled to seek purchase at his scalp, tugging at his messy hair as you sought stability. Each lick, suck and kiss sent jolts through your body, your eyes screwed shut and legs quivering as you bucked into him. “She’s sensitive when given a little attention, huh?” he purred out about your clit before taking it back into his mouth once more. “F-fuck Rin.. s’too much” you whined as his tongue began to prod deeper, his nose continuously nudging at your clit providing dual stimulation, the tension in your lower stomach growing unbearable. 

“C’mon Angel” His words muffled against your dripping heat “You’re getting so close, I can feel it.” His grip on your thighs becoming tighter as he attempted to suffocate himself under your pussy. “Sho messy… isn't she?” He continued to babble out about your pussy, his words slurred and muffled.

Suna then slipped a long finger in, massaging on your spongy spot before doubling down and inserting a second digit, thumb rubbing at your clit causing your pussy to drool more down his hand making it sticky. The heat in your lower stomach coiling even more as you feel your release steadily building up “‘m so close, Rin” you gasped out, back arching almost painfully as your release threatened to spill. Feeling you clench around his fingers he starts to thumb at your clit to provide the extra stimulation.

“Fuck! ‘m cumming!!” you mewled as he worked you through your orgasm, sloppily making out with your pussy and not letting any juices go to waste. When your high started to ebb he slowed down his movements, fingers lazily working you through it. With a final sweet kiss to your clit he lifted his head. Tilting your head down to meet his gaze you could see your release had coated his chin and lips and that his trousers had tented obscenely. “Y’did so well for me, Angel” he murmured, pressing a few kisses to your shaky thighs. “All prepped for the main event now.”

First time writing smut, how scary

Thank you @mechanicrin for helping me edit this, i love u sis <3

kissesforeveryonemwuah

-anaiya

TAGLIST - @karnevil

[vodka-bunny]

Suna x Reader ☆ Small Campus

Summary: Some coincidences are made, not found. You're just careful enough that he hasn't noticed the difference yet.

You knew he lived in a narrow house past the park, the kind with a low fence and a porch light that came on automatically at dusk, third from the corner. You knew he took the stairs instead of the elevator, always, even carrying his gym bag, even when it clearly would have been easier not to. You knew the corner store two blocks from his building sold the specific brand of canned coffee he liked, and that he stopped there more days than not, and that his snack of choice, without fail, was Chuupet, the cheap jelly fruit sticks sold in nearly every convenience store on campus. You'd seen him unwrap one outside the gym so many times that you'd started noticing the brand on the shelf yourself, unprompted, the way a word you've just learned suddenly appears everywhere.

You bought one, once. Told yourself it was curiosity, nothing more, and ate it walking back from class with the faint, absurd sense of participating in something private. It tasted okay. You finished it anyway.

The fox had started the same way, a small, private observation you hadn't meant to keep. Something about the shape of his eyes, narrow and a little sharp at the corners, unbothered in a way that read as faintly predatory even when he wasn't doing anything at all. You'd thought it once, in passing, and then you'd bought the burnt orange yarn.

You told yourself none of this meant anything. That knowing a person's habits wasn't the same as acting on them, that you weren't doing anything except occasionally walking the direction he happened to be walking, at the time he happened to be walking it. If you squinted, it was almost coincidence.

You had stopped being able to squint that hard.

Thursday, you nearly lost him.

A professor who ran ten minutes over, a friend who caught your arm in the hallway wanting to discuss a project you barely cared about, and by the time you made it outside, the window you'd learned to rely on was already closing. You knew, from three weeks of quiet, careful observation, that if you didn't reach the corner by the sports science building within the next few minutes, you'd miss him entirely, and the whole evening would stretch out ahead of you feeling strangely unfinished, the way a held breath feels wrong until it's let out.

So you walked faster than you meant to. Then faster than that.

You caught sight of him just as he was cutting through the edge of the campus park, gym bag over one shoulder, unhurried in the way he always was, completely unaware that anyone behind him was rushing at all.

Relief hit first, disproportionate to something this small. Shame followed close behind it, the recognition that you'd felt relief over something you had no right to feel anything about.

You slowed your pace to match a safer distance and clutched your bag out of habit. That was when you registered the absence rather than the object itself. The clasp of your keychain had been open, and your keychain nowhere in sight. You were still looking down when the footsteps ahead of you slowed, then stopped.

Suna had felt something hit the back of his shoe before he heard it. A small, soft thud against leather, nothing sharp enough to be a rock. He glanced down and found a small crocheted fox lying in the grass, a thin cord trailing from it like it had torn loose from something.

He picked it up, turning it once between his fingers. Handmade, unmistakably, one ear a little longer than the other, the orange yarn slightly uneven at the seams. He looked behind without expecting to find anything and found you instead, frozen mid-step, staring at the fox in his hand as though it had personally betrayed you.

"This yours?" he asked. His voice was as flat as it always sounded, not unkind, simply unbothered, as though a stranger's dropped keychain were a mildly interesting footnote to an otherwise unremarkable evening.

You closed the distance faster than was probably dignified. "Yeah. Sorry, the clasp on my bag doesn't close right." True, and beside the point, and you knew it even as you said it.

He held it out. Your fingers brushed his for half a second, and you were irritated with yourself for noticing.

"A fox," he said, not quite a question, studying it now that it had left his hand. "Someone make that for you?"

"I made it." You tucked it back into your bag, checking the clasp with more attention than it had received all week. "I’m still learning. It's not — it’s not very good."

"Didn't say it wasn’t good." He looked at you for a second longer than the conversation strictly required, something unreadable behind his eyes, and you had the sudden, uncomfortable sense of being looked at properly for the first time. Not glanced past, not walked by, but actually seen. "Why a fox?"

"No reason," you said, too quickly, and busied yourself with checking if it’s sturdy on your bag instead of meeting his eyes. Your face tightened because the reason himself was asking you why you made it.

"Mm." He said and was already looking back down the path, gym bag shifting on his shoulder like he was getting ready to keep walking. "You go to the gym block? Sports science?"

The question landed harder than it should have. "Psych building. Just cutting through."

"Huh." He didn't push it, didn't seem particularly invested either way. "Small campus."

"Yeah," you managed. "Small campus."

He gave a short nod, the kind that closes a conversation without being rude about it, and started walking again, unhurried, the same as always. You stood there a moment longer than you should have, watching his back get smaller down the path, the crocheted fox now warm in your palm from where his hand had held it.

You told yourself, walking the opposite direction now, taking the long way so it wouldn't look like you were following the same route, that it had gone fine. Normal. A completely ordinary conversation between two strangers about a dropped keychain. Nothing had been given away. He hadn't looked at you like he suspected anything.

Small campus, he'd said. Like that explained everything. Like it wasn't strange at all, that the two of you kept ending up in the same six-block radius of the city at exactly the same time, week after week.

Suna thought about it longer than he expected to, later, lying on his bed with the ceiling fan clicking overhead.

Not the keychain. The girl. Something in the way she'd looked at him before catching herself, smoothing her expression back into something politer, more composed, like she'd been startled by more than a dropped keychain.

He didn’t think much of it, not really. People get flustered by small things all the time. Dropping something in front of a stranger was mildly embarrassing regardless of who was picking it up.

Still, "psych building, cutting through" sat oddly with him, faintly, the same low static he'd felt once or twice before on this exact stretch of park, a word sitting just behind his teeth he couldn't quite reach.

It wasn't sharp enough to chase.

So, the same as before, he let it go.

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